#this is it :))) thank you so so much for the love you give to heartburn <3 tell me what you think!!

[ciaraswritings]

Unexpected.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their characters, or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Suggestive themes, emotional distress, physical exhaustion, pregnancy. 18+.

Word Count: 3.9K words

Summary: Batmom! reader finds out she is pregnant a short time after marrying Bruce Wayne, not in the most pleasant of ways. Telling him won't be easy, but Alfred gives her some encouragement.

Author's note: After four hours of work, I deem my first fanfiction suitable for posting. Thank you for all the support. I hope you enjoy.

It'd been two months since that beautiful, blissful, romantic day. Actually, two months, two weeks, and one day. But who was counting, right?

The newspapers were. Headlines of gossip news, huge block letters in bold, depicted that I had been spotted at the gym alone again, also describing their support for my "weight loss journey" since I had been "losing my figure". I had been reading this article over and over for about an hour. Damn. I inspected the black and white photo of myself in leggings and a tank top. The worst part about, well, everything, is that they were right. I was losing my figure, noticeably. 

I didn't even notice Alfred behind me until he spoke. "No matter how many times you read them, the words are not going to change, ma'am."

I jumped slightly. I hadn't been sleeping or eating well at all, my back and chest ached too much to relax, and heartburn hit me like a batarang after meals. I think I had gotten thirty hours of sleep in the last week, and maybe one meal a day. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you know when dinner will be ready?" 

"In a half hour, ma'am." The butler moved to the other end of the kitchen table to face me. "Those words in the paper are words that all who love you disagree with."

Alfred's words touched me if only a little, and I set down the paper. "Thank you, I think I'm going to take a walk." 

He looked concerned, but just for a moment. "Alright, ma'am. Try not to be late, the chicken may be devoured." 

Chuckling, I stepped out into the early evening light. I would not be late for dinner, living with five hungry men teaches you a lot. The sunlight embraced me, bathing me in its gentle rays, glimmering over my face. I felt positively glorious. Closing my eyes, I soaked it in. My husband would soon be home to kiss me and keep an arm around my waist. The simple thought of his touch made my mouth stretch into a smile. Five more minutes, and I'll go in. 

Five minutes turned into twenty. Being amongst the blooming flowers and the busy insects kept me occupied. Not only that, but a sudden headache had overtaken me. I sat in the grass, unladylike, watching the bees collect their last supply of nectar from the flowers for the day. Grass stains never bothered me anyway. I knew time was getting away from me, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to focus on anything. I didn't want to go inside because I didn't want bedtime to arrive. It was too painful to even think about. My head and back reminded me of that even now. 

My vision blurred slightly, I could only focus on a single flower on the bushes before me, bees continuing to fly around it. This was nice. I couldn't focus on a single thing, or think about anything, or worry.

I felt myself fall, sort of, to the ground. Fall was the best word I know to describe it. I was already sitting on the ground, but my muscles suddenly felt like pudding. My head bumped to the grass and laid to rest. Terror gripped my heart and throat for a single second before everything just... relaxed. My vision went next, but I was okay with that. This was so relaxing. I wanted to stay.

...

"Madam. Madam (Y/N)!" The voice came from... maybe a mile away. Maybe. Maybe ten miles. Maybe a hundred.

"(Y/N), madam (Y/N)!" Something cold was on my face. Ugh. I don't like that. The wind bit and stung at where the cold wetness was on my cheek. Ouch.

"Wake up, madam!" No. I don't want to. Go away. But the voice sounds scared.  

I slowly, slowly, with great effort, opened my eyes. Instantly they closed again. My friend the butler was hovering over me. What was his name again?

"Mom!" New voice. Go the hell away. I open my eyes again. 

"I'm here, I'm fine." Sitting up took much more strength than opening my eyes, but I managed to do so. Dick and Alfred worriedly stare at me. "I was just taking a nap."

"That wasn't a nap, it looked like you passed out." Dick was the one with the cold wet cloth. He put it to my head again. I gave him a withering glare, and he pulled it away again, looking apologetic. 

"It was a nap, of course I didn't pass out. Now let me return to it," I waved my hand in no particular direction, trying to shoo them away like mice.

"I am afraid I cannot allow you to sleep on the cold ground in nothing but your loungewear, ma'am." Alfred took the cloth from Dick and put it to my forehead. 

Lord, they were being so annoying, I just wanted to go back to sleep. My eyelids drooped and my words slurred. "Bed hurts too much right now... just come back later..." my head finally dropped forward as vision began to diminish again. 

I couldn't really tell what they said next. What I could remember was, "Inside now... call the... when they can see her..." and "...got her... go and tell him... I've got it..." 

The sensation of being lifted did not startle my dozing. Neither did the shouting, nor the feeling of hands on my face. I had earned this sleep, and I was going to... enjoy... it...

...

I was awake, but I didn't want to open my eyes. It wasn't time. Please don't let it be time. I peeked a glance at my watch. Eight in the morning on a Sunday? Yeah, back to sleep we go. 

Before I could return to my dreamless sleep, I became aware of unidentified breathing beside me. Was that Titus? Or maybe Alfred. Maybe I had been kidnapped. Did I care? Hell to the no. All I cared about at this present moment was slumber. If I was kidnapped, I could sleep all I wanted while I waited for them to rescue me.

Then, like a train, uninvited and on its own, the back pain hit my lower body. I couldn't help the moan of discomfort that tore from my throat.

Instantly, a hand went to my forehead. It felt so cold against my warm head. I'd better see who this person with the cold hands is and tell them to go stick their fingers in a campfire before touching me again.

 When I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn't even in the garden anymore. Alfred, I told you I wanted to stay on the ground. But it wasn't Alfred who had put freezing digits on my forehead. It was my husband, my dearest Bruce, my wonderful partner in... crime didn't seem like a good choice of words. His worried blue eyes bored into my sleep-deprived (Y/C) eyes. Ouch, that gaze made my headache come back.

"Hello. Go warm your hands up," I told the love of my life before closing my eyes again. The light from the window seemed to be penetrating my very brain. 

"My hands are warm," replied the bearer of freezing fingers.

"Please, feels like your hands went to the Artic circle for winter vacation." My stubborn retort took a lot out of me, but I could practically hear his small smile. 

"There's my girl," he murmured. I opened my eyes again to smile at my wonderful... freezing... man. 

"Yeahhh, your girl's going back to dreamland. Night night." I grunted at the pain stabbing me in the back, the throbbing in my head, and the emptiness in my stomach.

"Not yet, sweetheart. Stay right here. The doctor's going to be here at ten, you should freshen up a bit." 

I opened one eye to glare unhappily at him. "Don't need a doctor. Need a nap."

His chuckle annoyed me to the very core, almost scaring away the shooting pains in my back. "I'm sorry, but this needs to happen. Do you know how worried we all were when we heard you had fainted in the garden? The boys hardly wanted to go on patrol, they wanted to look after you."

"The boys didn't want to go on patrol? You didn't want to look after me?" I glared playfully at my handsome knight. "And I didn't faint... just took a nap."

"On the cold hard ground?" His questioning gaze made me open both my eyes.

"Yes, it felt nice on my back." 

"Does your back still hurt, sweetheart?"

"Yes, it still hurts." 

"And you didn't feel like sleeping in the bed?"

"The hell is this, an interrogation?" 

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Go away," I retorted, closing my eyes. "I have to go to work, no time for doctors."

"I called and told them you can't come in this week."

"This... this is why I married you."

It didn't take long to fall back into blissful, painless paradise. Bruce left me alone, but I knew he was close by, watching over me. The mansion was so quiet and peaceful, I knew the boys were fast asleep.

Much too soon, I was being kissed awake. 

"Darling, Doctor Thompkin's here. It's time to wake up." Bruce's forehead kisses were, for the very first time in our relationship, annoying. 

"Ugh." I rolled over to escape, my back cracking. 

"Upsy daisy." He stroked my back, gently massaging my painfully aching muscles.

Sitting up took all the strength I had, and yet I had to find more to answer the questionnaire the doctor was springing upon me. Bruce stepped out mid-examination to answer a phone call, leaving the woman to observe my body and take into consideration my answers to her questions. Her questions seemed endless. "Have you been out of the country in the last month?" 

"No."

"Have you been feeling depressed or hopeless?"

"No."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Do you or any family members have history of scoliosis?" 

"No."

"History of heartburn?"

"No."

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

"It's marked on the calendar, couple pages back." 

"Do you know what year it is?"

I gave her a funny look. "Of course I do, what's wrong with you?" Now I feel bad for saying that, but I certainly didn't in the moment.

The doctor chuckled, her friendly eyes had laughter lines around them. "Just wanted to make sure you're still with me. Are you on birth control?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been on birth control?" 

"Couple months. I went on it during our honeymoon."

"During?"

"Yes, we realized condoms and plan B weren't as convenient as the pill."

"I'm going to need a blood sample and then we're done here. I'll be in touch with the results. You don't seem to be suffering from scoliosis, but I'll contact you about x-rays to confirm. I haven't made a house call in a long time, or practiced family medicine, but I'll do everything I can to make sure we get to the root of this."

"Okay." 

The blood draw seemed to take longer than I remembered blood draws taking. The prick of the needle didn't disturb the haze of sleepiness that still surrounded me. The woman's departure signaled another wave of sleepiness to wash over me. Bruce and Alfred were showing the doctor out as my head hit the pillow. Pain shot up my back, but sleep had already captured me. 

Tomorrow turned into today, and then today became yesterday. It felt like I slept the whole Monday, skipping work and family dinner. Tuesday morning came with sunshine and kisses from my darling husband as I slowly opened my eyes. 

"Hi," I smiled at him. One of Bruce's arms was holding me almost loosely as he lay next to me in the white sheets. He looked worn and tired from a long night of patrol. I sniffed him. Good, he had showered. 

"Hello." His tired kiss on my lips was slowly waking me. "I love you."

"I love you too," I told him. My smile was getting bigger and my world was waking up. I traced the shape of his exhausted eyes. "Close your eyes. Sleep." 

"Mmph." His eyes closed and his body relaxed under my touch. Normally, Bruce was the one to hold me tight and kiss me to sleep, to caress my body and keep me safe. Looking over his body, I realized that he had been through a difficult night of patrol. A stitched gash across his back, an unhappy bruise on his jaw, scratches on his forearms. Worrying about my "condition" probably hadn't helped him stay alert out there in the dangerous night of Gotham. Guilt washed over me. My arms protectively wrapped around my dearest husband, my lips pressing to his forehead. Today, I was going to keep him safe, I was going to comfort him through his slumber.

...

Bruce's snoring wasn't exactly a lullaby, so I was up and about after a few hours. The boys were crashed in their rooms and Alfred was busy baking something that smelled like chocolatey deliciousness. I was looking over the morning paper, again, skimming for any mention of my family or I. Unhealthy habit, you could say. I was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, keeping the rustling of the newspaper pages to a minimum.

Vibrations of Bruce's cell phone made me look up. As silently as I could, I leaped up and grabbed the phone from the bedside table on Bruce's side. My husband's sleep was important to me, and if I had it my way, nothing at all would disturb it, not even nightmares. 

I carried the cell phone out of the bedroom and glanced at the caller ID. Doctor Thompkins. Results. Yes. This wasn't the first time I had answered my husband's phone, so I wasn't going to feel guilt over finding out my own test results. "Hello?"

"(Y/N), hello. I'm calling with your results."

"Tim's been telling everyone in the family it's yellow fever, please prove him wrong."

"Hah, no, it is not yellow fever... I'd say it's something a little more... serious."

I stiffened. My aching back didn't like that. "What's up?"

"We spoke about your history with birth control, but we need to talk about it again. It would seem that there was some window of time where you and Bruce were not using protection."

My backache must've hit my brain, because looking back, I can't believe I didn't catch on. "Bruce gave me a disease?"

"Not a disease. You're pregnant, (Y/N). I can't make an estimate on how many weeks you are, but I'm going to give you the contact information for an OBGYN. Make an appointment as soon as you can. Congratulations, Mrs. Wayne."

...

When Bruce woke up, I had to apologize to him for his cracked cell phone screen. I told him the truth, that I'd dropped it, but I didn't explain that it was from shock. He told me it was alright, that he'd pick up a new one, but he wasn't quite sure why I looked so very upset over dropping his phone. That would explain itself in time.

I didn't eat a thing at dinner that night, despite my full plate and coaxing from my family. Even the finest cut of steak is unappealing when something like that is on one's mind.

Who wouldn't overthink a thing like this? Pregnant, after a literal two months of marriage? Pregnant, while caring for four boys that you saw as your sons? Pregnant, after your husband had told you he didn't want anymore children? Pregnant, after you had both tried to be careful? Pregnant, to one of the greatest vigilantes and most successful businessmen in the world? Pregnant. I am pregnant. I might have my husband's baby.

"Mom!"

My head jerked up and I was greeted by five concerned faces. 

"Ma, you look like you're in another world," Jason forked a piece of potato. 

"Maybe I am in another world, Jay-Jay." I smiled slightly before standing. Ten eyes observed my every move. 

"Ummi, where are you going?" Damian, the one who I expected would be the least concerned, watched me with huge, worried eyes. 

"I think I need to sleep more. I will see you all tomorrow morning." I kissed every head at the table, my lips lingering on my husband's forehead. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me down for a gentle kiss. I think he noticed my hesitance, but I didn't stop to think about it or explain. My back only permitted me to walk up the stairs, but if I could've run, I would've.

Once Bruce and the boys had left for their night of patrol, I breathed again. Laying on the bed, clutching my pillow to my chest, trying to rehearse how I would address the situation to Bruce, it took a lot out of me. "Bruce, I need to tell you something," I mumbled. "No... Bruce, we need to talk." 

"Madam, I am not sure if you have noticed, but Master Bruce is not here." Alfred's voice startled me for the second time this week.

"I wish he was. I'm sorry, I'm... practicing." I tried to give my friend a reassuring smile but it came out as a grimace. 

"Good luck, madam," Alfred set down a cup of tea on my bedside table and gave me a genuine Alfred smile. Before he was out of the room, he turned back and looked me dead in the eye. "Master Bruce loves you very much, Madam (Y/N). He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink." 

I looked straight back into this wonderful gentleman's eyes. "Thank you."

...

I tried to sleep through the night, I really did. When dawn and my boys arrived, I was still wide awake, not having slept a wink. I trotted down the stairs to the batcave, taking extra care not to trip. Once on the floor, we went through our post-patrol routine of inspecting each one of my boys. First Damian, who shrugged me off several times before allowing me to look over him, then Tim, who accepted my worrying for what it was, then Jason, who pretended to be annoyed for show, then Dick, who looked over me as carefully as I looked over him, then finally Bruce, who would not stop kissing me, barely giving me a chance to check him for injuries. 

No one was truly hurt, but all but one were tired as they pulled off their suits. The boys trudged upstairs to their rooms, but my husband carried me valiantly up the stairs to our place in the master bedroom, like a knight carrying his princess.

Once the bedroom door was shut and he had set me down, I was instantly on my back laying on the bed, Bruce's lips showing affection to my neck and collarbone. A soft, throaty moan left my mouth as my husband kissed me, his hands working their way over my body. I was clothed in my favorite outfit of a tank top and leggings, and I knew they were at risk of being torn from my torso and limbs if I allowed this to continue. Besides... I had to tell Bruce. 

"Darling..." the word I said was half-moaned. "Darling, please, you need to shower."

"I thought you liked my scent?" Bruce chuckled, looking up at me, his hands working their way up my shirt. 

"Mmm, I do, but you are going to dirty our sheets that Alfred worked so hard to wash." 

"You have a valid point, but I don't like it." Bruce grinned and pulled off the little clothing he wore. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, watching him make his way to the shower. If I hadn't had such a burden on my mind, I would've joined him. I could hear him muttering insults at the slippery bar of soap that his large fingers always seemed to have trouble grasping, and it made me smile. My hand absentmindedly rested on my stomach and I wondered if his child would have the same troubles as their father.

Bruce's shower was shorter than usual. Much shorter than if I had been in there with him. Chuckling, I made room for my knight in the bed. He hadn't bothered to put on clothes, or dry his hair. Bruce climbed on top of me, drops of water falling from his hair to my chest. His lips reattached to mine, devouring the kiss like a wild man. I knew what he had on his mind from the way he caressed my body, and I had to put a stop to it. 

"Bruce... Bruce, wait." 

Concerned eyes met mine. "(Y/N)?"

Alfred's words replayed in my mind. He would not have married you if he was not ready to take on the unexpected. I stared into the beautiful blue eyes I had grown to take comfort in. "Bruce, Doctor Thompkins diagnosed me."

Instantly, his desire was forgotten. Bruce sat back on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "Tell me, darling, what is it?"

His arms made me feel so safe. He will not turn you away when you tell him, so try not to overthink. "I... you need to expect the unexpected."

"So I'm guessing it's not yellow fever, since that's what Tim expects," Bruce smiled. The gentle attempt at humor didn't lift the worry in his eyes. 

"Heh, no... not exactly. It's... it's a baby." The last three words were much quieter than the others. 

Bruce looked at me quizzically. "I don't think I heard you correctly." 

"A baby," I honestly voiced my diagnosis, somewhat fearfully looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Bruce's glare pierced mine. He gently slid me off his lap and set me on the bed before standing and walking to the window to silently stare out of it. His breathing had changed, his body was stiff, everything about him seemed cold and hardened. 

My worst fears bit and tore at my heart, anxiety gripping my throat like a murderer. Oh Lord, he doesn't want me anymore. I didn't know whether to go to him, or leave the mansion, or stay in the bed, or cry, or speak. So I just waited, for a full two minutes, staring at my husband's scarred back. After waiting that long, tears began to prick at my eyes. I finally laid down and curled into the cold sheets. "I'm sorry."

I heard him turn. "What are you sorry for?"

"Not paying attention to my birth control. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," my tears left wet spots on the pillowcase. I closed my eyes tightly. 

Then I felt his weight on his side of the bed, he was laying beside me. Bruce collected me into his arms, tilting my chin up, asking me silently to look at him. I opened my wet eyes. 

"I'm not angry with you. I'm thinking about it. Just let me think." Bruce's rough, calloused fingers brushed against my peach soft cheek.

"Okay." I closed my eyes to fight back angry, hot tears. He pulled me to his chest, holding me to himself. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. 

He must've held me like that for an hour before he finally, finally spoke. "Well, this isn't what I thought two months into our marriage would look like." 

My tears had left stains on his chest. Only a surge of bravery made me look up at him. "Yeah."

He looked down at me, smiled, kissed my lips, and I felt my husband's love course through my body. He may have turned me away physically, but he had never turned me away emotionally. I sat up on his lap, straddling him, my forehead resting on his, my hands on his cheeks. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce's fingers brushed against my waist. He seemed hesitant, and his eyes met mine. "May I?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized and nodded, beaming. "Yes."

His large hand rested on my stomach. The wheels in his head were still turning, but they had calmed, and they were only turning in the name of love. 

"Expect the unexpected." 

#batmom #bruce wayne imagine #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #batman x reader #batman imagine #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman #dc comics #dc batman #imagine #fluff #one shot #female reader #pregnancy imagine #pregnant reader #established relationship #married reader #bruce wayne #dcu #fanfiction #fanfic #one shots #xreader

[trashmouth-richie]

masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers 

Toothpaste 

Noodles 

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran” 

Peanut butter 

Sunny D

Thyme 

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :) 

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero. 

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop. 

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him. 

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.  

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs. 

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her. 

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.” 

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule. 

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors  in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket. 

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer. 

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.” 

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.” 

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.” 

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” 

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach. 

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished. 

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls. 

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips. 

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them. 

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes. 

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even. 

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?” 

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides. 

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face. 

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief. 

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?” 

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.” 

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?” 

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs, 

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

— 

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly. 

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled. 

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours. 

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before. 

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife. 

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold. 

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home. 

-

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from. 

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids. 

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer. 

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come. 

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess. 

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items. 

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables. 

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking. 

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair. 

 “Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?” 

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.” 

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.” 

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away. 

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family. 

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy. 

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit. 

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior. 

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa. 

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies. 

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to. 

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying. 

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left. 

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like. 

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is. 

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.” 

The end

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine @b-irock @enam3l @luxaeterna13 @manda-panda-monium @elthreetimes @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #honey i’m home #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

[justjams2003]

Hiii! Super loved your recent work (fast pace) 🩷 I was really hooked and now it's one of my favorite Carlos fics here!

I was wondering if I could request a special part of it? Anything like their life with their kids, their life after carlos' retirement, or something domestic! Thank you 🫶🏻

Hi! I just want to apologize for making you wait for so long. I took a bit of a writing break after finishing Fast Pace. But I got inspired after Carlos won last weekend! Please enjoy:

Summary: Some domestic bliss as you and Carlos pick up your three eldest children after their first day of Grade 1 and kindergarten.

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Husband!Father!Carlos Sainz x Wife!Mother!Reader

Warnings: Carlos is aged up and is in this request now 41. Age difference. A cute happy family. Even still, manipulation, control, obsession. Carlos tampers with your birth control. Kissing. A very slight mention of alcohol.

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen @formulaal tjdjindahouse

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

The first year of marriage was amazing. You spent almost every hour with Carlos. Jumping from airplane to airplane, country to country. You were attached at the hip. The media either loved it or hated it...you actually didn’t know. At some point, a PR team took over your Instagram and it was rare for you to ever actually read the comments or news. Any information you’d receive would come from Carlos and his team, after all, they’re all you really can trust.  

 That was, of course, until, mysteriously, your birth control pills stopped working. It feels like so long ago, the day Carlos picked you up in his arms, celebrating the news of a child. Now, you wait outside the school gates, seven years later, with a much older Carlos but just as excited. His eyes now crinkle up and he has a few grey steaks at the temples of his hair. But he’s not any less handsome.  

Especially when his big strong arms holds your daughter in his arms. Your little girl sits perched on his hip. The only other girl in his life, besides you. She looks so much like him. Dark toughs of hair that you’ve combed this morning with the same wavy texture as his hair. Her big brown eyes gleam up with such love at him.  

And at the same time, he carries your son in his car seat with the other arm. He’s sleeping soundly, his dummy bobbing up and down as he suckles in his sleep. You’re so glad Carlos is here to help. You were sad three years ago when he decided to retire at the end of the season. But now, you’re so grateful. You don’t think you could do this with him on the other side of the world.  

You feel like you’ve been pregnant forever now. Totally accidently five months after giving birth, now you’re 2 months pregnant again. You groan, everything hurts. Your breasts are engorged from breastfeeding and now being pregnant again. You’ve got constant heartburn and nausea. Your hair has thinned and your nails feel brittle. And yet, including all that, Carlos still believes wholeheartedly that you are the most gorgeous girl in the whole world.  

Carlos steps closer to you and places a kiss on your temples. “¿Cómo te sientes, mi amor?” When was the last time that you spoke English? You can’t really remember, because now Spanish also sounds like English. “Tired, mostly, I’ve missed the boys all day, it feels so strange without them home.” He chuckles and nods, “It’s strange for the house to be quiet... You think everything went well?”  

You smile and turn to the gates, you know Carlos is worried his children might be bullied or used for his name. That they won’t be able to make proper friends, that all the kids would just use them to get into the celebrity world. You had a meeting with the twins and Junior’s schools to handle this with grace.  

You can feel the other parents whisper, talking with each other. You feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn, it’s a woman who looks to be your age, 31. Where has the time gone? She smiles and speaks in Spanish, like everyone else where you live. “Is this your first time?” She asks with a kind smile. You return the expression, “No, not at kindergarten. But it’s still as nerve wracking.”  

She laughs with you as you begin your small talk. “But, after this we have to pick up our son at first grade, which makes our stomachs turn.” You laugh and lightly graze Carlos’ arm to show who ‘we’ are. “Is this your husband?” She asks and Carlos nods. “Hi, I’m Carlos. I would shake your hand but my hands are a little full.” He says, referring to the children in his hands. He refuses to let you carry anything while pregnant.  

“And I’m Y/N.” You shake her hand and she also introduces herself. Then your ear catches the sound of excited children screaming as the first classroom door opens. Your head snaps to the noise and then you see the teacher you had met with walking to the gate with a trail of kids behind her.  

You can see your twin boys anxiously scanning the parents trying to find you. And when the eldest of the two do see you, he grabs his brother’s arm and quickly runs over. “Mama! Papa!” They yell and excitedly run over into your arms. They wrap their arms around you, as you bend down and hug them close.  

“Hello, my loves, how was it?” You ask, combing the hair out of their eyes. They look a lot more like you than the other kids. “It was fun, but missed you mama.” Dario, the youngest of the two says. Your girl babbles and makes grabbing hands at Antonio, the oldest of the twins. “Papa, wanna hold sis.” Antonio says, Carlos smiles and puts Bianca down on her little feet. Your kids hug each other, Carlos has raised his sons to have the same protectiveness as he has over their mother and sister.  

“Come on, hold my hand.” You say taking each of their hands in your own. Carlos crosses the road first and then you. He opens the car door for you. It’s almost ironic for this retired championship formula one driver to now be the one driving a mini-van. It is his fault, he just can’t keep his hands off his wife. Carlos wouldn’t have it any other way.  

He buckles each of the kids into their car seat. The twins next to each other in the back and the two youngest in the front. Your youngest, seven month old is the best behaved. He sleeps in his car seat, that is until the twins start arguing, like always. Who had the best lunchbox, who is tallest, who mom and dad like most. Even though, you made sure they had the same lunchbox, they’re twins and thus the same height and like all parents, you don’t have a favourite.  

“Oi! Stop arguing, you’ll wake up your brother.” Carlos commands, his tongue moving fast in his home language. It still gets you all warm when he speaks Spanish. “Sorry, papa,” they say in unison. You just sigh and shake your head. “Papa?” Your daughter, Bianca calls out. “Yes, my princess?” Carlos replies. “Ice-cream?” The little girl asks, your heart melts and you’re certain that your husband is also a puddle. “After we pick up Junior, we’ll go out for ice-cream.”  

Your kids scream in excitement, causing your baby to start whimpering and then soon crying. “Ai, mi amour.” Carlos sighs and shakes his head, his eyes meet yours in the rear-view mirror while you sit next to your youngest children. You slightly lean over your seat and give him a kiss on his greying temples. “It’s okay, my love.”  

You’ve got Raúl, your youngest, strapped into your sling. Bianca sits high on Carlos’ shoulders, daddy’s little girl. Her fingers gripped into his salt and pepper hair. You can’t help but reach up and untangle her fingers. “My love, when did you start going grey?” You ask Carlos, staring into his warm brown eyes. He just laughs and shakes his head.  

“Must you point it out? I feel so old compared to the other parents...” He mutters, the other parents are around your age, some even younger. “I like it though...a silver fox.” He once again laughs and sighs. “No, mi amor.” You grin wildly at his reaction. “41 Isn’t that old...” He mumbles and again you just smirk. “I mean, Alonso was still racing at 41...” 

That really does get him, he bursts out laughing. “Yeah, you’re not wrong...” Then you feel Dario tug on your hand. “Look, Mama!” You see kids, with backpacks looking far too big for their tiny bodies, come pouring out of classroom. Then your eldest son, you can’t help but smile seeing he’s chatting with other kids. And then his big brown eyes look up and see Carlos, he begins running.  

The little boy runs up and hugs Carlos around the legs. Your twins greet their oldest brother. Bianca waves down to her brother from above. Junior gleams up, you remember when you gave birth to Bianca, Junior wanted to do everything for her. He’d carry her around every chance he got.  

“Come, papa said we can have ice-cream.” You tell Junior after he hugs you. “Really?” He asks, his eyes beaming up. Carlos winks and then nods.  

Ding! Your phone has a notification. You grab your phone on the nightstand. “Who is it?” Carlos asks, coming out of the shower. All five of your kids are fast asleep. You read the text. “It’s Alex.” She and Charles had married 3 years ago, no kids yet. “What does she say?” Carlos asks, lying down in the bed next to you, taking your phone and reading the text.  

“Hey Y/N, we miss you, why don’t we go out and party tonight? Leave the kids with Carlos.” She texted in the group chat, and Kika added. “We haven’t seen you in like years now that Carlos isn’t racing anymore.” Carlos just laughs at their antics. He hands your phone back to you. “Do you want to go?” He asks, raising his brow.  

When was the last time you went out alone? When was the last time that you weren’t with Carlos? Since he retired...there hasn’t really been a second alone? It would be kind of nice, to talk about something other than the kids... “I’d prefer if you didn’t...” Carlos mutters, he crawls down to your stomach. He gently lifts your pyjama short and kisses your stomach. “Pregnant and all...”  

You just smile, combing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. You pick up your phone and text your friends in the groupchat. “Sorry, girls, can’t have alcohol...🙈” You get a quick reply back. “Again?!” “Didn’t you like just give birth???” Your cheeks go red at their comments. You feel the urge to send them a photo of Carlos kissing your stomach, but don’t. You do, however, take a photo, saving it for later and then put the phone down.  

“I hope it’s another girl.” He mutters, placing small kisses on your stomach. You can’t help but smirk. “I hope it’s the last one.” You mutter, playing with his hair. He pouts, placing his chin gently on your stomach. “Why? You look so fucking good pregnant.” He says, lust in his gaze. You just laugh and roll your eyes. “To you, maybe. But I’m telling you, my love, I don’t want to have to drive a limousine to their schools.”  

You can see him think for a moment. “You mean it? No more kids?” He says, jutting out his bottom lip and making his eyes gleam. It’s hard to say no to him, but you stay firm, for once in your life. You actually wanted to stop after the twins. Not that you love Bianca and Raúl any less.  

But this number six is the most difficult so far. You’re taking both pre-and-postnatals at the same time. “Yes, I mean it.” You say, stern. You’d like your body to be yours again...“Alright, I’ll get the snip. I don’t want you on those damn pills. I can’t fucking stand them, they’re unnatural.” He mutters, his jaw locking...  

Huh...Always thinking about your well-being...  

“You look so fucking good as a mom. Seeing how much they adore you. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.” He snarls, his kisses on your stomach becoming more sloppy. He trails up to your lips. Capturing your lips in his. So furious and desperate on your lips. “I love you, mi amor. You’re mine. Only mine.”  

Request are open.

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Ghost with a gn pregnant darling headcanons

The skin color in the picture is nothing but a reference. The reader is YOU; I'm not excluding anyone.

Warnings: yandere behavior, and talks about pregnancy.

A/N: hope you enjoy! This is also pointed at gn audience. König version should be out in a few days.

He’s too quiet. His mind demands that you repeat it all for him. A series of emotions are washed over him, one being happiness and uncertainty. However, a smile spreads on his face, his hands pulling at your hips as he envelops you in a tight embrace.

“Your... ? — c’mere luve. I’m so happy – this is… perfect. Thank you.”

He makes sure to document everything. He’s incredibly cautious of things, reminding you to drink a bunch of water and eat things that won’t give you heartburn; if that food you want is too hot, he’ll wait for it to be a perfect temperature for you to eat.

Simon’s extremely keen on every detail about you. He will always be there when you throw up, holding back your hair (if it’s long enough). Reassuring you when you need it, keeping calm with the mood changes and lack of muscle aches which he will massage for you.

On the topic of massaging, he doesn’t mind one bit about it. Wherever it aches, he will make sure to rub it out with a lotion of yours, asking you questions if it hurts or makes you uncomfortable while your favorite show is on.

The mood changes don’t bother him — he stays calm the entire time. He’ll take your snapping and yelling like a champ, taking a deep breath as he leaves the room for your privacy. Simon embraces you the moment he sees your lips tremble and tears fall, comforting you with a few kisses and assuring words.

Your privileges of showering alone are taken away; images of you slipping and getting hurt make him nauseous. As much as he respects your privacy, which he respects fully and heartily, Simon just doesn’t want you to get hurt. That being said, either he’ll be in the same room, looking over to you every few minutes to make sure you are okay or he’ll step in to help with washing your body, and praising you as he does so.

When your tummy starts to show, he will hint for you to wear his clothes more; leaving them near you, possibly taking away your shirt when in the shower, or picking out a few of his shirts for you when you can’t decide which one of yours will work for you.

Speaking of your tummy growing, Simon gets extremely annoyed whenever people try to touch you, even with closest friends or family members. His anger and annoyance are higher, especially with people he's not so sure about. He hates having people running up to you, he's lenient with children, strict with women, and God helps any men who come near you.

For the next couple of months, it’s expected for things to get harder: driving in cars is slightly more uncomfortable, and going grocery shopping or doing small errands becomes more tiresome. With this info, Simon helps out as much as he can, never blaming you for wanting to go home early or snapping at him over a minor thing.

Cravings don’t bother him. No matter how tired he is, he’ll get out of bed and get you a certain snack. Though, sometimes when there isn’t that type of food you want that isn’t in the fridge, he’ll lazily drive down to the nearest 7/11 market and achieve it; coming back with a small ‘here ya’ go sweetheart,’ before falling asleep near your belly.

Definitely keeps the picture of the ultrasound in his breast pocket at all times. He loves admiring it, smiling under his mask as he can’t wait to have more pictures in the future.

Anything with you being in high places makes his heart race. He will use his commanding voice, grabbing you under the armpits as he lectures you. Even if it’s not high, or you decide to talk back, he will glare at you before ushering you to sit down.

Surprisingly, you will be seeing Soap more (possibly the team as well!). Ghost trusts them enough to be around you, asking them (Soap mostly) to stop by to check up on you when he can't. Expect him to join a few dinners!

During the nights when it's the two of you, Simon gets clingier — holding you tighter, his tattooed arm always covering your belly as he talks with you; mumbling about what kind of clothes or their personality will be like. Hell, he even speaks about what kind of hair color or eye color they’ll have.

When he’s on call or a mission, he tries to get home as fast as he can. Before he leaves, Ghost makes sure to kneel on the ground, kissing your tummy with a small mumble of ‘keep em’ company’ before kissing you sweetly, promising he’ll be back as soon as he can.

For the time being, he will get on calls with you; hearing you do your things on the other end as he lays down wherever he is. Though, when he can’t get on a call with you, he will send more texts than usual — asking how the baby is, and if everything is okay.

Though, when he does come back to you, expect some… surprises he likes to pull in the bedroom and main room.

Simon will definitely talk to the baby. Mostly, it’s when you’re asleep — but sometimes you will catch him talking to your belly, drawing shapes around the sides as he reads about his thoughts, expressing his fears and promises that he’ll keep you two safe.

Because of his past, he will doubt himself — quite a lot. While he does know you will be the most amazing guardian; and with your help, he will too. However, that doesn’t stop his fear of becoming his father, having a harder time grasping that around his head; fear rumbling in his stomach. With reassuring words and his vulnerable personality around you, Simon will surely pass these thoughts and expect better things for the future.

When you are closer to the due date, his anxiety gets worse. While he is excited, he’s extremely anxious something will happen; everything he’s known has been forcibly taken away from him.

However, the mental picture of you holding the baby bean, the two of you watching their first steps, or hearing their first words overshadows those fears; making him feel more ecstatic about the family you two have soon created

—

Masterlist || Please reblog or comment instead of liking, it helps a bunch!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

#the icons are not mine #they belong to their rightful owners #kokeshi!! #yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere simon 'ghost' riley #yandere simon riley #yandere ghost #yandere ghost x reader #yandere mw2 #yandere modern warfare #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #yandere games #mw2 ghost #mw2 simon riley #call of duty mw2 #mw2 x reader #yandere x pregnant reader #x pregnant reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcannons #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x curvy reader #all queued up

[olomaya]

It's been a while so I thought I'd share some Private Clinic wip updates with y'all.

I'm pretty much finished with the Optometry module. With it, certain Sims will get an astigmatism and will need prescription glasses. Sims will need to get regular check ups to avoid worsening their astigmatism. There are also other issues Sims can get, particularly kids and elders that optometrists can treat. It's the smallest of the 5 medical modules I've planned so that's about the extent of it but as someone who's been wearing glasses since I was 10. It makes me happy to curse my Sims with an astigmatism too.

Also added some new features to the Clinic Controller to make it easier to run a clinic, including the ability to schedule appointments, either for yourself or for a family member (even babies and toddlers), which you can do in person or online.

I've started on the ObGyM stuff now for females/pregnant Sims though it's really more just obstetrics. Here's my Obgym giving an ultrasound to a patient (and probably prescribing she get a new husband 😅).

Pregnant Sims can get ultrasounds, blood tests and examinations to make sure the pregnancy is on track. Having daily check ups will improve the pregnancy and ensure a healthy baby or avoid any issues. You'll also get a sonogram from the ultrasound to show to other Sims to announce your pregnancy.

Thanks so much to everyone that replied to my request for pregnancy ideas, some of which I've incorporated. The module makes pregnancies less predictable and a bit more challenging. Being pregnant drains hunger, bladder and energy, gives variable due dates and weight gain, and monitors blood pressure, blood sugar and iron levels which are affected by diet and can bring on health complications if too high or low. Sims also get more nausea, heartburn, gas (fun!). I'm also thinking of making the pregnancy books more useful by including information about how the custom pregnancy state by reading them.

I love the original NonaMena breastfeeding mod but have always wanted something that has more impact for both nursing parents and babies so it makes sense to incorporate it into the obgym module where nursing has health benefits for the baby. Also the state/health of the mother affects how effective nursing is and how it impacts the baby. Stressed moms may have trouble producing milk.

Finally, I have decided to do live hospital births so OBs can deliver babies in the clinic. I'll share more details on that at a later date but I'm excited to put some interesting gameplay aspects in it.

#wip #privateclinicmod #coming 2024

[edmundspevensea]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

in which y/n is done with pregnancy, but jack comes to the rescue.

warnings; pregnancy, excessive vomiting, hospitals, make out session

Seven months ago, you were over the moon about having a baby. Jack and you had been trying for a bit before getting pregnant, and both of you had been ecstatic when you flipped the test over at 7:00 in the morning. You took three more just to be sure, and when those all came back positive, you and Jack both screamed so loudly that Luke had run into the bathroom with a baseball bat, ready to strike in case an intruder was present.

But that was seven months ago. Now eight months along, everything was killing you. Your feet hurt, your back hurt, and you had more heartburn than you had ever had over the span of your entire life, but that wasn’t the worst of it. In your first trimester, you had been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum, also known as excessive morning sickness. While most usually get over morning sickness before the beginning of their second trimester, you were well into your third trimester and were still vomiting almost nonstop. You were extremely ready for the pregnancy to be over.

It was definitely scary. Earlier in the pregnancy, you had vomited so much that you had become extremely dehydrated. So dehydrated that you had passed out on the floor of the bathroom while Jack and Luke were at morning practice. When the two boys came home that day, they were greeted by an eerily quiet house. While Jack checked your guys’ bedroom for any trace of you, Luke found you face down on the cold tile of the bathroom. The next thing you knew, you woke up in a hospital bed with an IV in your arm, Jack’s hand holding yours, his worried eyes scanning over your frame. He never wanted to leave you alone after that accident, but you eventually managed to convince him that you’d be okay so that he wouldn’t take too much time away from his job.

In this moment, however, as you were lying on the couch with a bucket in your hand and the Devils game on the TV, you wish you hadn’t been able to do that. The boys had a home game against the Stars, and were down early on. They managed to tie the game up with goals from Nico and Graves, but that didn’t do you any favors. Currently, the boys were in the second overtime of the game and you were absolutely miserable. It was 11:00 PM and all you wanted was Jack. Your prayers were answered not a minute later when Marino scored, ending the game with a final score of 4-3.

Not even ten minutes later, you received a text from your boyfriend: see you soon baby. i love you.

You smiled slightly as you gripped the bucket closer and turned off the TV. All you wanted was the pregnancy to end and to be able to meet your sweet baby. But you knew he or she wasn’t coming for another month or so, and that made you want to cry. As much as you tried to hold it in, you simply couldn’t. Tears fell out of your eyes as all you could manage to focus on was the discomfort you were feeling. You were so done.

You were so worked up that you didn’t even hear the door open. When you finally noticed the figure dumping his shoes off at the front door, you sat up as quickly as you could and attempted to wipe your tears. The figure, whom you realized was Luke, gave you a look of sympathy before coming over to you and giving you a brotherly kiss on the top of your head, “Jacky’s just putting some of his gear away. I’ll go get him for you,” he whispered, cleaning up the empty water bottles you had finished shortly beforehand.

“Thank you, Lukey,” you sniffled. He nodded softly and went out to the garage to grab his older brother. You waited as patiently as you could for your boyfriend, who came inside with his younger brother on his trail. Luke went upstairs to his room as Jack slowly made his way towards you, his eyes gentle and his arms outstretched for you.

“Oh baby,” he cooed, gently pulling you into his strong arms as he sat down on the couch. You placed your head onto his shoulder as the tears began streaming down your face again, “tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m so done,” you cried, tearfully looking into your boyfriend’s eyes, “I can’t do it anymore, Jacky. The morning sickness is killing me, and I can’t deal with the heartburn any longer! And my feet hurt and my back hurts… and I can’t take it anymore! I just want our baby to be here!”

Jack looked at you sadly and placed a sweet, gentle kiss on the top of your head. He grabbed your chin softly and forced you to look him in the eyes, “I know baby, and I’m so sorry you have to feel this way. I want to meet our baby more than anything, but you’re doing an amazing job, sweetheart. I need you to know that, alright? Our baby is not going to have a more amazing mother than you. We just need to wait a little while longer.”

“But what if I’m not a good mother, Jack? What if I’m a terrible mother? I want to give our baby the best life possible but I’m terrified that I’m going to end up like my mother, and I—” you were cut off by an extremely passionate kiss on the lips. As cliche as it sounds, it seemed as if all your worries fluttered away at that moment. After a few seconds Jack pulled away, but you pulled him right back in. After worrying yourself sick for the past few hours, this was the one thing that was reassuring you.

After a pretty heavy, long-lasting make out session, Jack pulled away. Smirking, he whispered, “Feel better, sweetheart?”

You laughed quietly, “Much better.”

“Good,” Jack smiled, “Now, I’ve been thinking about names, and I think I have the perfect one if we have a little boy.”

This peaked your attention. You and Jack didn’t know what you were having yet, as you both agreed that you wanted to find out the sex of your baby at the birth, “Oh yeah? I want to hear it.”

He smiled again, this time even wider than last, “Ellis James. I figured that Ellis is close enough to Ellen and James is my dad’s first name, and I think it flows pretty well together. What do you think?”

You smiled, wrapping yourself around his left arm. Although you hadn’t come up with many names yet, you both agreed that you wanted your baby to be named after close friends and family, and Jack captured it perfectly, “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Speaking of, I have a name I love if we have a girl,” you whispered, peering into his beautiful eyes.

Jack raised his eyebrows at you, his face full of curiosity, “What is it?”

“Lucia Quinn,” you spoke up, looking at Jack for his reaction. When you saw his grin grow, you knew you could continue, “Obviously she’ll have Quinn’s name as her middle name, and Lucia is a female version of Luke, so we’ve got both of your brothers covered.”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah.”

Boy, you couldn’t wait to have this baby. But, as opposed to the reasons you were thinking about earlier in the day, these new reasons were pretty good ones. That’s all you wanted. And as you focused on the look in Jack’s eyes, you knew that’s all he wanted too.

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #nhl hockey #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nj devils

[luveline]

hi hi honey! so i sent this request before but tumblrs been eating my asks so i’m gonna send it again,

i’m the person who asked about the kisses before dinner universe and so since u said u hadn’t gotten any requests for it i wanted to send u one! u mentioned that it was quite nerve wracking the first time reader got pregnant so maybe u could do a blurb where steve’s just comforting her and reassuring her during that time? if u want something more simple, it could just be a small blurb of how their night goes when reader comes home from work or something? ty and i hope tumblr actually ate my request and i’m not bombarding u with this again :(have a good day lovely ❤️

i love kisses before dinner i wanna write a thousand blurbs for them, thank you for requesting! here's steve and u when ur pregnant the first time with avery <3 fem!pregnant!reader

You're more young than you'd planned to be, the first time. Young and terrified.

Steve knows how scared you are, and though he hasn't suggested anything again since the first time you'd made up your mind, you know that any path you take is the one he wants to take with you. Having his support makes it easier, but it certainly doesn't make it easy.

Pregnancy is terrifying. It can make you so sick. It can kill you. So while it's beautiful, and Steve insists it's doing numbers for your complexion, it's gruelling.

You're not even that pregnant yet and still you're fucking tired.

"Stevie?" you call, or try to, voice hoarse with fatigue.

He emerges rather than answer, arms open wide and waiting. "Hey, sweetheart."

And that's new. Steve has always been a "babe" or "baby" kind of guy. Your pregnancy has made him soft.

He's careful not to press against your stomach though it doesn't hurt even slightly when he does, abdomen held away from the small swell of your bump as he gets his arms under your armpits, hands rubbing over your shoulder blades. "Hello," he says sweetly, kissing your cheeks, your chin. "I missed you so much." He hesitates for a second, and then he lets a hand slide between your bodies.

You lean back to let him know it's okay.

"And you," he adds, palm flat over your stomach, "I missed you, too."

"I don't feel very well."

He nods. "Alright. Come and sit down."

That's another one of his insistences. Total, awful honesty. Pregnancy is full of problems, like morning sickness and heartburn and back ache and nausea and headaches. It leaves you stressed and exhausted, and Steve had made it very clear that any complaining was welcomed.

You know, in your heart of hearts, that he's more excited for this baby than you are. He's terrified, too, but he's brimming with joy half the time, so eager to meet whoever it is that comes out on the other side. And you know he feels indebted to you, though he shouldn't. You want this baby a lot.

But Steve aches for them. He's gonna be a great dad.

Right now, he needs to be an amazing boyfriend almost husband.

I don't want a pregnancy proposal, you'd said.

His guilty smile had given him away fast. I want to marry you.

And I want to marry you, Stevie, I do. But not because we're having a baby.

In your mind, he's not your husband or your boyfriend, he's your Steve, as silly as it sounds. He's your everything. He's the only thing getting you through this.

Steve sits you down on a cushion in the kitchen and plants another kiss on top of your head. You haven't lost any mobility yet, but the pleasure of being cared for so deeply makes it hard to turn him down when he guides you around like this. Though, sometimes, when you're cranky, you complain about being babied. He takes it all in stride.

He cracks open a cold bottle of water and gives it to you. Then he turns back to the chopping board next to the stove and finishes what he'd been doing before you arrived, funnelling slices fruit into the colander. He rinses it, and then he pours it into a bowl and puts it in front of you.

"You want peanut butter?" he asks, wrapping his arms slowly and carefully across your shoulders, chin hooked over your shoulder. "Honey? I could melt down some chocolate?"

You pick up a shimmering slice of watermelon and tip your head back to feed him.

"Salted caramel?" he asks as he chews.

You smile softly at him and lift your chin until he gets the memo, leaning down enough for you to kiss the side of his mouth.

"Stevie," you say, because he's so fucking lovely and you love him and not everything hurts when he's around, "I love you. I hope you know how much."

He blinks at you, swallowing hurriedly. "I know," he says.

"Okay, good."

"You think I don't know? Sweetheart, you're carying our kid."

"But if I weren't, I'd still love you this much."

He softens like taffy in the sun, rubbing the tip of his nose into your cheek adoringly. "If you weren't, I'd still love this much, too."

You breathe him in, the wet crush of watermelon between you and his lingering aftershave.

"But you are," he says eventually, kissing your cheek again and then pulling back. "So you better tell me if you want peanut butter of chocolate."

You choose. Steve is delighted, spoiling you with fruits and toppings and asking about work as he starts to make dinner instead. That's another conversation you've already had — he's still working now, but when the baby comes, he's gonna stay home even after maternity leave ends. And if you change your mind and want to stay home instead, that'll be okay too. He's a dream like that. Accommodating your every want and wish.

And so, he's teaching himself how to cook. It's more hit than miss, shockingly, and almost always nutritionally golden.

"Broccoli again?" you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

"Our munchkin's gonna be the healthiest kid ever. TV dinners are for schmucks."

You aren't sure he'll be saying that when he actually has a kid. "She won't be able to eat broccoli for the first six months."

"She wont," he agrees, clearly overjoyed at the idea of a little girl, "but when she can, she's gonna love it."

The fruit is nice and then not. You might've overindulged, or maybe your stomach's being sensitive, but suddenly it smells very strong and you have to push it away, keeling in on yourself with a sigh.

Steve doesn't fuss dramatically, but he does fuss, hand hesitant behind your shoulders.

"You need a bucket, baby?"

"No, I-" Saliva pools in your mouth. "Maybe."

He's swift, kneeling in front of you with the bucket positioned at your feet, hand sliding between your legs to find your hand where it's kneeding your aching stomach.

"She's bullying you, huh?" he asks sympathetically.

"She's barely the size of an apple," you moan, sweat prickling across your brow. "How can she do this to me?"

He strokes the inside of your hand with both thumbs. "She doesn't mean to."

You know that.

Eventually the sickness subsides. You don't throw up. Steve seems as happy as you do about this, kissing your hand with a very apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry," he says.

You lean back in your chair, back already aching, and pull him up onto his feet. If he's surprised at your strength he doesn't say anything, only closes you in again with his arms over your shoulders and his cheek pressed to your warm forehead.

"Don't be. We knew-" You laugh. "I knew this would be hard. I knew it would suck. But I want to do this with you."

"Even though you're scared," he murmurs.

"Even though I'm scared."

His hugs are a balm, always. You melt with relief the longer he holds you, listening to the pot simmering on the stove, lid rattling, steam whistling out of the gap. There's a fondness in his hands you find difficult to describe, devotion or something similar, big palms roving the lengths and slopes of your arms and back like you're made of the most precious thing on earth.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

That's sobering. You suppose you can fall into dramatics about it. Pregnancy is solemn, but it's also completely normal. Millions of people are pregnant right this second. You smile into his jaw, breath hot as you laugh.

"I know, baby," you say, more cheerful than you've sounded all night. "Promise."

He laughs too.

"My girl," he says, too much like the song. You're worried he's gonna start singing. Actually, you might like it.

"Can we listen to the radio?"

"Depends. Will you dance with me?"

You dance with him. You suppose it's a good idea to get all your dancing out now while you can, because in a month or two you'll have cankles, and not long after that you'll have your arms full. He pulls you in and spins you out, brown eyes dancing with a brand new happiness, silky hair falling in perfect layers either side.

"I hope she has your eyes," you say. The shape of them.

"I hope she's your carbon copy," he says, twirling you around, radio hiding the clumsy patter of your socked feet. "A mini you. God, what will I do then? I can barely say no to you."

"You never say no to me."

"Exactly."

He smiles so hard his lashes kiss in the corners, a pleased squinting grin. He can say what he likes. If she doesn't get his smile you'll riot.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #pregnant!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #kisses before dinner universe #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x pregnant!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

[thebearer]

stop, thinking of teddys first holidays. she’s still a little new to being earthside. like her first halloween you dress her up in an animal onesie or something, and she’s barely old enough to stay awake for longer than an hour for thanksgiving so everyone’s cooing over how blue her eyes are and how much heartburn you had because of how dark and curly her hair is. and for christmas you get to start your new family traditions, and how carms like “this is more for mama, then you” and she is just sucking on her paci looking at the new lights on the tree

oh i have to elaborate on these i'm sorry this is so cute ahhhhh!!! having an idea that you make a little calendar of teddy or maybe document each milestone with a cutesy type photo shoot??? i think carmen would sob.

thinking about teddy's first halloween. you ordered a little bear costume for her to surprise carmen and it's WAYYYYY too big lol. she ends up in a little pumpkin onesie instead, but carmen thinks the costume is adorable. how big she is in it. then next year, she fits in it and he's stupidly emotional. like beyond emo about it. she can sorta toddle and walk and babble and it's still a little big, but by her third halloween she fits in it. it became a running joke that you'd keep trying until she fit. you'd send a picture every year to your friends and family saying something like "closer this time! maybe next year!"

when it does finally fit, you snap a picture and put it on your instagram.

finally fits. happy halloween from the berzatto's

her first thanksgiving, she's about three months pushing four (i hc she's an august leo baby... she gives leo energy and you know she does). you had so much heartburn. next to carmy's pepto was your tums bc it was so bad. the old wives tale lived up bc she came out with a full head of hair. a true berzatto trait, you decided.

carmen's favorite holiday was thanksgiving. especially with you and his "chosen family" he likes being able to cook and it's not chaos like his usual family. he holds teddy while you eat, you'll spoon him bite fulls of his own meal but he's content being showered with compliments about how good the food is. boosts his ego.

you give teddy a little bit of gravy, off your pinky, everyone at the table laughing when she smacked her lips, eyes opening at the taste. carmen beamed. he'd never been so happy.

carmen and richie are taking a smoke break outside, so you take the chance to snap a photo. teddy all bundled up in a bear onesie (a gift from tina ofc) and you lay her in a pile of leaves.

carmen feels his phone buzz, looking down to see you tagged him in a photo on instagram. he's grinning ear to fucking ear.

first thanksgiving and first leaf pile. big day for teddy bear! thankful for my baby teddy and my baby daddy @/chefberzatto

by christmas, teddy is enamored with the lights. she loves watching the tree, just gawking at it and all it's shiny ornaments. carmen spends a good portion of his time holding her, bouncing her gently in his arms and showing her the many different sparkling trinkets on it.

carmen is doing his best to try and create new traditions, happy traditions that would let teddy grow up loving and looking forward to the holidays. not dreading them and wishing they'd be over soon like carmen grew up with. love and caring instead of chaos.

you'd taken teddy to see santa, which she'd sobbed the whole time about. carmen had to sit next to the mall worker, holding teddy so she'd be halfway calm, but even then she'd refused to smile- only giving a pitiful, pouting lip jut that had you melting and cooing at her.

carmen had insisted on making holiday cookies. gingerbread cookies (more for you and him than teddy) but he said it gave him time to perfect it by the time she could enjoy them. he'd make a batch, a homemade hot chocolate (your powdered and hot water made him gag) sitting down to watch the grinch with you and teddy. you in his arms, teddy cuddled to your chest in her little christmas footy pajamas.

carmen was at work the next day when marcus laughed, calling him over to see what you'd posted.

gingerbread-ted thanks to @/chefberzatto (ps his were good but @/marcusbakes is much better lol)

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #dad!carmen berzatto #dilf!carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #thebearerblurbs #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #bearblahs #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear #marcus brooks

[coltrainbat]

Part 2 of bubba? Would love to see more of protective!chris 🥺

Bubba Part 2: Bump

A/N: Everyone grasp your loins i'm back... lol and a funny update after being bullied by my roommates they found this account and followed it to "keep tabs" so everyone say heyyy to my inner circle who I recommend sleep with one eye open 🥰

"Stay beside me yeah?" Chris held you tightly, staring at you intently as he helped you out of the car.

"I can barely walk, you don't have to worry about me pulling a runner." Chris gave a small smile at your light hearted joke.

At this stage, you were 6 months pregnant and HUGE. The last thing Chris wanted to do is shove you in front of a thousand cameras and screaming crowds but you insisted you two go. You desperately wanted to get out of the house and do yourself up after living in sweatpants.

Chris couldn't deny despite the heartburn, oily hair, night sweats and cankles you were glowing and looked absolutely stunning tonight to the point he had to hold himself back from giving you another baby.

"We can go home at anytime." He rubbed the small of your back lightly, fidgeting with the top layer of your dress.

You two approached the interview platform, Chris easing you gently yet forcing your whole body weight on him as he helped up the short 2 inch step.

You smiled at him endearingly as you approached the report. He wasn’t necessarily a bad reporter he just was a bit too enthusiastic for you and Chris’s liking not to mention a little invasive both figuratively and physically.

Chris knowing this placed himself between you and the reporter, hand encasing yours between you two.

“And here we have Chris, Y/N and the bump..” He outstretched his hand, verging towards your bump but not before the ever alert Chris, pushed his hand away promptly

“Absolutely not.” Chris said sternly, eyeing the report with challenging eyes.

He laughed nervously, moving his hands back into his pockets.

“Well do you guys know the gender yet?”

“We do!” You both said proudly, at the same time.

“Well how about giving us a W News exclusive huh?”

“Yeah no we plan to keep that information between us and our family for the time being.”

“Oh come on is Captain America having a strong boy or beautiful girl… let it out.”

Chris was getting annoyed at this point, so you gave his forearm a soft squeeze.

“I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl and either can be beautiful and strong at the same time. I’m just grateful for a so far healthy baby and wife. Thanks for your questions.”

You smiled up at him as he led you off the platform, reaching his limit on stupid questions.

Moving off the platform you let out a groan of pain. Chris’s eyes shot to your face concern written all over his;

“What’s wrong? You hurt?”

“No no.” You waved him “My feet are killing me.”

“I did tell you not to wear them.” You glared at his hindsight for now was not the time to play the “I told you so” game.

“It’s called an OUTFIT Christopher.” You spat at him through gritted teeth.

“Sorry sorry… here take ‘em off.” He crouched down, pulling up his slacks slightly to get on one knee.

“I can’t just do that in public!”

“You’re pregnant, you can get away with anything.” He brushed you off.

Chris lifted up the skirt of your dress, slowly easing your foot out of the shoes.

You sighed with relief as he gave your feet a quick massage in his large hands.

“Better right?”

“So much better. Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Holding the heels in his hands, you walked the rest of the event barefoot and in way less pain.

#chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans one shot #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #cevans #chris evans x pregnant!reader #chris evans x reader fluff

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road Ahead - Epilogue | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 4K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: This isn't the end, rather it is just the beginning of the rest of your life.

Notes: All right everyone, this is it. I can't believe this story is over, I am so happy I took the plunge and started to post online. This experience has been wonderful and you all have been amazing. Thank you to everyone who commented, liked or reblogged this story you guys helped me so much when I thought about giving up. If ever anyone wants more content from this universe I'd be more than happy to answer any prompts or asks. Now I am unto my Joel Miller x reader fic, I know a bunch of you want to be tagged and I am working on figuring out how :D

Hope you all enjoy this last chapter and in the meantime, take care of yourselves and I love you all very much xoxox

Family

"Here you go, a large sparkling water with three slices of lemon. You know I would've made a lemonade if you wanted; it would probably taste better than that stuff. Smells sour as hell." Will puts the large glass on the small table next to the pool lounge chair. You smile over your sunglasses.

"Thanks, Will. I really appreciate it," you express with gratitude. "Lemonade is just too sweet, these days only something that packs a good sour punch can even begin to curb my cravings. I think that if I send Frankie on another midnight hunt for Warheads, he might just end up moving back in with Alma," you add playfully, a mischievous glint in your eyes. As you speak, you pluck one of the large lemon slices off the glass and eagerly sink your teeth into the tangy, bitter flesh, savouring the burst of sour flavour hitting your tongue.

Will scrunches his nose. "Fish told me he saw you put a whole bag of Sour Patch Kids in your vanilla milkshake last week. Anything else we gotta be worried about, except for major heartburns and fried taste buds?" Will teases. You playfully put one of your hands on your taut round stomach. "Gotta keep the little one happy, and he insists that a milkshake with Sour Patch Kids is the breakfast of champions." Will smiles, trying to hide his amusement. "Hope you're still getting all of your food groups, though." You roll your eyes in jest. "My goodness, you're worse than Frankie. Don't worry, this isn't my first rodeo. I know what I'm doing." Will raises his hands in surrender. "My apologies didn't mean to offend. I know you know what you're doing. I just want to make sure you're all right.” A pause, as pregnant as you are, emerges “Are you alright?"

A giddy smile makes its way to your face. "Better than ever. Honestly, you have nothing to worry about, Will. I am thriving," you exclaim as you shimmy your shoulders in a little up-and-down dance. Will softens at your little display. "I am glad, then. You know I am always there if you need anything, right?" "I know, Will. And thank you." You hum in response before a comfortable silence opens between you two as Will looks over to where his brother is trying his best to not burn the burgers under Pope’s disapproving glare.

You gasp as you feel your baby start kicking you as if there's a goddamn karate class going on near your ribcage. You hold your breath for a second, feeling the rhythmic movements, before the kicking recedes. You lovingly place your hand on your stomach, feeling the gentle flutter within. "Are you okay? Is anything hurting? Do I need to get Fish?" Will's voice is filled with genuine concern.

You let out a joyful laugh. "No, no, don't worry, it's all right. Don't bother Frankie; he seems very focused on his task at hand." With a playful gesture, you wave your hand in Frankie's direction, where he's holding a not-so-little Ella just above the water, teaching her the proper way to kick her small pudgy legs to stay afloat. Despite being just over 3 years old, Ella is more interested in gleefully splashing her papa with water kicks than learning any of the supposed swimming techniques. Frankie, however, looks absolutely delighted, and after a particularly vigorous splash to his face, he playfully plunges Ella with him underwater. When they resurface, Ella is screeching with excitement, her tiny fists reaching out to grab her father.

Both you and Will can't help but laugh at the adorable display, shaking your heads with fondness. You return your attention to your growing bump and softly caress it. "When I was pregnant with Ella, she was the calmest little baby around. It all changed when she was born; then she turned into a little tornado," you reminisce, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I hope that since this little one enjoys using my bladder as his personal trampoline and keeps me up until the early hours of the morning, it means he'll be a little ray of sunshine after he is born."

You feel another kick, causing you to huff in response. Your eyes shift to Will, who looks amazed by your side, and you can't help but smile. "You want to feel it?" you ask, noticing Will's uncertainty and the hesitation in his eyes. "Come on, I'm sure he's excited to meet his uncle." Seeing him struggle a bit more, you take matters into your own hands, guiding one of Will's hands decisively to your round, 6-month bump.

You both wait with bated breath, but it's not long before your little karate champion makes himself known. "Woah, that's insane! Does it hurt a lot?" "It's uncomfortable, but nothing that I can't handle." Honestly, you love how rambunctious your little baby boy is. Since you started feeling him, some of your best memories were you sitting on the couch with Frankie's hand sprawled over your taut stomach and Ella sitting in your lap, talking to her soon-to-be baby brother.

"It's been great, magical really. Couldn't ask for anything better." You gulp the last of your sparkling water and suck another lemon slice into your mouth while Will shakes his head affectionately. "I am glad to hear it. We were all a bit worried when you two announced this new baby. I guess we were a bit scared Frankie was going to fall back into... old destructive habits. But I guess we were worried for nothing." Will gulps from his beer, while you munch on your slice of sour heaven.

"I was worried too, don't get me wrong," you admit, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. "Those first few weeks, I was so afraid Will. Couldn’t keep my eyes from Frankie, I hovered like one of his helicopters, like I already condemned him you know. God, I could barely sleep. But now, looking back, I realize that we were all worried for nothing."

You pause for a moment, a sense of pride evident in your words. "It's going to be three years in two months, you know. Three years of sobriety." A spark of excitement lights up your eyes as you share your plans. "I'm planning a pretty big party to celebrate, so you and Ben better clear your schedules for late May," you say playfully, wagging your finger in front of Will's face, reminiscent of a mom giving orders to her child. Will responds with a smile, placing his hand over his heart in a salute stance. "Roger that," he affirms seriously.

You smile, relishing in the tranquillity of the moment, before feeling a pair of wet arms envelop you from behind. An equally wet torso presses against your back, and you can't help but let out a playful screech as you try to wiggle your way out of the tight embrace. Your legs flail in the air as Frankie's nose nuzzles against your neck, eliciting a tickling sensation, and his hands dance across your side. You laugh so hard that tears fall down your eyes, while Will is laughing even harder at your predicament.

"Stop it, Frankie! You're getting me all wet!" You can feel Frankie's smile turn devious against your neck as he hikes up toward your ears and whispers low enough so that Will wouldn't hear. "That's not what you were saying last night when I was getting you wet. You were a bit louder, screaming my name for 'More, more, Frankie!'" He finishes his sentence in a shrill tone, a poor imitation of your voice. You swat him, feeling heat rushing to your body.

Will looks at both of you with a knowing smile before teasing you more. "You look overheated. Maybe you should lie down for a bit." "Shut up, Miller," you grumble. "I can't believe you two are ganging up on me!" you exclaim dramatically.

"Sorry, mi cielo," Frankie begins, attempting to untangle his arms from your side, but you swiftly grab hold of him, keeping his arms right where they were. "Don't you dare, Morales," you assert, a hint of playfulness in your voice. Frankie responds with an affectionate eye roll, nudging your side in response. "Let me tell you, Will, pregnancy makes them hard to follow," he remarks, attempting to defend himself. You let out a displeased huff, not fully convinced. "Don't talk as if all women are a monolith," you retort.

"Sorry, you are right, mi cielo," Frankie says reverently, acknowledging your point. However, a mischievous glimmer dances in his eyes as he turns to face Will. "Pregnancy makes this one hard to follow," he playfully adds, eliciting laughter from all three of you. You let your head fall back onto Frankie's firm torso, playfully nipping at his jaw. "You shouldn't be mean to me. You know it's your baby who's been using me as his private target practice," you retort with a hint of mock indignation.

Frankie's expression softens as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. "You are right. Will my beautiful pregnant wife forgive me?" You respond with an exaggerated haughty tone, pretending to consider his plea. "Maybe, what do I get if I grant you leniency?"

"We could stop by Sonic after the BBQ, grab..." "Milkshake and Sour Patch Kids?!" You screech. "Forgiven, completely forgiven!" You exclaim excitedly. You hear Will laugh in front of you. "You two are a sight to see, making me believe in love and all that jazz." "What can I say? You won’t find a woman like my beautiful wife on every street corner. I gotta make sure that she is as happy as possible. Can't lose her, so if that means that everything in the house tastes like lemon or acid mouthwash, then so be it."

"Where is our little tornado?" you crane your neck trying to check your surrounding as you realize that Frankie came to see you alone. Frankie points back to the pool where she is getting thrown around by an overexcited Benny. It was a hard process to get Benny and Frankie's relationship back to what it used to be. Both men bruised, Frankie believing that Benny wanted to replace him in your and Ella's life, and Benny angry that Frankie would think so low of him.

It was only after you and Will had conspired to lock them in the Miller's basement for an entire day that things had begun to repair themselves. When you had come back with Will and opened the door, you had seen the two men sitting down, their backs against the hard concrete walls, and a bunch of beers littering the unfinished floor. You had scrunched up your nose, put your hands on your hips, and spoke in the same tone you used when Ella was misbehaving. "Are you two ready to get along, or do we need to lock you in overnight?" Will had stood behind you like a bouncer, ready to throw hands if necessary.

But in the end, both men had simply laughed and, clearly drunk, had held onto each other as they scrambled to their feet. The sight would have been rather pathetic if it wasn't for the laughter the two men were sharing. They assured you that they were the best of friends again before launching into a long-winded explanation, cutting each other off with "You know I would die for you, Ben" and "Nothing compares to you, Fish. You are the best man ever." All in all, it was a good result, one that you and Will were satisfied with. You had let the two men leave after getting them to promise that they would start getting along again, which led to another rant on promises, brotherhood, and love. So yeah, satisfied.

Now it was as if all those awkward months between the two men had never existed, and their bond was stronger than ever. Frankie didn't feel insecure that Benny was Ella's favourite uncle (although that changed every day and highly depended on who brought the biggest gift or the sweetest treat—today it was Benny with the new rendition of "Mermaid Barbie"). And Benny was just happy to be a part of your extended family of six.

Frankie tenderly strokes your belly, his touch filled with love and gratitude, before locking eyes with you. In that silent exchange, you offer him an encouraging nudge with your shoulder, urging him to speak his mind. Frankie coughs, trying to mask his nervousness, before finally gathering his words. "Actually, Will, there's something we wanted to ask you," he begins. Will nods, signalling for Frankie to continue. "You know how challenging these past couple of years have been, overcoming my struggles with drugs and everything. But through it all, you've been there for me. You've helped me immensely with the court case, my sobriety, and supporting the girls. I feel incredibly fortunate to have you as my brother, Will."

Touched by Frankie's words, Will's expression softens, genuine gratitude shining in his eyes. "Fish, we're family. I'd move mountains to help you, and your work at the VA has been remarkable. The conferences you lead on addiction and recovery for veterans are making a real difference. I should be thanking you.” A tinge of embarrassment colours Frankie's cheeks, his friend's compliment catching him off guard. Ever since Frankie achieved sobriety and regained his piloting license, Will arranged for him to lead weekly conferences at the VA. Frankie would meet with a group and talk about his experience, the importance of speaking up and opening up, the importance of seeking help, and how it wasn't a failure to help yourself and be there for those you love. Frankie had flourished in this role, finding purpose and fulfillment.

"But really," Frankie continues, breaking through his momentary bashfulness, "I wouldn't be where I am today if you hadn't paved the way for me at the VA. For that, and for everything else, we want you to play a significant role in little Javi's life.”

Will frowns in incomprehension. "Well, I intended to be a part of Javi's life. You don't have to ask so formally." Will teases, while Frankie shakes his head. You come to the rescue, placing a comforting hand atop your husband's, resting on your growing belly.

“What Frankie is trying to ask, Will, is if you would consider becoming Javi's godfather." Will's eyes widen in surprise as if the notion is beyond his wildest expectations. "Me?! Godfather?! Shouldn't you be asking the Pope for something like that!?”

Frankie shakes his head, rejecting the suggestion with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't be stupid, ironhead," he retorts. "Pope’s head is big enough as it is being Ella's godfather. And I don't want to inflate his ego any further. Besides, there's no one I'd rather have as my boy's godfather than you."

You see Will soften as tears well up in his eyes. "Thank you, Fish. That means... It means the world to hear that," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to live up to what you expect of me." You can't help but let out a playful snort, knowing all too well that his formal tone is a feeble attempt to conceal the depth of his feelings. Behind that stoic facade, Will is a big softie, and right now he is on the verge of dissolving into a puddle of tears.

Will clears his throat once again, and you notice tears glistening in the tall blond man's eyes. "I... Thank you, Fish... I... I have to tell Ben!" Will scrambles to his feet and exclaims loudly, "Ben, guess who's going to be the godfather!!!" The response is a shocked "WHAT?!" as you spot Ella attempting to use Benny's head as a trampoline. A snort escapes you as you relax against your husband's chest, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. With your husband's strong presence behind you, your daughter happily playing with her uncles, and your baby boy safe and snug in your belly, you softly whisper, "I don't think it can get any better than this."

Frankie's gentle humming resonates behind you, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your growing belly. You turn your head, a quizzical expression lighting up your features as you meet his gaze. A warm smile graces Frankie's lips before he leans in to plant a soft, tender kiss on yours.

"I wouldn't know," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress. "Every day I spend with you is more wonderful than the last, mi cielo. I can only imagine how tomorrow will surpass even today." His words send a rush of heat through you, a deep feeling of being cherished and adored. One you only feel with Frankie.

You shift your body, the weight of your burgeoning belly making it a slight challenge, until you face Frankie, perched securely on his strong, muscular thighs. He holds you close, ensuring you won't slip, his touch providing both comfort and desire. You love how Frankie can make you feel safe and excited at the same time in an overpowering cocktail of desire and want. You press your lips against his, murmuring against his plump ones, "You have such a way with words, Mr. Morales, and I love you deeply." Frankie's smile blooms against your mouth, his affectionate gaze locked on yours.

"I also know how insatiable you've been lately, Mrs. Morales," he playfully remarks, allowing one hand to wander downwards, firmly grasping a handful of your soft, supple ass. He kneads and squeezes the plushness, igniting a delicious tingling sensation throughout your body. You tease him in response, slowly grinding against him, making sure that no one is looking at the pair of you.

"Ah, but I don't think I'm the only insatiable one here, my love," you whisper mischievously as you feel a bulge growing in Frankie’s swimming trunk. Frankie's breath catches in his throat. "Of course, how could I be anything but insatiable when my wife is out here looking like a goddamn dream." You roll your eyes. "Please, my belly is the size of a basketball, and I'm pretty sure my ankles have disappeared with how swollen they are." Frankie starts kissing your face all over, punctuating each kiss with an endearing word: "Beautiful. My. Beautiful. Girl. Never want anyone else." You feel yourself melt against him.

"OI!" Both you and Frankie turn your heads where Benny stands in the shallow end of the pool, Ella perched on his shoulder, her little hands covering her eyes. Benny's exasperated tone fills the air. "Can you save that for the bedroom, you animals? There are children around!”

"Pendejo," Frankie whispers under his breath, while you try to wiggle out of his grip and gather yourself in a more presentable position. But Frankie holds you where you are. "It's high time you find yourself a girlfriend if you need to get your rocks off looking at my wife and me!" Frankie screams back.

Benny gets all red and huffy, and you can hear some expletives being thrown your way. "Goddamn idiots... acting like high school kids... no shame... A girlfriend?! Idiots." In response, Ella swats him hard on the head where she is still resting and screeches, "LANGUAGE! Mama, 'cle BenBen said a no-no vord!" You smile. "Indeed he did, Estrelita. Looks like Uncle BenBen needs a little punishment!" Ella erupts into laughter, thoroughly amused by the prospect, while Benny's expression betrays a mix of fear and unsureness as Ella proceeds to sway back and forth on his shoulder screaming loudly about the bad language.

"You think we should rescue him?" Frankie asks. You consider the situation before responding with a noncommittal tone, "Nah, he's a big boy, he'll be fine.”

Frankie looks pensive for a second "Do you ever regret it?" he asks, his tone laced with vulnerability.

"Regret what?" you reply, genuinely puzzled by his inquiry.

Frankie's frown deepens, and he searches for the right words to convey his thoughts. "Taking me back. Starting again. No one would have blamed you if you had chosen to leave,” Frankie, for all the work he has been doing for the past three years, for all the individual and couple therapy he has attended, still sometimes feels like a scared little boy, yearning to be good enough for those he loves.

A soft smile graces your face as you gently stroke his cheek, your touch filled with reassurance. You guide his hands to rest on your taut stomach, emphasizing the life growing within. "There is no one I would rather be with than you, my love," you say tenderly. "Nowhere I would rather be than in your arms. You are everything to me—always have been and always will be.”

As Frankie's tears flow freely, his emotions cascading over him, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours, seeking your warm solace and quiet reassurance that he is enough, that he is loved. Frankie’s voice quivers as he whispers, "I love you so much, Mi Cielo. Thank you for everything you have given me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” A tender silence wraps around you both, allowing space for the weight of his words to settle between you. Frankie's murmurs against your collarbone provide comfort, his soft words acting as a balm to your souls. After a minute, Frankie's voice gently resurfaces. "The road ahead looks rather bright," he begins, his tone soft yet resolute, "and I can't wait to keep walking it with you."

Your smile widens, illuminating your face with pure joy as you savour the sweetness of Frankie's words. The road ahead does shine brightly, you think, as you tenderly place a kiss on Frankie's lips. And no matter how stormy it may become, as storms are inevitable on any journey, you are certain that you wouldn't walk it with anyone else by your side but your beloved Frankie. Like the sun and the sky, you are forever intertwined, destined to navigate the highs and lows together, casting light on each other's path.

Loving each other until the end—that's the life you've always wanted for yourself and Frankie and as you feel another kick from your baby boy and feel Frankie screeches excitedly and he start talking to baby Javi (well to your belly) in quick Spanish, praising the to be born baby. And as you spot baby Ella trying her best to run after Will and Benny while Pope eggs her on you thnk back to when she could barely crawl around. Your hands join Frankie and you feel your heart swell with love and happiness, yes this is all that you’ve ever wanted.

Loving each other until the end—that's the life you've always wanted for yourself and Frankie. As you feel another kick from your baby boy and hear Frankie's excited cheer, expressing his love and admiration, you can't help but smile. He speaks to baby Javi in Spanish, filled with warmth and anticipation, knowing that your family will soon be complete.

 Across the yard, you spot Ella as she playfully chases after Uncle Will and Benny. Surrounded by the warmth of your found family, you feel a deep sense of contentment. This is everything you've ever wanted—the love between you and Frankie, the growth and happiness of your children both here and yet to be born, the bonds of friendship that only strengthen over time. Holding Frankie's hand, you know that together you will continue to build a life filled with love, support, and countless moments of joy. This is the life you've always dreamed of, and it fills your heart to the brim with love. The road ahead is bright indeed.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro boys #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales x you #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #pedrohub #will miller #will ironhead miller #william miller #benny miller #santiago pope garcia #fic #fanfiction #fanfic

[ladylooch]

facetime sex with timo!! love u

A/N: First of all, LOVE YOU!!!! Thank you for blessing my inbox with Timo thots. Second, this request is what inspired me to ask people if they wanted to see more of Timo and Emma, because I knew this would fit really well into Loving & Leaving. And those two are such hoes for each other, they would get 🌶️ like this. Hope that’s okay with you, anon!

Also FFS I love these two. Come into my inbox and ask me about them 😭💕

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ content, phone sex, swearing, pregnancy, lil angsty

This takes place in the general timeline of Part 5 here. 

For the first time since 2012, the Devils have made it to the Eastern Conference Finals. They will have a tough test against the Boston Bruins in the next round, but tonight, we celebrate. Well, as much as we can for being 4,000 miles apart. 

“I’m so proud of you.” I murmur to Timo as he lays in his New Jersey bed. I’m in his our bed in Switzerland, propped against five pillows to prevent heartburn from the breakfast I just ate. It’s just about 8:00 am in Switzerland, while Timo is in the early hours of his morning in North America. 

“Thank you.” He smiles, blue eyes a bit droopy as he looks at the screen, taking in my freshly washed face. My hair is still wrapped up in a towel to dry a bit more before I blow dry it out. “What does your day look like?”

“Busy. Rhea and I have three site visits scheduled.”

“Hmm, that seems like a lot. Maybe you should-” He frowns before I cut him off.

“Don’t even start.” I warn him. Last time he told me to take it easy began a 24 hour silent protest from me. I only broke it when he sent a large bouquet of flowers that said: I’m sorry. Please call.

“I love and admire your work ethic, baby. I worry about you though.”

“I know. And I love that you worry. It’s… hot.” I trail off. His interest is immediately obvious. I take the towel out of my hair, letting it fall into wavy tendrils around my face. I bring my hands up, fluffing at the strands to give them some volume. My satin robe tightens across my chest, accenting my perked nipples. 

“If you really love me, you’ll take that robe off and give me a peak.”

“This one?” I ask, fingering the cool fabric. I let it fall off my shoulder, giving him a peak of one of the top swells. It’s enough to get him to lick his lips. 

“Yeah.” He breathes, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. His eyes are laser focused as I trail my fingertips across my newly bare skin. 

“I miss you so much.” I moan to him, laying back against the pillows but keeping my robe slightly off. 

“Me too. Maybe we could… play around and help ease some of that.” 

I pause before I speak. 

“You mean like.. phone sex?”

“Yeah.” I purse my lips together. “It’s getting a bit painful.” He tilts the screen down so I can see his large erection stringing his sweatpants into a tent. I want that buried between my thighs. I clench them together to try and dull the ache for him. It does nothing especially when he gives himself a squeeze over his pants, moaning afterwards. “Please. I miss your pussy.” That filthy word from his mouth makes my inner walls clench.

“Timo… I don’t really know what to do.” I sound breathless, not sincere in my protest.

“Thats okay. I’ll help.”

I glance around the empty room, then sit the laptop down between my legs. My large belly gets a bit in the way and I shimmy down until I’m comfortable.

“Is that good?” I ask him, tilting to look at the angle. He can see everything, but also my double, pregnancy chins which I really hate.

“It’s perfect. You look so good.” I meet his gaze, seeing the adoration as he pulls himself out of his pants. He wiggles his shorts down his hips so he can comfortably stroke himself without holding his waistband. I watch him for a moment, savoring the view of him thickened and large in his palm. “Take your panties off.” He encourages me, gesturing to the triangle of fabric hiding me from him. I maneuver them off, then toss them to the floor. When I spread my knees and stroke my finger tips over my folds, Timo chokes on a moan.

This feeling is foreign, touching myself in front of him when he isn’t here.  My fingers nudge my damp folds open for him. I tentatively stroke along the plumed skin, watching Timo lead me on the screen with a steady tempo of pumps.

“Relax.” He chuckles, seeing my eyes screw shut after a few moments of eye contact. 

“This is a little weird for me.” I admit. “Have you done this before?”

“No.”

That makes me feel better. I know he is more experienced than me but this feels more intimate than actually having sex. The thought of him having this moment with someone else would hurt. Instead, knowing I’m the only one, increases my confidence. I glide my middle finger along my slit, collecting the wetness to swirl it around my clit.

“Mmm, feel how wet you are for me, baby.” He admires, hand beginning to pump himself faster with his fist. “Fuck, I can’t wait to bury myself in your perfect pussy.” He moans loudly, praising me as I increase my tempo to match him. “Take your robe off all the way.”

“No, my nipples look weird.” 

“Babe.” He whines. “Please. I wanna see all of you.” His intense gaze, wet lips and quick strokes on his cock make my oblige. I take the fabric off completely, letting him see me. His moans get louder. “Holy fuck. You look so sexy pregnant with my baby.” Every time I get insecure with this pregnancy, Timo is right there to replace every negative thought with generous praise. 

“You like what you did to me?” My tone is breathy and needy, filled with feminine grunts that have Timo buzzing on the screen.

“Yeah. You’re only having my babies right?” 

“Yes, T.” I moan as I glide two fingers into my entrance. I thrust them in and out, both of us going silent to hear my slickness coat the call. 

“Faster, baby. Wanna come together.” 

I quicken my pace, then trail my other hand up my body to play with my nipples. I pinch and stroke until I am bucking into my fingers in desperation. I watch Timo’s hand stroke his hard shaft, the tip beginning to dribble pre-cum down his fingers. It’s so sexy watching him watch me. I bite my lip, then begin to pant as I get closer. I bring my hand back down, rotating my clit with it as I push my fingers deeper.

“Curl up now.” Timo commands, knowing that will get me. My fingers curl. Timo praises me, his voice giving away how close he is as he mumbles a string of fucks. I rub against that velvet spot in me, watching Timo’s jerk white ribbons from his tip, while pretending it’s him that pushes me over the edge. The orgasm that rocks me is exquisite, I shiver and convulse into a sit up before falling back to the bed.

My eyes stay closed, listening to the appreciative groan from Timo through the computer. I swallow, wetting my painfully dry throat. I tilt my face back to make eye contact with him again. His smile is sweet and tender, making a lump form in my throat. “I want you to be here with me.”

“I know.” He whispers, seeing my tears. 

“But I want you to win a Stanley Cup too.” I frown, pushing my bottom lip out. I run my hand over the baby as he wiggles around a bit. Timo focuses on where my hand is now, tucking himself back into his shorts with a sigh. I grab the computer, bringing it back so my face is now the focal point of this call.

“I’ll be home soon, no matter what.” We both know soon could be over a month away still. “Then I’ll touch you everywhere.” I close my eyes, imagining that his arms are around me right now. “I’ll hold you every night. Massage your feet and legs and anything else you’ll let me.” He finishes as we both chuckle. “Will you talk to me until I fall asleep? Tell me about your cravings this week.” 

“Pickles!” I shout excitedly. “And cream cheese.” 

“Yuck.”

“No, baby, it’s so good. You dip the pickle in the cream cheese and then put everything but the bagel seasoning on. Oh my god. It’s everything the baby desires in the world. He gets so happy and literally jumps around. I’m out of a lot of the ingredients though cause that is literally all I ate yesterday.” I chuckle. “Probably won’t be able to get to the store until tomorrow though.”

“Yeah, that might be for the best. You need more protein than that for our big boy.”

“Hush.” I roll my eyes at him. “He’s growing perfectly, so I’m doing something right.”

“You are doing everything right, Em. He’s so lucky you’re his mama. Me too.” I watch as Timo’s blue eyes do a loooooong blink before he opens them, squinting at me from where he lays on his crunched up pillow. His arms are beneath it, phone propped up on his nightstand now, so he doesn’t have to hold it.

I get up from the bed, heading to the bathroom to start getting ready. I need to leave in about twenty minutes. I spend that time chatting about a few more things with him as I work my hair into large, wavy curls. By the time I’m setting everything with light hair spray, Timo is asleep. Puffs of air have his chest rising and falling steadily. 

“T?” I whisper, seeing if he is as out as he looks. He doesn’t react to my voice. Instead, a slight snort sounds from his nostrils. I smile, pressing two fingers to my lips then touching the screen. “We love you. Sleep well.” I tell him. With one final glance, I hit the end of the FaceTime call. Then, I’m out the door ready to take on my busy day.

When I get home from my long day, there is an unexpected delivery waiting for me outside our apartment door. I slowly reach down, using the wall as an anchor so I don’t tip over my belly. There is a note attached to the delivery cooler.

For my babies, I love you both so much. Thank you for earlier, babe. It was everything I needed. - Daddy

Inside the cooler is a big jar of pickles, two blocks of cream cheese, everything but the bagel seasoning, and a bouquet of pink, white, and lavender flowers. I tear up, realizing he must’ve woken up in the middle of his night to order these for us. He’s 4,000 miles away and I’ve never felt more loved by him than right now.

“You have the best daddy.” I murmur to our son where he kicks beneath the groceries in my arms. “Let’s go make some pickles and wait for him to call after practice.”

#TM: Loving & Leaving #Timo Meier #Timo Meier smut #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing #nhl fan fiction #writing request

[gothgril69]

Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader Royalty!AU

Summary: You dream of another life, a simpler one under the rays of the warm sun, where you find love and your brothers live happily.

But you're destined to serve, to be the black sheep of the family and married off to whoever your father pleases because your parents can't seem to harbor any love for you. Your brothers will serve in the war, side by side with their Chevaliers, and you'll be left to pick up the pieces or die trying.

And the one you thought always hated you, will be right by your side to catch you when you fall.

Overall Warnings: themes of sexism, minor character death, angst, depression, minor character death, smut (please check ao3 for all tags)

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter Length: 9.5k

Next Chapter

ao3 link

Notes:

Thank you so much for starting a fic of mine <3 There's a few things I wanted to say before you get started.

-Reader has a default name of Aeron Reader. It plays into the story and that is why this is tagged appropriately as Levi/OC, but it is written in second person and all details relating to the female mc/reader are very vague. I do try to account for different hair types/skin tones and therefore leave it vague on purpose. -This is loosely based on 18th century conflict between France, England, and Scotland. Mirlenas represents France, Kaslogon represents England, and Navarre Scotland. There are historical accuracies but also inaccuracies for creative freedom regarding certain things. -I have been sitting on this fic since October 2022, and am just now posting it because I am way too hard on myself

I hope you enjoy <3 gothgril

Your parents always wanted another boy.

Your older brothers, Auguste and Theo, were the kingdom’s prized heirs to the throne, certain to fill your ancestors shoes to the fullest. You were supposed to be like them; supposed to be another boy that would marry and extend the family tree of royalty for the kingdom of Mirlenas. 

Your mother carried you the same as your brothers; tummy hanging low, heartburn, unbelievable back pain. How could you not have been a boy? Your name was picked out for you and everything. All the midwives were prepared to have another boy and decorated your nursery with calming blues and greys to match the kingdom’s colours.

But out came you. A healthy baby girl, bright eyes and a full head of hair. It wasn’t that your parents were unhappy – no, they loved you regardless at the time – they just weren’t prepared. Your name was Aeron, the name picked out for you when they thought you’d be a boy, and you were the new child of the Reader family. 

Aeron Reader has an ominous feel to it, the name of the same Goddess of War that comes from stories in your mother’s forgotten origin. Your parents never realized until one day one of the maids was overheard gossiping about it. Overheard hushed whispers about you circulated around the castle.

You were seven years old at the time and not happy about it. You’ve done all the research now about her origin and reputation – you quite like her.

Your mother simply chose to ignore her own heritage of Druvaria ever since she married your father. A deal had been struck between kingdoms and your mother fell victim to becoming the new Queen of Mirlenas, her own father giving her away to make peace between nations. The war had been ongoing for five years and needed to come to an end and finally, someone had come to their senses to offer up the princess of Druvaria in trade for peace. She didn’t know any better, simply believing it was the right thing to do for her nation and had no other choice. 

Things did work out in her favor in the end. Your parents fell in love with each other before they even married and mated, telling you the story at least once a year over dinner about it. A bite to the nape of the neck only sealed their fate and ensured they would be mated for life. You’re happy for them, truly, but you know you weren’t a part of their plans.

It was supposed to be three healthy boys, and you felt the seclusion.

Ever since a young age you wanted to be like your brothers, refusing to wear the dresses your handmaidens sewed for you and playing in the grass instead. You distinctly remember being seven years old, covered in grass stains while your mother yelled at you from the courtyard in front of the castle. You had just finished wrestling with Theo, face shoved into the dirt and hair completely disheveled. You could never beat him even though he was only two years older than you – you just didn’t have the strength yet. 

You remember your mother’s voice ringing out into the air, “I didn’t have a girl just for you to act like a boy!”

Seems like you can’t do anything right.

You pushed Theo off, angry that he had beaten you again and upset about your mother’s words. Defiance pulsed through you and you only wanted to be less ladylike in spite of her. You had stuck your tongue out at Theo as he did the same to you, Auguste coming over to break the two of you apart before you were tempted to lunge for his throat again. Auguste always seemed to be the voice of reason, calming Theo down with just a look before he’d look down at you with soft brown eyes, his curly brown locks falling slightly in front of them.

Perhaps you shouldn’t choose favorites, but Auguste always had this way about him. He was kind and charming even in his younger years before diplomacy truly got to him. Everyone loved him and he seemed to always know what to say, even sitting in on adult conversations despite his young age. He always knew what to say to make even you feel better.

He had sent Theo away to your mother and grabbed your hand, kneeling down to you so he was eye level. “Theo is just a brat sometimes. Don’t let him get to you, kid,” he had told you with a quick ruffle to your hair. He stood up, making sure he was still holding your hand to walk you inside to clean up. He was already thirteen at the time and strong enough to pick you up, so he’d lift you on top of the private bathroom counter that was located in his room. A soft wet rag would be wiped along your cheeks and nose to clean off the dirt that Theo graced upon your features – a gentle tap of your nose would indicate when he was done and you could jump down.

When you were eight Auguste promised he’d teach you all the things he knew: fencing, archery, horse riding, knife throwing, swordsmanship and even some of the studies Auguste was learning in school. You would do your duties as a princess during the day, pleasing your mother by learning your manners and all things women should know (sewing, cleaning, cooking, botany) and during the evening after dinner you would train with your brother. Occasionally, Theo would join and actually be quite tolerable – that’s where your relationship with him truly started to grow. He’d be serious and want to know everything Auguste did, trying his best to be patient with you as you learned and he would train with Auguste during your own breaks.

When your mother first caught you with them she was livid, claiming that your behavior was “boyish and unflattering” and something along the lines of you being “a disgraceful princess.” You’re almost positive there was more, but your brain has blocked out most of the memory of being talked down to so harshly by one of your parental figures. It’s not like you and your father talked much – he only really entertained Auguste to make sure he was prepared to take the throne one day. You envied Auguste in a way, but you could never hate him for being the golden child. He didn’t choose that life and quite frankly, it must be hard on him as well to carry that burden.

Your life truly changed when an extravagant ceremony was held for a new Chevalier that would be in the castle. The large hall designated for events had Mirlenas’ banners strung high above the grand windows, shrouding most of the light that would enter. Expensive chandeliers were lit, light fixtures along the walls providing warm light to envelop the area. Rows upon rows of people sat and waited for the entrance of the new Chevalier while you sat at the very front of the room. Your mother and father sat in their large wing-back chairs while you and Theo sat on your mother’s left side. Of course, you were given the smallest chair out of everyone. Auguste waited patiently for the entrance of the Chevalier, waiting to make his own appearance to complete the ceremony.

Your brother Auguste was of age to join the kingdom’s military at seventeen and should be accompanied by someone of a higher skill level than him. The one thing you didn’t expect was it to be a fifteen year old boy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else than bowing in front of your parents. You didn’t blame him, you hated all the formal bullshit too.

You had begun daydreaming when his name was announced, only coming to your senses when Theo bumped you so you wouldn’t get chastised later by your mother. The boy was wearing Mirlenas’ colours, navy blue and silver, and was being awarded a broche with the family crest to grace his uniform over his heart. A symbol of his dedication to the kingdom; a set of wings over a shield. The Chevalier formal uniform was tailored to him specifically: a navy blue tailcoat over a grey collared shirt with a white cravat hanging around his neck. You remember when he stood up from bowing to your parents and his piercing grey eyes landed on yours as you sat next to them, a slight furrow of his brows happening in an instant before his sharp features were stoic once again. 

You kept your eyes on him when he looked away, analyzing him with a tilted head. You told yourself it was to make sure Auguste would have a proper Chevalier accompanying him, but there was something intriguing about him. His raven black hair was well kept, straight hair layered so most of it fell out of the small tie at the nape of his neck

“Dedicate your heart to not only my kingdom, but my son as well,” your father’s voice had droned on. You refrained from rolling your eyes at the formality of it all, knowing Auguste would never treat his Chevalier as less than him despite your father training him to do so. You had instead fidgeted with your thumbs, messing with the lace on the dress you were forced to wear for the event until your mother gave you one of her looks. The look that told you you’d be getting in trouble later for simply being a young girl with energy that prevented you from staying still at such a boring festivity.

You realized the boy was quite short when Auguste stood next to him, maybe a couple inches taller than you at your age at the time. You hadn’t quite hit puberty yet afterall, your courses hadn’t come yet and your mother seemed adamant about ignoring the inevitable anyway.

You didn’t figure out the boy’s name until days later when Auguste introduced you to him. “Name’s Levi,” he had told you in a bored tone. Your eleven year old self was eager to meet him until he had scoffed at your name. “What is that? A boy’s name?”

You’ve disliked him ever since.

Levi remembers seeing you that day, having no idea the royal family even consisted of a princess along with the other two princes. You were only eleven at the time, but it seemed as if your family was ashamed to have you on display. You were given the smallest chair at the end of the line of royalty, a dress that didn’t look as well sewn as your brother’s uniforms fell on your shoulders. You looked curious, which had intrigued Levi at the time, but incredibly sad in your eyes. He said the first thing that came to mind when Auguste introduced him to you. It was odd for a lady of royal standing to have such a gender neutral name, bordering on masculine, and he didn’t think you would be so offended. He noticed right away you weren’t like other princesses he had met when he noticed you were wearing trousers, stains all over you and hair sticking in every direction.

He had looked at you with such disdain when he saw the grass stains on your trousers or the dirt that was under your nails from wrestling with Theo just moments before. You never acted like a princess and Levi clearly hated that, always on your ass about not acting like a lady and getting so dirty he could “clean the stables and feel better than being next to you.” He’d plug his nose and mock gag at you to emphasize his point when Auguste wasn’t around.

You didn’t truly start to hate him until a boy named Furlan came around as Theo’s Chevalier. He was the same age as Theo, seventeen at the time, while you were fifteen. Your new handmaiden, Isabel, had arrived at the same time as him and quickly became your best friend, but you grew jealous when she became a part of your brother’s friend group consisting of Levi and Furlan as well. You were once again the outcast no matter how hard Isabel tried to get you to join. And you did try at some point, only to be made fun of by Theo and Levi while Isabel and Furlan shyly watched on. 

You didn’t blame them. Levi was hard to argue with and Theo was royalty, even if he was just your stupid brother. Auguste was busy training to be the next heir, constantly under your father’s watch and unable to mediate childish arguments between you and your brother anymore.

Luckily, Levi wasn’t around as often as the other three were since he was Auguste’s Chevalier. He would accompany him on any personal affairs or duties he needed to fulfill off of the castle grounds. 

Those were your moments of somewhat peace; when your mother would busy Theo with a task and you’d have a chance to spend time with Furlan and Isabel alone. Isabel was only twelve and being taught the proper ways of being a handmaiden, but during her free time she’d make sure you weren’t alone. Furlan ended up just following suit, keeping a watchful eye on Isabel, even though he had always been closer to Levi.

She tended to get herself into trouble, always wanting to bring animals into the home before your mother caught her one day. You had taken the fall for Isabel bringing in an injured dove, enduring the lecture about how “vile” these “creatures” could be. You helped Isabel tend to it’s wing and nursed it back to health before releasing it from your balcony without your mother’s knowledge.

When you were seventeen you started to stay in your room more, only coming out to train your skills in combat. Your mother had given up at this point on trying to make you a lady. You were always wearing trousers paired with at least a corset over your blouse to keep your “womanly figure” as your mother called it. You didn’t give a shit about it, but if you could at least wear trousers then you would do it to spare you from the pain of ridiculous skirts and dresses while you were on castle grounds.

Painting and reading became your new hobbies and you soon only really started to see Isabel when she visited your bedroom. 

You were tired of being berated just for existing.

At the time, Levi had secretly missed your presence. He enjoyed picking on you and getting a reaction, sometimes doing it to push your buttons so far that you would yell at him. Isabel would always scold him as if she were his senior, telling him he’s being too harsh on you. You were just such a brat, always picking a fight with him if he didn’t do it first. When you were gone and holed away in your room he felt like there was a presence missing, but he blamed it on being bored while Auguste was busy with your father.

Your large room was lined with bookcases, shelves full with books you’ve read countless times. A few easels were scattered about, a painting resting on each so you could alternate what you were working on while the oils dried on the other two. You had taken down the large navy blue curtains, ripping them down one day to get all of the natural light possible inside of your room and shoving them into a confused handmaiden’s arms in the hallway. You’re positive your mother didn’t know what you did and still doesn’t, probably unaware of the curtain rods that no longer perch above your windows since she never visits your bedroom. 

She doesn’t talk to you much. Only Auguste and Isabel know you paint.

Your navy blue blanket and grey sheets hardly ever got any use despite the comfortability of the silk. You wanted to rip down the harrateen that surrounded the four poster bed, but it was too much of a hassle if you weren’t even going to use it. You were never tired, only needing a few hours of sleep to function in your teen years. You’d tend to the fireplace while your mind would always be full of creative ideas, needing to spill them onto a canvas before they would be forgotten.

Auguste tried to get you to come out of your shell more, always asking you at dinner if you would join him for a walk around the castle grounds. Those were your favorite moments. The moments where you could talk to Auguste about anything you needed to, whether that was simply an idea for a painting you had or something more heavy like the way your mom was. He always tried to make you feel better, saying things like “you know mother loves you in her own way” or “father is just busy being king.” 

When you told him about how your father had told you to never cry and show weakness when he caught you crying on the rare occasion that he sees you in the halls, Auguste comforted you without making excuses for him. “Father is incapable of human emotion. Everyone cries. Cry if you feel you must,” he had told you, grasping your shoulders to ensure you absorbed every word he said as you stared into those big brown eyes you love so much. Those were the only words that had ever truly made you feel better about your parents.

Things in your life didn’t take another turn until you were twenty. You were a grown woman and done with being kept to your room in fear of being talked down to by family members. You began taking your training more seriously, practically begging Auguste to train you again after dinner instead of going on your walks. He obliged and soon you were exceeding at everything, being especially good at archery. A bow just felt so natural in your hands – you could practically shoot with your eyes closed.

At age twenty-six he still wasn’t married – quite a taboo concept considering your father’s growing age. Auguste didn’t want to marry for duty, he always wanted to marry for love. You had a suspicion he didn’t admire women in the same way as other men – not that you would ever tell a soul. You simply enjoyed that he had more free time than he was supposed to and that he chose to spend it with you.

When you won against him in a fencing match is when you knew you had surpassed his expectations. The look on his face when he took off his mask told you everything you needed to know: he was proud of you. You remember being so happy, tears formed in your eyes before you could stop them, and you ran at your brother, colliding with him in a giant bear hug with full force. Auguste had taken you into your arms and swung you around like you were his whole world – he made you feel like you truly were. 

Theo joined in after cheering, causing both him and Auguste to practically absorb you. Levi had been on the sidelines judging the match and you heard his scoff when you won. You were too excited to care at the time.

You were forced to spend more time with Levi when Auguste grew inevitably more busy. Theo had fallen behind in his training and would have private lessons with Furlan. Isabel was kept busy by the older handmaidens, tending to laundry and kitchen duties, leaving you with Levi. You refused to stay locked up in your room unless you were willingly painting or reading, but even now you preferred reading in the gardens so you could get some sunlight on your skin, even if only for a little while.

Auguste had tasked Levi with looking after you while he wasn’t around despite your – and Levi’s – protests. You insisted you were a grown woman and didn’t need someone to watch over you like a lost puppy – Levi just didn’t want to deal with the inevitable attitude that was thrown his way just for being there.

But he wasn’t simply just there. He would make fun of you for your book choices; if something got in your hair and you weren’t aware of it. He had at least given up on getting on your ass about acting like a lady – if anything he seemed to prefer it rather than you fretting about dresses and “frilly things” as he calls them.

“I just can’t pretend to care when they talk to me about how expensive their dresses are or how they bought the best perfume being made right now,” he had droned on to you one evening. Somehow, you had gotten on the topic of the ball that was held a few weeks prior. He was forced to attend with Auguste and “forced” to entertain women even younger than you that were fawning over him and your brother. 

You had actually laughed and sympathized with him, sharing your own stories about disgusting older men trying to win your affections. He had cringed when you exaggerated the ugliness of a stout older gentleman with a gut that hung over his belt – the buttons of his shirt were hanging on for dear life.

The man had flirted with you incessantly, hardly ever straying from your side the whole night even as you attempted to excuse yourself – he always found a way to be next to you. You laughed it off, telling Levi it was just the usual for a woman of high status whether you liked it or not. He didn’t say anything that time, only a look of what you think was anger flashed in his eyes before he looked away with a quiet “tch.”

Levi had seen the wretched old man the whole night, ogling you and grimy hands inches away from touching you. He wanted to rip his fingers off for attempting to touch a member of the royal family like that and gouge his eyes out with the nearest fork for staring at you like a piece of meat. He told himself he would only be doing his job protecting a member of the royal family. 

Levi had kept a watchful eye on you the whole night, watching you fake laugh at people’s jokes with a smile that never reached your eyes. He had never heard your real laugh before, and he could imagine it wouldn’t sound anything close to the small, half-hearted chuckles you gave out. The only time he ever saw you smile was when you were reading one of your stupid novels or daydreaming without realizing it before something snapped you back to reality.

You had actually felt pretty that night in a dress that was tailored just for you. You had convinced Isabel to go with your wishes of it being simple and less extravagant than your mother’s requests, so when you put it on it felt more appropriate for you. She had been in your bedroom for a whole day taking measurements to alter a gown you already liked a decent amount, asking what you wanted changed about it. 

The day of she stood behind you, tugging on the laces of your corset to practically squeeze the life out of you, claiming she needed you to look perfect so your mother wouldn’t have her head. You even had your other handmaidens run you a hot bath with a sachet of lavender from the southern coast of your country.

You’ve made it a habit to bathe with lavender and have lavender oil around to calm your senses, leaving your skin smelling like the flower.

You were now twenty-three. Living the life of royalty that many would dream of.

You weren’t ungrateful for it – you knew how bad the lower class people of the kingdom had it – but you never asked for it. You never asked to be unloved by your parents, watching as your two older brothers received all of the attention. You never asked to be showered in fine silks and paraded around in dresses like you were some animal being put on display for purchase. 

You wanted to run away, to live a simple life somewhere in the countryside. You’d make your living using the trades your mother had taught you at a young age. You could protect yourself with the combat skills Auguste had fine-tuned until he could no longer be your teacher. You knew botany and how to grow your own food; live off the land.

You were tired of feeling unwanted by everyone around you. You hardly felt okay anymore, eating only because Isabel forced you to and wouldn’t leave until your plate was empty. You would maybe complete a painting or two once a year now and tea was the only thing you could stomach for breakfast. The only thing that kept you here was your cowardice and getting lost in the stories you read. It could be romances or history, even war stories caught your eye sometimes, but it was something to escape to. Your mind would be occupied by something other than your heavy thoughts that weighed you down, allowing at least some respite. 

You wonder if living a simple life would have allowed for you to flourish the way you were supposed to, or maybe if you lived in one of your novels and found love then you could be happy.

But things could never be that simple.

Levi watches you now as you stare off into the distance with that usual faraway look on your features. You’re sitting on a blanket you had sloppily thrown on the ground, one of your knees brushing against the grass and defeating the purpose of the piece of fabric below you. It bothered Levi more than he would care to admit when you did things like this, only committing to them half-heartedly. The forming grass stain glares at him.

He hated being out here with you. It was boring and typically hot in the summer months like it is now, but at least you had chosen the biggest oak tree to find reprieve from the sun’s rays. He simply leaned against the trunk of the tree, observing you when you were busy daydreaming. When you would snap out of it the air would be full of bickering again and he found peace in the silence. 

You were wearing your usual black trousers and corset over a blouse, but sat as if you were wearing a skirt. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, but some rogue strands fought themselves free and blew in the wind and he fought the urge to either chastise you for it or just fix it himself since you couldn’t do it right.

You perplexed him still, even when the two of you had matured and Levi was now twenty-seven. It was less childish insults and more clever banter between the two of you now. You actually seemed to enjoy wearing dresses on occasion now that your figure suited them and he was even able to smell a hint of lavender oil on your skin whenever the two of you were forced to be too close. You had become a woman, but sometimes Levi still felt like he was looking at the neglected little girl he had first seen at his introductory ceremony.

Your eyes were the same sad ones he had seen that day and you still tended to fidget with the hem of your clothing whenever you were anxious. A genuine smile rarely makes it’s way to your features and he swears he’s only heard you genuinely laugh once with Auguste when he had trailed behind one of your evening walks. He almost pities you until he remembers how easy you truly have it.

You had no idea what it was like to grow up in poverty, never knowing when your next meal was or taking any article of clothing you could because it was the only option. No, you were picky about the clothes you wore and the things you ate and always took them for granted. 

You were selfish, making Auguste worry about you all the time and borderline obsessively commanding Levi to make sure you were okay. He would do as he was told, of course, but you never realized how much turmoil you caused in your brother’s mind. Even Theo worries about you now that he’s matured and no longer finds amusement in ruffling your feathers.

The only thing he can understand about you is how big of assholes your parents are and how most of the time he feels the same way you do in their presence: neglected and frowned upon.

Your father commands Levi as if he were a dog while your mother chooses to ignore his presence altogether. He could admit that maybe you weren’t as bad as your parents – he’s watched them throw away untouched food because it had gotten cold (their own fault of course). The first time he had seen it happen he had to bite his tongue, holding back the onslaught of curses and insults he had ready to throw at them. As much as Levi hated them, he never wanted to go back to the slums he grew up in, knowing your father would never do anything to solve the problem. The amount of people in poverty would continue to grow and he could only hope your brother Auguste would do something to change the state of the kingdom once he becomes king.

Levi pulls himself out of his own thoughts when a harsh gust of wind strikes him to remind you about the evening’s events. 

“Oi,” Levi snaps his fingers in front of your face. You look up at him, clearly dazed from being pulled out of your daydream and into the real world where you sit on the grass. 

The day is bright and sunny as you sit under the cooling shade of the ancient oak tree that sits in the front lawn of the castle, a giant stretch of grass as far as you can see separating you from the rest of Mirlenas. The castle sits on 800 hectares and you enjoy being able to escape the bustling interior of the castle in favor of sitting on the lawn. Your book is open on your lap, but abandoned long ago in favor of daydreaming. You hardly remember what you got lost in thought about.

“Your mother has summoned you,” Levi reminds you. Of course. Your mother and her tendencies to summon you whenever she is in a particularly bad mood, annoys you – going back to your bedroom and painting until the moon is high in the sky sounds significantly more appealing.

You sigh and ignore his outstretched hand, knowing he’s only offering it because of his Chevalier status. He would never willingly touch you – he’s told you as much. Levi scoffs, muttering something along the lines of, “fine, I didn’t want to touch your hand anyway.” You don’t bite back with a response, done with the day already and not looking forward to entertaining your mother’s ridiculous ideas.

“What could she possibly want tonight?” you mostly muse to yourself as you fold up your blanket.

Levi, who follows closely behind, responds, “who knows. Swear she’s growing senile with her old age.”

You stifle a laugh, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, but pleased with his words about your mother. He says things about your father too, but only ever around you. Levi seems to be the only one that recognizes their behavior towards you – or lack thereof – and often criticizes them. You, of course, allow it and he knows it amuses you. However, you and Levi are still not remotely friends, still arguing and often ridiculing each other. The only bonding you have ever done with the man is regarding your positions in the royal family, finding everything to be unnecessary and cretinous. Everything else between the two of you is short and angry, much like the Chevalier that follows you now.

Auguste has been occupied with politics and diplomacy for the past year, giving Levi the order to keep watch on you as he becomes even more busy. It’s something the two of you were already quite accustomed to since he had given the order three years ago when you were twenty. It still isn’t any easier to have him around so often. Bickering is more common than not and he beats you at anything you ask him to do. Except for archery – you’re almost certain no one can beat you at that and you relish in the face Levi makes when you split your arrow on the target almost every time.

But Auguste had insisted Levi stuck by your side now that he couldn’t spend as much time with you. Especially now that a war had broken out between your kingdom and a neighboring nation: Kaslogon. The war had started a year ago, but it barely made a dent in Mirlenas’ forces – not enough for Levi to be sent away to serve as part of the royal guard. Your allies, the country Navarre, were taking most of the heat for it since they resided on the same landmass as Kaslogon – Mirlenas at least had an ocean separating the two countries.

This meant that your father needed to pull Auguste everywhere he went, showing him the ropes of how to wage a war – a seemingly favorite pastime for egotistical men. You missed your evening walks and training sessions, having to force Levi to accompany you outside after dinner.

You hoped this meeting was to simply discuss the current standings of the war. Your mother seemed to over exaggerate with her statements or letters, once summoning you to discuss “dire circumstances” – the castle had just run out of her favorite persimmons and she wouldn’t be able to get anymore until the next winter harvest. It was moments like these when you remembered how absurd it felt to be a part of a royal family that didn’t know anything different. Levi always referred to the lot of you as “spoiled brats.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you would never admit that to him.

“You have a grass stain on your trousers,” Levi informs you with a blank tone.

“Lovely,” you sigh, “I’m sure mother will enjoy it.”

“It’s sloppy.”

“It’s fine.”

You already know your mother will be waiting for you in the dining room after the table has been cleared post-supper. You never bothered to join anymore, finding the comfort of being outside until late evening more enticing instead and having Isabel bring you dinner to your bedroom so you can enjoy her company. She may force you to eat when you don’t want to, but you appreciate her all the same. 

Levi always gives you shit for it, telling you it’s disgusting to eat in a place meant for sleeping, but you usually ignore those statements from him. You’re not going to waste your breath to tell him you have a small table on your balcony that you eat your meals at – he wouldn’t understand.

You walk across the grass, your blanket under your arm and Levi following two steps behind you like he’s been taught. “You know it feels like you’re going to murder me when you walk behind me,” you scoff. 

“You’re not worth getting hanged for murder,” he mutters. “If I walk next to you and your father sees I’ll only be reprimanded. Plus, you smell.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Please, I smell worlds better than you ever do.”

“Now you’re a liar?”

“Honest as ever,” you reply smoothly, lifting your chin ever so slightly.

Your boots touch the dirt road that runs parallel with the front of the castle, crossing it to reach the gravel pathway that leads to the entrance. It’s all very grand compared to it’s surroundings on the outside of it’s gates, an elaborate garden with perfectly trimmed hedges greeting you once the guards open the gate for you. 

You always make sure to give them a sweet smile, greeting them by name – Jean and Marco. Jean’s mother is a handmaiden while you believe Marco’s family lives somewhere in a nearby village. They’re sweet boys, at least five years younger than you, but as soon as they see Levi they seem to stand taller than before and look straight ahead. You hate when it happens and always turn your head to see him glaring daggers at the two boys. He gives you a small “tch” today when he sees your glare being directed at him again.

The gates close behind you and you grow impatient. “Please, just walk next to me. You’re making me uncomfortable.” 

“I expect you to take the fall for it then if your father sees,” Levi scoffs as he joins you at your side. 

“As if I don’t with everything else,” you mutter. He doesn’t respond.

You observe that he’s acting more cordial with you today for some reason and it’s throwing you off balance. You’d rather him bicker with you, not the silence that seems to drape over the two of you more often today.

You step towards the grand, bifurcated staircase in front of you with far too many steps – eighty-six, to be exact, and it feels like it takes a lifetime to walk up them. You’ve counted the pale stones too many times, having nothing better to do on some of your outings. 

“twenty-seven…” you mutter under your breath as you walk.

“Are you fucking counting them?” Levi asks incredulously, not minding his language – not that he ever does – since the two of you are practically alone.

“Does it matter?” you snap, looking over at him with a glare. You lost count.

“There’s eighty-six,” he mumbles, seemingly realizing what he said only after it’s come out. You don’t bother to tease him about it, simply enjoying the pink tint to his ears with a small laugh as he looks down at the steps.

The front doors of the castle are opened by another set of guards, Connie and Sasha, and you give the young kids a smile as well. They were definitely bickering before you arrived, seemingly nervous about getting caught by Levi next to you when they stand up straighter. Connie’s eyes are wide and Sasha’s brown locks are slightly disheveled in her updo. You roll your eyes at the sight, but at least he doesn’t say anything to them today about being “more aware of their surroundings” like he usually would. Perhaps he got the hint earlier with Jean and Marco.

You greet the handmaiden standing by the doorway, giving her your blanket to be washed free of any lingering grass and returned on top of your bed before turning down a hall. Levi is still walking next to you, practically escorting you to the dining hall despite being inside the castle walls. “You don’t need to walk me there,” you tell him, eager to free him of his post and rid of his presence. You don’t need another walking headache with you when you visit your mother – one is enough.

“Auguste is joining you and your mother. I’ll be accompanying him afterwards.”

You pause your footsteps, boots slightly squeaking against the polished parquet floors. “What does Auguste have to do with this?”

Levi stops a step ahead of you, turning so he’s at least facing you. “They have news for you,” his voice trails off, laced with hesitancy as he turns his head to the side and avoids your look of confusion. “It’s not my place to tell you, madame.”

You scoff at his formality as a servant walks by. “Don’t call me that,” you grumble as you resume your walk to the dining hall. He knows you hate the use of your titles.

Your heart is racing at the prospect of bad news. Levi didn’t hide his feelings about the topic very well. The slight wrinkle between his brows, or the subtle downturn of his lips when he thinks he isn’t letting his frown show give you all the signs you needed. When you were younger you used to think the man had no emotions besides annoying little shit and anger, but the more time you spent with him the more you had to learn how to read him. If you didn’t, how else were you going to survive the arrangement Auguste had so kindly forced upon you.

“I have to, brat,” Levi whispers when no one is around.

You reach the grand white doors, their edges trimmed in silver to show off the kingdom’s wealth, and look over at him with a glare. He simply opens one of the large doors for you, bowing as you enter to please the woman sitting at the head of the dining table before closing it behind you and taking his post at the entrance. You almost rather wish you were outside with Levi’s company instead of enduring whatever this was about to be.

You spot Auguste sitting in the chair closest to your mother, patiently waiting for you to sit next to him. Your feet feel frozen in place, unable to move in fear of the discussion that was waiting for you. Your mother never had Auguste accompany her in the lectures she gave you, always knowing he would take your side and defend you. The discussion had to be serious for his presence to be pertinent.

“Please, Aeron, take a seat,” Auguste requests. Only then, when you hear his soothing voice, do you move towards the long banquet table that hosts far too many chairs to be actually useful. Your boots echo throughout the entire room as the two sit in silence, your corset shifting slightly as you walk. Everything feels incredibly uncomfortable now, the fabric sticking to your skin in all of the wrong ways, the layer of dirt that seems to have settled on your skin after being outside now unbearable. Even the grass stain on your knee is bothering you more than it normally would under their watchful eyes.

Auguste stands to pull your chair out from the table as you make your way over, pushing it in gently as you sit down so you’re close enough to the stained oak wood in front of you. You feel like you can’t breathe this close, but it’s proper, and Auguste did it for you, so you would simply have to endure.

“Your pants are stained,” your mother chastises.

“Mother, please. This is not what we are here to discuss,” Auguste interrupts before the arguing and onslaught of insults can begin from you.

“Fine,” your mother yields. She crosses her arms and waves a flimsy arm at your brother. “Why don’t you inform her of what’s to come then.”

The room’s silence is deafening in the moments before your brother resumes his speaking. You’re fidgeting with the top of your trousers on your thighs, pulling the fabric between your thumb and index finger in attempts to calm your nerves, but nothing is working. It feels like ages before Auguste’s voice fills the room, delivering news you never wanted to hear, but knew your whole life was a possibility. You don’t hear the words that come after, only focusing on a small phrase.

“I’ll be joining the frontlines.”

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as your mother attempts at speaking nonsense to you. You’re not listening – you can’t. The first thing you do is peel your eyes away from the wood in front of you and look over at Levi. He’s looking at the ground, eyebrows furrowed and an evident frown on his face. You know that look – he’s upset, angry even. You can’t quite pin an underlying emotion that lies on his features as well. Sadness, you think.

“Aeron,” Auguste’s voice tears your eyes away from Levi and onto him.

You know how you must look right now; glistening eyes wide, lips parted in shock. The world around you slowly pieces itself back together as you stare into those soft brown eyes. You focus on a lock of hair that’s fallen over his forehead, a small curl that seems too stubborn to stay in place.

“I won’t be alone,” he provides, as if that would make you feel any better, “Levi will be accompanying me and you know he’s the best Chevalier in our kingdom.” You scoff, knowing Levi is needing to use all of his restraint to not roll his eyes. “I’ll be accompanied by father, Theo, and Furlan as well. Do not fret while I am gone.”

For the first time since joining this conversation, clarity strikes your mind. “Theo? You’re having Theo go with you?!” You’re practically yelling now, standing up from your chair and taking a step back. Auguste is quick to follow, a frightened look on his face from the quick escalation in conversation.

“I told you she couldn’t handle this,” your mother supplies unhelpfully from behind him.

Auguste doesn’t spare her a glance, eyes purely focused on you. Levi has stepped away from the door, almost as if he’s afraid that you’ll hurt your brother and ready to spring into action. It just makes you more angry. “Theo can’t go.” Your palms rest against your temples, trying to press some sort of sense into this whole mess.

“It’s his duty, Aeron. You would be going too if you were…” His voice trails off.

“If I was a man, I know,” you snap at him. “I would be more useful than even Theo on the battlefield and you’re well aware of it.”

“He’s gotten more training since you’ve last had a match with him,” Auguste tries. “Furlan will be with him. Levi is more than capable of guarding the two of us. He’ll be protected.”

“This is fucking absurd!”

“Watch your tone young lady!” your mother shouts, now rising out of her own seat. You wish you could slap some sense into her, you wish she wasn’t here in this room while tears threaten to spill over.

You’re terrified. You trust Auguste to make it back to you, he’s trained and capable, but Theo has never been skilled in any combat. You think he takes after the creativity that seems to flow through your bloodline. Auguste was always miserable at the arts, but Theo knew how to play almost any instrument. 

He was the best at piano, sometimes playing in his bedroom when he thought no one was awake into the late hours of the night. You always heard him, the sounds echoing through the halls and making their way through the cracks in your doorway or if both of you had your balcony doors open. 

He was never meant for war.

You watch as the tears finally overflow and fall down onto the floor below you, almost landing onto the leather of your boots. Auguste lets go of all restraints holding him back, allowing himself to rush forwards and allow you to collapse into his arms. You never wanted any of this. You would do anything to not see them leave you behind with just your mother. 

You bury your face into his chest, gripping at the hem of his coat that lays on his shoulders unbuttoned. Tears stain the fabric, but you know he couldn’t care less right now, only rubbing soothing circles in between your shoulder blades. Whispers of “it’ll be okay” and promises he knows he shouldn’t be making float down into your ears. He kisses the top of your head when you pull back enough to look up at him and into his brown eyes.

“You better make it back to me,” you choke out with your index finger poking into his sternum. “Y-you have to.”

“I will, I promise.” Auguste pushes a stray hair from your forehead and wipes his calloused thumbs on your cheeks to rid the tears that have trailed down your skin. He’s a little rough with his touch, but you would never have it any other way. You love your brothers dearly.

The loud slam of the doors to the dining hall pull your gaze away from Auguste as your mother takes her leave without a single word. You watch as Levi turns back around after releasing the handle, leaving just the three of you in the room.

You bid your goodbyes to Auguste, but not before he tells you to visit Theo in his room and asking Levi to escort you to your own. You tell him you’ll visit Theo tomorrow right after dinner, that way you don’t interrupt his evening activities that you assume involve some sort of instrument.

Two sets of boots echo in the halls, the sun long forgotten in the sky and the torches on the walls illuminating your steps. Your gaze is focused down at your feet, absorbing all of the information that was just given to you in such a short amount of time. You almost wish Levi had warned you about it, but he was right – it wasn’t his place – and you probably would’ve lost your mind without someone to comfort you. Auguste was the perfect person to do it.

“Oi,” Levi whispers, “you passed your room.”

You stop, turning around to see Levi standing by your door with a hand on the handle, ready to open it for you. You realize why he has been uncharacteristically nice to you today, treating you like he actually cares about the way you feel and knowing how you would probably react to the news. You walk towards him, footsteps slightly shuffling as you do.

“Levi,” you whisper when you get in front of him, gaze coming up just to look him in the eyes. You see him noticeably stiffen at the sound of his name leaving your lips – a rare occurrence if it’s not followed, or prefaced, by an insult in a snarky tone.

No, your voice is soft. You sound scared and as Levi looks at you now he feels a hint of remorse, like he’s the one at fault for the situation at hand. He wants to promise that he won’t let anything happen to your brothers, or to Furlan for that matter, but he knows better than to make promises he might not be able to keep unlike Auguste. His duty has always been to protect the members of the royal family and he has always taken that job seriously. He wants to tell you he will do all that he can on the battlefield to ensure their safety – hell, he would risk his own life if he has to if it meant everyone else would come back alive.

Instead, he whispers a quiet, “what,” his voice sounding softer than usual.

You notice his eyes are grey, something you’ve never seen or cared to look at. You tend to avoid being this close to him or even looking at him really, always too focused on something else to give his features any attention. “You have to promise me something,” you say quietly once you have your thoughts gathered.

“You know I can’t do that, brat.”

“All of you need to make it back here,” you tell him, pointing that same index finger at him that had touched Auguste’s chest before. “I’ll never forgive you if something happens to my brothers.”

Levi’s breath hitches, unsure of what to say to such a heavy demand. Of course, he would do anything for them. “I can’t promise you anything,” he whispers back, “but I’ll try.”

“Good,” is all you say before heading into your chambers and closing the door in Levi’s face.

Levi stands there, staring at the painted grey wood in front of him. He tries not to think about how you said the word “all”, as if you cared about whether or not he made it back alive too.

—

Theo is in the courtyard by the time you get ready, casually strolling with the company of Furlan. You hate to interrupt, but it’s the one moment you have before he’s busy for the rest of the evening and you still haven’t seen him since Auguste told you they’re leaving.

Levi is trailing behind you like usual since Auguste is busy in meetings with your father – they’re never ending it seems. You fight the urge to tell him to just walk next to you again, but the man is stubborn and will maintain his respectful position in front of your brothers. It’s only when you’re alone that he breaks the ridiculously strict set of rules your father imposes on him.

“Sister,” Theo greets you with surprise when he sees you strolling up to him.

You give him a small smile. You told yourself you’d remain strong throughout this interaction, but your emotions are slowly starting to peek through before you’ve even begun.

“Hello. Furlan, Levi, would you two mind sparing us some privacy?” you kindly ask them, mostly directing your eyes and voice towards Furlan.

He gives you a smile and small bow, excusing himself as Levi does the same – without the smile of course. “We’ll be close by,” Furlan reassures you.

You give him a small smile and nod, gesturing for Theo to join you on a walk through the front gardens. He offers his arm to you like a gentleman and you accept, intertwining your arm with his so your hand rests on his forearm as the two of you begin your stroll.

“Remember when we wrestled here instead of this,” you give a small laugh, awkwardly skirting around the real topic of conversation.

“When you ate dirt and grass? I’m quite familiar with the memory, yes,” he teases you, offering a small smirk of amusement.

You playfully slap his shoulder with your other hand. “I knew you were waiting for a moment to rub that in my face.”

“How could I not?” Theo muses, “you were quite the brat when you were little.”

“Well this brat kicked your ass eventually.”

Theo let’s out a genuine laugh. “Don’t let mother hear you speaking that way.”

“She’s heard much worse from me,” you grimace.

“I suppose she has.”

There’s a long moment of silence when you’re not sure what to say. You know he knows why you’re here; to express your reluctance to let him join your eldest brother on the battlefield.

“Theo–”

“Aeron–”

The two of you speak at the same time, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the chrysanthemums in the garden. You release your hold on his arm as you both face each other and the look of sorrow on his face tells you everything you need to know.

You hold back your tears, managing to get a few words out without breaking quite yet. “Please.” You gesture towards him gently.

He grabs both of your hands, a habit of both his and Auguste’s that they seem to think helps soothe you. “I know I never say it, but I do love you Aeron.” He lets out a heavy sigh, carrying on with a guilty look on his face. “I have to do my duty. It would be unfair for me to be the only one to stay no matter how much I wish I could be here with you.”

“You’re not ready for this, Theo.” You gently shake his hands. “Your training isn’t at that level yet. If I can surpass you, you’re not ready.”

Theo scoffs at this, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’ve surpassed even Auguste. Only Levi is your competition and even then the man could never come close to your archery skills. You’re a born fighter. I’ll never be ready with those expectations.”

“Then I’ll go in your stead. I’ll convince mother and father–”

“That’s nonsense, Aeron!” Theo’s voice raises as he releases his hold on your hands. “I could never live with myself if you went and something happened to you, but you’re a woman anyway. You can’t.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it!”

“I don’t make the rules,” Theo sighs, running a hand over his features in distress. His voice softens, regarding you with such sympathy in his green eyes. “I’ll be there for Auguste and I truly hope I make it back to you. I’ll do everything within my power to do so. Please, trust us.”

“I do trust you Theo,” you choke out, tears already beginning to spill over and trail down your cheeks. “It’s not about trust. I just need you to make it back to me. You can’t leave me.”

“When I come back I’ll play you a song on the piano,” he reassures before pausing, seemingly thinking something through. “It was going to be a surprise for you, but you’re a stubborn woman,” he teases affectionately.

This gets a laugh out of you as you swipe the tears off your cheeks with your fingers. You break your composure further, pulling Theo into an embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close with your face hidden in his shoulder. His arms embrace you, hands holding you close between your shoulder blades. 

“I can’t wait.” Your voice sounds muffled in the fabric of his coat.

#levi ackerman #aot fanfiction #aot levi #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x you #fanfic #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #royalty au #angst #fluff #historical au #im scared

[let-me-fill-you]

here's a little scenario for you~

my long-term asshole boyfriend knocks my tboy pussy up. of course, he skips town to avoid the responsibilities of being a parent

you're a good friend of mine, and you help me through all the ups and downs of pregnancy. im having triplets, and on my short frame, i start growing waaaay earlier than expected

in my sixth trimester, when km already as big as a house, you manage to track down my baby daddy, drag him back to my place, and encourage me to swallow him whole. hes only good as nourishment for my babies, if he's not going to provide money

he's so much bigger than me... if i do manage to swallow him down, would you give me belly rubs after? 🥺🥺

It's not a question of if, darling, but how long it will take you to swallow down this good-for-nothing asshole.

The nerve of him to run out on you like that, after knocking you up with triplets for Christ's sake... You were miserable after he left, inconsolable - and you deserve recompense. So I tracked him down, and I dragged him, kicking and screaming, back to you. He needed to see you, see what you had become thanks to his indiscretion. You are massively gravid, and beautiful for it in my humble opinion - and he forsook the chance to be your husband, to be a part of this...

So now, he's going to be a part of you. I shook him down, see, and he isn't exactly liquid, having blown all his funds on starting a new life without you, while you were busy here creating new life... Correction: He will be liquid by the time you're done with him - a thick, nutritious chyme passing through your intestines, feeding you and your babies. It's the least he can do for all the heartache he's given you.

Channel your rage toward him, draw strength from the lonely nights without him, the deep hunger you've felt in his absence, think about how much you love your babies, and he will - in spite of his size - slide down your throat with buttery ease~

And once you're done, once his fate is sealed inside your stomach, of course I will give you belly rubs~ We wouldn't want your heartache to turn into heartburn.

#; pregnancy #; pregnant pred #; vore #; asks 💕 #; mine #; 💕 and do respond with the lovely input you had in dms~

[wildbornsiren]

Delicate || Robert “Bob” Floyd/Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (part 2)

Delicate (is it chill that you’re in my head?) Summary: It's a love story, but neither of them know it yet. Bradley has a few things on his mind. Bob is there for him.  2,563/3487  words. Part 2/4  Robert "Bob" Floyd/Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw (FloydShaw) Warnings: EXPLICIT MINORS DNI. Kissing, pining, oral sex, Bob has tattoos Notes: Hey @lorecraft​ this one's for you. Thank you so much to @imjess-themess​ for looking this over. Many many thanks to @therebeccaw​ for the header. Likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs feed the muses. Thank you so much for reading. It's so appreciated and means the most. ***Tag list is no more. Please follow and turn on notifications for @wbslibrary​ ***                                            || Part One||

He wasn’t crushing. He wasn’t trying to find any reason, any at all to be near Bob. The lanky, quiet WSO had gotten under Bradley’s skin. It had been a dare, a dare in a child’s game. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill or thank Natasha. The kiss he had longed for taking place in front of everyone, or the fact that his lips still remembered the way Bob’s smile felt against them.

Bradley groaned, rubbing hard at his eyes. He could hear Jake chuckling as he texted someone, and even the faint tapping was getting on his nerves. He turned onto his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin, eyes closed, trying to think of anything—anything but Bob.

“You alright there, Bradshaw? Want me to go to the commons?”

“Shut up.” He snapped.

“Seriously, are you okay?” A pillow thumps into his back. Bradley tosses it back.

“Frustrated.” He admits. “Just trying to sleep it off.”

“I know a couple of ladies who would happily help you out.” Jake, for once in his life didn’t sound smug. “Get it out, then get back to the daily grind.”

“It’s not that.” Bradley muttered. It was but fuck all if he was going to admit that to Jake. And it was something that a couple of rolls in the sack wouldn’t erase.

“You gotta get a hold of yourself, man.” Jake clears his throat. “There’s no room for errors. We all know that. You can’t focus if you’re thinking about something else.”

He hated it when Seresin was right, and annoyingly it happened more often than it should. Kicking the blankets off, Bradley sat up, reaching for the shirt he left on the floor. “Text me their numbers.” He shoved his feet into his sneakers, rubbing the back of his neck until his phone lit up with a text message.

“Atta boy.” Jake said. “Just let them know you’re the idiot with a mustache that plays the piano. They’ll fall in line real quick when you let them know that.”

“You’re such a prick.” Bradley mutters, picking up his keys.

“I never claimed to be otherwise.” Jake calls back. “Make good choices, Bradshaw.”

The door closed on Jake’s final words, and Bradley shook his head. The hallway was abandoned, the fluorescent lights flickering. He wasn’t going to call one of the girls, blind hook-ups weren’t his style, and frankly if they just fall into bed with him so easily it didn’t interest him. With a heavy sigh, he rolls his shoulders.

“Shower it is.” He mutters to himself. He turns the corner, focused on his destination that he cursed when he collided with a solid body.

“Steady.”

There’s a hand on his elbow, holding Bradley upright. He flushes, recognizing the voice, the touch. Horrified, he realizes that he moaned out loud at the light touch to his arm. If Bob noticed the needy sound, there was no recognition on his face, only furrowed brows.

“You alright?”

“Shit, I’m sorry man.” Bradley extracts himself from the hold. Bob’s hoodie had a spreading wet mark, and an empty cup was on the floor. “I’ll get you another one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bob waves off the worry stooping to pick up the cup. “Just a coke. Shouldn’t be drinking it this late anyway, it’ll give me heartburn.” Bob’s gaze meets his, and Bradley is once again struck by how blue Bob’s eyes are. There’s also the unpleasant sensation of that gaze piercing through him, rather than just taking him in. “You okay?”

“No.” The answer surprises him, and he can’t take it back. It’s hanging there, a shimmering word in the space between them. Bob tilts his head, still studying his face.

“Come in.” His key is in his hand, and he’s headed back down the hall. “We can talk it out.”

Bradley blinks, following the other man. There’s a gentle confidence about Bob that he hadn’t noticed before, and a soothing effect. The rolling sensation in his stomach slowed, though more interesting feelings were creeping up and he desperately thought of anything, anything other than the way Bob’s voice sounded when it said his name.

The door closes behind him, the small room illuminated by a lamp on the bedside table. “I have a single. Apparently, my snoring is a medical exemption for roommates.”

“You don’t snore. I’ve bunked with you on the ship.” Bradley has heard Bob laugh before, but this chuckle was downright mischievous.

“I need quiet after most days. I can’t help it if some paperwork got misfiled.” He sheds the damp hoodie, along with a white t-shirt. Bradley stares, unable to look away at the long, lean line of the other man’s back, the sweats that rode low on his hips, and the fact that Bob had back dimples. “So, what’s going on?”

Bradley embarrasses himself for the second time that night, another soft sound of want escaping his mouth when Bob turns. Out of all of them, he hadn’t expected Bob to have a tattoo, let alone a traditional eagle emblazoned on his chest, claws outstretched beak open in a scream of authority. There’s a flash of light when Bob’s chest flexes, the tattoo disappearing under a clean shirt. “Are your nipples pierced?”

“Yours aren’t?” Bob says easily, the slight flush on his face blooming before he looks away.  

“No, my nipples aren’t pierced.” Bradley chuckles—and he can’t stop. The matter-of-fact way Bob asked him triggered something buried inside him. He’s doubled over laughing, some of the stress melting away. He straightens, wiping his eyes. “That was unexpected.”

Bob shrugs, “It’s more fun to surprise people. I did it after my first deployment. My cousin got his first tattoo at the same time. For a bull rider, he sure did throw a fit when he got inked.”

“Can I touch them?”

Bob fixes him with another look, and Bradley squirms. “Maybe.” He drops himself into an armchair, gesturing for Bradley to sit. “What’s going on?”

“You.” Again, he’s not sure why but the honesty is just simply pulled from him, being in Bob’s space. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Why did you kiss me like that?”

“I wanted to.” Bob says. “If I didn’t want to, I would have just given you a peck on the cheek.”

“You wanted to?”

“I’m not in the habit of lying.” Bob fiddles with a pen. “Do you want me to do it again?” Bradley nods. “Say it out loud for me.”

“Kiss me. Please?”

He's rewarded by the slightest grin as Bob gets up from the chair. Something shifts in his chest when Bob’s standing before him, both of those large hands framing his face, tipping his head up just enough, closing the distance. Bradley hums against the kiss, hands gripping the hem of Bob’s shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss is all consuming, sparks curling through his body, heart racing entirely too fast, needing, wanting more of the man who’s slowly claiming his mouth.

Bradley pulls away slightly, panting against Bob’s mouth. He’s dizzied, eyes unfocused, and so hard he aches all over. “Fuck,” he whispers, breathing Bob in, their foreheads touching. He fumbles with his hands in a vain attempt to cover the growing bulge in his shorts, flushed with the realization that just a single kiss has him ready to burst seams.

“Not tonight.” Bob’s thumb smooths over his jaw, tongue slowly dragging over the old scars on Bradley’s cheek, neck. Fingers move the collar of his shirt, Bob’s mouth easing over the one on his collar bone, sucking softly. Goosebumps raise on his arms, Bradley giving up his efforts at hiding his erection, rather gripping the sheets tightly. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

Bradley swears he can hear his brain snap. “What?” It’s almost comical how Bob’s eyes drop between them, then back to Bradley’s face.

“You’re hard. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do. I’m not going to suggest that I do something. I’m more than happy to drop to my knees, if you want me to blow you.”

“Please.” He’s certain his heart is going to beat out of his chest with that single word.

“Breathe, Bradley. I’m going to take good care of you.” Bob murmurs. His mouth eases over Bradley’s again, so soft and sweet that it makes his heart twist in his chest. “Take your shirt off.”

Bradley’s hands shake as he twists out of the shirt, dropping it on the bed next to him. He’s been here before, he knows how this works, but the butterflies in his stomach won’t settle, exploding in him when Bob’s mouth lands on his skin. Trailing kisses along his neck, teeth pinching at the pulse point at his throat, tongue soothing the pinch moments later. Blunt nails scrape down his chest, Bradley arching up, wanting more, Bob’s soft sound of approval going through him. Somehow the other man manages to avoid Bradley’s hands.

“Don’t worry about me darlin’.” Bob’s voice is lower than expected tongue laving over Bradley’s nipples. “Let me take care of you.” His weight shifts, and Bradley finds himself laying back on the bed, Bob braced over him. “Fuck, you look good under me.” The trail of kisses continued, every inch of Bradley’s chest and torso kiss, licked, touched. He whines—whines­ under the attention that Bob’s giving him.

Bradley’s panting, ragged, unable to gather a full breath by the time those teasing kisses stop at the waistband of his shorts. One of Bob’s hands slid up his thighs, palming him through the fabric. “Bobby, please.” He feels Bob’s smile against his stomach, fingertips hooking in the waistband of the shorts, tugging them down his body.

“There you are darlin’.” Bob murmurs, nuzzling Bradley’s thigh. “You’ve got a pretty cock.”

He mourns the loss off Bob’s weight on top of him when the other man lifts himself off, Bradley’s shorts joining his shirt on the bed. Bradley props himself up on his elbows, looking down his body, biting back a groan when Bob drops to his knees at the foot of the bed. He’s trembling at that slow brush of fingers, the solid warmth of Bob’s palms running up his legs, urging his knees further apart.

“I’ve pictured this so many times, but seeing it for real?” Bob’s voice is so soft, each word punctuated by a kiss to the inside of Bradley’s thigh. “Knowing that I’ve got you like this?” The barest touch of fingertips to Bradley’s cock has him lifting his hips off the mattress. “Doesn’t even begin to touch my fantasies.”

It's hot, too hot, Bradley feels too big for his skin, every inch of his being hyper aware of Bob. The slide of fingers, the brush of Bob’s hair soft and messy brushing his thigh, the warmth of the other man’s breath on his skin sending shivers down his spine.

“I’ve got you.”

Those words, those three words muttered against his hip. They crash against his ears, embedding themselves in Bradley’s mind. He knows, he knows Bob has him, and at this point there’s nothing more in the world that he wants than this. Bradley moans, head tipping back when Bob licks a broad stroke over the head of his cock. Wet, hot encompasses his dick, and he’s watching each inch of his cock disappear into Bob’s mouth.

Bob’s eyes are closed, long lashes casting shadows on sharp cheekbones. His mouth stretched tight around Bradley, humming as he bobs his head, the slow slide of heated skin into a tight warmth is almost too much. Hesitantly, Bradley brushes hair from the other man’s forehead, a breathy laugh escaping when Bob takes him further down his throat.

“Feels good.” Bradley manages to get out. “You feel so good, Bobby.” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, words slurring together, another low sound spilling past his lips. Bob takes him further down his throat, eyes opening, looking up at Bradley.

“Shit,” he mutters, fingers brushing the smooth column of Bob’s throat. “I’m all the way back there.” He can’t look away from the man between his legs. Bob takes his time, deliberately, driving Bradley higher with each swirl of his tongue. Both of his hands find their way to Bob’s hair, tangling in the soft strands, still damp from a shower. His hips rock slightly, pressing into Bob’s mouth, who only relaxes his jaw, taking him further. Blunt nails dig into Bradley’s thighs, giving him the go-ahead. Slowly he thrusts into Bob’s mouth who only moans around him, sending vibrations straight up Bradley’s spine.

“Bobby, Bobby…” The only thing that is on his mind is the man swallowing him down, the spiral of need in his belly. Bradley tries, he really tries to say something other than Bob’s name as he fucks into the man’s mouth, but everything goes blissfully blank in a burst of white. It’s over entirely too quickly for Bradley’s liking, body arching in on himself, coming down Bob’s throat with a low moan. He stills, panting harshly, transfixed as Bob swallows every drop of his release.

“Good boy.” Bob sits back on his heels, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “You did so well for me.”

Bradley flushes feeling a new wave of arousal wash over him. “What, what about you?”

Bob shakes his head, getting to his feet. “I’m alright, sweetheart.” Bradley finds himself leaning into the slide of Bob’s palm against his cheek.

He's reaching, Bob allows Bradley to tug him down, mouth slotting against his. Bradley doesn’t care that he can taste himself, tongue sliding past parted lips, hands sliding into Bob’s hair as they kiss. He’s pleased at the flush to Bob’s cheeks, the stain of red that disappears under the collar of his t-shirt, the damp patch on Bob’s sweats. His eyes flicker down to it, then back up Bob who shrugs.

“Your fault that I had to change my shirt, I guess it’s fine that you made it so I have to change my sweats.” There’s no venom to the words, and Bradley could survive on that playful teasing alone. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” He leans in, kissing Bradley’s forehead. “You can leave if you want or stay. No pressure.”

Bradley watches as he disappears into the small half bath that the rooms came with. He hears the sink, and Bob humming to himself. He pulls his shorts on, getting to his feet, shirt in hand, and hesitates, faced with the two options before him. He could go back to his own room and deal with Seresin’s smug gloating, or he could stay here with the quiet warmth that is Bob. He’s still standing there when Bob comes out of the bathroom, clean sweats and freshly scrubbed. The television clicks on, the bed groaning slightly when Bob flops onto it, pulling the covers over himself.

“Well?” He asks, lifting the edge of the blanket. “Come on. Turn the light off though for me, won’t you?”

Bradley feels like he’s moving through a dream when he turns the lamp off, shuffling over to the edge of the bed. The blankets are heavy and safe, a soft sigh escaping him when Bob pulls him closer, letting Bradley rest his head on his chest. 

#Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #Bob Floyd/Rooster Bradshaw #shelly writes #Robert 'Bob' Floyd #Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #FloydShaw #Bobster

[luveline]

could i request some dad!sirius domesticity? thank you baby

thank you for your request I love writing stuff like this!

"Are you tired, darling?" Sirius asks quietly. 

You turn, your youngest cradled in your arms. She fusses in the pram and won't sleep unless you're holding her and the crying always breaks your heart. She's heavy but not unmanageable, only a few months old. 

Sirius pushes her pram, your other daughter's hand tight in his. 

You're about halfway through a, "No, I'm okay," when you realise he's not talking to you. 

"I'm okay, daddy." 

"Are you sure?" he asks patiently. 

She has to think about it for a few seconds, her little feet covered in sand, hair damp like her father's from the sea.

You watch, eyes creased in affection as she reaches her arms into the air. Sirius bends and slots his arm between her small legs, pulling her up into his chest deftly. Her head lands in the juncture of his neck, innocent little face pressed in stark contrast against a tattoo. She wraps her arms over his shoulders. 

Sirius' eyes close and he pats her back gently. "Poor girl. We'll bring your buggy tomorrow." 

"I'm too big," she whispers. 

"You're not too big," he says, grabbing the pram and starting to walk again. "You're my little girl." 

"I'm big!" 

"Says who?" 

"Mammy says I'm big all the time."

Sirius throws a halfhearted glare your way, though he can't maintain it when he sees the youngest asleep in the curve of your arm. "Your mam is lying. You're my baby," he says into her hair. 

She grumbles but Sirius is a practiced hand, patting and rubbing her back in intervals until she drops off. 

You slow to his speed, walking with him side by side. 

"What about you, darling?" 

"I'm okay," you say, happy to be treated with the same protective care. 

"You don't wanna put her back in her pram?" he asks worriedly. "You've carried her for hours." 

"You really shouldn't tell her I'm lying," you say instead of answering, ignoring the ache in your arms. Hours is dramatic, though you have carried her for a while.

"You do lie to her. You once told her the ice cream van only plays music when they've run out of lollies." 

You flush with a guilty heat. "I didn't have any money in the house, Siri." 

"I know, my love, I remember. You felt so bad you had heartburn and made me take her to Tesco's at eight in the evening." 

"Her sad little face," you recall in a murmur. 

"For the record," he starts, his flirting drawl that you know well, "I want badly to give you a kiss. Forgive me for abstaining," he says, fingers moving from your daughters back in emphasis. 

You grin like a fool and crane your neck up high, holding the baby carefully to your chest. Sirius smiles in return as you press a chaste, smooth kiss to his lips. One, then a second as you pull away and he follows. 

You're feeling giddy with contentment as you settle back into step with him, a comfortable silence filled only by the sound of the crashing waves at your back and the caw of gulls flying above.

"Are you tired?" you ask eventually. The oldest is much heavier than a baby, and he's been pushing the empty pram for half the day without complaint. He must be.

"Knackered. Think you could carry me back to the van, too?" he asks. 

"Maybe. I've got some proper muscles these days," you brag. 

"I know you do. S'what happens when you carry the world in your hands every day." 

"Two worlds," you correct. 

"Three, I'd hope." 

"You're my whole world, Black," you agree, just as the baby begins to rouse. You shush her gently, tap tap tapping her tiny back. "Come on, sweetheart." 

It doesn't work. You've half the charm and none of the technique that Sirius does, to your everlasting chagrin, and she won't go back down now she's up. 

"She just wants to see you," he says, nodding at the baby's wide eyes. 

She's not crying, only looking. You both stop and he inclines his head against yours, the two of you gazing down at her bright eyes and parted lips, completely in love.

#marauders era #marauders #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius orion black #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black drabble #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader fluff

[svndrenched]

@infernalpursuit sent:

a weird headcanon for ALL of them!!!!!!!! or at least the ones you have most muse for

all of 'em?

Adisse, Ellera, and Hadren - When they were all little, Hadren would scare her younger sisters with stories of dragons and werewolves and draugr and brigands. Adisse grew out of that fear on her own. Ellera took a bit of encouragement.

Alia - Phantom limb pain. And itches. And leg being asleep. It's all still weird, even though the leg has been gone for years. Sometimes she still goes to paint the toenails on that side and is thankful no one else is there to see her do it but her cat.

Anaïs - When she first left the Vault, the first ghoul she encountered, she treated like a friendly face. It was not. Not anymore. Her trauma convinced her that used to be her neighbor, Mr. Sumner. It wasn't.

Arlo - He tried to convince his sisters that the family pet Growlithe was going to evolve and eat them when they were kids. He was grounded for this and doesn't care for Growlithes now.

Asa - They've made countless pipes in their glass blowing class and the professor is too much of a chicken shit pushover to say anything. Their favorite one is a clear blue one.

Baz - Honestly, he's not great at arm wrestling. Something about the angle, he says, but it's bullshit. He's just plain bad at it.

Beam - Once ate someone's pet Saluki. It was an accident and he was stuck picking dog hair from his teeth for days.

Brier - Ask her about the time she got arrested for trespassing. And the other time she got arrested for trespassing. And the other time. She has boundless curiosity and bolt cutters.

Chira - In her Pokémon verse, she's a massive fan of Grusha. When he announced he planned on retiring from snowboarding, she cried.

Dar'jhan - Regularly gets told he's going to get scurvy because citrus fruits give him heartburn. He is terrified of this.

Deacon and Glory - They have a chess tournament at the Railroad HQ when things are quiet. Glory cleans house during this and wipes the crypt floor with those scrubs. Deacon does not.

Empyrean, Thara, and Un-kyong - When Empyrean first got to the Church, Un-kyong definitely started a rumor that she and Thara hated each other. It wasn't true at the time, but it had been brought up enough, it was like she manifested this beef into being. She isn't sorry. Empyrean and Thara can respect the other's grind, but they don't like each other.

Fumiyuki and Hanami - The first time Fumiyuki met Hanami, he scared him beyond his fucking wits. Hanami knows this to be true and terrorizes this poor curse user, just because he can. Something about the voice is scary as fuck.

Gakuganji - He cannot drive. It sends his anxiety through the roof. So while on paper, he is able to do this, in practice, old man's a mess.

Gardenia - She hates sand. Hates it. She has to wash off outside, change out of sandy clothes, and shower immediately. Probably even vacuum afterwards, too. She hates sand.

Hornjolf - Bazulmorz was his gay awakening and now they're in love.

Iruka and Nezumi - Nezumi broke Iruka's nose when they were kids. It was on purpose because he made an ill-timed joke about her.

Itzli and Timofei - These two cardinals are so, so wretched, they schedule a weekly bitchfest just to talk shit about everyone else at the church. When Timofei doesn't forget. And when Itzli decides she wants to go. There are always snacks and a bag of blood for them to split.

Joni - She restored her van herself. Ask her about it! She's proud as hell, okay?! It ran decently before, but with the help of her uncle and Sebastian (despite being an unfriendly shit the whole time) she got it done!

Jupiter - When things went tits up with Team Galactic, she went looking for Cyrus for a while. But it seemed he wasn't entirely interested in being found. Eventually she gave up, and he spent her time learning how to cook. She's not a professionally trained chef by any means, but she can outcook most of my other muses.

Jyspolwynni and Remni - Some fish elves are fishier than others. Remni's gills are more developed than Wynni's, but Wynni has a more otherworldly look that Remni does. Fish elves are weird, man.

Loree - She tutors for chemistry and math, but cannot get the grasp of English and Literature her ap class requires. She's trying so hard and is stressed so bad over this.

Maggie and Zecharias - Based on accuracy alone, Maggie is a better shot with a rifle, and Zecharias is better with a bow. Though he doesn't use it often and prefers his shotgun or revolver.

Mayumi - She had a crush on Yu while they were in school, but she was never his type. Which was a fucking shame.

Mica, Veta, and Onnicka - They all might act like big ol' bitches, but Glücksfall and Snapdragon love playing together. There's enough overlap in the fan bases that really draw the best crowds and the bands all get along decently well.

Mike - He tried to teach Walker how to fight when she was 11, He ended up having to find someone else to do it because he forgot she was left-handed and a child and accidentally broke her nose. He cried over this. She didn't. What he did successfully teach her was to be down to fight anyone at any time. He's so proud.

Mountain - He befriends all animals. Even the ones set to be slaughtered, which there are several throughout the church grounds. The chickens like to follow him, much to Errett's dismay. He doesn't do this on purpose.

Mr. Torgue - He can fuck it up with a set of knitting needles. His Grandma Flexington taught him, obviously. So far, his favorite projects are a TORGUE afghan he made for his grandma and a dice bag he uses when he plays Bunkers and Badasses.

Murphy and Sioned - If there was a competition for worst person in the Commonwealth, it wouldn't be between these two. They really aren't all that bad if you're willing to overlook the murdering amd weird cult-y shit. Murphy sends caps back to their brothers, and Sioned gives settlers food after they talk to them about the Glory of Atom and his Division.

Noah - He speaks Belarusian while he's out in the Commonwealth to avoid people talking to him. It's kind of a manipulation thing because people will overlook him as a threat if they think he can't understand them, but he almost always uses this to his advantage to avoid problems.

Ocvist - He does not care for the golden dragon, Villentretenmerth. He finds his to be brash and impulsive and too proud. Changing into a human form? Outrageous.

Prue - I've talked about this a bit before, but she is colorblind. She has tritanopia. It usually doesn't cause any issues for her, apart from the occasional weird outfit, but she has painted a wing of her ship the wrong color in the past. It's annoying, but rarely dangerous.

Rochelle - She has a big fat crush on Oz. She hates it. They're so nervous all the time and she has shit to do. Not be pining over the embodiment of fear. Ugh.

Ryuko - Despite rarely being home, their house in Kumogakure is lined with trinkets from her travels, well-loved paperback books, and rose-scented candles. They're a romantic.

Salomé - She always starts her day with a cold brew. This is a habit she picked up while getting her bachelor's degree. Her whole day feels off if this is skipped.

Shane - His hangover remedy is eggs, vintage SNES games, and two advil. He lies to himself and says it works every time.

Tempest - She has been reprimanded more than once for luring new fire ghouls to their deaths. She's not sorry and she will do it again. If they'd stop bringing in those weird, overly aggressive, territorial fire ghouls, she wouldn't have to kill them and pick their bones clean. But they don't listen.

Verastian - While conjugation magic is his forte, his ability with alchemy is nothing to shake a stick at. He offers a fine array of healing potions, fortification elixirs, and if you're willing to wait until his shop closes for the day, he'll sell you the best poisons from the back door.

#muses;; look at all those chickens #infernalpursuit #((oh my god. this took forever lmao)) #((perceive it))