#i need a boy who is willing to nap with me when the exhaustion finally catches up to me. like a guy who views naps as quality time and- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luccettis · 3 months

Text

all roads lead back to you

chapter four - you need a shower

The immeasurable amount of boredom Wayne felt could not be accurately captured with words. The bus left the station at 9:15 PM, and he was still exhausted. He fell asleep with his face pressed up against the window. He woke up to the man next to him - who would eventually introduce himself as Lucas, an attorney who handled dead people’s things - telling him that they were moving buses. He pointed to the transfer locations on his own ticket, and gestured for Wayne to do the same. They were in Orlando now. It had only been an hour. Wayne wiped the drool off of his face, and got off the bus with the well dressed stranger beside him.

“Where’s the bus?”

“Our transfer time is about 3 hours and 45 minutes.” Lucas looked down at his watch. “We’ll be leaving closer to 1:45 or 2.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes.”

“What’dya do during those?” Wayne looks around as other people get off of the bus. Most people seemed to funnel inside of the bus station to wait or nap, and others began to walk in other directions to cars. He imagined the people inside were their families, and reuniting with them again. This was some people’s last stop.

“I usually eat.” He shrugs. “Do you wish to join me?”

Wayne shrugged back. “Okay.”

Lucas flagged a taxi, and they caught a ride to the nearest Denny’s. The trip there was quiet, and they didn’t really talk. As they passed through the night, Wayne watched passing streetlights and thought about the motorcycle drive with Del. When they got to Denny’s, they wordlessly exited and went inside to be seated. They got a booth after a minute, as the popular breakfast chain wasn’t exactly the busiest at this time of night. They sat across from one another, and the waitress brought them some water to drink before they ordered. Lucas sipped some of his water, and looked at the teenage boy sitting across from him.

“So, you’re from Boston? You have a pretty thick New England accent.”

“Brockton,” Wayne corrects him, and looks down at his hands. “You deal with dead people’s things?”

“I’m an estate attorney, yes. I help them decide where their stuff will go when they pass.” Wayne’s eyes go from looking at the maroon red table, up to Lucas’s face. He was a middle aged man, maybe mid 40s. His combover was kind of ugly, but it would probably look worse if the guy was balding or had a receding hairline. Wayne thinks of his dad.

“Like a car?”

“That certainly can be something that gets put in a will. I’ve seen all kinds of things get willed to people.” He scrunches his nose, talking between another sip of water. He ordered coffee, which Wayne could not understand how anyone could drink the putrid brown liquid. It tasted like dirt. The waitress finally comes by, with a small white mug filled with the deep brown coffee and takes their orders. Wayne didn’t even look at the menu. Lucas ordered a Grand Slam, and Wayne ordered the same thing. Frankly, he had no fucking idea what a Grand Slam was, but he was starving.

“What’s the weirdest?”

“Huh-” Lucas tubs his temple, and rests the pads of his fingers on the ivory white mug in front of him. Dell likes coffee. “Weirdest…This lady had a big collection of these statues that looked like animal balloon dogs. She willed them to her kids.”

“What’d they do with them?”

“Sold ‘em. They said they were ugly and useless. They made a small fortune.”

“Why’d they do that? Isn’t that all they had?”

“She gave them other things too. But they sold everything, except a few rings.”

Wayne would’ve done anything to still have something of his dad’s. He left behind the jacket. He burned their house down. He looks down at the four leaf clover pin he found. “What made you do it? The lawyer thing.”

“My dad died. My brother was an asshole and took all his stuff. He didn’t even tell me when he died. So, I wanted other people to know someone cared about what happens afterwards.”

“You goin’ to someone’s funeral?”

“Yeah. Small family I met a long time ago. I organized their will when the grandad got diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.”

“Do you always go to the funerals, or whatever?”

“Sometimes. Have you been to a funeral before, Wayne?” Lucas asks, folding a sausage and piece of bacon between a piece of sourdough toast. Wayne shook his head.

He’s lost in thought, of coming back to a room where his father, Wayne McCullough Sr., stopped breathing. He marched out to the backyard and to the rickety shed, and packed his backpack. With fireworks, former rent money, the postcard, and an unrelenting rage. He walked around his house with gasoline jugs, emptying them on his creaking, splintering wooden floors. He stood at his front door, lighting the pool of flammable liquid with a metal lighter. Dropped off a final ‘fuck you’ to the landlord. He had heard of viking wakes, a send off with a body on fire. His dad would’ve liked that. He thinks of an arm around Del at some stranger’s funeral.

“Once.”

Wayne sniffled and bit into his pancakes. He had gotten to try a lot of foods between juvie, Del and now being back out in the world. Pancakes were like waffles but thinner, and with no ridges. He liked the meat. (However, the bologna in juvie made him want to gag.) Lucas looked at Wayne like he was a scared dog, doing what he could. He knew Wayne’s ticket wasn’t valid. He saw it when he pointed out some of the similar stops - well, that and the ticket Wayne had was from Boston to Ocala. He hoped the boy had some sort of trust - but Wayne didn’t strike him as passive about problems and issues. He saw the callouses on Wayne’s hands and knuckles, and the punch drunk gaze that Wayne held after constantly fighting. He reminded Lucas of himself, but he grew to be reserved and fought with words instead of his hands.

“I know your ticket is from the day before last.”

Wayne’s fork clinked against the plate and he looked at Lucas.

“How?”

“Your ticket says from Boston to Ocala. It also says travel time is forty something hours. The route we are taking is closer to thirty or thirty-six. It’s less if we stop and no one is waiting for the bus.”

“You gonna tattle on me?”

“No.” Wayne swallows his food, watching Lucas finish his toast, taking a final bite and talking with his mouth full and finishes his sentence. “You seem like you’re going through something, and I want to know you’re getting there safe. I know I’m just some middle aged white guy with you at a Denny’s in the middle of the night in Orlando, Florida. But I want to know you’ll be okay. Obviously you are, you’ve made it this far on your own, I guess.

Wayne looks down at his own plate, and soaks his final bite of pancake in a pool of sticky maple syrup. He reaches to dig money out of his pocket. Lucas holds his hand up.

“I’m payin’ for my share.”

“Put your money away. I said I’m gonna make sure you get to where you’re going safe, and fed.” Lucas talked like Wayne’s dad did. He looked absolutely nothing like him, but talked like he did. He wondered if Lucas had a son. He wanted to ask, but maybe not in the middle of the night at Denny’s.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

The pair got back to the bus station, and embarked onto the vehicle. Lucas was right - hours passed, with brief stops that some people got on or off at - and the bus continued on its way. They both slept through the night and into the day as time grew into the morning and early afternoon.

As the sun rose high in the sky, it heated up the glass. It burned Wayne's cheek - he inhaled and opened his eyes to the bus coming to a squeaking halt. Squinting, he makes out the big blue letters on the building they parked in front of.

ATLANTA BUS STATION

Lucas grunts and pinches the bridge of his nose while passengers begin to disembark. Wayne observed a similar pattern to last night’s. People scattering, but now in the daytime. He saw families holding up their ‘WELCOME HOME’ signs, squeaking and jumping into each other’s arms. It was louder than it was at 1:30 in the morning in Orlando, Florida. Wayne grimaced at the volume - and he and his middle aged companion he acquired got off the bus, trudging to the next destination. Wayne looks at the time on the big sign next to the driveway into the station. It was 9:43.

“Our next transfer is in two hours. You hungry?”

Wayne nods. Lucas points to a diner across the street. It looked busy, but they crossed the street anyway. They got their food to go, and sat on the benches in front of the bus station, next to the front doors. In the two times Lucas has eaten with Wayne, Wayne has wolfed down his food at an alarming pace. Honestly, Wayne did not understand how people sat down for meals. Or how people didn’t just eat as fast as possible. Lucas wipes some thousand island dressing off of his lip with a napkin, watching Wayne’s frenzied rummaging in the paper bag for the rest of the fries.

“You eat like someone’s chasing you. Slow down, you’re gonna choke and croak.”

Wayne shoves the last fry from the crinkled white bag into his mouth. He decides to ask what he was going to ask last night.

“You got any kids?”

Lucas swallows and looks pensive, as if he’s considering not answering Wayne’s question. He looks at the busy bus lot, and answers before taking a bite.

“I did.”

Wayne looked at him, confused.

“What? Did? What happened?”

“He got hit by a car.”

Wayne’s gut panged with a feeling he had in fleeting moments. Terrence’s brief descriptions of his long distance relationship with his husband for two years before they got married. He felt the ache he got thinking and yearning for Del, and how much he missed her. He thought, at least for Terrence, he and his husband could call and visit each other. He couldn’t even have that. This pain made him think about his dad. People lost people every day - relatives, friends and family - strangers got buried. But he lost his dad and he wanted to watch the people who wronged him burn. Maybe not even stopping there. The whole world should go too. The hole Wayne Sr. left behind was always in the back of his mind. Lucas’s son didn’t even have the moments Wayne had when his dad was bedridden. The moments of sitting and talking, moments of wordlessly exchanging silence that was somehow mutual understanding of how much they loved each other. Father and son.

It feels hard to swallow.

“How?”

“He was in the yard helping his mom pull weeds while she was at work. The guy was trying to off himself and swerved into the yard and the house.”

Wayne looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“He was your age. You remind me of him. He wasn’t the talking type, but he would just go do things on a whim with a drive of a bull. He was going to be valedictorian.” He talked between chewing, swallowing his food. Wayne didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing at all. The rest of the time of the transfer passed by painfully slow. Lucas asked if Wayne wanted to read some of the documents from his briefcase. Wayne got to read about the family that he was going to visit. The granddad had died, and was willing all his money to his grandchildren, split three ways. His home and properties went to his daughter and son. He couldn’t help but to send an unknown wish into the universe that they didn’t fight over his things - money, or property. And that the funeral was nice, like that other guy’s.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

They boarded the next bus, and Lucas pointed out the next one was in D.C. 13 hours, 7 stops. Lucas and Wayne got off to pee every few stops, and the bus’s population thinned out as people got off the route. They arrived in D.C. at 10:30 P.M., then waited 45 minutes for the next bus. It was a short transfer. They had small talk in between about Wayne in school, and about the best and worst places Lucas had gotten to eat doing this job over the years. They talked about his son’s funeral - who Wayne came to know, his son’s name was Dallas. Wayne’s gut twisted into knot after knot every stop closer to Boston.

To Del.

Another 9 hours and some sleep later, they arrived in Boston, Massachusetts. Wayne fought to get up as fast as he could, yanking on Lucas’s suit jacket and arm and dragging him behind him, stumbling down the stairs of the bus and through the open door. Lucas was amazed at the sheer force and strength he yanked him at. The minute Wayne’s shoes hit the pavement, he looked around frantically, trying to see where he was.

“You good, kid?” Lucas’s eyebrows knit with worry, he grabs Wayne’s shoulder.

“I gotta go.” He answers, panting heavily. Adrenaline was hitting him like a shot straight through his ribcage and directly into his heart to course through his veins. He tries to walk away, and the man pulls him back.

“Hey. You’re goin’ to Brockton. Don’t try walking there, that’s fuckin’ dumb.” He grabs the boy’s other shoulder, and makes him face the long line of taxis and ride share cars next to the bus station’s gates. “Taxi. You should have enough money to get there.” Lucas dug into his pocket, and pulled out another 30$ and shoved it into Wayne’s hands.

“Eat, please.”

Wayne just gave him a small nod, and looked up at the man. His mouth felt dry, and like he didn’t know what he could say to really thank a stranger he spent 30 something hours with that fed him, and lied for him to get on each bus. He looked down at the money, and back up at him.

“You sound like you were a good dad.”

Wayne stared at him for another second, before turning and walking away. He swings open a door to a car, and throws himself inside.

“Brockton.”

“Where in Brockton?”

Wayne regurgitated his former home address to the driver, who only gave a weary look before he put the car in drive and slowly left the parking lot. Wayne looked through the window to Lucas, who was crying. He was wiping his eyes, and getting into the car. He didn’t make eye contact with him or look at him, but he waved anyway.

The driver dropped Wayne off at the destroyed, charred remains of his childhood home. He forked over the 50$ he had, and the man left. He couldn’t go Del’s. Bobby would fucking kill him. He dragged his feet, navigating his way to Orlando’s house. He would’ve told the taxi driver to just go straight there, but he had no idea what the address really was. He just knew how to get there from his house, or school. And he couldn’t go to school. The walk was 15 minutes away, adjacent to his high school.

Wayne marched up Orlando’s driveway to his front door and rang the doorbell. The door creaked open with hesitance, and an older black woman answered the door.

“Hi…” She starts, peeking her head out. “Hi baby, what can I do for you?”

“Where’s Orlando?” He asked, looking around the house. The woman raised her eyebrow. She leaned back to look at something.

“Who are you?”

“I’m uh, a friend from sch-work.” His grandma’s memory was horrible. She thought Orlando was a grown man with a 40 hour a week job.

“Hm. He’s at work right now, but he should be home by 2. He’s off by 1:30.” She smiles. “Are you off today?”

“Yeah. What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Yeah. Orlando wasn’t at work. He was at school. He might actually have a job, but who knows? Wayne hadn’t seen him in so long.

“Do you wanna come in and wait for him, honey? You look like you’re starvin’.”

“Yes please.”

Orlando’s grandma welcomed him into the house and poured him some lemonade and iced tea, and she offered him some leftover lemon pepper chicken from the night before. Wayne didn’t bother warming it up, and just ate it cold. It was 1 o’clock now. He went up to Orlando’s room to wait for him to get home. Pictures on the wall were of who Wayne assumed was Orlando’s mom and dad, and baby Orlando. Then there were other baby pictures of a little girl. The wallpaper was floral and cream colored, and was adorned with shelves of little knick-knacks. It looked similar to how it was when Wayne left - tiddy mags under the mattress, comics all over the desk. He even had a pair of nunchucks. He sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at the door.

30 minutes passed, and he could hear the front door unlocking. Following it was people talking, and Orlando’s grandma planting a big wet kiss on his head or cheek. Following that, it sounded like she was hollering to him that he had a visitor while he began to twist the door handle. When she mentioned he had a visitor, the twist paused. Wayne stood up. Slowly, the handle continued to turn as far as it could go and was slowly opened with caution. Orlando stood in the doorway, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Wayne?! Man, what the fuck?!” He ran up to his long time, no see friend and pulled him into a tight hug. “I fucking missed you! Where the fuck they hold you? Guantanamo Bay? Alcatraz?”

Before Wayne had a chance to speak, Orlando pushed Wayne to an arms length away by his shoulders - his face twisted in disgust.

“Bro, you need a shower. Bad.”

#wayne yt #wayne show #wayne amazon prime #del luccetti #wayne mccullough

2 notes · View notes

andyisbleeding · 1 year

Text

Zombie Undertaker x Reader

Chapter 1. The Power

The back of the house in most arenas is a labyrinth of gray halls with gray floors and no windows. You'll find yourself walking in circles and still not getting anywhere new. Some passing doors had small name plates, mostly offices and janitorial closets. No help to you, of course. The show is somewhere different every night so there's no use trying to remember the floor plan of the arena. By the time the tour comes back around, you'll have been to 200 other stadiums in 200 other cities, an exhausting but exciting whirlwind of work.

You've been on tour for 6 months now. Finally having a handle on the day to day duties, you've almost been able to overcome the lack of sleep schedule with the help of daily energy drinks and sitting up naps in quiet corners. Friends were easily made, both crew and wrestlers know these are the only people you'll get to see for months at a time. This is your new family, you feel welcome. As long as you pull your weight and aren't a raging asshole, everyone gets along surprising well.

Of course people have their cliques and squabbles. Some fights do break out but most are warranted and broken up quickly by the rest of the boys. People make up pretty quickly, knowing that you can't get away from each other is the best way to snuff out that flame.

You continue to wander down the cement hallway, hoping that a sign or person comes along soon. It feels like you've walked the whole arena by now, 'how the fuck do you get back to the locker rooms?'

Stepping out to smoke a joint with the lighting crew seemed like a good idea at the time. The door locking loudly behind you was when you all realized you'd made a mistake.

"Who doesn't put a wedge in the door Dave!" The group tears into the rail thin man. "What is your first day?" "Narc!" "Fuck you Dave." You all erupt in laughter, slapping the man on the back.

You hear soft footsteps coming quickly towards you. The hallway finally coming to an end with only a right hand turn for a direction.

You turn the corner and come face to face, or perhaps belly to belly with Paul Bearer himself.

You stopped quickly to not run smack into the stout man and tried to side step out of his way. Two beady eyes scanned you up and down and made a snap decision. He arched his dark eyebrows at you and twisted his face into an all knowing smirk. "Lost your way little sparrow?"

You swallow hard and force a polite smile onto your face. No need to make an enemy of Paul Bearer, keeper and manager of The Undertaker. "Yes sir actually. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction?" You hold your breath.

Paul cocks his head ever so slightly. Taking in your request and rolling it around in his round head. He smooths out his mustache while he decides if he's going to answer. He looks you up and down again. You don't shy away from his gaze, making sure your eyes meet his when he studies your face. His face twists up again into an approving grin, he gestures behind him.

"Back the way I came," Paul said softly. "Two rights and you'll be back where you belong, little bird." He turned on his heel and went on his way. For a chubby guy, he was very light on his feet, you remarked to yourself. It must come with being a funeral director.

"Thank you!" You call after him. He doesn't seem to hear you or chooses not to respond, either way the encounter went well and you're no longer lost.

Paul's word was good, and in a matter of minutes you walk into the staging area. Stage hands and wrestlers lingering around monitors and craft service tables. A large digital clock blinked the time over head. 8:30 PM. The show had essentially just started. You'd be willing to bet that someone was probably still monologuing in the ring and the first fight hadn't even started yet.

You don't have much of a job during the show. You help with set up and tear down and occasionally help out the art department when they have an extra large job. Tonight was going to be a pretty quiet night. Maybe you'll find yourself a dark locker room and get a much deserved nap.

You decide to check the title card just to recheck the roster. You enjoy watching the fights but the chance to catch up on sleep is far and few between. Nothing pops out at you from the schedule so you wander back towards the locker rooms. People were scattered through the halls, leaning, laughing, talking business. A little bit of everything gets talked about when you spend 24/7 with the same group of people. No topic is off limits and no shame is known.

You walk past the bigger locker rooms. That's where people really congregate, mostly the wrestlers and managers but definitely no peace or quiet. A few of the guys have their own dressing rooms, those are labeled and almost always occupied and locked. You step up to the first door with no name tag. You knock softly as you twist the handle and crack the door. "Hello?" No response. You push open the door wide and glance around the room. Empty minus a loveseat and a small coffee table. No bags, no people, perfect.

You're tempted to lock the door but know that could end poorly. If someone comes looking, you need to actually be findable. You curl up on the love seat, facing the open room and cover up yourself with the flannel you had around your waist. You're a pretty light sleeper so when the taping ends and people get rowdy, you'll be up and ready for tear down. The love seat was lumpy and smelled like stale cigarettes but your eyes were heavy as soon as you were horizontal. You drifted away to the far away sounds of the WWF.

********

You shiver awake.

The whole room was freezing and foggy. You're surprised you can't see your breath as you sigh and bring your flannel tighter around you. 'Why is it so cold in here?' You think to yourself. You slowly bring your wrist to your face. The room is too dark and your eyes are still adjusting to being open again. Trying to read your watch was impossible. Your legs bump up against the coffee table as you put yourself upright. That's odd. The table wasn't that close when you laid down.

You feel his gaze before your eyes fully adjust to the dark room. Truly only lit by the hallway light coming through the thin door window, the corners of the room are pitch black. You look into the darkness in the far corner and it stares back at you. Silent and cold. Two piercing green eyes stare at you through a curtain of wet curly hair.

What little warmth you had left exited your body. A gasp escaped your lips as you realized who was standing in the shadows. There wasn't a name on the door. You're sure of it. No bags. Everyone had language, even him. There were no bags when you started your nap. No inkling of habitation. The room was too small to have overlooked anything.

The Undertaker took a stiff slow step towards you. His large frame, now outlined by the small strip of light coming through the door.

You stand up suddenly. Your legs are cold and numb but you've realized your mistake and now need a swift exit. "I'm so sorry Undertaker. I didn't know this was your room. There wasn't a name on the door." Your voice sounded small and far away. You clear your throat. "Sorry again. Let me get out of your way."

The Undertaker took another step forward. He hasn't blinked. You realize he's a full foot taller than you, maybe even more. You notice how sore your neck is from your little nap as you look up at him. He's still in his wrestling gear. Was he waiting for you to leave to change? Why hadn't he woken you up and kicked you out? Paul Bearer. Paul Bearer was the doer. He controlled The Undertaker, or at least claimed to. But Paul was absent. Maybe he sent Undertaker to the locker room on his own.

You've been frozen to the spot ever since you stood up. All the thoughts running through your head distracted you and he had stepped towards you again. Now you're face to chest with the Undertaker. His neck craned downward towards you, the never ending stare still taking you in. He smelled like wet earth after a fall rain. You couldn't hear him breathe. You couldn't feel any body heat coming off of him. You wondered if his skin would be cold to the touch.

Your hand twitches. Why do you want to touch him so badly? You picture touching his bare chest and then sliding down his stomach. Your face is red and warm now with embarrassment, at least mostly. You remind yourself how you remarked on how handsome he was when you saw your first fight as crew. His red beard covered a square jawline, constantly clenched and almost never moving. His sad green eyes had lost their light sometime long ago. Maybe back when he was alive.

He must have seen your hand twitch, or maybe he saw your face suddenly turn red in the freezing room. A purple gloved hand slowly made its way towards your bare forearm. You don't shy away as the cool leather touches your skin. His fingers wrap around your wrist, tightening slowly like a constricting snake. You tilt your head back to look into the Deadman's eyes. His expression hasn't changed but his gaze moved away from your face and onto your wrist and his own hand. He was holding you tightly but it didn't hurt. You're not sure if you could pull away even if you wanted to. He was the strongest man in the WWF and you'd seen him take apart people 3 times your size.

His eyes snap back to yours.

His stare is too intense, so you drop your gaze to his pale lips. They look soft and you wonder how they'd feel against yours. How they'd feel against your neck and then your chest and you suddenly realize your panties are wet. Your face burns even warmer in the cold room, a beacon in the darkness. You pray he can't read minds, he is supernatural after all. Being dead seems to come with a few good perks so why not telepathy? You find yourself wanting to lean against his huge frame. You want your lips against his and his hands on more of you than just your wrist. You look back into his eyes, trying to tell him everything you were thinking in just a look. You could kiss him if you go on your tiptoes, you think. You look at his lips again. Neither of you have moved since he grabbed your wrist.

Unsure where you found the courage or maybe the audacity but you couldn't stop yourself. You make yourself as tall as possible and put your lips against his. His lips are cool but not cold and surprisingly soft. His ginger beard scratched against your chin. He hasn't moved. You realized you closed your eyes as your lips met. Do you dare open your eyes? Could you take the emerald stare and rage probably growing on the Undertaker's face? No. You really couldn't. You feel stupid. Having a crush. Kissing a man you've never had a conversation with let alone a dead one. You start to pull away and the grip on your wrist tightens.

Your eyes snap open in shock. You're met with his dark eyes closed and his face moving closer to yours. His lips are back against yours, the deadmans kiss was unsure. He seems to be taking your lead, he's out of practice perhaps. You press your body against his and lean into his kiss. He fells so good against you. You shift your mouth on his and your noses bump against each other. You're so wet you're worried about it showing through onto your jeans. You want him to touch you all over. You want him to kiss you all over, to tear your clothes off, to pin you against the wall and fuck you until you scream.

The Undertaker pulls away suddenly, returning to his full height and taking a large step away from you. Your wrist is hot where his tight grip was. Your body is vibrating. You snap back to reality as you realize he's no longer against you. You wonder why the abrupt halt and immediately find out why. The door opens swiftly, almost like it was kicked open. The light switch clicks on and you go momentarily blind.

"Taker, why are you in here? Your room is down the… hall…" Paul Bearer's voice fills the little room. High pitched and doating, his sentence slowly came to a stop. Your eyes were still adjusting but you could feel his puzzled stare on your red checked face. "What are you doing in here little bird?"

You decided the truth was the best answer, up to the kissing part anyway. "I came in here to take a nap during taping. There wasn't a name on the door. I woke up a few minutes ago and he was just… here." You gesture to the big man, still as a statue. "I was just leaving, I need to go start tear down."

Paul's face twisted around as he spoke. His chubby fingers tapped on the gold urn tucked in the crook of his arm. Paul looked from you to the Undertaker and then back to you. He glanced at his watch dramatically and let out a sigh. "You still have a half hour until you tear down. You stay here little sparrow. Taker and I will find our way to OUR locker room." The stout man gestured at the Undertaker to follow him and then swiftly turned on his heel and retreated from the room.

The Undertaker's eyes cut into you once more. You look up to meet his gaze, holding it for a moment. You swear you can see a twinge of red on his lips, warmth transferred from yours. His right arm crossed over and straightened the glove on his left hand. The hand that had held you tightly, the glove being the only thing between your skin and his. His stare dropped to your lips until he turned to follow Paul. To follow the gold urn. To follow the power.

#wwf undertaker #wwf undertaker x reader #undertaker #undertaker x reader #smut #chapter 1 #fan fiction

15 notes · View notes

husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.

(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~

Oh here's part 2

--------

Scaramouche

• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"

• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter.

• Its payback time Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.

• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).

• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.

• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).

~~x~~

Diluc

• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!"

• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum

• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?

• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.

• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.

• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.

• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.

• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.

~~x~~

Kaeya

• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"

• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.

• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now.

• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.

• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).

• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)

~~x~~

Child(e)

• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."

• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.

• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)

• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.

• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed). He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)

• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~

~~x~~

Small (aka Xiao)

• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)

• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'

• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.

• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.

• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture).

• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)

• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.

• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.

• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.

• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)

• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.

• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout never take a form of a child.

~~x~~

Albedo

• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.

• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique.

• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.

• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.

• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.

• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all.

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact headcanons #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #tartagalia x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #nya writes #scaramouche x reader

7K notes · View notes

mammonprotectionsquad · 3 years

Note

for the hug prompts, 14 with belphie please? :>

It's the first time I'm writing a oneshot for the sleepy boy, so I hope it turned out alright 💕

I really had fun writing it tho, so thanks a lot for requesting this! ☺️

14. Hugging with head on shoulder

Belphegor x GN!Reader

"Finally free!", you exclaimed with a relieved sigh as you stepped out of the class room, stretching your arms over your head in an attempt to get the stiffness from sitting and writing for such a long time out of your limbs. You'd just finished the last exam and were more than just ready for the much needed break. Finally no long study sessions anymore, no constant nagging from Lucifer about how you had to do well in order not to make Diavolo look bad, etc etc. All you'd do the next couple days would be the most necessary stuff and get some rest.

"MC! How about we celebrate the end of this horrible week with a shopping trip? I think we deserve some pretty new clothes to go out in. Uh! And let's get a facial as well!", Asmo nearly vibrated from excitement next to you. Leaving you to wonder where on earth he still got all that energy from...

"As much as I'd love to, all I'm going to do is fall into bed and not move unless it's inevitable, once we made it home." When you noticed how he pouted about you turning him down, you couldn't help but chuckle, giving his arm a little nudge. "Some other day, alright? If you want I might even be willing to agree on an entire beauty day."

A snort behind you made you stop and you turned your head to spot Belphie, who hid a big yawn behind his hand. Though he didn't stop walking until he pretty much bumped into your back, arms encircling your waist while he rested his chin on your shoulder. A fond smile broke out on your face and you rested your hands on his arms, leaning ever so slightly back into him.

"You know it's gonna be a long day for you then?"

"I don't mind. It's usually a lot of fun with him", you shrugged, Belphie not seeming all too convinced.

"Honestly, I'm already getting exhausted only thinking about getting dragged to store after store."

Suddenly you felt him put more of his weight on you, causing you to stagger ever so slightly in surprise.

"Belphie..."

"Makes my body get all heavy", he continued, seemingly ignoring that you said something. And you didn't need to see him to know he had that damn teasing smirk on his face. What he did instead was lean even more into you. With his arms still tightly wrapped around you it felt like he slowly but surely began to put all his weight on you.

"Belphie, stop it! We're gonna fall, if you keep this up!"

You tried to sound annoyed but it was impossible to keep the quiet laugh in that bubbled up your throat, because of his silly antics.

"Mh... Did you say something? Guess I'm too sleepy to hear anything", he went on with his act, now tickling a full on laugh out of you as you tried desperately to keep the two of you upright.

Though when your legs eventually did give in, the youngest brother was quick to stand up straight again, pulling you into his chest with the grip he still had on your waist.

"You're the worst! And here I wanted to ask if you want to nap together. Maybe I better don't after you teased me like that..."

"MCCC... That's just cruel now!", he downright whined, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, making you snicker.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Come on, let's go. The sooner we make it home, the sooner we can go to sleep."

Even if it was a bit reluctant, he let go of you, but you were quick to make up for the loss of close contact by immediately intertwining your fingers with his, flashing him a wide smile as you tugged him along towards the House of Lamentation.

Naps with Belphie were always your favorites, so there was absolutely no way you'd ever voluntarily miss out on them.

Masterlist

If you'd like to get added to the tag list, please let me know 💕

@hell-temptations @sweeneyblue1 @duhsies @thegrimgrinningghost @otomaticallyobsessed @bbytamaki

#hug prompts #request #obey me #shall we date obey me #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #belphegor x reader #belphegor x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me reader insert #obey me oneshot #my writing

92 notes · View notes

starrybethany · 3 years

Text

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 6

Adam Boqvist: I’m Sure Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7K

Taglist: @flowery-mess @musiclove-12

I sit in the lobby of the gynecologist’s office, flipping mindlessly through a parenting magazine. These magazines are so stupid- they’re meant to make parenting look easy and flawless, like nothing could go wrong- spoiler note, they’re wrong.

Your partner could leave you at any moment.

Your child could lie to you.

You could end up unexpectedly pregnant multiple times.

Children aren’t as easy as people like to think that they are. I sigh, throwing the magazine onto the coffee table in front of me and peak at my watch. It’s a minute until the time that my appointment is actually scheduled for. I was hoping to get in earlier to get out earlier. I want to pick Holden up from school and take him to an arcade to relax, since everything has been so hectic lately.

The slow, casual opening of the sliding doors are a sharp contrast to the frazzled, out-of-breath man that runs through them. He pants, looking around frantically at all of the couples staring back at him before locating me.

“Oh good, you haven’t gone in yet,” he gasps, practically throwing himself into the chair next to me and turning his hat around on his head so it’s backwards.

“I thought you were a professional athlete, how are you so out of breath?” I point out, ignoring his comment.

“I’ve been missing my workouts to hang out with you and the boys,” he gives me a flirty smile.

I roll my eyes. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

His smile fades as he looks at me. “Hey, that’s not what I-“”Y/N Y/L/N?” The nurse calls my name at the perfect time.

I jump out of the chair, different from the past couple of weeks where I’ve had to ease myself up due to my growing belly.

“How are you doing today?” The nurse asks as she leads the way down the hallway.

“I’m good, how about you?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

Adam trails behind us as we enter a small exam room. He hovers awkwardly in the doorway as the nurse brings me over to the scale, weighing me and taking down my height. I motion to one of the empty chairs beside the computer and he quickly sits down, an apologetic look on his face.

I can’t help but feel annoyed.

I know he’s new to this and uncomfortable and I should just appreciate him being here in the first place, but holy hell I can’t hold his hand through everything. If he can’t even sit down in a fucking chair by himself, how can I trust him to change a diaper? Or God forbid, if he had to be with the baby by himself?

I’m doubting the man next to me as I take the chair beside him, updating the nurse on my personal information.

“Any concerns?” The nurse asks, typing furiously on the keyboard.

“My back is hurting really bad. With my last pregnancy, I don’t remember it hurting this bad,” I confess, rubbing my lower back as the shooting pain makes its way through my back.

“I will write a note for the doctor. Alright, she’ll be in shortly,” she smiles before leaving.

I feel like I’m practically begging her with my eyes to stay. I don’t want to be left alone with Adam, I know I should get used to it because he sounds like he wants to be involved in the boys lives now, but there’s something preventing me from feeling fully comfortable around him.

“What was it like with Holden?”

His question snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn my head towards him, making eye contact with him. I feel taken aback every time we make eye contact- it’s like I’m seeing his blue eyes for the first time all over again.

“What was what like with Holden?” You’ve missed out on a lot of moments, you’re going to have to be specific here, buddy.

“Your pregnancy,” he shifts awkwardly. “You said you have more backaches this, uh, time, than you did when you were, um-“”You can say the word pregnant, Adam.”

He clenches his jaw. “Fine. You said you have more backaches this pregnancy than when you were pregnant with Holden, so what else is different? There, are you happy I said it? Pregnant.”

“Whatever,” I cross my arms over my chest, excitement for this appointment ruined by Adam’s shitty attitude. He’s shown me time and time again that he’s still selfish, so tell me again, why am I allowing him to be here?

“Well?”

“Well what?” I question, looking at him in disbelief.

“What’s different?” He asks like I’m the stupid one.

“Oh my God, Adam, I still get nauseous at the smell of scrambled eggs, my feet hurt more when I was pregnant with Holden than with this baby, but this baby makes my back hurt more, and this baby loves to kick way, way, way fucking more than Holden did. There, are you happy I said it?” I repeat his question. “Do you feel like asking about my pregnancy with Holden makes up for you not being there?”

He’s quiet. We sit in this sharp tension for a good five minutes before the doctor arrives, neither of wanting to say anything. Or maybe it’s that we just don’t know what to say.

“Hi, how are we feeling today?” Dr. Rocht questions as she enters the room.

“Hungry,” I respond, dreaming about the local sub shop down the street from the women’s clinic.

Adam gives me a look of disbelief, like he can’t believe that I would even be thinking about food after the fight we just had. But hey, the baby’s hungry.

“Why don’t we have you climb on the exam table so we can get you an ultrasound of this growing baby, huh?” She requests.

I nod, standing up and climbing onto the table, lifting my shirt so that my small bump is in view.

I see Adam’s eyes widen at the sight of it, like he didn’t actually realize that I was pregnant, but I ignore him.

“So did you open the envelope to see what you’re having?” She makes small talk as she preps the equipment.

“It’s a boy,” I smile with the news.

“A boy,” Dr. Rocht repeats with a smile of her own, “Is your son excited to have a younger brother?”

“He is! I think he would’ve been excited either way, but I think he’s really looking forward to having a baby brother.”

She rubs the gel on my lower stomach and I’m silent as I stare anxiously at the ultrasound screen, waiting for the picture of my baby boy to show up.

There he is. With his little button nose, tiny lips, and the outline of his body, I cherish it every time I get to see him. He’s really there- he’s really inside of me. Using my body and the nutrients that I give him, he’s growing.

A wide, cheesy grin spreads across my face as I see him.

“Are you okay there, dad?” Dr. Rocht’s voice snaps me out of the moment I’m having with myself.

I turn to look at Adam, seeing him ball his hands into fists and rub at his eyes, sniffling along with the motion. “Yeah, it’s just, uh, the first time that. I’ve seen this.”

A pane of guilt hits my chest with the way I’ve been treating Adam. He’s been out of his kids’ lives for the past thirteen years, yes, but he’s trying now. And shouldn’t he get some credit for that?

The gynecologist asks me a question, turning my attention back to her. She gives me some advice about how to deal with the backaches and prints out three pictures of the ultrasound. One for me, one for Adam, and one for Holden. I tuck two of them into my purse and give the other to Adam, heading to the front desk to make my next appointment right away.

The blonde man walks past me as I talk to the receptionist, out through the front doors and into the parking lot. My emotions have been all over the place all day- I’m aware of that- but walking away from me after asking me to be involved in your sons lives and crying at the ultrasound just seems downright disrespectful and inconsiderate.

His actions clearly aren’t matching up with his words.

I walk into the parking lot, unlocking my car.

“Y/N.” I look over to see Adam waiting on a bench outside of the building, looking back at me.

“What, Adam?” I question, just wanting to get my sub, eat it, and take a nap. I feel so drained from the last couple of days. Although this may be benefiting my children, this whole process with Adam is entirely exhausting to me.

“I’m looking for an apartment. Here, in Philadelphia. For the next three months,” he informs me.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, speaking slowly. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” I can tell by his tone that he’s instantly defensive.

That’s why, I want to respond. Because you aren’t willing to listen or understand anything other than your opinion.

“Adam, I just,” I sigh, shifting my purse strap. “Holden still hasn’t decided whether he wants a relationship with you, and I don’t know when he will make a decision. And- and there’s nothing you can do for me or this baby right now.”

“I just came to an ultrasound with you,” he points out.

“And you started an argument with me while in there.” I wave my hands around for emphasis, probably looking like a crazy person but needing to get my point across. “You stress me out. And it’s not good for my health or the baby’s health. I’m sorry, but I think you should return to Chicago. I’ll send you weekly updates.”

I get into my car, knowing that his eyes are following me, but his mouth doesn’t move. He’s finally starting to understand what I’m saying.

One of the good things about having a baby bump, beside it meaning that the baby is growing healthily, is that you can balance things on it. Like right now, when I have three stacks of plastic cups resting on my stomach as I carry them from the back to the front.

I set the cups on the counter, bending over to put them away.

“Okay, Y/N, Rachel, Marcella, and I have been talking, and we really like Sebastian,” Lia informs me, sliding her phone into her back pocket.

Marcella asked for the day off and Rachel had to leave early to go to a doctor’s appointment, so it’s just me and Lia this afternoon. It’s fine, it’s a slow Wednesday anyways.

“Who’s Sebastian? Is that the boy you’re kind of dating?” I question. The three girls are texting each other all of the time so they’re always caught up on each other’s lives, but I’m a little slower when it comes to that.

“No, for the second baby,” she beams, “Sebastian is the name of our favorite character from Vampires Defending the Nation. Have you seen it?”

“Nope,” I respond, knowing it’s probably some rip off of The Vampire Diaries.

“It’s so good! You have to see it,” she gushes, “So, have you thought about other names for the baby yet?”

“Not really,” I confess. “I mean, I still have another four months to think about it.”

“Hey, Y/N,” a familiar voice interrupts my conversation with Lia.

I turn around to face the customer, sighing when I see Adam standing expectantly on the other side of the counter.

“What can I get for you, Adam?” I step up to the cash register.

“I found an apartment and paid the down payment today. Just thought you should know,” he tells me.

“So, one large caramel Frappuccino,” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice as I tap the order onto the cash register.

“And I wanted to invite you and Holden over for dinner tonight.”

“Extra whip, that’ll be an additional dollar.” My fingers jap the register harder now.

“Come on, Y/N, please. Just talk to him for me,” he pleads, pulling cash out of his wallet despite never ordering the Frappuccino.

“It is not my job to fix this for you,” I snap at him, lowering my voice once I notice other customers begin to look at us. “You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out of it. I’m sick of you fucking up and it all falling onto me, Boqvist.”

“Just tell him to respond to my texts, please.”

“It’s like you never hear a word I say,” I shake my head, exhausted from his attitude. “Your total is $5.47.”

He hands a fifty-dollar bill to me and I make sure to avoid contact with his hand, not wanting to end up in the same situation we ended up in last time we were in this café together.

“Keep the change.”

I hand him back two twenty-dollar bills, four singles, two quarters, and three pennies.

Keep the change my ass. Do you think throwing money at me will get me to change my mind?

“Coming right up,” I give him a fake smile, turning around to make his drink.

As I hand him the large cup, he leans in closer to me. I feel like I’m holding my breath, like if I release the oxygen from my lungs it’ll tangle with the oxygen from his lungs and we’ll be connected again.

“Just think about dinner, okay?” He gives me a soft smile before the front door chimes after him.

“Is that baby daddy?” Lia’s voice startles me out of my frozen state.

I nod, not trusting my voice to speak.

“Wow, he is hot,” she exclaims. When I give her a look of disapproval, she adds, “And an asshole. Total asshole.”

“Mom,” Holden hollers, stumbling down the steps. I pause Vampires Defending the Nation at the perfect time since Holden stops right in front of the TV.

“What’s up, bud?”

“Adam told me that he wants to buy me the new Halo game,” he states excitedly.

I keep myself from rolling my eyes. First he tries to pay me to talk to Holden for him at the café and now he’s buying Holden’s love by getting him a new video game.

Does this man think that money just fixes everything?

“That’s nice, honey,” I try to give him a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.

“And, uh,” he suddenly looks shy, making me wonder what Adam told him this time. I never know with Adam- I can never predict him. “And he told me that he, um, invited us over for dinner. And, uh, I would like to go, if, if you want to.”

I study him. He’s not fiddling with his fingers, he’s avoiding eye contact with me not because he’s lying, but because he’s unsure of my reaction, he’s not biting his lip. He’s not feeling pressured into doing this by Adam, it’s something that he really wants to do.

“Are you sure?” I question, giving him the chance to change his mind.

“I’m sure, mom.”

“Alright,” I pull out my phone slowly to text Adam that we’d be there in an hour, giving Holden the final chance to change his mind.

He doesn’t. And now I have to see Adam in less than an hour, something that I’m dreading, yet somehow deep inside, looking forward to.

Adam’s apartment is only twenty minutes away from our small townhouse, but it’s a stark difference to how we live. Whereas the brick outside of our townhouse is from the early 1900s and the paint is peeling (the landlord refuses to pay me back if I paint it myself- and I’m stubborn too, so I refuse to do it for free) while I remember Adam’s apartment building being built last year and there’s a security guard at the entrance who greets us.

I reach out to grab Holden’s hand. I’m not sure if it’s more for me or him, but I think we both need the comfort of each other.

The receptionist gets clearance from Adam to allow us up to his apartment and I hesitantly knock on the fake wood door, stepping back and waiting for it to open up.

It swings open, a beaming Adam Boqvist on the other side. “Glad you guys could make it, come on in.”

We walk into the apartment hesitantly, taking off our shoes.

“So, it has three bedrooms and two bathrooms, I figured a room for me, a room for Holden, and a room for the new baby, and uh, I made spaghetti for dinner,” the hockey player rambles, hurrying over to the stove to stir the steaming pot.

“No room for you,” Holden murmurs, teasingly, nudging my arm with his.

I roll my eyes at that, but his father clearly hears his comment, because he responds, “Oh, I was thinking she would share a room with me.”

Just as I’m about to bite back with a sassy response, he takes the pot off of the stove to dump the boiling water out. I take the time to slyly check out the apartment.

The walls are a stark white- something that he’ll regret once this baby gets into his trouble-making-toddler phase, the appliances are all brand new, and the furniture looks very modern.

Truthfully, it doesn’t look comfortable to live in. It looks like something out of a magazine.

“Dinner’s ready,” Adam announces.

We pile our plates with food, and I take a seat at the table, Holden sitting across from me and Adam sitting next to me.

“A water for you and the baby, a water for Holden,” Adam states, setting a glass down beside each of our plates before taking a seat next to me. “So, Holden, how was school today?”

I zone out as my son answers.

In the seat next to Holden, a girl a couple of years younger than him would be smiling at me. Holden would reach over to pick up the piece of garlic bread that fell in her lap, setting it on her napkin on the table. A high chair would be at the end of the table next to Adam, and in between bites of his spaghetti, he would feed the waiting, hungry baby.

That baby would be an accident. But we would laugh and joke about half of our babies being accidents, not in the way we do now, but in a joking, loving way.

A way that would show, yes, this wasn’t planned, but we’re in this together. We’re always in this together.

It’s what could have been. We could have had a nice house that we designed together, three kids that were by both of us, hell, even a dog. We could have been together. We could have done this together.

“Mom?”

I look at Holden with questioning eyes. He gives me a look of concern, nodding towards Adam. “Adam asked you a question.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, meeting Adam’s eyes. He’s always been good at telling my emotions, and that’s why he can press my buttons so easily. But now he just looks like he wants to comfort me, wrap me in his arms and never let me go.

“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Are you alright?” He mumbles like we’re the only people in the room, ignoring my question.

“I’m fine, um, the baby’s just kicking me really hard,” I lie, hoping that even if he doesn’t believe it, he’ll accept it.

He nods slowly, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t believe my lie, but he’ll let it slide. “I asked you who you were working with today.”

“Oh, that’s Lia,” I answer. We make small talk for the rest of dinner, but I feel concern oozing both from the man beside me and the boy across from me.

I just need to get through this dinner, then I can go home and sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

I pull the shoe onto my foot, losing my balance and beginning to tumble forward. A hand shoots out to catch me, steadying me.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I rise to my full height, planting my feet firmly on the ground.

“Gotta be careful, there,” Adam mumbles back, arm still holding onto mine. We stand there in a comfortable silence for the first time in thirteen years. I don’t want it to end, but then I remember that Holden still has homework to do, and I have to do some things before work tomorrow.

“We should get going now,” I state, moving towards the door.

“Y/N, wait,” his voice stops me. I turn around to face him. “Um, I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying. And I know I’ve been saying that for a while and I haven’t really been acting like it, but I rented this apartment, and I cooked this dinner and I’m trying to be there for Holden because I haven’t been there for him.

“And I’m trying to be there for you, too. Not just because you’re carrying my child, but because you’ve been supermom for the past thirteen years. You stepped up when I couldn’t, for the both of us, and it’s just, you just,” he takes a deep breath. “You deserve the world.” I feel something tug at my heart.

“I’m really sorry. I’m sorry for not being there then, I’m sorry for not being here now when I have been here, I’m sorry for everything. And I’m going to do everything in my power to show you how sorry I am.”

I nod, soaking in his words. He’s apologizing. He’s realizing his actions- or lack thereof. And now we just need to see if his actions will match up with this grand speech he just gave me.

“You better,” I say quietly, walking out of his new apartment.

“What took you so long?” Holden asks from his spot in front of the elevator.

“I had to talk to your dad.”

“Was it- was it a good talk?” He questions, eyes asking an unasked question.

I nod. “It was a good talk, Holden.”

#nhl imagines #Adam boqvist #Adam Boqvist imagine #Adam Boqvist x reader #hockey imagines

54 notes · View notes

onyxoverride · 3 years

Note

house husband!zeke, he cooks, always makes you rlly pretty bento’s for you to take to work, keeps the house clean, does the laundry, takes care of the garden, takes your kids to school and picks them up. and most of all, so diligent and obedient in the bedroom, so willing for affection and praise 🥰🥰

coming home to hear his smooth voice is your most favorite part of the day, “Welcome home honey, how was work?”

- 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩nonnie

I love this!!

warnings: dom/sub dynamic but mostly fluff, praise kink-esque on Zekes end, domestic!!

The craving for a simple life is so strong, he wants the picket fence, a dog, and a kid. No, he doesn’t want to just sit at home, he wants to take care of you and the house and everything. He wants you to not worry about anything since he loves you. Plus, you’re the money maker in the household. Your job pays well but it’s exhausting, he can tell. You’ve been working so hard for so long, steady build-ups to promotion after promotion.

He first met you in a coffee shop in a bookstore. You looked so tired but were so sweet and kind to him after he messed up your order. Usually, people in business attire are a bit meaner. He was thankful you even came back, started asking you for your name, how your day is going, next time it was where you work and after that, it was your number. It’s all history and he feels so lucky. You two were perfect for each other, two pieces in a previous thought of as incompatible puzzle.

All of your favorite foods are memorized and practiced within the first year of dating. He wants to be good, yes. But he also wants to be the best. You work, have a stable job, and are amazingly attractive with a good personality -- the feeling of being inadequate nags at the back of his head.

When you come back home and invite him over for dinner you kiss the back of his neck and murmur how thankful you are for him into his neck. He doesn't feel so inadequate anymore, especially when you say that you’re glad he’s separate from your job and corporate life, how he’s your paradise away from the ruckus of life. He’s blushing and just responds with an embarrassed “I love you too.”

When he was trying to figure out how to propose to you and he is the definition of nervous. He wanted it to be casual but magical at the same time. He got a ring custom made, perfect for you. He already has the official ring planned out so your engagement ring can accent them, so you can keep those rings on too after you are married. If you say yes, he remembers. He fixed dinner as he usually does, sits outside near the garden on the patio furniture, next to a little garden he's started. You two have been living together now for at least three years, it’s time to get married, right? You’re ready, right? You already know what he’s doing, you’re observant and have picked up all his nervous ticks, the way he scratches his ear when he’s thinking, and twists at his beard when he’s nervous. He only realizes you know after you two have drank a bottle of wine, a comfortable silence while the moon shines on the two of you. He knows that look, you know what's going to happen, a little expectant. So finally he pulls out a little emerald green velvet box onto the table, nerves making his hands shaky and all he had scripted out to say is gone. He’s stuttering out parts of his script as you put your hand over his, bringing his knuckles to your lips, mumbling “Of course I’ll marry you, Zeke Jaeger.” He’s wiping his thumb over his eyes saying “Fuck, I didn’t want to cry...”

He was surprised that you were excited at the idea of a kid. He thought maybe the responsibility of the little pibble rescue was enough but when he asked your thoughts on kids you gave him a sweet smile a firm kiss on the lips and said: “If they’re yours, then of course.” That left him stuttering for a good few minutes, red blush going down his neck as you giggle at him.

The sex after that was spectacular in his opinion. You usually dominate him, that’s what he likes, but this? You riding him, pulling his hands to your belly saying, “I want your baby, you’ll let me have it won't you?” As much as he wanted to fill you up with cum he had to clench his balls and hold back because he would’ve come embarrassingly early.

You agreed almost every morning before work you two could try to conceive. Even if you don’t cum you give him a sweet kiss after the demands you scratched into his back to finish inside you and say he did a good job.

When you have your kid he cries. He doesn’t mean to sob but your kid is so cute, he can’t even stand because his knees are weak.

He’s sweet to his kid. Nervous at first at being a father because he doesn’t want to end up like his own that left him and started another family. He spoils them, disciplines them when need be but he’s a weak man for his little one's puppy eyes pair with his actual dog's puppy eyes. He loves seeing you play with them, his family. He’s finally achieved his dream. He watches you kiss your child forehead and wake them up every morning before you get to work, he takes over and gets them ready for school, getting a kiss on the forehead himself before you leave. Drives them and picks them up every day from school. Knows his kids' favorite teachers by name.

He keeps the house neat. Right when he comes back from dropping his little one off he drops back into bed, takes a quick nap, and then gets up to clean. It’s not too much usually. He taught his little one to clean up, they learn from observing and want to mimic him and you so it’s quite easy. When he does the laundry he makes sure to fold them immediately right out of the dryer. Refuses to embarrass you with wrinkly clothes.

Goes out to take care of his garden which has flourished over the years. Mint, basil, and other herbs to peppers and tomatoes. Waters them and cares for them as he lets the dog run around the yard. He makes you pretty little lunches out of the ingredients he grows. His heart feels filled when you come home with an empty lunch box and compliment his skills.

Two hours after he picks his kid up from school you are predicted to come home. His kid is happy and fed with a nice snack and already set down for a quick nap. When you open the door he is right in the kitchen waiting for you with a smile, “Welcome home honey,” a quick kiss to your lips, “how was work?” Sometimes it's a simple “good,” because you don’t want to talk about it and sometimes it's a “your lunch was the only good part of my day really” which means he needs to sit down and listen to you complain about work. That’s fine with him even though he’s missing some knowledge of what you’re talking about. Sits his kid on his lap if they’re awake and cuddles them while you speak, your kid asking questions occasionally. Really it’s hilarious how you talk to them like an adult who completely gets what you’re saying. Your kid chiming in saying “That was mean!” and you nodding saying “I know, right!! People are ridiculous sometimes!”

Finally, though, you two get a day to yourself after he asks your neighbor Sasha to take care of his kid for a while, drops them off right after school to be picked up in the morning. Sasha agrees enthusiastically as long as Zeke cooks her something good. Your cute little dog went with them with some bribing to Sasha

He already knows what's up when you get home early, rolling your shoulders and giving him a look, the look. “You’re going to be good for me, right Zeke?” Gets on his knees immediately, kisses your ankles as he takes off your shoes. Massages your calves as you lean back into the couch. Works his way up your thighs, pushing your skirt to your waist and he molds his hands into your thighs. Lives to serve you and be a good boy for you. Tell him, “Use your tongue. Just how I trained you.” and god he will. Your thighs over his shoulders as he devours you, doing just as you asked. Running your fingers through his hair, pulling his face to grind into your wet cunt. “Get me ready for your cock,” all the stress from the week that's built up is washed away with the orgasm he pulls from you.

Pull his face away from your thighs and he licks up as much slick as he can from around his mouth, “Good boy.” The praise sends warm spikes of arousal through him, and you pull him in for a messy kiss, tasting your cum on his face. Sit between his legs right in front of him, chest to chest while you ride him. It’s a soft intimate position which he loves, he lives for this softness and the praise spilling from your mouth. How he’s so good for you, such a good husband, cock filling you out so nicely, you never fail to please me Zeke- and he’s cumming inside you.

You don’t stop there, ride him dry until your thighs give out and then demand him to rut into you like a desperate dog. He will, he’ll follow your every order through and through until you’re both breathless and wrung out.

#♥️.👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩anon #⚫.writing #⚫️.answered #⚫.drabbles #◆.aot #❖.zeke jaeger #zeke x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke fluff #zeke x reader fluff #zeke smut #zeke jaeger smut

118 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 3 years

Note

Could you do 🌸💤 for Cersei Lannister please

sure! lets get some ladies up in these requests. im adding two more emojis bc they were also requested and I wanted all the Cersei in one place :>

🎭 Jealousy HC

Oh boy.

Cersei is fiercely jealous. There is no arguing this, and if you catch her in a good mood, she’ll admit it with a smirk.

She has a generally jealous personality, but it’s much stronger when she’s in a relationship. It can border on possessiveness, but she does understand that as a woman, you have all sorts of irksome lords and knights clamoring for your attention. Luckily, she’s the queen, so she can take you by the arm and dismiss them with a smile, if she’s feeling generous.

If not, they’ll get a taste of the venom she’s so excellent at spitting... then it’s right back to a smug smile to you. You think she really likes driving men away from you.

You noticed she only gets jealous of your female friends when they do something that she likes doing for you. Examples are your hair (“Is this what she calls a braid? Let me do it.”) or helping you dress (”She ties the laces too tight. Turn around, I’ll fix it.”)

Real talk, if you were friends with a handmaiden or lesser lady who was being too friendly for her tastes, she’ll put in a few words here and there to make the girl’s life miserable. You have a reputation as Cersei’s favorite, and any women trying to suck up to you to get to the queen are in for a rude awakening.

💤 Napping HC

Honestly, Cersei doesn’t have the best sleeping habits. She really could benefit from a midday nap, considering how late she sleeps and early she wakes up, but good luck convincing her to do it. She thinks it would be an absolutely lazy thing to do, and she has so much to do!

But there are some days where you can tell she’s utterly exhausted, so you have to get a little creative.

When you two her intimate, she only sometimes dozes off afterward, and it’s not for that long. You know Cersei struggles to be so vulnerable, so she tries not to fall asleep, even if she’s clearly cozy and curled up in your bed.

In the evening, when she’s more prone to staying awake late, you can cuddle and kiss and convince her to at least lie in bed with you. You noticed brushing her hair and massaging helps her fall asleep, even when she’s angry and wound up.

When she does have a catnap, she tends to curl up. She likes having lots of pillows, and curls her feet up in her long gown. If you’re with her, you carefully remove some of her hairpins so she can sleep better. She actually looks sweet, with her long hair tumbling over the pillows and an oddly peaceful expression on her face. She always looks peaceful when she’s sleeping.

She doesn’t mind if you fall into a nap in her private parlor or room. It’s a good thing - it means you aren’t with anyone else. She’ll snap at a servant to bring her extra pillows and blankets so you’re cozy.

🌸Kissing HC

You learn she has a variety of kisses at her disposal. For one, she’s never given you a quick peck or sneaky kiss in the middle of a deserted hall. Her kisses are only for when you two are alone, and they’re meaningful. None of this light kiss business.

The exception is when you’re both in court, and a lord is being too forward. She hates that, you know it, or if a certain Lady she knows has eyes for you is being presumptuous. That’s when Cersei kisses your cheek, but it’s all she can get away with. Any more and she pushes the boundary of a Queen and her primary lady in waiting. She likes to do it when you aren’t expecting it.

Her default kisses are the passionate kind. This is because she has so much bottled up throughout the day, when you both are finally alone she just lets loose and has no shame in expressing what she wants. Cersei prefers to be the one grabbing you and bringing you to her, the one holding your face and biting your lips and neck - she likes to be the ‘dominant’ one.

She isn’t always like that, though. When she’s feeling especially depressed or bitter, she wants to be the one kissed and held.

She really loves using tongue and biting; when your lips are red from her actions and not your lipstick, she’s pleased. She especially likes it if you’re more of a shy type that gets flustered from all the attention.

She’s not willing to risk too much affection in halls and empty rooms, unless she’s positive it’s safe. When she takes you to Casterly Rock (because she will take you anywhere she has a whim to go), she’s more bold.

💋 Intimacy HC

She’s a woman who has used her sexuality since she was young, and she knows what she likes and wants. Truthfully, it was your appearance and body she noticed first. She wasn’t able to talk to you for some time, so she admired that before you two were able to meet properly.

The first time you’re intimate with her, she goes straight to giving attention to the parts she likes the most. You can tease her about it, too; it’s so obvious what she likes based off the dresses she gives you, or the ways she suggests you do your hair or wear necklaces.

Cersei herself has always been admired for her hair and breasts, so she assumes that’s what you like, too. She’s surprised if that isn’t the case, and more surprised by how attentive a lover you can be. She’s … not used to that.

If you’re someone who puts her pleasure and needs first, she finds herself getting a little addicted to it. It’s a tossup if she wants to be in control, making you cry out and beg her for it, or if she wants you to take care of her completely. It’s rarely both in a single night: Someone has to be submissive, someone has to be dominant.

She changes her opinion on this the longer you’re together. The same with cuddling afterward - what’s that? She’s used to men saying the stupidest things, wanting the stupidest things, so if you just want to sit and enjoy her warmth, it takes time for her to accept it and be comfortable.

She loves leaving as many marks as she can - scratches on your back, hickeys on your neck and breasts and thighs. She loves it even more if you don’t cover it up completely and you have to sputter excuses to people about what happened. She’s fine with marks on herself, but she’ll always cover them up. Every day she’ll ask you to kiss it better and make it up to her until the bruise fades.

She potentially has a lot of stamina, but you know there are times when she’s exhausted and should sleep. Cersei hates being told that. If she wants to be with you, she’s getting it, damn it … Even if she falls asleep right after because she’s slept so horribly the whole week. That’s when you tuck her in and blow the candles out.

#cersei lannister x reader #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #libra headcanons

210 notes · View notes

allthingskakashi · 4 years

Note

Could I request a scenario of Kakashi with his wife (fem!reader) and their young baby saying "daddy" for the first time? Doesn't need to be long just what some fluff to warm our hearts because Dad!Kakashi is one of my weaknesses. Don't need to rush, take your time, if for some reason you don't feel like writing it just ignore this ask. (Sorry if there's something you didn't understand, English is not my first language)

Don't worry, i understood you just fine, your english was flawless! :)) I'm sorry this took so long but thank you so much for being patient with me! I really hope i can make this worth the wait

• A Sprinkle of Blessing •

[ Kakashi x Reader]

a/n : Ahh I'm sorry i went off track for so long before getting to the actual scenario, i just wanted to give the story some background. Buuut since you said you love Dad Kakashi, I'm hoping you wouldn't mind

You sit on the edge of your bed, willing your body into keeping you from plonking back onto the welcoming arms of the mattress with every bit of your strength. You rub your eyes, ignoring the persistent throb in your temples. Feeling around for your slippers with your feet, you slide them on and get up to make your way to the kitchen. Your bathrobe hangs loosely from your shoulders, ends of the belt falling free, untied.

You stagger towards the kitchen with your eyes half closed and let out a wide yawn. You can’t remember the last time you got a good night’s sleep. Sleep is such a rare commodity these days, you’ve learnt how to take naps even as your body powers through the mundane chores of human existence. Like at this very moment. Every muscle that forms you aches, you’re so tired, been tired for what feels like ages now. Your uncombed hair is strewn all over your face. You know you look like crap but you don’t have the tenacity to care. Having a new born requires more work than an S-rank mission, and you’ve barely had the time or capacity to look after yourself.

Although if it weren’t for Kakashi, you would’ve lost your sanity by now. He’s been the best through it all, a true companion.

He’s stayed up till odd hours to let you sleep through innumerable restless nights, strolling around the entire house with a bawling Sakumo in his arms, trying to rock him to sleep. You’ve woken up on countless mornings to the sight of your husband passed out on the couch, with your son finally asleep on his chest, drool leaking down both their mouths. It’s quite a sight and no matter how many times you’ve seen it, it’s one that always tugs at your heartstrings. There’s even a picture on the fridge, much to the copy ninja’s mortification.

Kakashi has gone out of his way to grow into his new role as a father. He’s changed diapers, sung off-tune lullabies and replaced his Icha Icha with books on parenting and fatherhood. In spite of his Hokage duties, he hasn’t slacked when it came to dedicating his time to baby Sakumo and also you, coming home early on most nights to cook you dinner, just so you could have a little respite.

“We’re in this together, y/n. You’ve already done so much, brought our child into the world, let me do my part now.”, he’d say to you whenever you tried to take on too much. You were both new to this, you made mistakes and you learnt from them, but you couldn’t imagine sharing this ride with anyone other than Kakashi.

In all fairness though, it wasn’t always a smooth ride. Many a night, Kakashi would wake up drenched in sweat, shaking and hyperventilating in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare about losing the both of you. And you’d hold him in your arms until he calmed down, assuring him again and again that no one would take you both away from him, nothing would snatch away those he held close, not this time. Then again sometimes it’d be you, breaking down in the middle of the day, sobbing uncontrollably and doubting yourself, thinking you aren’t good enough. And Kakashi would be right beside you, holding you tight and stroking your hair, whispering affirmations into your ear until you could breathe again. But no matter what came your way, you and Kakashi were together, getting each other through it all, and he was as amazing a father to your child as he was a husband to you.

One time when you’d felt particularly exhausted, he’d almost shoved you out of the house. “Go out and do something for yourself y/n, whatever relaxes your mind. I got everything under control here.” He’d said, but halfway through your way to the spa, you’d turned around and come back, not quite ready to part with your child yet. So, he’d drawn you a warm bath at home, lit your favourite candles and put your favourite music on, providing you the lavish spa experience within the very walls of your home.

Of course, it wasn’t all exhaustion and sleepless nights. This child meant everything to you and Kakashi, having him brought the two of you closer than ever. Watching him grow up in front of your eyes, raising him together, it filled you with a kind of joy very rarely relished in the blood-stained shinobi world that you lived in.

Right now, however, you just need your first hit of caffeine to give you the necessary jolt to get you through the day. You fumble around on the kitchen counter, trying to locate the coffeemaker with your sleep ridden eyes so you can brew a cup of coffee.

Your hands find the machine and you notice there’s freshly made coffee inside already. Kakashi.

You get ahold of a mug, every drop you pour into it filling your heart with the same warmth as the coffee your husband so thoughtfully made for you; as you wonder, not for the first time in your life, what you ever did to deserve this man as your husband.

Taking a blissful sip, you turn around to catch the father-son duo on the dining table ahead, your son such a striking image of his father, although with your hazel eyes. You lean back on the counter, watching Kakashi as he sits on the chair feeding spoonfuls of baby food to Sakumo, who’s perched on the table in front of him.

You watch one of the five kages, the invincible, internationally feared copy ninja baby talking in sing-gong voices, making all sorts of animal noises and hand gestures to your child, the sight turning your heart into a slimy mush. You can’t stop the hearty chuckle that escapes your mouth.

Kakashi turns to you, having only noticed you just now.

“Oh look! Mama’s awake! Good morning mama, say good morning mama!”, he croons, holding Sakumo’s tiny hand in his large ones and waving it at you.

You laugh, taking your weight off the counter and walking towards them with the mug of coffee in your hand.

“Good morning, my two precious boys” you sing, “and thanks for the coffee”, you say, kissing Kakashi on the mouth as you wipe a smear of wet baby food off his vest. You go on to plant a few kisses on baby Sakumo’s head, the silvery wisps of his hair tickling your lips, before sitting down on the chair beside Kakashi.

Kakashi goes back to feeding your son as you take the unopened newspaper sitting on the table and start flipping through the pages, letting every sip of coffee energize your soul.

“Open wide, here comes the choo choo!” You hear Kakashi chime as he continues to babble all sorts gibberish to your son while you read on, stifling a laugh that’s threatening to burst out of you.

This was another of the father and son’s routine every day. Kakashi would wake up before you, freshen Sakumo up and feed him his breakfast before leaving for work. It’d give you a few more hours to sleep every morning and you were very grateful for it.

“Open your mouth pup! Let dada feed you! Can you say dada? Da-da! Say da-da! Mama and Dada love you so much!”

You smile to yourself, listening to the merriment in Kakashi’s voice. Having Sakumo had truly wiped out even the last remnants of darkness from his heart. He was a happy man now and you were a lucky woman.

You hear Sakumo making gurgling noises with his mouth, drool slobbering down the corners of his tiny mouth.

“Aw baby, come here, let mama clean you up” you look up from your newspaper and reach over, using his bib to wipe the drool off, before going back to the International section.

The caffeine has started to work its magic and you’re feeling better now.

“d…dd..ddda-da”

Another gurgling noise, but almost a clear enunciation this time. Your head shoots up, eyebrows rising up in shock and every other sense in your body suddenly heightened. Your eyes dart in Kakashi’s direction and you see the look on your face mirrored on his, his arm holding the spoon hanging mid-air.

“D-did he just…?” he stutters

“Sakumo, baby, what did you just say? Did you say dada? Can you say it again?” you sputter, your voice quavering as you hastily get up from your chair and come around to stand beside Kakashi, facing Sakumo.

“d..da-da”, Sakumo coos, even clearer this time, squealing and flailing his baby arms around.

Your let out a gasp, your hand shooting up to your mouth in surprise as you feel your eyes welling up and hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your heart feels like it’s made of rainbow, you’re so overwhelmed with pure joy, you feel as if you’ve never known true joy before.

Kakashi is frozen is his place, you see his hands shaking before he tosses the spoon away and pulls his son into his lap, smothering his baby face with kisses. He holds Sakumo up in his arms, touching his forehead to his own.

“Pup!!!”, he exclaims in a gasp.

You rub Kakashi’s back with one hand and hold Sakumo’s little hand with the other.

“You said dada! Yes, dada! Can you say it again?” you say, salty tears meeting your tongue inside your mouth as you speak.

“da-da”, Sakumo coos again on his father’s lap.

Kakashi looks up at you and you see a look you’ve never seen on his face before. His eyes are twinkling, shining brighter than the stars and his cheeks are glistened with tears. A grin trembles on his lips as he swiftly pulls you to him by your waist, burying his head in your stomach. His other hand holds Sakumo, clutching his son close to his chest on his lap.

You feel Kakashi’s shoulders rising and falling as you put one arm around each of your boys, weeping into Kakashi’s hair.

You crouch down by the chair now, hugging the two most precious people in your life close as you and Kakashi shower Sakumo as well as each other with an infinite string of kisses, between tears and laughter.

Sakumo coos on, repeating his first proper word, squealing as his parents hug him, the three of you together, your own little family.

Soon enough, Sakumo is asleep on Kakashi’s lap, his squeals of laughter replaced by soft snoring as his full belly brings over a drowsiness in him. You scoop him up carefully and lay him down on his small bed, covering him up with his small shuriken printed blanket and placing a kiss on his forehead before leaving the nursery.

Sweeping the stray strands of hair away from your face and putting it up in a bun, you go back into the dining room to find Kakashi getting ready to leave.

“Leaving already? You’ve still got about a half an hour, don’t you?”, you call out to him, checking the time on the clock.

“There’s something I need to do”, he says, coming around to you and kissing your head.

You don’t ask him what it is, because you already know.

You ask him to wait for a minute, and disappear into the next room. Confusion materializes on his face, but he obliges.

You come back holding a few white lilies in your hands, ones that you’d grown yourself.

“Take these”, you say holding the flowers out to Kakashi.

He gapes at you, a look of surprise flashing through his eyes, before they soften and beam at you with a look that can only be described as that of pure love and gratitude.

“Thank you, y/n.” he says softly, taking the flowers from your hand with a kiss on your lips, and heading off towards the door.

You close the door behind him, and walk up to the window which allows you a view of the long winding road that ultimately leads to the Konoha Cemetery. You smile to yourself as Kakashi’s figure appears on the lane, there’s almost a bounce in the way he walks today, and you watch civilians on their way stop to bow to him in respect as he returns the gesture. You keep watching him, until his frame becomes a little dot along the meander, before disappearing completely.

Your heart is tinged bittersweet as you smile into the horizon, thinking of Kakashi. You think of how happy he must be today. How his eyes would sparkle, when he narrates to his father in a slightly wavering voice, about the first time his grandson Sakumo called his son “dad”.

And how he’d close his eyes in prayer ,thanking his father for watching over him and pouring his blessings down on his son’s little family; because what more could it be, than by a sprinkle of blessing from the White Fang himself, that baby Sakumo would say his first words to his father on the very day of the departed warrior’s birth anniversary?

562 notes · View notes

animemangasoul · 3 years

Text

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.

Chapter: 1/10

"No luck?"

Mace sighed.

Walking through the door only to come face to face with his former Padawan sprawled across his couch especially after the trying day he's had only served to make his shoulders tighten further. "What are you doing here Depa?" he asked doing his best to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

His fellow council member raised a single eyebrow in reply.

Mace sighed again, hand running over his face and pulling at his chin. "No," he finally answered. "No luck." And if voicing his failings didn't already sour his mood, seeing the flash of disappointment in Depa's eyes drove it home.

"There is nothing wrong with Obi-Wan," she huffed. Her annoyance bleeding into the force as she observed him go about preparing his own afternoon meal along with hers now that she'd decided to make herself at home in his apartment.

"I know," he said, bringing out cups and plates while he waited for their dinner to heat up; not even contemplating asking Depa for assistance as he well knew by this point he could never make her set a foot inside the kitchen after that 'incident'. "But with his prior records and Qui-Gon,"--the Chalactan woman snorted in disgust and Mace paused to send her a warning glare. "having repudiated him," he continued doing his best to clam down on his own anger when the words leave his mouth. "Not many are willing to take a second look."

Walking over to sit by the dinner table Depa sighed; the force muted with her sadness. "It's a cruel faith being stripped of your future because one man has decided to upend all traditions because he thinks himself some kind of force whisperer," she dragged the last words out rather mockingly inciting a snort from Mace which then resulted in him trying and failing to give her another stern glare.

Annoyed as he was with the other man, insulting him was not a productive endeavor. Still, he couldn't fault his former Padawan for her bitterness towards his old friend. Qui-Gon certainly did parade around as if he was the only man blessed with the true gift of the force. "Hopefully young Kenobi still has a future as a Jedi," he said, setting down their plates. "I just need to find one Master who is willing to take him on. He only needs a year or two before he is ready for his Trials."

Depa hummed in agreement but the force swivelling around her was still leaking uncertainty if only a little. Clapping his former student on the shoulder, Mace let encouragement wash over her as he sat down. "Do not worry yourself," he said letting go when he the tension finally eased out of her body.

Companiable silence falls between them after that, the worry for Obi-Wan still lingering in the air but for now, both willing to put it aside to share the little time they rarely get to spend together to its fullest. It's only after the table is cleared and Depa has found her way back to his couch that she speaks on the topic again.

"How is he by the way?"

Staring forlorn at the dirty dishes and missing the good old days when he could make little Depa wash up as part of her training while he excused himself for a short nap, Mace shook his head and made his way over to the opposite coach, leaving the dishes for tomorrow. "He's doing well," he said, folding his legs under him. "All things considered. He's healing."

Depa pursed her mouth. "He's the Sith-killer and we can't even give him an automatic knighting because--" She bit her tongue before the words slipped out, but Mace knew very well what she was going to say.

'Because Qui-Gon is still alive.'

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had both survived the battle of Naboo. Survived the Sith. And while Obi-Wan had accomplished a feat no other, saved his master and come out alive; baring the heavy injuries sustained both men, by saving Qui-Gon Jinn the young man had unknowingly sealed his own faith.

Not that Mace wasn't immensely grateful his old friend had gotten away with his life. But--

With Qui-Gon alive, Obi-Wan could not be Knighted without taking the Trials and to everyone's horror the boy's Master was not willing to wait for him to be ready for them.

No, Qui-Gon had made it quite clear how little he thought of his student's well being when he so cruelly disregarded him in front of the Council, repudiated him and thrown him away in hopes of training young Anakin Skywalker. Mace stomach coiled in disgust just thinking of that day. That moment….. With Qui-Gon standing in the middle of the room, an uncertain Anakin next to him and a distinct lack of Obi-Wan by his side. Qui-Gon had declared for all to hear that he would be training Skywalker and if that could only come to be with Kenobi out of the way, so be it.

Obi-Wan hadn't even been there to defend himself. Submerged in a bacta tank as he was, fighting for his very life and---

Clenching his fists, it's all Mace can do to carefully release his anger into the force and close his eyes against the onslaught of memories. Obi-Wan's clear eyes staring up at him from a hospital bed in abject disbelief, having woken up to a broken bond and a hair distinctly lacking a familiar braid.

The fact Qui-Gon hadn't even had the respect, the heart to tell the poor boy face to face. That he had unbraided his hair while Obi-Wan was still….. That he hadn't explained anything. He…. Mace was a Jedi,

"He…. repudiated….me?”

Mace hadn't known what to say. Standing there in the Halls of Healing, staring down at the too sickly, too skinny, too haunted man in the hospital bed. Mace hadn't known what to say.

What could one say in the face of absolute devastation?

So he had just stood there, seconds ticking by, eyes unable to break away from the dull blue-gray ones of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Unable to speak, unable to console, unable to utter the words he knew would shatter whatever remained of the fragile sense of self-worth the kid had left.

Finally, as the auburn haired man swallowed thickly, looking away, Mace regained his speech.

Sitting down heavily in the chair stationed by the bed, he'd folded his hands under his chin and lowered his voice into an almost gentle hum. "Yes, he did. In front of the council, a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh."

That single word crumbled something in Mace he hadn't known he ever had.

Kenobi looked so small. Thin fingers clutching at the white covers, bottom lip red from being gnawed bloody, hair damp from recently having been brought out of the bacta tank and eyes swimming with such hopelessness it left the Korun man's heart with dull sense of ache he didn't quite know how to deal with.

Mace Windu was a Jedi. Controlling and releasing his emotions into the force was by now a habit as easy to him as breathing.

Nothing got under his skin, nothing pained him for long. He was focused, he was disciplined and by all accounts he was never brought to the edge of absolute fury. But looking into those gray-blue eyes. Seeing young Kenobi trying so hard to keep himself from crying. Watching the young man chest heave in futile attempt not to collapse in on himself. The destruction of a bright light, of a hopeful child ruthlessly turned into a broken young man at the hands of someone who should have known better---

Mace was a Jedi and his emotions did not rule him.

They did not. And yet, and yet….

So he pressed his fingers against his knees, nails biting into the skin beneath his clothes and he looked Obi-Wan Kenobi dead in the eyes and firmly; without pity, laid out the decree of the council. Explained what precarious position the kid found himself in; all the while being oh so careful not to let his voice catch on the lump choking him from within.

Now that Kenobi had been repudiated he was no longer a Padawan and if the council had followed the Jedi Code to the letter, he should have been expelled or relocated to the ServiceCop or the AgroCorp the minute Qui-Gon had disowned him, but this wasn't an ordinary situation and Kenobi, well, Kenobi was anything but an ordinary Jedi.

So, "with your unique circumstances," Mace had said, hand resting by the kid's knee just in case the proximity dispelled the harshness of Obi-Wan's new reality or even brought the kid some semblance of comfort. "the council has concluded that you will be given six weeks to find a new Master to complete your training and 'if' that Master is deemed acceptable by the council." Mace did his best to emphasize the 'if' for it meant any young Knight trying to do Obi-Wan a favor while having nothing of their own to actually teach him were automatically ruled out; force knew the kid had plenty of friends who would step up to the task (just the thought of recently Knighted Quinlan Vos boldly declaring himself Obi-Wan's new Master gave Mace a headache. If the sheer embarrassment didn't kill Kenobi, Quinlan's teachings surely would.) "Then your apprenticeship will be transferred to them until you're deemed ready for your Trails."

Obi-Wan had nodded, fingers tracing unknown patters on the cover. "I assume you have already spoken to a fair number of potential Masters?"

There is a certain ease to his voice, the raspiness behind it the only thing giving away how hard the kid was trying to cover up the burnt edges of his anguish. Even after Mace had seen with his own two eyes how Kenobi; as soon as the visible grief of his former Master's betrayal had run its course, gathered himself up. Taking a deep breath and then as if it was an artform storing away his emotions, carefully and meticulously behind unreadable eyes until a hurt child once again transformed back into a composed young man.

It was…… concerning the ease with which Kenobi could look as if his entire world hadn't just been shattered into pieces.

"I have." he had said in answer; swallowing down the bitterness of his own failure and watching as Obi-Wan's fingers darted across the knuckles of his outstretched hand (that Mace had yet to move) almost as if unconsciously seeking out comfort; only for the young man to then realize what he'd done making him flinch away. Mace nearly scowled in distress 'What had Qui-Gon done to this child?!'. "Unfortunately I have yet to find a Master willing to take on a Padawan your age," he managed to finish.

"Ironic isn't it?" Obi-Wan muttered, self deprecating amusement dancing in his eyes. It took Mace a second to grasp the context behind the words but when he did, a sardonic smirk pulled at his lips.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

For it was. To be rejected for a child too old to become a Padawan, only to turn around and find yourself the one who is now too old to be anyone's Padawan. Ironic indeed.

And so very awful.

They had talked about nothing of note after that. Obi-Wan content in pretending nothing outside the four walls of his room existed and Mace wanting to indulge him, just this once.

Still, even though he regaled the kid with stories, particularly of that one time Master Yoda had kidnapped him to lure five other Masters away from a council meeting, his brain was still running through potentially willing Masters for the child he was so unwilling to give up on just yet.

"I would take him if I could."

Depa's words managed to bring him back to the present with an abruptness he wasn't ready for.

He blinked, once, twice. Then sighed deeply as he closed his eyes. "I know."

Depa shifted across from him. "His time is nearly up."

Mace tensed. "He still has two more weeks left."

Now it's her who uttered "I know."

A suffocating silence once again wrapped itself around them. This one hinging on uncertainty, worry and concern. Emotions that swiftly were released into the force and yet lingered in the room like an unspoken blemish. Finally Depa spoke. Her words nothing but a whisper but holding all the strength of an ocean slamming against the shores of Mace's stability.

"You could take him."

It's not a question, not quite a suggestion either. It's more like…… a promise.

Mace startled, eyes flying open. "What?" He had expected much from her, maybe a suggestion of one of Kenobi's little Knight friends taking him on, which he would have soundly rejected but not this. This was unexpected to say the least.

Depa only shrugged away his incredulity. "You could take him as your Padawan learner. He would only need a year or two at most like you said and Kenobi is mild tempered, level-headed and a quick study, you would get along great." She said it all with such casualness and certainty Mace couldn't help but stare.

Crossing her arms and folding her knees under her in a mirror image of him, Depa lifted a single eyebrow. "You cannot tell me you have not considered this?"

Mace bit back a wince. "Of course I have. Unfortunately that doesn't."

Depa cut him off. "Why not?"

If there was anyone who feared him less than Depa; excluding their green troll of a Grandmaster, Mace had yet to meet them. And now watching as she stared him down, Mace was torn between pride and indignity. "You know why." He gritted out, mindful to keep his voice even. "I'm Master of the Order. I will not have the time to train him properly. My duties are on Coruscant. Young Obi-Wan will need someone to go on missions with him, look out for him and I'm afraid I cannot do that."

If he'd thought his words would discourage his former student, he was wrong. Now she looked even more resolute than before he'd made his argument.

"May I remind you Obi-Wan is Senior Padawan. He does not require someone to hold his hand every step of the way." Here a ghost of a smile grace her lips. "He is only a year or so away from his Trials, Mace. He is supposed to take solo missions by now. You just need to oversee the remaining of his training, help him polish a couple of things and he'll be ready." Her eyes flickered with something too fast to detect. "Please Mace, at least think about it."

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Obi-Wan deserves someone who can devote their time on him," he said yet the idea running through his mind with possibilities.

Kenobi deserved better than what Mace could provide. Especially after Qui-Gon. Especially after the countless setbacks, traumas and horrors the kid had been through. He didn't deserve a Master who wouldn't always be there even if the kid only needed minimal help at this point. "I may not be what he needs?"

Now Depa was glaring at him. "Maybe it's about time people stopped assuming what is best for Obi-Wan and started giving him the chance to choose what he thinks is best for him? And maybe it's about time he received the knowledge that he is actually wanted for once in his life?!" The last words are said with such vehemence Mace is momentarily stunned.

Quickly as the anger came it vanished, leaving behind a sheepish smile and mildly apologetic eyes. But Depa did not take her words back.

Mace couldn't find it in himself to scold her. After all, wasn't that the root of Obi-Wan's issues? How everyone kept assuming what was best for him, never once listening to what he wanted?

Would it be wrong for Mace then to lay his cards on the table. To ask? The kid did not have to accept; although Mace would be disappointed if he didn't. But to ask, he could do that, couldn't he? Let the kid know that he wished to train him, had always seen the potential in him. Might have taken him on from the very beginning if Depa hadn't still been his Padawan. That he would see him to Knighthood if Kenobi let him. What would be the harm in that?

"When he's released from the Halls of Healing where will he go?"

The abrupt change in topic makes the Korun man blink up at his for Padawan in confusion.

"Without a Master," she continued eyes glinting with something. "He will be relocated to the Initiate dorms will he not?"

Mace was already shaking his head before the question had fully left her lips. "No."

"No?"

He nodded. "He will move in with me until a Master chooses to claimed him as a Padawan."

Now the glint in Depa's eyes are all but twinkling like stars but why…..

Mace own eyes widen in realization.

He hadn't thought much of it. Having just assumed Obi-Wan would stay with him until a Master stepped forward to accept him. Hadn't even contemplated putting the traumatized young man with the Initiates. In a way, he had already made his choice days ago, hadn't he? And of course Depa had see right through him to a part he hadn't even been aware off.

If he was a lesser man, Mace might have flushed red with embarrassment having essentially claimed Kenobi as his own Padawan without knowing. But he was Mace Windu, Master of the Order, so all he let himself get away with was a huff and a slight twitch of his mouth. "Looks like my mind has already decided what my head has yet to conclude."

Depa answering smile is teasing. "Seems so."

The relief that hits him at those words is almost staggering. Knocking into his chest and nearly toppling him back against the headrest.

He'd been worried, angry, concerned and at his wits end these past couple of weeks. Knowing he was letting Obi-Wan down every day he was politely rejected by another Master who'd seen Obi-Wan's records, heard of his repudiation and refused to take a chance on him. Knowing Qui-Gon repudiating him had essentially sealed the young man's faith. Feeling disgusted by the false rumours of Kenobi's insubordination, and having to go see him every evening watching the light flicker out of his eyes as each shred of hope he had of being a Knight was torn away from him.

In the end it was all so very simple wasn't it.

The minute the kid had looked at him with those eyes, Mace had known.

He would never let him go without a fight. Not Kenobi. Never Kenobi.

It didn't matter how busy his schedule was he would make time for Obi-Wan if he accepted him. No longer would he stand by and watch those hunched shoulders trailing after the rigged figure of one Qui-Gon Jinn. No longer would he stand by and let the kid be used to wash away someone else's darkness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would be his Padawan.

Overwhelmed by the sheer sense of calmness that washed over him, Mace momentarily closed his eyes and breathed. Releasing all the emotions clinging to him into the force. Worry, anger, fear, concern, care and most of all pure, unwavering protectiveness.

If he had something to say about it, and he did. Qui-Gon would never step a foot near the kid ever again.

"Do you think he will take to Vaapad as quickly as you did?" He asked as his composure fell into place and his eyes sought out his former student.

The startled laugh that burst out of Depa made a sharp smile twist at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe Soresu is more is speed," she lightly jabbed back.

Tilting his head; playful for those who knew to spot the miniscule changes in his expression, Mace glared. "Don't you even think about interfering Kenobi's lightsaber studies behind my back."

Depa looked amused. "Wouldn't dream of it." But then the mirth vanished and gave way to contentment. "It would be nice," she said. "Finally having a Padawan sibling."

Mace found himself smiling, gentler this time. "It would."

They share a smile before Depa is on her feet, making her way to the door. "Best to inform Obi-Wan of your decision as soon as possible," she called over her shoulder. "He'll be out of the Halls in three days time."

Mace stared and stared. And then, stared some more.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he said out loud, not quite believing she managed to manipulate him so thoroughly . "You came here today to coax me into accepting Kenobi as my apprentice."

Depa doesn't look back at him, but she doesn't have to. The Force danced around her with mirth and shades of guilt for having deceived him. The Korun man could only let himself shake his head, heart tugging with pride at how much his little spitfire had grown while also frowning in realization. "Depa." he said firmly, but his former Padawan was already palming open the door.

"Don't be like that Master," she said turning back to give him a final look, the familiar title she only used sparingly coming out of her mouth with overflowing warmth and fondness. "We both know I only guided you to the decision you wanted to make all along."

She was right. Still,

"I don't like to be manipulated Padawan mine."

She only smiled. Mischief in her eyes and a single dimple creasing her left cheek before she was gone, vanishing out the door.

Mace was left sitting alone in his living room. A mirroring smile painting his lips and chest for the first time since Naboo filled with nothing but anticipated flicker of hope.

To go from being repudiated one day to being the Padawan of Mace Windu, Master of the Order few weeks later….. Kenobi would have hell of a time trying to compute the insanity of the news coming his way tomorrow.

Mace hoped Obi-Wan Kenobi he slept well tonight for both their sakes.

The next couple of weeks would be….. Hectic to say the least.

The end

Believe it or not the idea that Depa's preferred form is Soresu is half the reason why I wrote this fic. Just her taking Obi as her unofficial baby brother and helping him on his path to becoming a Master at Soresu makes me all giddy, so here you have it.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #mace windu #qui gon a+ parenting #seriously if you like him avoid reading this #depa billaba #padawan obi wan #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfic chapter 1 #Mace is best dad #my very first long star wars fic so be kind please #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

107 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs - Rick Grimes

Request: Hi! Can I request number 113 with Rick Grimes, please?

A/N: Sorry this took so long!

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You sat in the guard tower, watching as Lori stood in the field talking with Carol. It was later in the morning, everyone else was already up and moving around, trying to clear out the rest of the prison or at least the places they thought they would need as time progressed. Rick was up early; you’d seen him in the hall on your way to switch shifts with Glenn. He’d walked you to the door of the tower and kissed your cheek while no one was around, promising he would find you later. You didn’t hold much hope for later, especially with the mood that Lori seemed to be in today. But a kiss on the cheek was certainly less than you expected to get.

“How’s it look from up there?” Carol called, blocking her eyes from the sun as she looked up at you.

You squinted, looking out one last time and finding that familiar silhouette coming out of the woods, the slow gait that always had you dropping into a trance, “it’s alright.”

Sometimes you thought Lori knew. There was a certain way she looked at you, as if she had figured out that you were who her husband was sneaking off to everyday. That your willingness to volunteer an extra hand was only because the two of you had taken to meeting in the abandoned parts of the jail to be alone together. Sometimes, when she looked at you and you thought she knew you were happy. Let her know that you were sleeping with her husband, that the man she left behind for Shane wasn’t hers anymore. But then you saw Carl and you hoped to god no one found out. Carl couldn’t know. Maybe somewhere down the line, you would be able to tell him, but for now he could never know. Because as much as you hated Lori, you loved her son. He was the spitting image of his dad in personality, in looks, in mannerisms.

The door behind you creaked open, heavy iron scrapping the floor as Daryl came into view. “I got watch.”

“Thank god, I need a nap.” You stretched before switching places with him, heading for the door rather eagerly.

“Ya ain’t sly ya know,” he pointed out, arguably the most perceptive of the group it had taken Daryl no time at all to figure out that you had feelings for Rick. He was the only one you told when Rick kissed you that first time at Hershel’s farm.

“It’s hard.” You admitted, pausing in the doorway. You loved Rick and you hoped that he loved you but he was still trying to keep things together with Lori and he seemed less willing than ever to consider a someday when they would no longer be together. “I get antsy, waiting.”

“He won’t do anything while she’s pregnant.” Daryl was arguably the only one not willing to pass judgement either. No one else knew that you and Rick were seeing each other in private but Carol and Glenn both had told you to ignore your feelings for him, he was happy with his wife, so they claimed. But when he had kissed you, when you had been with him that first time in the woods near the creek, it was something different. It didn’t feel like he was thinking of Lori even if he’d been losing his mind over her before that.

“She’s with Shane.” He had confessed, out of the blue, as the two of you walked through the woods. “She’s been with him since this all started…screwing my best friend the second she thinks I might be dead. What kind of…”

“I think we’re all just trying to cope.” As Rick’s wife and Shane’s…something…you’d never been fond of Lori but as a person, as a mother, you knew she was just doing the best she could. It wasn’t some twisted grudge against her that had you aching for her husband. Sometimes you wished he wasn’t her husband. It would make all this pining after him easier.

“I just…how can she ask me to make all these decisions when she’s been sleeping with Shane this whole time? I’m the bad guy?” He shook his head, “I don’t…I can’t even look at her.”

“Maybe you just need to blow off some steam. Shoot something?”

“I wouldn’t mind shooting Shane.”

You grabbed his arm, you would remember the feeling forever, you grabbed his arm and stopped him from walking, standing in front of him in the near dusk, watching the way he relaxed his shoulders as his eyes met yours.

The kiss was soft and somewhat hesitant at first and afterward he apologized for kissing you when his head was so mixed up but you promised that you didn’t mind. He could kiss you whenever he wanted to, an idea that seemed to spark an action in him as he kissed you again, more fervently, and pushed you against the nearest tree.

“I wouldn’t either,” you promised Daryl. You wouldn’t do anything to hurt Lori while she was pregnant. Whether the baby was Rick’s or not, it was an innocent baby, brought into an unforgiving world, and you’d do anything for them. “I’m just afraid he won’t do anything at all.” You confessed.

“Wouldn’t know what to tell ya about that.”

You shrugged, pressing your lips together in some kind of half defeat, “either way, I’ll see ya later.”

“Go take that nap ya wanted.” He said as you closed the door behind you.

The trip from the tower into your cell block was one you’d grown accustomed to but not one you were thrilled to make when you were exhausted. You’d been restless last night and mostly unable to sleep. You, like everyone else in the cell block, had heard Lori and Rick fighting with each other and when Carl came into your cell because of the arguing you had taken him outside to the bridge for a little while. Long enough that by the time he finally exhausted himself, everyone was asleep. Lori was in his cell, asleep on the bottom bunk, while Rick was nowhere to be found.

You had deposited the boy to his cell and left to go to bed, waking up not long after for watch. You liked routines, they helped you focus, but this routine that you had fallen into was far different from the one you had before the world ended. Now you kept watch in a guard tower, went for runs once a week, lived in an abandoned prison, all of it felt chaotic, even in its routine and sometimes it wore on you a little too much.

You pushed the curtain aside on your cell, surprised to find that while you were talking to Daryl, Rick had made his way back into the prison and was sitting in your cell, back against the wall on the bottom bunk of your bed.

“Hey,” you stepped inside, pulling the curtain shut and tying it so no one could look in. “What are you doing here?”

“Just need a minute without all that.” Rick replied. You knew what all that meant. He’d complained once to you about Lori and, while you wanted to be a confidant for him whenever he needed it, you didn’t want him to only come to you about Lori. You had said as much and now he danced around the subject whenever he’d had a hard time with her. “Just feel like things are getting worse.”

“I think everyone is just stressed.” You said, trying to offer some kind of solace to him. You stepped between his legs, letting him rest his head against your stomach. He pressed his nose into the fabric of your gray t-shirt as you ran your fingers through his growing curls.

He said something and you frowned, looking down at him.

“What?” You asked, “I didn’t hear you?”

“I said,” He tilted his head back to look at you, hands on your hips, “I thought of you when I came last night.”

Your lips pursed, trying not to smile, “here I am, trying to be nice and you’ve only got one thing on your mind.”

“Can you blame me?” He replied, “feels like it’s been weeks since we got a moment alone.”

You moved out of his hold, sitting next to him on the bed and grabbing his hand in yours. Leaning against his shoulder, you sighed, “I know, it’s been busy around here but...things’ll quiet soon. Baby’s almost here, according to Hershel.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” He sighed.

“Which part of this are you referring to?” You asked, cautiously. You always considered that there was a chance Rick would someday decide that this wasn’t enough for him and he would go back to Lori. Or just be with her altogether and end this one foot in, one foot out.

“I don’t wanna sneak around anymore, I feel like we’re in high school or something. I have to tell Lori, I don’t want to do this to you.” He replied, vague as to what he actually intended to do.

You heard the door to the cell block open and shut, the sound of Carl’s footsteps followed by his voice, calling for his dad. You kissed Rick’s shoulder over his jacket, “Guess we’ll be sneaking around for a little bit longer.” You teased as Rick stood up, reluctantly letting go of your hand.

“After I make sure Carl’s in bed tonight, do rounds with me tonight?” He asked, lingering near the curtain.

“Of course.” You replied, knowing that whatever Rick’s final decision might be you were in this for the long run. He slipped out of the cell and you heard him greeting Carl as you toed off your boots.

#rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x you #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes fic #rick grimes x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd imagine #collecting stories imagine

352 notes · View notes

honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Bomb (of the Bath Variety)

Pairing: Ezra/Reader

Word Count: 2,184

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Someone please introduce this man to the concept of a spa day. He just needs to relax in a tub with Epsom salts for the muscle pain and a bath bomb because they smell nice. He needs someone else to wash his hair for once because god knows he can’t do it. He needs to be introduced to moisturizers and other skin care products. He also needs (wants) funky colored nails.

“Jesus Ezra!” You shouted, seeing him shuffle into the pod, covered in grime. “What did you do all day?”

“Uh,” Ezra hesitated, biting down on his glove and pulling it off. “Cee pushed me into a dirt hole.”

Cee nodded. “Can confirm,” she said with a grin. “I’m headed next door so I can bathe.”

You waved to her, watching the hatch shut once more. “And you,” you said to Ezra as he tried to sneak past you. “Get in the bathroom.”

Ezra pouted, but listened. He didn’t hate bathing, but he wasn’t super keen on it either. It was a hard task when you only had one hand, but today would be different. If you’d set it up right, today would be pure bliss for Ezra.

Starting with you turning the shower off.

“Moonlight?” He turned when you cut the water, clearly confused. “I thought I had to bathe.”

“You do,” you agreed, kneeling beside the bathtub and turning it on. “Ez, you’re taking a spa day.”

“A what now?”

You stood, slowly working a still confused but now considerably more relaxed Ezra out of his work suit, pushing the leather harness off his shoulders. “A spa day, Ezra. Where you take a day to just relax. Get all clean and done up with nice products.”

Ezra shrugged, looking into the bathtub that was steadily filling with water. “That’s gotta be some fancy tradition from your planet, because I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You were a state ward!” You pointed out, bending to grab a cardboard box of various spa day supplies you’d been saving for an occasion such as this. “You’d also never held a real book or eaten a full meal until you started prospecting.”

“Fair,” Ezra hummed. He wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially his days as a state ward. But you’d caught glimpses of the life he’d led prior to becoming a prospector. Cold bunks crammed into a room full of underage orphaned boys, all shivering. No one had a family name, and it was rare any one of them was happy, or really even survived to make it out. Apparently, at the state house Ezra had been raised at, the suicide rate was almost 40%.

But that was the past, and this was the present. You opened the box and pulled out a bath bomb, reading the label and setting it on the counter. “You like mint, right?”

“Of course,” Ezra said. “Reminds me of you.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Ezra. “Get in the tub Ez.”

Ezra, with that beautiful crooked grin on his face, removed the last of his clothes and stepped into the tub. “You know, this tub has room for two.”

“Shame I won’t be getting in,” you said. “I already bathed.”

Ezra pouted. “Moonlight, you wound me.”

“My sun, this is about you, not me.” You handed him the bath bomb. “Go ahead and put that in the water. I have some epsom salts in here, I know it.”

As you knelt down to find the pesky bag of salts, Ezra put the bath bomb in the water, gasping as it began to fizz. “Moonlight! It’s dissolving!”

“It’s supposed to,” you said, standing with the bag of salts. Ezra poked the bath bomb with a happy grin, his finger going green from the fizz. “It’s called a bath bomb for a reason. Scoot.”

As Ezra moved reluctantly from the bath bomb, you measured out two cups of epsom salts and poured them into the bath as well. Ezra was clearly disappointed when they didn’t fizz like the last thing you’d put in the water, but the slight rosy smell was enough to make up for it. “What is that for?”

“Epsom salts help with muscle pain,” you said, putting the bag down and dragging a stool over so you could sit at Ezra’s height. “I use them sometimes after we do really bad prospecting trips. Hopefully, they’ll help with your arm.”

Ezra’s face darkened, the delicate subject of his right arm, or lack thereof, causing the mood to sour. You sensed the change in the air and immediately brightened your tone. “But, that’s not all we’re here for,” you said. “Depending on how far you’re willing to let me go, we could be here for hours. I bet Cee would join us for face masks,” you added as an afterthought.

“Face what now?”

“Masks.” You held up one of the tubs of clay masks you had. “They help with your skin.”

Ezra grinned. “I shall partake in this face mask ritual on one condition.”

Rolling your eyes playfully at your poet of a boyfriend, you crossed your legs. “And what would that condition be, my sun?”

“Paint my nails?”

It was an odd request, but one you weren’t about to turn down. “Okay. Consider it done.”

You let Ezra soak for a while, sitting beside him on the stool and reading. It was a book aimed mostly at teenagers, but Ezra had said something about it being Cee’s favorite and now you were determined to read it. So far, it was pretty good.

Eventually, you put the book down and convinced Ezra to dunk his head under the water. When he came up, water running in thin streams down his skin and hair plastered to his head, you laughed and picked up a bottle of rose water shampoo.

“Lean back,” you instructed softly, laying a towel across your lap so Ezra wouldn’t soak your pants. He rested his neck on the edge of the tub, head falling back into your hands. “Comfy?”

“Could be worse,” Ezra decided. You leaned down to kiss his damp forehead, making a face when the soapy tang of the bath bomb and epsom salt water rolled over your tongue.

Sitting back up and popping open the shampoo bottle, you squeezed an appropriate amount into your hand and began to massage it into Ezra’s scalp.

The effect was immediate. He groaned, entire body relaxing as your deft fingers worked away the dirt and buildup from his hair. Ezra bathed every few days, just like everyone else, but with his once dominant hand gone, his job washing himself was lackluster at best. For him, you properly washing through his hair must’ve felt like pure heaven.

You scratched through his hair for longer than was probably necessary, keeping him in that blissed out state. When you finally lifted a plastic cup with water to his head and began to rinse the suds away, he keened softly, vocalizing his dislike of your lack of touch. You apologized, taking your non-dominant hand and sliding it up his forehead, settling it just before Ezra’s hairline to shield his eyes from the soapy water trickling down his face.

Tugging on the blond streak in Ezra’s hair, you discretely ran your fingers through it, slowly spiking it up into a mohawk.

“My moonlight, what are you doing?”

“Shit.” You didn’t stop in your actions, only finished what you were doing despite being caught. “Take a look.” You held a hand mirror out, giving Ezra a view of his new hairdo.

“Moonlight,” he said, turning to face you. It was too much. You broke down into laughter, doubled over and Ezra smiled and ducked his head beneath the water to return his hair to its plastered look.

Once your laughing fit had come to an end, you straightened and began to massage a small dollop of conditioner into Ezra’s hair. Restraining yourself from giving him yet another mohawk, you scratched your fingers over Ezra’s scalp for almost five minutes. He relaxed yet again against the porcelain rim of the tub, breathing evening out as he practically fell asleep beneath your hands.

You were slow going in your rinsing out of Ezra’s hair, trying not to wake him from his impromptu nap. He hummed, and when you put the cup down and seemed his hair free of conditioner, he reached up and cupped your neck. Pulling you close, he kissed you, lips molding perfectly despite being upside down. “I love you, moonlight.”

Smiling and pressing an upside down kiss to Ezra’s forehead, you softly murmured into his skin. “I love you too, my sun.”

Ezra got out of the tub some time later, once you’d helped him scrub dirt out of every crevasse of his body. The water was more brown than green at that point, but Ezra was clean. You held his hand as he stepped out of the tub and watched as he dried himself off, insistent that he could do it by himself.

As he dressed himself in soft sleep clothes, you called Cee in. She was eager to partake in your spa day, also dressed in her pyjamas. She had a few bandages spanning her skin, small ones indicative of minor scrapes. You counted three, one on her right wrist, one further up her right forearm, and one on her left foot. How she’d scratched herself through the boots and suit she wore on her jobs, you had no idea.

“I didn’t even know you had clay masks!” Cee said happily, opening the jar and taking a wooden popsicle stick to start applying it to her face.

“I made it myself,” you said, grabbing a second jar to start plastering the grey/brown paste to Ezra’s face. “It’s one of the only things I can make myself.”

Once all three of you had been properly covered in the clay, you began to slowly diffuse Ezra’s wet hair. Cee sat by, reading the book you’d been reading earlier. Nearly twenty minutes later, Ezra’s hair was dry and shockingly curly and the three clay masks were hardened.

“Thanks for sharing,” Cee said as you handed her a damp washcloth. “I don’t remember the last time I had a spa day.”

“We’ll have to do them more often then,” you decided firmly, passing Ezra the other washcloth. “My sun, do you still want me to do your nails?”

Ezra nodded. “Yes please.”

“Should I do yours too?” You turned to Cee, who shook her head.

“I don’t paint my nails,” she said softly. “Plus, I am exhausted. That prospect was hard as hell. Gonna go nap as soon as I’m clay free.”

True to her word, once Cee’s face was clean, she bid you both good night before leaving to go take a nap.

You took her washcloth, but Ezra stopped you before you could lift it to your face. “My moonlight, can I clean your face? Please? After all you’ve done for me, I want to make it even.”

You smiled, letting Ezra take the washcloth. “You don’t need to worry about making it even, my sun. I’m doing this because I love you.”

Despite your reassurance, Ezra gently began to rub the washcloth across your face in small circles, clearing away the clay as he worked. His hand was warm and soft, and you carefully put your forearms on his shoulders to keep yourself still.

When Ezra was done, he kissed every inch of your face he could while you writhed with laughter underneath him. “Ezra!” You shouted happily, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Ezra, my sun! I yield!”

Ezra pulled back, lips quirked in a smile. “I’m sorry my moonlight, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You hopped off the countertop you’d been sitting on and grabbed your small box of nail polishes. “Give me your hand,” you said, getting back on the counter and pulling out a small nail file. Ezra put his hand in your lap and sat on the stool you’d been using.

It was a gentle, silent process. You filed Ezra’s nails down, wincing at the bitten away stubs you were trying to fix. “Ez, it’s a miracle you don’t have an infection,” you said softly, finishing on his little finger. “This is bad.”

Ezra looked at his knees, shrugging halfheartedly. “I know.”

You kissed each of his fingertips, pressing one final kiss into his palm. “I love you anyway.”

That brightened Ezra’s downcast face. “I know.”

You found a beautiful mustard yellow nail polish and a glittery gold polish, slowly painting each of Ezra’s fingernails with expert precision. He was still, watching you work with a look of wonder on his face. “You’re amazing.”

Putting the finishing touch on Ezra’s thumb, you put the cap back on the gold bottle and smiled. “Thank you, my sun.”

Ezra waited a few minutes for the polish to dry before looking at it properly. The yellow color was muted, but still a nice rich shade. What really made it pop was the gold accents, reflecting the shitty bathroom lights and drawing attention.

“I like it,” Ezra decided firmly, curling his fingers and watching the gold dance.

“I’m glad,” you said, sliding off the counter. “Wanna make dinner?”

Ezra nodded, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a firm hug. “We’re doing spa days more often,” he said into your shoulder. “Please?”

Hugging Ezra, you nodded, relishing in the mint and rose water smell. “Absolutely, my sun. Absolutely.”

#prospect (film)#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

51 notes · View notes

leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 35

Chapter 35

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to the anon who gave a suggestion for this. I honestly hadn’t considered it in the story; but it actually made sense given how little Fred and Y/N had spent talking about it.

Warning: Angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, smut

Word Count: 7100

You are in the lobby of the hockey arena waiting for Oliver. The twins are asleep in their stroller; you gently rocking it back and forth to help them nap. The game ended over twenty minutes ago and Fred went to the change room to help get him out of his hockey equipment.

It’s been a couple weeks since Fred’s injury; he has been home for most of it. When at the rink he has been spending his time with trainers off the ice. That was until yesterday, he managed to do a short session with the goalie coach and some basic drills but likely won’t be back until after Christmas.

You know it’s been hard for him, since that game the team fell into a slump. They have won a few games in regulation, but overall the team is struggling being outplayed and outscored. The hardest part for him is feeling completely helpless because he is sidelined.

As he started to improve he was able to spend more time with the kids; and Oliver has been loving getting all the cuddles from Fred. Today Fred decided to join you at Oliver’s hockey game.

You were a little unsure of the idea, not wanting it to be too much for him, but he reassured you he would be fine; and once Oliver heard you knew there was no way Fred wouldn’t come. After helping Oliver get in his equipment Fred told you he was beaming in the change room; his smile never fading, introducing Fred to everyone though he has already met them earlier in the season.

You look down at your watch; it’s almost 10:45, your stomach growling loudly. You ate breakfast at seven, but around now you normally would have a snack but forgot to pack something. The little baby in your belly really making the eating for two seem like a reality right now. Finally you see Fred leave the change room carrying Oliver’s hockey bag in one hand and holding his hand with his other.

Your son is practically skipping as he makes his way down the hall. As soon as he sees you he releases Fred’s hand and takes off running to you “Mommy!”

You catch him mid jump “good game buddy!” you say squeezing him.

“Did you see me?”

“Yeah you were great” you reply “you played awesome. Looked like your daddy in net” you say and he smiles at your words. The biggest compliment for him is being compared to his hero.

“Where is your dad?” you ask him realizing Fred hasn’t made his way to you.

“People wanted his picture” Oliver shrugs confused.

“Yeah people are excited to see him” you respond scanning around the hockey arena.

As soon as you sat down there was whispers and a couple kids came up asking for pictures. It’s something you have learned to get used to over the past few years.

Fred is always willing to take pictures with fans, especially kids. Every time he apologizes even though you have told him countless times you don’t mind. You love how he interacts with fans, and how taking a few minutes makes their day. While you understand how important fan engagement is, Oliver doesn’t understand the hype around it. To him Fred and all the other players are just people, normal people he knows.

“Did you see my save? The one I stopped with my stick” you hear Oliver ask and you dive into a conversation with your son about his game.

Your eyes find Fred standing with a woman and her son, who is Oliver’s age. You engage in the conversation with your son but can help and notice the large smile on her face, how her dark brown hair shines under the lights. While it’s not uncommon for Fred to talk to the parents of young fans, you notice how close she is standing and how her child doesn’t seem interested in him at all.

You gently set Oliver on the ground while the two of them continue to chat away. You drop random “uh huh” or an “oh really” but you lose all focus when you watch her hand touch his bicep while they laugh at something he said.

You swallow a lump in your throat and take a deep breath but it doesn’t stop you from feeling like the walls are shattering around you. You hear Oliver babbling away but his voice continues to fade away into the background. Your stomach almost jumps into your throat and your chest tightens. You tell yourself it’s nothing, that you don’t be concerned. And you almost believe it, that is until you watch her stroke up his arm.

“Mommy” Oliver pulls on your sleeve and grabbing your attention.

“Yeah bud” you say snapping your eyes down to his.

“I said I’m thirsty” he repeats.

“Oh” you reply with a shaky voice. You fumble into your bag and pull out your water bottle handing it to him. When you look back to where Fred was you notice he is gone and you turn your attention back to Oliver

Finally you feel the familiar touch of Fred’s hand on your back and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your entire body stiffens against his touch, you reach down to take the bottle back from Oliver to hide the real reason you pulled away.

“Ready?” he asks taking the stroller from you, while you take Oliver's hand as he skips in excitement. The drive is filled with Oliver’s excited chatter from the back seat, you stare out the window not having much to say.

Fred’s hand reaches across the car finding your stomach, slowly rubbing over your bump. You relax into the seat, Fred chuckling while Oliver rambles on about his friends on his team. You replay the scene from the arena over and over in your head, you remember she was in the stands; her son having played against Oliver. But did she look towards Fred, did his eyes wander?

“Can I mom?” Oliver calls out and Fred gently nudges you with his hand.

“Hmm what was that?” you ask being brought back from your trance.

You feel Fred glare at you from the side of his eye “Kyle said I could have a sleepover at his house” he repeats “can I?”

You chuckle slightly knowing this is one of his friends on the team, after every game or practice he always has something funny to tell you that Kyle said or did. “I’ll have to talk to his parents” you respond.

“Yeah talk to them mommy” he cheers and Fred laughs shaking his head.

“We will but not today, we have the party this afternoon” Fred says pulling into your driveway.

As soon as the car is in park Oliver jumps out the car “when’s the party daddy?”

“In a couple hours” he says grabbing Noah “after lunch.”

Oliver runs into the house leaving his boots and coat in a pile on the floor and making his way to the living room. You take the twins and follow him while Fred takes his hockey equipment to air out. You have a relaxing afternoon, Oliver plays with his Lego and various toys, the twins nap and play on their activity mat. You rest on the couch scrolling through your phone aimlessly.

Multiple times over the next few hours you feel Fred’s eyes find you. His eyes are soft but full of concern. He can sense something is wrong, but he also doesn’t know if it’s just the pregnancy dragging you down today. Instead of asking he gives you time in case you are just tired, thinking maybe you just need some time to rest.

“The boys are cute” Kathy says giving you a hug while you stand at the snack table. You laugh lightly seeing the twins in plaid shirts and vests, one of them held in Fred’s arm while Oliver immediately took off to find his friends. You didn’t dress them, Fred actually had their coats on before you came downstairs so you had no idea all your boys were matching until you got here.

He bounces them in his arms and shoots you a smile when he catches you staring. He aims them towards you and their green eyes light up when they see you. A half smile crosses your face, but Fred senses the emptiness behind it and a scowl crosses his. You look away with a displeased groan grabbing a cup.

“How are you doing?” she asks as you pour some water.

“We’ve been good; now that Fred’s symptoms are mostly gone it’s been better. Oliver loves having him around though” you respond taking a sip.

“That’s great but I asked how you are. Seems like something is going on” she says softly. “Having him at home the past few weeks should be good. You two are almost nauseating to watch sometimes. You came in after him, and haven’t spent a second beside him and don’t think I didn’t see whatever that was” her index finger pointing between the two of you.

You laugh a little and turn towards her “we’re fine” you lie.

You hear her groans as she grips your hand pulling you down the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind you. “Spill.”

You roll your eyes and back up against the counter. Anyone else wouldn’t have given you a second glance, some would have bought your fake smiles and those that didn’t would have assumed it was hormones or exhaustion from the pregnancy. But not Kathy; she knows you too well.

You start by telling her how it’s nothing and how you are overreacting; that you are likely reading too far into it. You get into the woman at Oliver’s hockey game, how they seemed to be really close, too close. You tell her how when he said something she touched his arm and gently grazed over his muscles.

You ramble for twenty minutes and at the end finish by saying how you have no idea what they talked about. It could have been about him donating time or merchandise for a charity event; that they were so far away you couldn’t hear anything.

You expect her to tell you you’re overthinking it. That it could have been nothing, or maybe she was trying to flirt with him but that doesn’t mean anything. That you can’t get upset over what strangers do. That just because she flirted with Fred it doesn’t mean he flirted back.

Instead she takes a deep breath and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you. She holds you for a few minutes saying nothing. The silence is deafening; you swear you feel the walls closing in around you before you finally speak.

“During the playoffs last year when I was pregnant Fred kissed someone else.”

You can tell by her silence and that her eyes not meeting yours that she already knew that.

You thought saying those words would be liberating; finally telling someone what he did. Instead you feel yourself fall apart, sobbing into her shoulder. Your hands tighten around her back, clenching on the fabric of her sweater. Your body shakes against hers; warm tears staining her shirt.

Her hands gently run up and down your back; soothing you. You grip her shirt tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat until your eyes begin to dry.

“Sounds like you and him have some stuff to talk about.”

You thought this had been left in the past, you had accepted and processed it and dealt with all your emotions. But now after watching what should have been a harmless interaction you realize you have some unresolved feelings and paranoia. Likely because you never had a dedicated conversation about everything that happened.

You basically shut Fred out for days while you processed everything. You wanted to calm down and think over everything; make sure you didn’t say something you would regret. Once you had your time you were going to invite Fred to share your bed again and begin to have the conversations needed to move on.

Then the car accident happened. Fred tried to talk with you after but at that point it didn’t seem important to you. You had long decided you were going to forgive him, and with everything that happened focusing on your recovery and the twins seemed more important than tearing open old wounds.

You and Fred should have sat down; even for a brief conversation. What happened today should have been nothing, it shouldn’t have triggered you the way it did. Fred didn’t do anything besides stop to take a picture with a child; this woman decided to touch him. And he was at your side in under a minute of that happening, making it pretty obvious he got away as quick as possible. If your trust hadn’t of become fractured seven months ago you wouldn’t be in your head right now.

Once you return to the party you feel Fred’s eyes immediately find you. He can see the redness in your eyes and the puffiness of your cheeks. He knows you have been crying, but what makes it worse is you are blocking him out. You can feel the pleading of his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to make eye contact.

He watches while you get a snack, while you chat with some of the women. He smiles watching you and Oliver decorate stockings, part of the Christmas crafts the team has set up. He laughs watching when Oliver shakes his, spilling the excessive amount of glitter onto your lap. To everyone else you seem happy, like you are having a great night.

You feel his eyes burning a hole in you and eventually find his gaze, his entire face lights up; he thinks maybe he was right, maybe the pregnancy is just tiring you out. But Fred sees the emptiness behind your eyes, the hollowness in the half smile. You swear you hear his heart fall as you pull your eyes from him.

“You ready for Santa” you ask walking up beside Fred a few moments later; bouncing the twins in your arms. They coo in response having no idea what you are saying. But Oliver who is clinging to Fred’s neck cheers in response.

“When is Santa coming daddy?” he asks eyes lighting up.

“I heard that his sleigh landed on the roof a few minutes ago” he says and you watch as Oliver’s eyes go wide. You hear some jingling of bells and Oliver drops down eagerly running to the group of children. The entire room erupts as he walks in, but Fred places a hand on the small of your back pulling you into his chest.

“You okay?” he asks softly leaning close to your ear.

You give him a small nod in response, his breath on your neck would normally ignite your core, send a dampness between your legs but today it doesn’t. Today it irritates you but Fred doesn’t stop trying to break your walls down.

“Don’t lie to me” he says pulls Lucas from you, his hand resting gently on your hip as he places a soft kiss on your temple.

“It’s nothing” you lie shifting on your feet to pull away from him ever so slightly.

“Are we seriously going to play this game (Y/N)” he groans. “Just tell me.”

“Not here” you hiss in response.

��So it is something” he says.

“Yes” you retort. As you begin to walk away you hear Fred sigh loudly but he uses his better judgement and doesn’t follow you.

He joins you for a family picture with Santa, and even asks Sid to take the twins so the two of you can get a picture just the two of you. Apart from that he gives you space while also remaining close.

You can tell he is bothered he comes up beside you a couple times and tries to talk to you, but each time his mouth falls shut and he saunters off. He has no idea what he did, and how could he? How could he know you’re actually bothered by something that happened months ago?

After buckling everyone in the car Fred climbs out of the back, you place your bags and coats on the floor before closing the door. When you turn around Fred is waiting off to the side. He opens your door for you but instead of getting in you walk into his chest.

After the immediate shock Fred’s arms wrap around you. You feel the tears prick the sides of your eyes, but you sniffle them away. He feels your body gently heave and tightens his grip around you, holding you close; his body keeping you sheltered from the crisp Pittsburgh air.

You sigh against him and pull away, wordlessly climbing into the car. Fred gently shuts the door and gets in the driver’s side, you can tell he is confused but he says nothing starting the drive home. It’s a silent drive, you staring out the passenger window, Fred turns the volume of the radio down until it’s almost inaudible, you don’t need to turn around to see that all your sons have fallen asleep.

Once home you carefully take Oliver to bed and tuck him while Fred does the same with the twins. You change into some pyjamas and begin your night routine. At some point Fred comes in the bathroom to brush his teeth. Normally he would wait in the bathroom for you, his hand resting on your bump, groaning when you reach for another product instead of being done and ready for bed. You would shoot him a playful smirk and he would resume his post patiently waiting for you finish.

But not tonight, tonight he leaves once he is done; letting you finish your routine alone. You wash your face, brush out your hair and pull it into a loose bun on the top of your head. When you are finally done you find Fred sitting on the end of the bed waiting for you.

“Hey” he says seeing you nervously playing with his hands

“Hey” you reply shooting him a soft smile. You sit beside him curling your legs up on the mattress.

“What’s going on?” he chuckles awkwardly.” I replayed today through my head a million times from every angle and I have no idea what I did” he huffs. “We had coffee in bed before the boys woke up and it was great. We had breakfast and got ready for hockey everything was great until the party. Something shifted and I don’t know what. Did I leave some dishes in the sink or some socks on the floor? Did I say something stupid, like what did I do?”

“Nothing” you whisper.

“No don’t say nothing. Something is wrong so tell me. What did I do wrong?” he shifts closer to you and rests his hand on your ankle. You see the pleading in his eyes as he gently lifts your chin.

“You didn’t do anything” you repeat, Fred shaking his head running his hand through his hair frustrated at your response. You grip his hand and bring it back down to the bed “you didn’t do anything…today.”

“What does that mean?” he scoffs.

“After the game when you were walking back to the lobby you were stopped for pictures and what not by some people” he nods slightly. “Well a woman came up to you, dark hair.”

“Yeah her son wanted a picture” he explains.

“Right well I saw that, but then the two of you talked for a couple minutes. She was standing really close and I saw her touch your arm, and I don’t know it made me jealous or something.”

“Babe I didn’t want anything to do with her, I basically ran back to you right after that. I mean she’s not my type you don’t have to worry” he replies.

“Wait I don’t have to worry because she isn’t your type” you rise to your feet walking away.

“That’s not what I meant, they are two separate statements” you hear the sound of his footsteps getting closer. “Even if she was my type you wouldn’t have to worry, you’re it for me babe” he comes up resting his hands on your hip his voice low and in your ear. “You’re the only one I have eyes for. Nobody else elske.”

“But that hasn’t always been the case” you say pushing his hands off your hips. “I mean seven months ago you kissed someone else.”

You hear him sigh behind you and you take a large gulp. You turn around to face him seeing regret fill his face. His face falls and you blink through your pain before continuing “seeing that today bothered me and I know it shouldn’t. I knew nothing happened but it really bothered me. Eight months ago it wouldn’t have, but after finding out about you…I…I don’t know” you shake the image from your head, trying to compose yourself.

Fred walks over to you and wraps his arms around you “I get it babe” he sighs .

“I guess I thought I was fine. That I was over it, it didn’t bother me. But it does bother me” you say choking on some sobs. Fred tightens his grip on you, completely engulfing you in his arms while you begin to sob against his chest. You clench his t-shirt while warm tears roll down your cheeks.

“Let’s talk about it then. Whenever you’re ready, and as much as you need” he says hands finding the back of your neck to hold you tight against him.

“I want to” you take a deep breath and wipe the side of your eye “now.”

You walk over to the bed and sit down crossing your legs, Fred joins sitting a few feet from you waiting for you to start. You sit in silence for a few minutes trying to find the words, not knowing where to start.

“I know you love me” you grab his hands in yours. “I know you would do anything for me, our family. But it’s not easy. We only got together because I got pregnant, if I didn’t I don’t think we’d be here.”

As you talk you watch his facial expression change; he stares at you like you’re crazy. Like he has no idea where that is coming from; because he never felt that way and doesn’t want you to. And it something that has been mentioned a few times, and you know it irritates him when anyone thinks that way. But it kills his to think you believe it.

“I don’t think that’s true babe. I mean yeah that brought us together, but we took our time. We built this right and we wouldn’t be here after all this time if we only were together because of you getting pregnant. It was almost two years after we got pregnant that we finally figured out or feelings and got together. If we were only together because of Ollie we would have been together from the start and it likely wouldn’t have been so hard. We both wouldn’t have gotten hurt so much in the process.”

“Okay but I get insecure because of that, and women constantly throw themselves at you which doesn’t help. But I was able to ignore it befre, let it all become background noise until you kissed someone. Now I see someone flirt with you and I can’t help but be jealous” you say through foggy eyes.

“I know I’m not always easy to be with” he shifts to be closer to you, pulling you into his lap “but I love you so much.”

“I never doubted that” you whine against his chest looking down in your lap. You nervously pick at your nails, trying to avoid eye contact “I just. I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m saying or what I want.”

Silence fills the air and you sense his hesitation “do you still want me, to be with me?”

“What” your head snaps up finding his dark eyes glazed with tears “of course I do.”

“Still want to marry me” he whispers afraid of the answer.

“Yes Frederik of course I do.”

“Do you want me to go to a hotel, give you some time –“

“No Fred I don’t want that” you almost snap at his questions. “I just need you to know that what you did hurt, and sometimes it still bothers me. The last time you cheated on me I was pregnant, and I’m pregnant again now so it’s hard. It’s hard because I want to trust it won’t happen again and I do trust it; until something happens and I doubt everything.”

You hear him mumble a fuck against your hair finally putting together your struggles. You practically hear the wheels stop turning as he finally has connected all the dots that led to your pain. It’s not that you are worried about him cheating, you are worried the stress of the pregnancy will get to him and it will happen again.

His hand rests on your waist, hesitantly finding its way onto your bump. You hear Fred sniffle as some tears land in your hair. The past 12 weeks you have had fears of Fred cheating on you again, dreams of that day and thanks to your pregnancy they have been vivid.

In some dreams it’s almost like you are replaying that day, you get sent a picture. Another dream or more like nightmare is you walking in to your bedroom and he is in bed buried deep inside another woman. You know these are just dreams but it doesn’t help your anxiety.

He runs his hand up and down your arm while you soak his shirt with your tears. He continues to try to soothe you but his attempts fail and you begin to sob uncontrollably. He holds you tight, you don’t even know for how long.

Finally your body relaxes and the tears in your eyes have dried, bottom lip stopped trembling. Your vision is still slightly blurred but you tilt your head to look at Fred showing your puffy cheeks. His face is wrecked with emotion; eyes wet with his own tears.

“I hate when you cry, but it’s so much worse when I’m the cause of it” he says laughing through his tears. You bring your thumb up to wipe his away, he gently rests his cheek against your palm.

“I love seeing you pregnant, I always have. There is something about seeing the woman I love carry my baby; words can’t even describe the feeling” you smile slightly at his words. “And I am so sorry I took what should be an amazing beautiful time” his hand lands on your stomach and he softly strokes over it “and put seeds of doubt into it. But tell me what you need to make this better. Whether it’s a night away, or a puppy or if you need to hit me whatever it is lets do it.”

“I don’t need or want to hit you” you laugh slightly. “And a puppy would be way too much work right now.” Fred’s lips gently land on your forehead as he rocks you back and forth. You relax into his touch bringing your hand through his beard and onto his chest. “I don’t know if there is any one thing; if the situation was reversed and I kissed someone do you think there is one thing that could fix it?”

He doesn’t respond. You don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t know or doesn’t want to say it; not that you were expecting a response.

“Honestly I’m drained; me and the baby just want to curl up under the blankets and get some sleep” you sigh.

“Okay” he whispers pulling his hands away from you.

Your body is weak as you crawl out his lap; slipping under the cold sheets. Fred sits at the bottom of the bed not sure if you want him to join. You fold the blanket on his side down and tap the empty space and he quickly fills it, not needing to be told twice.

He lies on his back not bothering to pull the blankets up his body. His gaze locks on your ceiling, but you can see his pupils shifting as he replays the conversation; or maybe that night eight months ago. You slide closer to Fred and rest your hand on his chest, using his bicep as a pillow.

His hand lands on your back and he pulls you in close, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll lose you. You can feel the tension exuding off of him and can hear his uneasy breathing. After the night you had you are mentally exhausted and practically fall asleep instantly, though you know Fred will be awake for hours.

The next morning you wake up on your side facing away from Fred, some of the morning light beginning to trickle through your blinds. You don’t need to look at your clock to know you are earlier than normal; the kids likely sleeping for another 45 minutes.

You roll over and Fred is staring at the ceiling the same position you left him in last night. The bags under his eyes and red in his pupils telling you he didn’t sleep well. While you were emotionally drained and fell asleep relatively easily, you felt Fred tossing and turning beside you which woke you up multiple times.

“Hey” he whispers a faint smile finding his face when he sees you. “How’d you sleep?”

Shifting in your sheets, you embrace the exhaustion carried over from the night before. Normally you would try to fall back asleep until the twins cried over the monitor or you hear Oliver footsteps running down the hall towards your room.

“Okay” you yawn. Fred smiles lightly brushing your hair from your forehead.

“Not sleep good?” you ask, he shakes his head in response.

“How could I?” he sighs turning his gaze back to the ceiling.

“Sorry” you whisper.

“No you don’t have anything to apologize for. I fucked up and your feelings are valid”

“I kind of feel better, I think maybe I just had to get it all out. Tell you how I was feeling” you say crawling over to him. It’s not a lie, you didn’t necessarily need anything to happen or for Fred to do anything He just needed to know how you felt, be aware of the problem. Maybe if you hadn’t brushed it under the rug many months ago your feelings would be resolved.

“I’m glad” he responds his lips hesitantly press to your forehead. You melt into his touch, your hand sliding up his shirt feeling his warm skin under your nails. You tilt your head gently pressing your lips to Fred’s.

You can sense his hesitation as you crawl on him sinking into the kiss. You know he can taste your morning breath but he doesn’t care, opening his mouth to allow you entrance. His lips are slightly chapped like usual as your tongue swipes along his lower lip; he moans when you suck on his lower lip pulling it back slightly.

His hands tentatively find your hips holding you on his stomach. Your tongue slides inside his mouth, your hand finding his rough beard and gently rakes through it. Your mouths move in sync with one another, his hands slowly begin to wander around to the back of your thighs before returning to your hips. You gently grind down on him, feeling his tip separated by some thin fabric between your cheeks. After a few minutes Fred pulls away leaving the two of you gasping for air.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like this. I never want you to be insecure, especially because of me” he whispers. He gently pushes you onto your back, him resting on his side. “You’re it for me, my other half; my better half. You complete me and I never want you to worry. No other girl has a shot with me” his mouth attaches to your neck peppering you with soft kisses.

“You are the only girl I want to curl up beside after a game. The only girl who will make me watch the Notebook only to turn it off with 15 minutes left because it’s too sad to finish.” You roll your eyes at that but can’t help a grin from crossing your face.

He crawls on top of you; your hands stroking along his biceps. “You’re the only girl I want stealing my sweaters, the only girl I want to kiss” he briefly presses his lips to yours. His knee gently finds a spot between your legs spreading them open a couple inches.

You moan ever so lightly you aren’t even sure Fred heard it until he smirks against your lips. “You’re the only girl I want to make those sounds come out of.” You clear your throat and bite your bottom lip as Fred’s mouth presses to the side of your neck. Your eyelashes kiss your cheek your body squirming while wetness begins to pool in your core.

“You’re the only girl I want to touch” he gently presses a kiss to your jaw bone, a finger trailing down your arm. “The only girl I want to taste” he licks along your collarbone. He places warm open mouth kisses on your collarbone finding its way to your sweet spot.

A light giggle falls from your lips as his mustache tickles your ear. You know Fred is enjoying this but he won’t touch you further until you allow it.

“Freddie” you moan and feel him smirk against your neck.

“Yes smuk” he mumbles against your skin as goosebumps begin to form.

“I need you” you moan out softly. Before you even finish getting the words out your shirt is off, his large hands finding your breasts, easily cupping them in his palm. His movements are soft and gentle as he waits for your response.

He massages your breast in one hand; gently rolling the nipple through his finger. You gasp at the feeling, them being slightly sensitive from the pregnancy. Fred eases his touch but doesn’t pull away; his mouth dipping down to suck on your other breast.

Your back arches in response soft moans escaping your lips. You expect him to continue down your body but he continues to work on your breasts for a few more minutes. You feel your cunt dripping your hands finding his hair. Instead of tangling your fingers in his hair you try to push his large frame down further and earn a deep seeded chuckle from him.

“Someone’s eager” he mumbles against you; soft curse words fall from your lips. His hand slides down your body slipping inside your pyjama pants. His fingers graze over your folds coating them in your juices. He smirks against your breast “very eager eh” he jokes feeling your wetness.

His large hands easily push your pants down your legs, they bunch just below your knees. He continues to suck on your breast while his hand caresses up the back of your thigh. He gives your ass a squeeze, pulling your body down the bed until your pussy finds his thigh.

He flexes his muscular thigh, your pussy trembling on him. You begin to slowly roll your hips in search of more friction. Fred lets out a soft moan at the feeling of his muscles pressing against your throbbing clit.

His hands find your hip, rough fingers digging in, encouraging the motion of your hips. His lips still wrapped around one of your hardened nipples. Breathy whimpers leaving your mouth as you grind your hips against him; earning a few low groans from him. Your moans turn to whimpers needing more contact.

“Fred please” you whine voice thick with need and desperation.

He releases his mouth from your breast and slowly trails down your body. When he reaches your pelvis he sucks hard likely leaving a mark; his nails digging into your hips. He hooks your legs over his shoulders his mouth places soft kisses on the inside of your thighs.

His arms wrap around your waist, pinning you to the bed as he bites up your thigh. Your head falls into the pillow and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Even though he has barely touched you the anticipation almost has you going over the edge.

You gasp when his lips finally attach to your clit, placing some soft kisses on your folds. He pulls back, lips ghosting barely a centimeter from your skin causing your hips to buck up. Fred flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up; a dark groan leaves Fred’s throat tasting your wetness. Your back begins to arch but his grip tightens holding you to the bed.

His tongue slowly slips inside your walls and your hands tangle into his messy locks, gripping tight to the scalp as his tongue moves in and out of you. Your thighs tighten around his head, Fred groaning under you. His nose presses into your clit as whispered curse words fall from yours.

He flicks his tongue inside you, curling in your walls. His teeth gently graze your folds; you breathe out a fuck as the coil in your abdomen gets painfully tight. You aren’t sure if Fred heard you or if he can sense it, until you hear him hum in response.

You tremble knowing you are hanging on the edge, “I’m gonna cum” you manage to pant out. You feel Fred smirk below you but he doesn’t let up, continuing to fuck his tongue in and out of you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as the coil inside you snaps; your orgasm washing over you. Fred works you through your high groaning as you flutter around his mouth. An incoherent noise leaves your lips the heels of your feet digging into his back. Finally you come down from your high Fred’s tongue slowing. You are breathless as your eyes flutter open looking down to meet Fred’s gaze. His mouth releases your swollen bud and he drops your legs; pulling your pyjamas back up your legs.

He slowly crawls up your body, your juices dripping from his beard. He places a trail of soft kisses up your chest. Your hands release his hair sliding down to his beard pulling his face to yours. You guide his mouth to yours moaning when you taste yourself.

His tongue slides in but before you can deepen it you hear a cry over the baby monitor. You pull apart with a groan; Fred’s head turning to the screen.

“I think he’s still asleep” Fred says after a couple minutes “got a couple more minutes” he mumbles against your neck. He falls beside you pulling you into his chest while your head turns to look at him. He softly brushes your sweaty hair from your forehead.

“I’m sorry for yesterday” he says softly “and more importantly seven months ago.”

“I know” your lips gently press against his.

“If something bothers you please tell me” he says and you smile lightly in response. “And if you need to talk about what happened more, bring it up. No matter what.”

“I will, promise” you smile

“No matter how uncomfortable it’s better for us to talk these things through now then let them stew inside.”

“I know” you nod against him. Fred smiles down at you and brings his lips back down to yours. You gently play with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck. The kiss is soft and slow; his tongue swiping inside your mouth. When you pull away Fred’s forehead gently presses against yours.

Your hands gently play with his beard, a wide grin glued to your face. Fred crawls beside you his hand finds your stomach “any movements yet?”

“I’m only 13ish weeks babe” you laugh “that probably won’t happen for another five weeks or so.”

“I know I just love the little kicks” he places another soft kiss on your cheek when you hear another cry from the nursery.

“I got it babe” he whispers crawling out of bed. When the door closes you find your shirt knowing your time in bed will be ending soon. You hear the nursery door open on the monitor, and your gaze meets the screen. You feel your heart skip a beat watching Fred.

He pulls Noah from his crib, blowing a raspberry on his stomach. Noah’s little laugh is loud enough you can almost hear it down the hall.

He engages in a random conversation with him while changing his diaper and getting him ready for the day. Before he finishes Lucas stirs in his crib and Fred turns his attention to him repeating everything with him. After finishing he leaves the nursery and you hear his footsteps on the hardwood and the door slowly creaks open.

The twins faces light up when they see you and Fred crawls back into bed handing Noah to you. “Hi buddy” you smile pressing a kiss to his cheek. The four of you lie in bed, Noah babbling away on your stomach; Fred’s arms wrapped around the two of you.

You all lie in bed, you curled up beside Fred the twins crawling over you. You and Fred fall into an easy conversation the twins cooing around you. Lucas is sitting on Fred’s chest and you laugh when Noah sits on his face. It’s an easy morning; something you didn’t get when Oliver was this young. When he was around this age you and Fred were in separate apartments. It was during the span when you weren’t sleeping together; and your interactions were sometimes awkward.

You grab Lucas from Fred’s chest and Fred grips Noah’s waist lifting him off his face. He puts him on the mattress and begins to tickle your son, his little laugh erupting. His laughter echoes off the wall getting louder; it’s so loud you almost don’t hear the door creak open. You look over and see Oliver yawning in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He slowly climbs up in bed beside you.

A large grin spread across you face watching as Fred wrestles Oliver into the bed and tickles the boys. Their laughter fills your bedroom and your heart watching your four boys. You rub your hand over your stomach smiling, knowing soon there will be another baby making your king sized bed seem even more crowded; just the way you like it.

Next Chapter

#because two people got drunk #frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen fic #freddie andersen x reader #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #nhl fic #NHL Smut

50 notes · View notes

amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

Text

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

Three different New Year's Eves, as celebrated by Jake and Amy (and Mac).

read on ao3 💕

december 31st, 2019.

The hotel guests checking in before Jake and Amy are a family. A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four or five years old, is carrying her own pink backpack and making up dance steps around her father’s feet as he goes through the information with the receptionist, and an even younger boy is hiding behind his mother’s legs as he watches the people in the lobby with wide eyes. Looking up, Amy realizes that the mother’s open coat is revealing a baby bump, too. She’d put her at six, maybe seven months pregnant. Three kids. Amy feels a pang of jealousy.

Even with the observation skills of an experienced detective, it shocks her how good she’s become at picking out families and pregnant women in any crowd. It’s an interesting talent, but measured against the pain it causes her, Amy wouldn’t call it a very useful one. She notices Jake looking at the kids as well, a daydreaming look on his face, and somehow, that makes her pain worse.

The idea behind going away to a hotel upstate for New Year’s was so they could get away from the stress for a moment; go somewhere else, rest and relax, forget about the pregnancy master calendar they’ve stared themselves blind at for a few days. Amy didn’t realize how impossible it would be to get away from all the other reminders.

She draws a breath of relief when the family in front of them gets the keys to their room, the little girl running first towards the elevator and her brother laughing as he chases after.

“Cute kids,” Jake whispers, watching them longingly.

“Yeah.” Amy tries not to think about the negative pregnancy test she threw away in the bathroom trashcan before they left. “Really cute.”

“I’m excited you said we could drink tonight.” Jake toasts his White Russian with her glass of Sauvignon. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, “ Amy feels the guilt wash over her. “Well, it’s not New Year’s Eve every day. I think we’ve earned it.” And I already took a negative test, she thinks.

“We sure have.” He gives her a closer look, pressing his lips together like he always does when he’s worried about her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she says. It’s not technically a lie. “I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Lucky we have a huge hotel bed to help with that tonight, then. Seriously, this place rocks.”

Amy’s prepared to agree on that part – she did her research the moment it stood clear they would both get New Year’s Eve off. After getting their room, they’ve spent the evening getting massages in the hotel spa, dining at the surprisingly nice restaurant, and now they’re admiring the view from the bar on the top floor, waiting for the fireworks. It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

“Number five!” She rolls the r and holds on the i, earning herself an amused look from the older couple next to them. “Okay, I’m going to go with… that date you took me on for my birthday. I can’t believe you got into the puzzle bar this time!”

“I might have convinced the guard to let me in because it was your birthday, but still a good one. Number fooo-uur… the Cinco de Mayo-heist. God, that was fun, even if the tasing hurt like a bitch.”

“Agreed. Number three – when Holt finally invited us to that dinner party and I almost didn’t lose my cool once.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Number two… the Jake way. Seriously, I still think we should try that again. It was awesome.”

“It was, but also way inappropriate,” she reminds him, but he just shrugs. “Number one, then.”

“I know which one is mine, but you go first.”

Amy swallows, then sighs. “Mine is after the manhunt. When we decided to start trying. That’s still my favorite moment.”

“Mine, too.” Jake looks her in the eyes, and she knows the bittersweet feeling is shared. “It’s going to happen, Ames. I know it. Maybe this month’s the one.”

Amy doesn’t have the strength to correct him, tell him she’s already taken an early test and that she’s lacking any confidence there’s going to be a second line when she tests again in a couple of days. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because right then, the fireworks that have been going off a few at a time in the distance begin to multiply as the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Amy leans forward so she can be kissing him already when the new year begins.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The crowd around them erupts into cheers as the sky glows with colorful explosions when burning bits of metal lighting up the darkness outside. Jake kisses her deeper, seeming to forget that there are people around with a bit of alcohol in his system and his hands cupping her face. For a moment, Amy lets herself just be happy.

december 31st, 2020.

The instant Amy closes her eyes for the more-than-well-deserved nap Jake told her to take while he made dinner, Mac begins to cry from his crib again.

“McClane, please,” Amy pleads, as if reasoning with her two-month-old would solve his discontent. “You can't seriously be hungry again, that’s insane.”

She tries with the pacifier first, checking his diaper, even standing up and walking around with him for a bit to eliminate anything else, but Mac is still clenching his fists and only looking even more furious with her, so Amy gives in. She sits down with him again, unhooks one side of the bra and lets him find his grip, exhaling when the peaceful suckles begin and the desperate crying finally ceases. She swears it looks like her son is side-eyeing her for taking too long, but to her defense, she fed him for a good forty-five minutes only a little over an hour ago and it's exhausting being used like a human pacifier. Growth spurt, Camila Santiago said when Amy called her in tears yesterday, and the problem-shooting section in the 0-3 months baby-binder had agreed. Amy would argue that sounds way too innocent for something which is turning her otherwise happy and smiley baby into a constantly hungry and crying mini-monster who won't close his eyes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

There's a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, and Jake peeks in. He’s wearing his fancy kitchen apron, which Charles gave him for Christmas with the comment that there’s nothing sexier than a dad who can cook. It hasn’t magically improved his cooking skills, but Amy’s willing to admit that it does look good on him.

“You guys doing okay?”

“He is, for now. I’m going crazy. How’s our dinner going?”

“Well, I haven’t burnt it yet, but there’s still time,” he grimaces, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“Sleep, but that’s not going to happen.” Amy rubs her eyes. “It’s fine. He’s got to fall asleep at some point, though, this is nuts.”

“Don’t challenge him, he’s breaking records,” Jake says, leaning forward to tickle Mac’s feet. Mac reacts by kicking at the boob he’s not currently feeding from, making Amy curse. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, I’m sure he will fall asleep at some point, and we can have a nice, calm New Year’s dinner. I mean, he has to be exhausted, right?”

“God, I hope so. I’m starving.” She can see Mac’s eyelids getting heavy, but every time she thinks they’re about to fall closed, it’s like he twitches and stares at her, wide awake. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Jake grins. “Lucky indeed.”

Mac starts pulling away at that moment, a little bit of milk still dribbling from his cheeks. Amy reaches for one of the muslin blankets that’s never more than a few feet away in their home nowadays, lifting him so he’s upright against her shoulder and patting him on the back. She expects a burp, but instead, she gets an unpleasant surprise when he spits up, managing to get sour baby puke down her back and in her already greasy hair. She groans, giving Jake an exhausted look when she sees him stifling a chuckle.

“Hey, I’ll take him. You go take a shower and I’ll put him in the BabyBjörn. Maybe that will do it.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said,” Amy mumbles, and she’s not entirely kidding.

She makes the shower as long as she possibly can. Most days, she has to shower with Mac in the baby bouncer on the bathroom floor, so even the chance to be alone in the bathroom for more than five minutes feels like a luxury. She lets the shampoo really lather and the conditioner take its time to sink in, trying to massage the knots in her neck and shoulders under the hot water. She can hear Mac still fussing from the kitchen, and it makes her feel guilty even though he’s barely left her arms today.

“He’s fine,” she whispers to herself like a mantra. “He’s fine. Jake can handle it. He’s perfectly fine. Everything’s okay. You deserve this.”

She still skips the make-up and nicer clothes she had been planning to put on, throwing on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Jake’s old hoodies instead.

The dinner looks fantastic, some sort of chicken baked in the oven with rice and a lemon sauce, and Amy’s actually impressed. She imagines it would have been even nicer if she could have eaten it warm and together with Jake, but they only make it through toasting in orange soda and the first two bites before Mac wakes up from his ten-minute-nap, wailing as if he truly believed he’d just been abandoned. They end up having to take turns eating and walking laps around the living room with him, because he starts crying again if they stop moving for a second or as much as make an attempt to put him down. Amy is suddenly relieved they said no to her brother Tony’s New Year’s party-invite.

She can barely believe it when after what feels like the fiftieth or so feed of the day, Mac falls asleep. Curled up like a little frog on her chest and letting out the cutest of baby snores, he finally seems to relax, and Amy doesn’t even dare to breathe too sharply for the first ten minutes. Eventually, though, once it seems like he’s not going to wake up from the slightest movement or a raised voice anymore, Jake tucks them both in under a blanket and gets the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and orange soda from the fridge. Then he gets another blanket for himself, and they snuggle up together in the corner of the sofa in front of the tv. From live footage at Times Square, Amy can see crowds of people waiting for the ball to drop.

“Wishing you were there?” Jake winks, but she just laughs.

“Are you kidding? Cold, crowded, and you can never even get a good view. This is better in every way.” She strokes her thumb over Mac’s dark hair. “I have this one and you. That’s all I need. And ice cream,” she adds, digging out a piece of cookie dough from the tub.

“You’re right, it’s pretty damn close to perfection. Top five moments of 2020?”

Amy shakes her head, pointing to Mac. “No point. They’re all about him, anyway, and they’re all too good to compare.”

“True that.” Jake shakes his head. “Hey, isn’t it crazy that although he’s been kind of a nightmare today, I’ve already forgiven him?”

“No, it makes perfect sense, because I’ve almost wanted to give him away several times and now I can’t even remember why.”

“Having a baby makes us kind of crazy, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

“Me neither. Not even if I was offered a role in the next Die Hard-movie and Taylor Swift did the soundtrack.”

“That’s pretty big,” Amy laughs, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Would Taylor Swift do the soundtrack for Die Hard, though? Realistically speaking?”

“It’s a daydream, Ames!”

She has no time for a comeback, though, because right then, the countdown starts on the tv and Jake raises the volume a few bars so they can hear.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

“New Year’s kiss,” Amy says, holding Mac up slightly so they can both reach him.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

They both smother his cheeks with kisses at the same time as the fireworks explode over the sky in the distance outside their windows and the crowd begins to cheer on tv. Mac doesn’t even flinch, completely oblivious to the celebrations going on outside. Amy sighs.

“How can he magically sleep through all of this, but wake up the second I put him down in his crib at night?”

Jake shrugs. “Babies, man.”

december 31st, 2021.

Amy has only started to take off Mac’s winter overall before he starts trying to flee, kicking wildly with his boots and pointing towards the kitchen where he’s already spotted Rosa. Jake notices her struggle and is quick to help her, and the instant the toddler is free, he hurries off towards his best friend.

“Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo!”

“Mac! Hey, happy new year, man!” Before Amy can even take off her own jacket, Mac is already in Rosa’s arms and babbling excitedly as he plays with her gold necklace. Amy wonders how much of what Mac’s saying actually makes sense to Rosa, but she’s nodding and smiling and seems to have abandoned whoever she was previously talking to in favor of the one-year-old.

“Jake. Amy.” Kevin appears to take their coats, shaking their hands. “Welcome. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are in the living room, and I see your small child has made himself at home.”

“He found Rosa, yep.” Jake grins. “And he has a name.”

“Ah, yes… McClane.” Kevin nods. “Very well. I have to go check on… the kitchen. Enjoy your evening.”

“He’s never going to like me,” Jake whispers to Amy the moment he’s left.

“Well, I think we both might have lost a few points with the name choice, babe.”

“He’s one to talk names, he’s got a dog named after a cheese!”

“I know, but we can’t tell him that. Come on, Jake, I have to find something to chew on before I get sick.”

“You can always blame it on the alcohol, if you do.”

“Jake.”

“Just kidding,” he grins. “You go check on Mac and Rosa and I’ll locate the snacks.”

It turns out Rosa is more than willing to guard Mac for the evening, currently showing him the model train she's found in the library. Mac is watching with focus as Rosa helps him turn on the button that makes the train drive around the tracks, laughing as it lets out a choo-choo sound.

“Your son is much cooler than the rest of these lame partygoers,” she shrugs when Amy asks her if she's sure it's fine. “He says what he's thinking, unlike the rest of all these dum-dums.”

“Dum-dums,” Mac repeats, proud. Rosa nods.

“Exactly. I’ll call you if something happens.”

And so, in an unexpected turn of events, Amy finds herself able to sit down for most of the evening without having to chase a wild toddler around to keep him from whatever dangers he could somehow manage to get himself into in Holt’s and Kevin’s house. She supposes it looks quite antisocial of her, and maybe it is, but she’s six weeks pregnant and the early symptoms of nausea and fatigue seem to be coming on both stronger and faster the second time around, so Amy doesn’t really care. She’s got lemon sparkling water for a non-alcoholic drink, a paper plate of carrot sticks, salted crisps and almonds, and she’s not going to talk to anyone unless they sit down next to her. It’s practically heaven. Jake checks on her from time to time, assuring her multiple times that they can just leave early if she wants to, but however tired she feels, Amy doesn’t want to insult Holt that badly. They’re staying until midnight as per proper New Year’s party etiquette, and then — and not a second later — they can go home so she can crash in bed.

Rosa finds her again when Mac begins to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning but still shaking his head when Amy asks if he's feeling a little tired. He crawls over to her arms anyway, laying his head on her shoulder and hugging his arms around her chest.

“Thanks for looking after him,” she tells Rosa, but she just shrugs.

“No worries. I don't get to hang out with him enough. Your kid is dope.”

“Douh,” Mac whispers, mimicking her, and Rosa laughs.

“Repeats every word you tell him, too,” Amy says. “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. Come over to our apartment at five-thirty in the morning on any weekend and you can hang out with him all you want. I won't stop you.”

Rosa scrunches her nose. “I’ll consider it.”

“He’s in a great mood then, I can assure you that.”

“I'll take your word for it. Also, Jake was tipsy talking baby names with some etymology professor when I saw him last, and he seemed very intense about it for a guy who's not currently thinking of naming any new babies. Or?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, he just get thats intense when somebody implies McClane is a weird name,” Amy says, and makes a note to herself to remind Jake about their agreement not to tell anyone else at least until the twelve-week mark. “Which, to be fair, I warned him that people would think. But here we are anyway.”

“It is a weird name. Couldn’t imagine him being called anything else, though, even if I still don’t understand why you agreed to it.”

“There was a really good PowerPoint involved.”

Rosa looks at her questioningly, but Amy shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in explaining the unexplainable.

“Hmm. You guys are weird. You make pretty great kids, though.”

“Yeah.” Mac has fallen asleep by now, drooling a little bit on Amy’s shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and thinks of the abstract idea of her second kid, the thump-thump of an already present heartbeat they got so lucky as to hear on an early ultrasound yesterday. “The best.”

As midnight draws closer, most of the guests take on jackets, scarves and shoes to venture out into the garden to watch fireworks. Not wanting to be left out, Amy and Jake manage to get a half-sleeping Mac, who wakes up suddenly interested when he hears about the promise of fireworks, into his overall and join them. It’s a surprisingly good view from the garden, the cold winter air waking them up, and Jake points out the vibrant displays in the sky to a drowsy Mac, who blinks at them dazedly. It’s so cute it makes Amy tear up. Being both a mom and newly pregnant does that to her; she’s given up trying to fight it.

It’s hard to believe that two years ago, she was toasting in champagne in a hotel bar and wondering if they would ever make a baby together, and now she’s standing in a garden watching Jake with their one-year-old son and knowing that next New Year’s, if all goes well, they’ll be parents of two.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake must see her tears, because he looks worried, but Amy just smiles.

“Just how quickly things can change. How happy I am. And how much I love you.”

“Love you, too. Top three-hundred-and-sixty-five moments of this year,” Jake says, hugging her close so they’re standing in a little family bubble. “Every single day I get to wake up with and then come home to my family.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

They both lean in so they can smother their son with kisses, and he laughs as he figures out what’s about to happen.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The sky explodes with color, Jake and Amy attack their son with kisses, and as the new year begins, Amy thinks she might just be the luckiest person in the entire world.

#happy new year!#my writing #b99 #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #peraltiago fic #i've spent twenty minutes trying to fix the spacing on this and it still won't work because tumblr is a fucking hellsite #read it on ao3 if you want spaces

71 notes · View notes

hillnerd · 3 years

Text

Waking Up - Chapter 4

Rating M A03 ff.net [ Previous Chapter] [start at the beginning] Giant thank you to @abradystrix and @divagonzo for betaing and being so supportive and wonderful.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, PTSD, brief mentions of substance abuse

Previously, on 'Waking Up'

Hermione struggles on her own with plans to get her parents back, eating, and nightmares

She and Harry have a tiff over her putting silencing spells on herself (to keep anyone from hearing nightmares)

Harry Ron and Ginny play quidditch- and afterwards Ron and Hermione have a all out fight about her lack of self care and his doting

Harry has a panic attack from a loud noise Ron witnesses (Hermione sees from hiding)

Hermione and Ron make up with some grinding behind the shed

George comes back (had previously been drunk and arrested- but only Ron and Arthur know about this)

The trio get formal invitations to the Aurors and Order of Merlin

Ron and Hermione have a convo where she says how dumb she thinks it is for Harry to become an Auror

=======================================================

CHAPTER 4- THE VILLAGE

His stomach swooped like he’d missed a step. The blaring panic, the contraction of his muscles as he wildly tried to keep from falling, the disequilibrium... It was all there, only there was no missed step: just him following Hermione into the house for lunch.

He slumped into a chair and stared around him.

George mostly kept his head down, unable to look anyone in the eye and forcing his gaze up only when he had trouble focusing on a question. Harry was still pale and making little jerky movements when there was a noise. Ginny was putting on a smile and pretending everything was alright, but he saw her mouth twitching and faltering every time she thought no one was looking. Mum was trying to keep the conversation going with George and spectacularly failing. With every failed conversation she looked a touch more deflated, a touch more wane, a touch more close to saying ‘I need to take a nap.’ Hermione was barely eating her food again, staring at Harry with concern. And Ron couldn’t find it in himself to do anything to help anyone.

He didn’t have words anymore. He’d used them all up over the last twelve hours. He’d gone to the Ministry to get George, he’d talked to the Minister about his future, he’d talked to his Dad about his past, he’d gone to the hotel to deal with George’s mess, he’d played Quidditch, he’d fought with Hermione, he’d tried to be there through Harry’s panic terror, then he and Hermione had gotten off behind the shed in the most spectacular way, but George was back, and now Hermione hated the idea of Aurors and would think he was an idiot for taking up with them and... And he couldn’t take any more.

He knew it was ridiculous. It was nothing! He’d basically done nothing all day, but somehow Ron felt close to passing out.

“Eat up,” Ginny prodded him, giving his plate a quizzical look. Oh right…

Ron took a bite of sandwich and muscled it down his throat. He mournfully gazed at the sandwich. It had looked so appetizing before his talk with Hermione. He was relieved she had no interest in being an Auror, but he hadn’t predicted everything else.

He’d thought she’d be proud of the idea. It wasn’t an accomplishment that Ron had been asked to be an Auror, since everyone and their owl seemed to be getting asked, but wasn’t joining the right thing to do? Wasn’t it a career choice she should be proud of him for?

Apparently not.

She’d snorted and rolled her eyes at Harry joining. Harry! The Boy-Who-Defeated Voldemort! If she thought Harry couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t imagine her thinking any better of him. In fact, he knew she wouldn’t like it.

He started to see why Hermione couldn’t eat. Who could? Everything was so horrid it was through pure force of will that he was able to eat his sawdust sandwich and swallow each bite. His body felt jittery and weak, and every time he reached for his glass of water, he was less and less sure he’d be able to hold it without it slipping from his grasp.

“I’m going to go shower,” Ron mumbled to no one in particular, pushing himself away from the table, surprised at how together he was able to sound.

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate the sandwiches you made?” George asked. He had a panicked look in his eye that plainly said ‘don’t leave me here alone with them!’ Ron wavered in place. Maybe he could find it in himself if—

“He’s ripe! Let him shower,” said Ginny. “Why don’t we put on the wireless and listen to the game? Kestrels and Harpies are the first pair doing a post war charity match. It’s set to start in a bit.”

Some of the tension in George ebbed, and Ron vowed to give his little sister a giant hug when he wasn’t feeling close to unconsciousness. He discreetly picked his letters up from the table and without another word he dragged himself up the stairs, one plodding foot at a time. He nearly caught his foot on the final stair, but finally made it safely to the bathroom. He placed his Ministry letters next to the sink and as the shower water heated he dared to look at himself in the mirror. He was pale with great purple bags under his eyes, but other than that looked better than he had when on the run with Horcruxes. Good. He might not be able to feel good, but he could look the part.

He turned the spigot to the shower and as hot water hit him in the chest he let out a sigh. The shower was the only place that really felt safe from everyone. Keeping watch late at night always had the chance of someone coming upon him, but in the shower with the too hot water pounding on him, he could rely on at least a moment of being completely alone. Safe and alone. Never clean though. No matter how the water scalded him, or how hard he scrubbed his skin raw, he never quite felt clean anymore.

He bent at the knees and stooped, chin tucked to his chest, to properly wet his hair. Given how tall all the Weasleys were, he wondered at how they’d never gotten around to installing a higher shower head. After only a few minutes of scrubbing he was too exhausted to stand, much less stoop so low.

Not ready to leave his steamy sanctuary, he put in the plug, and sat in the tub as it filled with water.

He hadn’t expected to see George there today. Maybe a few days out… The moment he’d seen him crossing the lawn he’d hoped George would lose his nerve and go away again. He knew it was awful to wish it. He couldn’t feel any relief at George’s return. His brother looked like a dead man walking, and still vaguely smelled of booze, whether it was sweated out from his binge the night before or from a fresh bout of drinking, Ron wasn’t sure, despite George’s reassurances.

He sat in the tub, letting the warmth lull him into a dozy calm state he hadn’t felt in ages. It didn’t matter that the water barely made it a few inches above his navel and his legs were bent at a funny angle to keep as much of him underwater as possible. He finally turned off the faucet and propped his head against the still cool tile, letting sleep cloud his mind.

“Got you to scream good and loud for me, didn’t I?” came a voice. He could feel the hot breath in his ear, the weight on top of him.

“Ron?”

He kicked out but was paralyzed and unable to move. He shook, fear clenching at him, invading his pores.

“Ron, you drowning in there?”

Ron startled and began to sit up, hand slipping as he tried to gain purchase against white porcelain. His whole body shook. His arm was curled under him and throbbed. The comforting warmth of the tub water had turned cold, but he couldn’t help but feel that his shaking was due to the half-formed memories bubbling to the surface as he slept.

“Ron!” his sister called, more insistent than before.

“I’ll be a minute, Ginny!” he hoarsely called back, sitting up straighter and blinking his eyes, willing wakefulness back into them.

“You’ve been there well over an hour already.”

He dazedly looked about for his wand to reheat his water, not ready to face anyone. What was the spell for heating up water again? The only one that came to mind boiled water.

He should know this! He had to use it in the shower when they were on the Horcrux Hunt every time. His mind remained blank.

With a resigned sigh he shakily removed the stopper. No more warm bath for him. Maybe he would go upstairs and nap. He hugged his long legs close to his chest and flexed his numb left hand. His fingers only partially complied.

“Stupid bloody arm.”

He shook it and hit the side of his fist against the tiled wall a few times. The fingers stuttered and twitched but finally started to move. He let out a pained hiss.

“Ron?”

“What!” He bit out.

“It’s been over an hour!” Ginny insistently cried out.

“If you need the bathroom so bad, use it!” he yelled back, fumbling for his wand on the ground before opening the lock with a twist of his wand. “It’s unlocked. Have at it!”

He jerked the curtain more tightly closed and roughly scrubbed his face, shivering at the slight breeze the opening door caused.

She shut the door and he heard the telltale sniffing of Ginny trying to keep herself from crying.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, really swell,” she shot back with a wavering voice. She wasn’t all out crying, but she was close enough.

The curtain almost imperceptibly swayed, and he could tell she’d sat herself on the floor next to the tub.

“It’s been really... really great down there,” she said, sniffing even harder.

Ron leaned his head back against the tile wall. So much for naps.

“Give me a few minutes and I can meet you in my room.”

“Yeah?” Her voice sounded small and young; that, along with the brittle hope he heard in her voice, made his resentment evaporate.

“‘Course.”

“I’ll see you there,” she murmured, quickly leaving the bathroom.

He wanted to sit in the uncomfortably cold cast iron tub well after the last of the water had circled the drain. No matter how jittery his guts were feeling or how his eyes were burning with fatigue, he knew he couldn’t.

He hadn’t heard her sound that vulnerable in so long, it was almost a relief. After Riddle’s diary it took her years to find her footing, but when she finally did there were a whole lot of walls up. She’d always been chatty and excitable, but now there was a forced enthusiasm she’d wheel out that never felt fully authentic to Ron. She’d always had a wicked sense of humor, but now it was more barbed and defensive. She’d always been a tough little thing, but now she exaggerated it and laid on the sass and swagger thick

He hoped there’d be a day he didn’t notice the toll Voldemort took on his family, but that was unimaginable at this point.

He Accio ’ d some clean clothes from his room and changed. He glanced at the mirror and saw an imprint of the tiles on his cheek.

“Nothing for that…” he mumbled to himself, giving a yawn before going up the stairs to his room, Ministry letters clutched once again in his hand. He had never particularly minded how many flights it was up to his room — it was one of the only reasons he was afforded any privacy in the overcrowded house— but lately he’d begun to hate how many flights of stairs he had to ascend. When he was bone weary, and not fully trusting himself to apparate safely, it was a real kick in the bollocks. He gave a knock on the door before going in.

Ginny sat on his bed, her face blotchy and red.

He sat beside her and waited for her to say something. When she stayed silent he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a one armed hug.

“It’s just...” she said with a deep inhale, before a sound burst out of her, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She stifled it behind a hand. He gripped his shaking sister tighter.

“You saw George! And Mum is… I’ve never seen her so tired, so bloody old .” Her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears. “And Hermione is still acting off and Harry… I don’t know what happened, but he’s been shaking ever since Quidditch and his hugs have been too tight, and I don’t… I don’t know!”

Ron quietly nodded, as his sister turned her head into his shoulder and hot tears soaked through his shirt.

As children she used to cry all the time, half of the time just to get her way. After her horrifying first year there had been plenty of nights he’d found her crying. Those nights he’d stay with her until morning. Then the crying stopped. Her eyes might flood with angry or worried tears, but she didn’t cry all-out in front of him after that. Ron caught her sniffing and trying to stifle her tears after Harry dumped her late one night. She never asked him to help her or to stay, but he stayed with her until morning that time too.

Minutes passed and finally her silent crying slowed.

“Sorry,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“S’nothing,” he said, gently patting her back in small circles, the same way their Mum did.

“I’m just glad you’re doing alright. At least someone in the family hasn’t gone completely mental on me.”

Ron breath stilled a bit as he continued to consolingly pat her. He wouldn’t think of the dream he’d had in the bath.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he choked out. He swallowed and hoped his voice would come out steady. “Tonight we’ll go out and have some fun, yeah? I bet we can get some smiles on their faces, between the two of us.”

She gave a watery laugh, pulled away from him, and wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“Yeah, between the two of us,” she said with a smile. It faltered and she looked at her hands. “But we won’t be able to team up for much longer, will we?”

“Wha’dyou mean?”

She bit her lip. “You’re going to join the Aurors with Harry, aren’t you?”

Ron let out his breath between his teeth. “Yeah. Yeah I am,” he said, bracing himself for a lecture. Instead he felt his breath squeezed out of him by a fierce hug.

“I knew you would!” She pulled back, smiling at him.

“Yeah, well, someone has to make sure Harry doesn’t get blown up or something.”

“Exactly! If anyone can keep him from that, it’s you.” She rubbed at her eyes again.

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended by her response. He wanted someone to be happy for him, of course, but the way she was looking at him she seemed more happy he’d be there to keep Harry safe.

“Don’t tell Hermione I’m becoming one.” Ginny gave him a questioning look, prompting him to explain. “She’s not too keen on the idea and I want to figure out a way to tell her myself.”

“How do you know she’s against it?”

“I felt her thoughts out for it, didn’t I? She made a fuss over Harry becoming one, saying he was ‘throwing his life away,’ how it was a ‘ridiculous choice.’”

“Well,” she said rather slowly. “I can’t say I entirely blame her…”

“How’s that?” Offense rose inside him. Did everyone have a meeting to agree they thought he was weak?

“Oh come off it. Auror isn’t exactly the safest of jobs, is it? And with the war we just went through and Fr—” Her voice stopped short. “With everyone we lost, it won’t be easy for any of us knowing you’re out there fighting Death Eaters again. Only this time we can’t help you.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. Ginny gave him a sharp look. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your boyfriend safe.”

“I’d like you to stay safe too, you know,” she said, jabbing him in the side with one of her pointy little elbows.

“Aw, Gin. You do care!” he said with a forced laugh, hoping to prod her into better humor.

“Only for Harry’s sake. He’d never function with you,” she snorted and smiled fondly at him, before giving him a punch to the arm that would have hurt if her fists weren’t so tiny.

“You’d miss me if a Death Eater spelled my brains out.”

“You’d have to have brains in order for them to be spelled out!” she snickered.

“Well I’m sure the Ministry would be just as happy to have me be a human shield for Harry, so it doesn’t matter if I have much brains or not.”

She gave him a much less friendly strike to the arm before snapping, “Don’t talk like that!”

Tingles erupted down his left arm where she’d hit him.

“Sorry,” Ron said sobberly. He needed to stop making comments like that around his family. Gallows humor wasn’t as easy to traverse as it had been before, or even during, the war. He massaged his arm where she’d struck it.

They looked at each other before she sighed.

“Better toughen up a bit before you join,” said Ginny. She attempted to smile at him, but it was a miserable attempt. So much for cheering up his sister. She rose from the bed with a sigh. “I’ve been gone a bit long for a trip to the loo— not that they’d notice, they’re all so out of it— You coming?”

Ron shook his head.

“I want to fill out my Auror documents before someone tries to talk me out of it.”

Ginny gave an understanding smile. “Yeah, best to get it over with now. Gives Hermione less to hassle you about if there’s ‘Official Ministry Paperwork’ already submitted.”

“Cheers,” he replied as she left.

He collapsed back on his bed and unfurled the Auror paperwork Kingsley had sent. Much of it was just forms he had to fill out, questionnaires, and towards the end was an outline of the program, pay, and signing bonus - information he hadn’t even considered. Refreshingly, he’d be making his own way right off the bat!

He needed to get all sorts of documents sent in to them as well: permission for release of grades and medical records from Hogwarts, a written out CV of sorts, and he’d need to have medical and mental evaluations that would be arranged through the Auror office, as well as a final interview.

He dropped the papers on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. His chest tightened.

Kingsley hadn’t said anything about evaluations or interviews…

Looking at it laid out in black and white made his decision become more tangible than before, and the thought of failing made his gut clench. So far no one seemed to think him capable of being a competent Auror. Maybe he’d not even be able to qualify after all. If his doubters were right about him it’d just be another time he’d fucked up and disappointed everyone.

Hermione might think becoming an Auror so soon after the war was stupid, but if he couldn’t even get past the evaluations he knew she’d respect him less. If Harry failed an evaluation or utterly bombed an interview Ron had no doubt they’d still let him through. He was The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, or whatever it was they were calling him now. But Ron? He was a complete nobody. The only reasons Kingsley talked to him were because of the family connection and their need for warm bodies in the department. The bar was as low as it could ever be, and Ron could still fuck it up. It was one thing when he’d privately agreed to be an Auror, but now everyone knew he’d been asked. They’d all know if he fucked up.

He thought it was a guarantee, but now... Now it was this looming uncertain mass of chaos, where anything could happen. He could let everyone down, just like he always did. He could fail and not get in.

Or worse, what if they let him into the Aurors and he fucked up the same way he had in the war? He was so weak he’d just stood by while Fred died. He was so weak the Locket had almost made him kill his best friend. He was so weak he’d abandoned Harry and Hermione. He was so weak he’d been captured by Snatchers in minutes and they’d —

He fled to his wastebasket and gagged over it before he splattered sick into the container. The foul taste made him vomit again, making tears sting his eyes. He couldn’t stop the retching and continued until it was nothing but dry-heaves.

“F-fuck...” he panted, and wiped at his eyes. He pushed the small bin away from himself, face curled into distaste. He spelled the sick away and did a quick tooth cleaning spell as well, which only helped remove the acrid taste from his mouth so much. The smell didn’t entirely dissipate from the room either.

The Auror forms still sat on the bed.

Ron grabbed them and nearly shut them in his bedside drawer when his hand stilled. He laid them on his pillow, gently un-creasing them.

He’d told Kingsley he’d sign up. He’d told his dad. He’d told George. He’d told Ginny. His mother was expecting him to sign up. Harry couldn’t go it alone.

He let out a trembling breath. He needed to get a quill and ink before he lost the will.

Finding no writing implements in his bedside drawer he looked about in his old Hogwarts trunk. After diving through old robes, essays, books, chocolate frog cards, and other detritus, he’d not found one intact quill. The only ink bottle he’d found was completely dried out, a large black stain beside it marring the bottom of his trunk’s interior. He riffled through Harry’s belongings and was still empty handed, only finding a very dull quill on its last legs, but no bottles of ink that weren’t dried out with flakes of ink rattling in them.

How did two of-age blokes not have one quill and ink set between them? Giving up, he made his way to Ginny’s room. He unsuccessfully poked about in her small roll top desk when he noticed Hermione’s book bag.

Jackpot.

She’d been writing just earlier. He could nick what he needed and return them before she knew they were gone.

He gave a chuckle as he found numerous bottles of ink, and quills galore at the bottom of her stuffed bag. Only Hermione would have brought that many backups on her person to translate runes in a field. As he put everything back, her somewhat ratty copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard fell open, scattering parchments across the floor.

He gave a groan and stooped to the floor, trying to put the papers in some semblance of order. He’d read the book enough to know what order the stories went in at least. Her usual neat and ordered writing looked almost as loopy and sloppy as his, but after a tick he realized he wasn’t holding translations at all.

There were haphazard notes and semblances of ideas, none about fairy tales or runes.

Portkey. (need to research obtaining one and cost) Taxi. ( £60?) Hotel. (??) Food. (???) Yellow pages. Government records. Private investigator. (cost?) Go to library? Research prices and conversion rate. Check on house. How many days would I be gone?

It took a few moments to decipher the cryptic list. Conversion rates? A portkey? Where was she planning on going? Then it hit him with all the subtlety of a bludger to the head. This was about her parents, and Australia.

He’d been so taken up with his family he hadn’t really thought about Hermione’s. They were safely away, and though Hermione had talked about them in passing, she’d never mentioned going to get them.

Normally he could imagine her dealing with this on her own. Her sharp mind always parsed problems with ease, and she was a bit of a genius to boot. Lately though… It wasn’t like she wasn’t still incredibly intelligent, but there was something off in just about everything she did. The way she ate, the way she talked, the way she slept… Her usual meticulous notes were haphazard and directionless, laid out in a mess like he’d never seen from her before.

Funds- £56 5 Galleons, 2 knuts. Sell jewelry from home? Get loan? Rent house? Ask Harry? Get job- where? Muggle or wizard?

He wasn’t exactly sure how much fifty-six pounds was in Wizard money, but he doubted it could be all that much, if the local Muggle market’s grocery prices were anything to go by. He couldn’t imagine her getting a job or sorting all the details out on her own in her current state.

Ron carefully tucked the pages back into Beedle and placed it in her bag.

Sure he’d put things back in their place, he bounded up the stairs and began filling out forms at a haphazard pace. Giving the forms a final once over, he called Pig over to deliver them. Before he’d even had a chance to attach them, his little owl excitedly chirped and flew straight into the window.

“Shit! Pig, you ok?” Ron asked, picking up the little owl. Pig shook his head and cheeped at Ron, eagerly cuddling up under his chin. “Alright alright! Calm down! Keep it together. I need you to deliver these for me. This goes to the Auror Admissions Office at the Ministry. Think you can find that and not fly into any more windows?”

Pig preened and twittered in confirmation as Ron tied the forms to his leg.

“You’ve got this, little guy,” he said, before opening the window and watching his owl fly into the distance.

Hopefully the department would get him assessed quickly. Even with his starting money from the Auror program he wasn’t sure it would be enough to cover a trip around the world to recover her parents. Maybe he could work somewhere to make some more money for her? If he started by the end of the week, perhaps he could save enough to get Hermione to her parents before Hogwarts commenced.

She didn’t know where to find her parents, but he knew exactly who to seek help with for this. Percy had been put in charge of family reunification. Sure, Hermione had split her family up, not the war or imprisonment, but surely she’d still qualify for help. It was the least the Ministry could do for her after everything she’d gone through. When he went to the Ministry for his assessments he’d nip on down to Percy’s office.

Semblance of a plan in place, he loped down the stairs. In the living room the match between the Kestrels and Harpies was still playing over the radio.

George had nodded off in a corner of the sofa, while their mum sleepily knitted in her usual chair, looking a bit more herself. Ginny was seated on the other end of the sofa with Harry leaning against her legs. His friend looked thoroughly blissed as one of her hands went through his hair. She caught Ron’s eye and gave him a small smile that he returned. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes seeing his best friend look like that with his baby sister, but he didn’t have the heart when they looked so very calm and happy.

As pleasing as it was to see things had calmed down, none of them were the person he was looking for. Ginny caught his consternation and indicated her head towards the kitchen.

He spun and found Hermione putting some mugs on a tray. She turned to him and smiled. In a few strides he was behind her, putting his arms around her and kissing her temple. He reveled in the feeling of her relaxing into his chest and held her even tighter.

“Mmm I missed you,” she said in a languid voice. Visions of her damned lists for Australia flooded his mind.

“M’sorry I haven’t been here for you,” he mumbled into her hair.

“I must admit, listening to a Quidditch game on the wireless is not exactly my idea of fun,” she said with a small laugh.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?” she asked, turning around to look at him, her full lips just barely turning up in a mischievous smile. Her hair was mussed with the ends of her waves fraying in several errant directions, just like they had earlier behind the shed. Her questioning gaze pierced right through him, making him feel ten feet tall and as small as a gnome all at once. Merlin, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever beheld.

He leaned in to catch her lips, hand grazing her soft cheek, before leaning his forehead against hers.

“You’re being awfully sweet,” she whispered.

“You need some sweetness,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll get the tea, you go sit.”

“I was thinking of taking a nap, actually.”

“Yeah?” he asked, putting the kettle on the stove. “Would you mind some company?”

“I actually do want to nap, and not… Not the activities we did earlier.”

“Activities?” he slowly repeated.

“Er… Behind the shed.” A wonderful blush tinged her cheeks, making his own neck start to heat up.

“Oh right!” His voice embarrassingly cracked a bit. He grabbed a tin of tea from the shelf, before looking across to Hermione. “Well— well, as much as I enjoyed those activities , I really could use a kip.”

“Wouldn’t your Mum mind?” She bit her lip, looking far too worried about something as silly as a nap next to her boyfriend.

“Honestly, given her reaction to catching us snogging the other day, I don’t think she’d much care, seeing as we’re only napping…” He squinted and scrutinised her, before giving a cheesy grin. “Unless you were planning something else?”

“No, we are definitely only napping!” she primly replied, her little nose scrunching up to glare at him.

He loved it when she scrunched her face like that. He’d keep poking her until she’d be warring between laughter and throwing up her hands in disgust. She could scowl and pout and even stomp her feet saying he’d crossed some indecorous line— but after years of teasing her, he had a good sense for where the actual lines were drawn for her. Honestly, it was a bit thrilling to walk those lines, waiting to see how she’d react.

“What was that line from that Shaker guy… The lady doth protest too much?” Ron asked.

“Don’t think Shakespeare will make me think you’re less disgusting!”

“Hey, I just want to nap. You’re the one who’s inferring all sorts of filthy things.”

“I’m not!”

“Who brought up our time behind the shed, and who brought up actually sleeping?” She rolled her eyes, but her flush deepened. His grin grew broader. “That’s what I get for dating an older woman.”

“Older woman?” she snorted.

“Older and wiser in the ways of the world. Trying to corrupt this poor youth,” he said, giving her a pat on the head. She gave what was supposed to be an intimidating glare, then landed a playful swat at his arm, looking around to see if anyone had heard.

“We’re only napping! Stop being such a troglodyte.”

“I dunno… Are you certain you can keep your hands off me?”

“Quite,” she muttered, though her mouth was twitching. “You’ll be lucky if I ever want to look at you again, you prat,”

“Good thing, that, cause I am absolutely knackered,” he said with a yawn that started feigned, but ended up rumbling through his ears and becoming quite genuine. “Couldn’t keep up with you and your endless seductions if I wanted.”

Her face was so flushed, he was surprised she hadn’t broken into a sweat. Instead she hid her face in her hands and let out something between a groan and a giggle. “Sto-oop!”

“Fine, I’ll stop.” He leaned down and kissed her hair. “But only because you’re cute when you blush.”

She smiled in earnest at his compliment. He liked how bashful she got whenever he did it. He needed to do it more.

“I guess we’ll meet in your room then?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you upstairs once I’m done serving this lot tea.”

He watched her go with a look that had to be besotted beyond anything, but he didn’t care. He was still shocked he got to kiss her every day. Not wanting Hermione to change her mind, he quickly got tea to the living room, finding Ginny was the only one left awake.

“Can you put a heat-preserving charm on the teas for when they wake up?” she whispered.

He silently fulfilled her request and headed up the stairs, muffling a laugh behind his hand. He’d remembered the heating charm for water! He didn’t mind the stairs knowing he had Hermione waiting in his bed, and took them two at a time.

He gave a knock and opened his door to find his orange room didn’t look the same as it had earlier.

“Looks nice in here,” he said, looking around the room.

There had been bits of mess in all the corners when he left, but she’d tidied them all and spelled some curtains over the windows, making the room feel a whole lot less like a rank teenage boy’s room and much more a cozy den for dozing. His bed had also been expanded by a few feet.

The best sight was her, though.

She was curled up in the corner of his bed, sleepily blinking at him, a little smile on her lips. He considered changing out of his jeans to be more comfortable, but maybe she’d been right about warning him from any activities. With her head on his pillow, hair enticingly falling around her shoulders, and her wrapped in his sheets… Yeah, it’d be best to keep the jeans on.

He slipped in beside her and felt a charge run through him as she snuggled up to his chest, her arm ribboning around his middle. The contented keenness he’d felt quickly faded as her breathing evened out and she quickly fell asleep.

Alone, and with nothing to distract him, his mind teemed with Australia, the Aurors, and about a million other things. He tried concentrating on the feel of Hermione in his arms, the whiff of vanilla lipgloss she always used, the cadence pattern of her breath. He closed his eyes.

Sleep gave him a giant middle finger as a feeling of dread settled in. Shit. He’d become such a fucking sad sack!

At one point in his life he had been able to silently sit with himself. He used to be able to lounge and happily daydream. He could allow his mind to blankly relax, and the only chatter would be that of Hermione’s, spilling over him like a warm bath.

Now his mind was overly full, and Hermione silently held him. She hadn’t excitedly gabbed about things in ages. She had dark bags under her eyes and looked so thin and fragile it made something deep in his chest ache.

If she could hear his thoughts she’d be berating him, claiming how very un-fragile she was. Until the past few weeks, he never would have dared to dispute it. She was tenacious and determined, using her brains and stubbornness to push herself beyond her comfort and limits all the time. Perhaps she’d pushed herself too many times. Maybe her body and mind had finally given out, like a Patronus when a herd of Dementors bore down on them.

His breath hitched as memories began to dredge up.

“You awake?” he whispered.

He felt her, rather than heard her, give a small irritated grunt that vibrated against his ribs.

“Right, sorry. You said you needed a nap…”

She nodded and squeezed him before going lax against him again. Minutes passed and he could tell she was asleep from her deep even breaths.

She was asleep. And everyone else too. No one was keeping watch.

If someone came to the house there would be no one there to stop them. They could push right in and blow the living room up without a second thought. Or a few well placed demolishing charm explosions could bring the whole place down if they wanted.

Mind rattling like a broom pushed too far and fast, a restlessness stole even the whispers of sleep from him. He tried to peer out the window without moving, but Hermione had done too thorough a job blocking out the windows.

He was being ridiculous. No one would wage an attack in the middle of the afternoon. Or would they try because it was less expected and there would be less people defending the house? Everyone knew his dad worked at the Ministry and could trail him easy enough, and there was still a long list of Death Eaters, political criminals, and even Snatchers on the run who all might want a piece of them. If he bailed now, then it only left Ginny awake. Did she even have a wand on her?

So many thoughts pressed against his skull that they barely felt his own. He knew what it was to share his mind with outside forces; to have thoughts not his own intruding, slithering between the cracks and widening them into chasms. He didn’t need a locket to do it now, though. Worry after worry rattled at him until he couldn’t lay still another moment. He had to check outside!

He did his best to gently extricate Hermione’s thin arm, despite his anxiousness, and opened the window covering enough to have a proper look out. Nothing. There was nothing.

Everyone was napping and able to find some semblance of peace, but there he was with a rattling brain. No one was awake, and there was no way to force himself to sleep at this point.

He felt ridiculously alone, despite having Hermione just feet away in his bed. He hadn’t felt nearly this alone in the tub, which made zero sense.

He went to the bed and gently pushed some of the curls away from Hermione’s face. Her brows creased with worry even in her sleep. He knew what he could do to ease her worries. He brushed a kiss against her forehead headed for the garden. Eventually either people would awaken or someone would arrive— either way he could leave after and solve one of Hermione problems. After only a few minutes there was a ‘pop!’ of apparition.

“Dad!” he called out. They exchanged security questions before Ron said, “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Well, even with things at the Ministry in such a mess, we need a bit of time off,” he replied, looking every bit as tired as Ron felt. “It helps that Kingsley knew I could use some sleep after last night. Were you able to get a kip in?”

“A bit.”

His father looked at him with concern, but said no more on it. “I didn’t expect George to come home so soon. How’s he been?”

“When he arrived I stopped him out here to make sure he was able to handle all of— of this...” he said gesturing to the house. “He thought I was saying he couldn’t ‘be happy enough’ or something… Got a bit shirty, so there’s that. ”

Ron went on to explain the outing George and everyone were planning for the evening.

“Do you think that’s wise, given what happened last night?”

“No, it’s daft, but everyone could use it. Even bIoody Harry looked pleased about it. Don’t worry, though. I can watch after George.”

“You don’t have to watch after your brother.”

“Well if I don’t then—”

“If he breaks his parole by apparating drunk again, that’s on him. Not you,” his father said with finality. “He’s a grown man and he shouldn’t have a child tending to him.”

“I’m not a child. I’m eighteen,” said Ron, drawing himself up, making sure his father could see how he had a fair few inches on him. “I need to go to the village.”

“Oh?” He waited for an explanation but Ron didn’t give one. “Get some bread and rashers while you’re there?”

Ron gave a grunt, but grabbed some muggle money from a tin on the shelf.

It was a familiar walk he had taken many a time before. He could remember running alongside his much older brothers as they went on errands for their mum, and other times sprinting on his own to find the secret little spot he’d found hidden in the village.

In a house so crowded it was rare to find a moment to oneself. He’d been elated to find his own place to hide that no one knew about. A little spot all his own! How clever he’d felt to have a hideout no one knew of. There was a giant stump that must have been one of those old world trees, it looked so massive. Sunbeams would freckle the bit of earth and willows with sunlight, and the nearby bakery made it smell like Mum’s kitchen.

The spot was abandoned and close to an apparition point. He could apparate there quite safely and save himself and his tired body the walk. It wouldn’t be like last time. It would surely be safe to apparate there now. He would not be surrounded. He would not taste blood in his mouth. He would… much rather walk.

As he walked he felt the warmth of the sun penetrating his skin, most likely bound to give him a sunburn. Stupid bloody ginger complexion. Despite his ambling pace he reached the village in a short time and saw a familiar pub. He’d called Hermione from it enough times to know the help there by face, but never by name.

Stepping in he saw the most familiar face glowering at him from behind the bar. Ron ducked his head a bit, seeing the annoyance and recognition on the man’s face.

“You come to yell into one of me phones again?” the broad man asked him.

Ron’s ears burned. That wasn’t very fair. He’d only screamed into the phone a few times. He’d learned since then and had done a pretty good job of volume control since. He was surprised he was recognized. He was over half a foot taller than he had been, and definitely wasn’t as scrawny.

“I came to see if you have any work I can help with, or know of one hearabouts,” he said rather stoutly.

“Just so happens we could use someone on the late shifts for a few pickup hours here or there. Bussing and washing dishes,” the barman said, crossing his arms as he looked Ron up and down. “You have any experience?”

“I can clean and know how to drive,” Ron ticked off. Ron had never driven a bus, but had enough experience washing dishes. Maybe not the Muggle way, or in a restaurant, but he could manage. “I live a ten minute walk away and I’ll work real hard.”

“What motivates yer then?”

“My girl,” he answered simply, though it made his neck burn.

The man rolled his eyes. “Jaysus— I meant what can I say to make you move your arse.”

“Oh! Well… Just tell me to and... and I will.”

The barman kept looking him up and down with a surly expression on his face.

“Well, I’ll think about it. I can call you later to give an answer.”

“But I don’t have a phone.”

“Not at all?” the barman asked, his heavy brows scrunching even further together. “Just buy one at the shop around the corner.”

“Well, we don’t have el- electricity at our place,” Ron tripped over his words. Electricity was one of those words so often said wrong in his house it was hard to remember the right term. “It’s just an old farm.”

Ron hoped it didn’t sound too off to the Muggle man. He was looking oddly at Ron, as if trying to work out a puzzle about him, but was no longer scowling.

“If you’re worried about giving me schedules or whatever, maybe you can put a note in the window with my hours?” Ron offered, filling up the silence, not comfortable under such direct scrutiny. “I can check it every morning and night to see if you need me.”

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” the barman sighed.

“I’d work hard, I promise!”

The man barked for someone to come out from the kitchen to cover the rather barren bar, and walked through a swinging door to the back, leaving Ron to awkwardly stand about, not knowing what to do with his hands.

“Well? You coming?” the barkeep growled.

“Oh! Yeah!” Ron said, following him. He wasn’t that familiar with Muggle customs, so perhaps it was a thing to just walk off like that? He followed him past some metal tables and a giant metal door to a small humid room.

“This is the dishwasher,” he said, pulling a lever to reveal scalding dishes and tons of steam. “Dishes and such get scraped and rinsed with the hose, put through this, then once dry you put 'em out for us to use. Easy enough?”

It was simple enough. His dad would be over the moon to inspect the shiny metal box and gadgetry. He was not looking forward to scraping plates if he were to be hired, but the Muggle didn’t have to know that he’d just be scourgifying stuff in the back half the time. It was private enough back there that he could do it without being seen.

“You got any rubber shoes?”

“Rubber?” asked Ron, perplexed.

“So you don’t scald your feet with hot water.” he said, pointing at Ron’s scuffed trainers that had definitely seen better days. They were a bit too tight and his toe almost popped out of one of them. His newer pair was buried on Dobby’s tiny body. “Well?”

“Oh! Er… I have some leather boots or wellies I could borrow.”

The man gave him the same studying look at Ron.

“That’ll do. You come in tomorrow at two tomorrow afternoon.”

Ron stopped short. “So… Does that mean—?”

“I’m not asking you to come use our phone, am I? This is a trial period only, but if you move your arse you get to stay and make decent wages.”

“Right!” he said nodding before smiling. He hadn’t realized the barkeep was the manager or whatever of the pub, and he most definitely hadn’t realized he’d just been hired. “Thank you so much!”

“We still need to fill out your paperwork. How old’re you?”

“Eighteen.”

“This your first job?”

“Does that matter?”

“Cagey, you are…” the barkeep said with a scrutinizing look. “But long as you’re on time I don’t much care.”

He was handed a form, which made it the seventeenth form of the day he had to fill out, but he couldn’t mind. He now had a way to make Hermione money for her trip! This plus the signing bonus from the Aurors should cover the costs. He started to fill it out with a pen, but quickly found they wanted all sorts of numbers and information he couldn’t give without thinking up a lie, or enchanting the paper to fool the Muggle manager. Making up his mind to finish it later, and find out what a National Insurance Number was, he took his form and left.

He found some of the restless tension he’d wrestled with since the wee hours of the morning had dissipated. He’d finally been able to do something right and took steps towards making a difference.

He turned the corner to grab some the groceries his father had requested when all the elation fled his body.

A fence had been torn down, because it normally wouldn’t be visible from the small lane. He could clearly see the stump he’d apparated to all those months ago. His childhood safe spot that had been desecrated. Part of him wanted to go explore it, but the other wanted to burn the little area to the ground. Instead he stood and stared at it, completely frozen.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there staring, but by the time he came to himself the form he’d been given by the pub manager was wrinkled to shit, his nails had driven themselves deep into his fisted hands enough to bleed a tiny bit, and a clock was chiming the the hour, when he’d sworn it was a good thirty minute til.

He turned around and returned home, wiping the blood on his jeans.

As he arrived home, he saw Bill and Charlie setting up tables and chairs outside.

“Ron!” cried Charlie, a rumble of chairs and benches walking into place across the lawn. “Order of Merlin? And the Aurors! Brilliant!”

“Yes, well done,” added Bill, giving Ron a nod and look of approval. At one point Ron would have preened at such attention from his eldest brothers, but he just felt raw and strange under their gazes.

“Not much of a surprise, though,” said Charlie, giving Ron a thump on the back that nearly sent him sprawling. “After all you did the last year or so, they were bound to want you.”

Ron tried to smile at them, though he knew it was more of a grimace.

“I’d better help Mum, if she’s cooking for everyone.”

“Don’t worry, Fleur’s got it,” said Charlie, heading inside to get more chairs.

“How’re you doing?” asked Bill. He had a discerning look on his face that Ron wanted nothing to do with.

“‘M fine,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s an ok day, though. You got awards and job offers. And George is back, of course.”

Ron gave a snort. “I guess.”

“Well you’ve been doing a lot around the house. Glad you’re going out tonight.”

Ron gave huff. “I’m not exactly looking forward to it.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t feel like it.” He couldn’t say how George would need babysitting, how Harry was one loud crash away from killing someone with a spell, how Hermione looked ready to keel over, how Ginny was almost crying all the time, or how he was so fucking tired. Bill was waiting for an explanation. “There’s just… There’s a lot going on.”

Bill gave a nod. “If you want to get away from things for a bit, maybe you could come to Shell Cottage for a visit.”

“I’m not running away to your place to escape my responsibilities anymore.”

“Ron, that’s not what happened.”

“Don’t tell me what happened!” Ron snapped. His fists clenched and he felt the raw crescent cuts in his palms sting.

“Fine then... Dad told me what all you’ve been up to, including George last night. It’s great you’re helping out everyone, but you can’t keep running yourself into the ground.”

“I’m not,” he replied with a forced calm, “I’m fine.”

Bill looked unconvinced.

“You look like shit. Maybe you should take a nap before going out.”

“Cheers,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes, pushing past Bill into the house.

As usual it was a crush of people inside. In the corner he saw Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson had joined their party as well, giving him even more cover.

No-one noticed another redhead amongst the lot and he was able to escape to the stairs without anyone the wiser. When he got to his room he found Harry, Ginny and Hermione convening, so he quickly stashed the form for the pub in his back pocket.

“Look who’s back,” said Ginny with a smile. Harry and Hermione both turned, Harry looking immensely relieved and Hermione looking worried.

“You alright?” Harry asked, as Hermione simultaneously asked, “Where were you?”

He stutteringly explained he’d gone to the village for some supplies, and though Harry and Ginny seemed to take this at face value, Hermione didn’t look convinced. She didn’t have time to question him, though, as they were all called to dinner.

“You don’t normally go to the village alone for supplies,” Hermione noted, as Harry and Ginny walked well ahead of them.

“Yeah, well, usually Mum's the one to get stuff, isn’t she?”

She looked inclined to push him on it, so as they took their seats Ron wedged himself between Ginny and his Mum, knowing both would be too distracted by others to bother with him.

He was happy to not speak to anyone and just listen to conversations.

“Well, Percy couldn’t come because of his work with family reunification at the DMT. His desk is just swamped with people looking for their families,” Mum was explaining to Fleur.

“Weren’t you playing Quidditch for the Bats?” Charlie asked Angelina.

“The Tornadoes, but you need peripheral vision and mine’s a bit shit on the right side since the war.”

Down the table Lee sat with George, whose smile almost looked genuine. Lee’s hair was a bit lopsided where he’d had to shave it off. Part of it had burnt off, and he had a wicked burn scar down the back of his neck.

Ron couldn’t help thinking how there were so many ways a person can lose things in a war: careers, body parts, dignity, friends, a brother.

“Hey, everyone, a toast!” George suddenly burst out. Ron winced, but everyone else seemed happy to raise their glasses. “To The Tallest of Little Brothers and his fine sandwich making skills, the Brain who set out the flatware so nicely for this meal, and The Boy-Who-Kicked-Arse at playing chess against Charlie, who sucks balls.”

Everyone laughed and said cheers, with two exceptions. The first was Mum, who was chastising George for his language and ‘not saying a word about what they’d actually accomplished,’ though she had a bit of a smile on her face she was trying to hide.

The second was Ron, who wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel like celebrating anything again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks so much for reading and all the support, lovlies! :D If you like this, please leave a comment! :D They mean so much to me and motivate me so much as well.

Sorry it's been a while between updates. In a very intense grad school program :P

KEEP SAFE! KEEP IT MAGICAL! :) -Hill

60 notes · View notes