#I have a lot of apprehension around this darling and Soap

[ghouljams]

fae!soap’s darling is one of those crazy makes you throw up poems in her notes app girls

Ding ding ding, here's the threat, the hard darling, the crazy girl

Warnings: Very public sex, themes around addiction/interventions(if you squint)

This is really Gaz's hunting ground. The thumping bass, the technicolor lights, the sea of people. But Soap isn't looking to hunt tonight. He's drained, wasted some of his best magic on a musician that wouldn't pan out. What he needs is thoughtless, what he needs is sex. He catches your arm as you walk past him. The prettiest thing in this hole.

"Can ah buy ya a bev, Bonnie?" He asks, watching your eyes flick approvingly down his body.

You've never been one to pass up an easy catch.

He presses you against the wall, his tongue insistent against yours, hands gripping your hips tight. You get the feeling this guy just got out of a relationship. This sort of intensity only comes from trying to forget someone. Which is good for you, means less talking.

Soap slides a hand from your hip to push between your legs under your skirt. The club is loud, crowded, not very well lit, good for a quickie. You're already wet at the prospect of it. You can feel his smile against your lips when he feels just how soaked you are. He pulls away from kissing you to press closer, speak in your ear where he knows you'll hear.

"All this for me, hen?" He's cocky, you like cocky.

"Could've been for my date if he'd found me first." You tell him, you don't think he's used to being a second choice. Cocky guys never are.

"Just have to make it f'me then," He tells you low and dangerous, fingers rubbing you through your underwear. You smile, tipping your head to suck at his neck as you rock against his fingers.

He's good with his hands, you'll give him that. 

Soap pushes your panties to the side, fingers collecting your slick before pressing into your hole. They’re thick, dextrous, crooking to stroke your walls with practiced precision as the heel of his hand grinds against your clit. You hum, your hips following the stroke of his fingers. He pushes them against the spongy spot near your entrance over and over, stirring need in you like he has a direct line to your orgasm. You press against him, twist your fingers in his shirt desperate to hold onto something while he works you up. You drop your forehead against his shoulder, grind against his hand as you focus on the tight knot in your stomach. 

“Come on sweetheart,” He whispers, lips catching the shell of your ear, “be good for me, yeah?” You nod all too eager to cum when you can feel his hard cock pressing against your leg. That’s what you really want, you can pluck at a few strands and push yourself over the edge if it means you get fucked after. You shake against him, his fingers never stopping as your walls flutter around them. You can feel the slick dripping off of you when he pulls them out. 

Soap opens his belt and fly one handed, pulling his cock free, his slick fingers pumping it, getting rid of some of your wetness before his hands hook under your thighs. He lifts you with that wonderful inhuman strength and pins you between the wall and his body. You wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts his cock against your slit. The weight, the angle, god when he fills you he fills you. Gorgeous thick cock pushing your gooey walls apart to make room for itself, the length of him hitting you deep enough you feel it in your stomach. You purr, clenching around him as you squeeze your arms around his shoulders. 

“Fuck you’re squeezin’ the life outta me, bonnie.” He groans as you tease your teeth against his pulse. That’s the idea. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, your t-shirt the only thing protecting your back from being scraped against the wall, and you bite him as he bounces you on his cock. 

The drag of his thick length is hot enough to make your head spin. His hips snapping against yours, hitting that deep spot that makes your toes curl, that makes heat knot in your stomach again. You moan into your bite, doing your best to muffle yourself when all you want to do is scream. You’re oversensitive, and he is driving you back to the edge as he chases his own high. You do your best to meet his thrusts, distract him from your fingers threading through the tethers that lead off of him. There’s got to be something in- You pull on a painter’s thread and Soap shudders, pressing hard into you as he cums. 

You feel the trap on your back light up, tugging attempting tethers into the sink like a black hole. Sexual energy fills you as nicely as Soap’s thick seed. Your legs feel a little weak when he pulls out and sets you back on the ground. You lean against the wall, catching your breath as he tucks himself back into his pants. You give him a thumbs up when he reaches to… you don’t know, check on you?

“I’m gonna find my date,” You tell him. A look of confusion crosses his face, you don’t give him time to respond before you disappear into the crowd. No need to stick around and deal with whatever baggage he’s got.

-

You bump into Soap at a shitty underground show your friend dragged you to, promising cheap drinks and hot potential hook ups. Normally you're a one and done sort of person, men are so emotional you really can't spare them more than one no strings attached fuck. You don't think this guy has even heard of feelings the way he holds you against his cock and grinds against you in the dim lights on the outside of the mosh pit. He certainly doesn't seem to feel anything but desperate when he bites your shoulder.

"Too many people," You tell him as he soothes his tongue over his bite.

"Wasn't a problem last time," You roll your eyes, yeah you'll give him that. People are a little more watchful here though, this show is at a bigger risk of getting busted up by the cops. You're not getting cuffed outside the bedroom again.

"Ok well it's a problem this time, so find somewhere private." You gripe, hearing a grumble of protest before Soap pulls away to glance around the venue. "Think there's a loft somewhere, might have a bed." You pick at your top, waiting on Mr. Bitey to come up with something better. His eyes dart around the top edge of the warehouse before nodding.

You half lead, half follow him to the loft space overlooking the party. You test the lock as he tests the bed, or the mattress. What is it with punk guys not having bed frames? Is a bed frame too establishment? Better than nothing you suppose, and the place looks clean. Now that you think about it this might be the band’s place. Funny.

You don’t really want to stick around here too long. You drop to your knees in front of Soap. His hand moves immediately to drag fingers along your jaw, tip your head to look at you. 

“Wouldn’t want anyone else getting this view,” He tells you, you roll your eyes more focused on getting his belt open than whatever charm he’s trying to hit you with. It won’t work anyway, you’re more than protected against his magic. Still, it’s always funny seeing weavers try to work you.

“Your dirty talk could use some work,” You tug his pants down, wrap your fingers around his cock. You hadn’t seen it last time, but it’s just as pretty as the rest of him. You’re careful as you drag your tongue along his length, slicking the pump of your fingers. Soap swears over you, eyes fixed on the movement of your mouth. You put on a good show for him, kissing his thick cock between strokes of your hand, sucking at the head and lapping at the beading pre-cum. Your eyes lock on his, enjoying the way his pupils dilate for you. 

“Fuck you are good at this,” He groans, watching you swallow the length of his cock. You hum affirmative, your hand leaving his cock to cup his balls. You’ve done this enough times, you should be at least competent at it.

You can feel the pentacles on your back starting to turn, the itch of warded magic. So compliments are part of it. Noted. 

Soap’s hand presses against the back of your head, and you’re happy to give him a second just to feel your throat constrict around him as you swallow before you’re bobbing your head. Your tongue drags along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins and circling the head. You never take your eyes off of Soap, too eager to watch him lose a piece of his composure. 

And he does, the cracks in his cocksure mask slipping as he swears and bucks into your mouth. Curling over you with a low moan when he does finally cum. You lick him clean as more hooks get redirected by your ward. More threads worked into your trap. Insurance.

You leave to find your friends before he can get it in his head to ask about the tethers.

-

You're talking to a guy at the bar, half interested too, when someone catches your arm and drags you away. You yank your arm away in protest and round on the guy only to realize you recognize him. Fuck what was his name, you've hooked up a couple times before.

"Oh hey, Mr. Clean, welcome back." You absolutely fumble whatever he's actually called. He barely seems to hear you, already dragging you towards the bathroom. The broken mirror and sticker covers stalls barely register over the way Soap kicks a stall open and pushes you into it. He locks the stall door behind you, and turns the both of you so you're pressed against it, dropping to his knees.

"Why is it every time I see you, you're with someone?" He asks, hardly waiting for the go ahead before he's dragging your shorts down.

"Bad timing?" You joke, he doesn't laugh frustrated with something. Not you, you think, otherwise he wouldn't press his mouth to your cunt with such an eager groan. You thread your fingers through your hair and exhale as you feel one of your hooks grab him. His tongue rolls over your clit, stoking the rapidly igniting heat between your legs, you wonder what’s got him all worked up. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’s an easy meal.

You let out a shuddering breath, his tongue following the movement of your hips as you try to keep quiet in the empty bathroom. His mouth is hot, a furnace befitting a summer fae, just at the edge of too warm for you. His lips close around your clit, fingers digging into your thighs to leave bruises for the rest of the bar to see. The suction makes your hole clench, and you can feel the way slick smears with each drag of his hungry tongue. Eating you like a last meal, fast and aggressive. Like he can’t think of anything but your cunt. 

He might not be able to. You’re never sure about your dosage for repeat customers. Coaxing his energy just a little heavier, feeling the rush of it when he palms himself through his pants.

“Good boy,” You purr, enjoying the shiver that sends down his spine. The renewed need that has him pressing his tongue into you, tasting you from the source. You press your fingers a little more insistently against the back of his head, hips bucking to follow the stroke of his tongue. He needs this, you think, needs the easy rush as badly as you do. An addict chasing their high.

His tongue twists and you whine, pressing your hand against your mouth. He does it again and you know he wants to hear you. But that won’t happen here, and he sure as shit isn’t coming back to your place. Still, it’s good, electric and wet. The attention to your clit sends sparks up your spine, paying you back for leaving him last time. 

His hand leaves your thigh to push his fingers into your cunt as his tongue flickers against you. His fingers crook, twisting and stroking until the added stimulation makes you push down hard against his mouth, whining loud into your hand as you cum. 

You feel his tethers hit your trap hard as your legs shake. His groans against you, fingers and tongue still working your clenching cunt into overstimulation. You grab a fistful of the tethers leading off of him and yank him back. He stares up at you with glassy eyes as you pull your shorts back up and tumble out of the stall to get the fuck out of dodge.

-

Soap stares daggers across the bar table, his fist tightly pressed against his mouth as his scotch sweats in front of him.

"What's bit your ass?" Gaz asks, barely drawing Soap's attention away from the space over Price's shoulder.

"Ah'm bloody starvin'." Soap snaps, the other three men at the table exchange a look. He's been through more artists in the last three months than ever before.

"What happened to the bird with the violin?" Gaz tries, voice measured and slow to keep the concern at the edges. Ghost's brows twitch together watching Soap drag a hand down his face.

"Only gave me one piece."

"Any good?" Price chimes in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Soap frowns.

"Really good."

"Then what's the problem?" Price presses. Soap doesn't know. It used to be enough. Ages ago one haunting piece could keep him for months, years if it was good enough. He was patient, he wasn't as jaded. What happened?

"Johnny," Ghost starts, Soap turns his glare on him, Ghost glares back switching tactics as the concern leaves his voice, "Find a new meal. There's a reason leanan don't live long." Soap scowls.

"Ah found one, and they don' give two shits about me."

"Sounds like a nice change of pace." Ghost says dryly. Price nudges him. 

“You got any tethers in ‘em?” Price asks, trying to ease the Scot’s tension. Soap stops, thinking. He’s met you three times, he should have something, but as far as he can feel they’ve been empty interactions. So why do you fill his head at every spare moment? Why does he want to see you so badly?

“Not one,” Soap says finally.

“Christ you’re as bad as Ghost,” Gaz groans. Price stays silent, gaze heavy, inspecting. He snuffs his cigar after a moment, and pulls a new one from his pocket.

“I’m only gonna ask this once, so I’d think real hard on it,” Price strike a match to life with his fingernail, lighting his cigar with narrowed eyes like he’s worried Soap might lie, or might not know, “How many hooks they got in you?”

Soap counts zero, nothing, tries to feel for anything new that might have latched onto him. He’d know if a human got a few hooks in him, especially if he hadn’t gotten any in them. But the longer he thinks, the more he feels them.

Intricately latticed gossamer threads dig haphazardly into him, squeezing the other tethers and wrapping around old hooks. They constrict and expand just shy of tight. Just shy of noticeable. Now that they have been noticed, the feeling makes him shudder, it’s unmistakable. Soap drags a finger along one, hissing at the blood it draws, the way the line lights up red before falling away. Gaz leans back away from him, pressing against Ghost’s stiff form. Price exhales smoke across the table, the tendrils latching onto the spider silk threads and snapping them.

#Did no one consider that Soap's darling might not be an artist? #or at least not one in anything but body language #What do you give the man that's never had to work for his darlings affection? #a chase #wow ghoul this seems like another case of two unhealthy people finding love with each other #and what about it? #I have a lot of apprehension around this darling and Soap #my worry is I've gone too ooc for Soap #but I think seeing his own destructive habits mirrored will snap him back to sweet soap #need someone to be genuine for this man #I've been thinking too many sad thoughts about Fae!Soap #Imagine a life knowing no one actually loves you they only love what you give them #afab reader #x reader #fae!Soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x oc #hard darling

[reikoackerman]

An Evening away from the Ackerbabies

Characters: Levi x Rei (me) feat the Ackerman Juniors, and the Smiths

Genre: Modern!au

Warnings: SFW, fluff. TOO MUCH FLUFF. I CREII. Also there's a bit of humour somewhere, and also something suggestive near the end.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is all @mrscommandersmith's fault for planting this brainrot into my head lol, and now I can't get this fixation out of my head. Please also read Mrs Smith's version that she'll be posting on her blog hehe ^^

Also this is an alternate version of our AU haha XD

[October 11 2021]

“Hey, 亲爱的 (darling),” knocking on the door, I called Levi while he was in his study reading a book. It was a rare day where we were both off from work. It had been too long since Levi and I had a nice day to ourselves, and I was thinking of going out for a nice dinner with him. It was just a little past 4pm.

“Yes, mon cœur?” Levi put down his book and smiled, opening his arms to pull me into his lap. 

“It’s our off day today,” I began, removing his glasses and combing his fringe. “I wanna go out on a date with you.” Levi looked at me curiously. 

“A date night?” 

“Yeah, a dinner date with my husband.” I smiled and laced my arms around his shoulder. “We rarely get our off days to be on the same day so… I was thinking of going out on a date with you.” 

“Of course I welcome the idea of a date with you, mon cœur. But what about the kids? Maman isn’t free today, she’s—” 

“Shh, don’t worry. I’ve asked Mia already, she and Erwin are okay to babysit for us.” Levi cocked his brow.

“You’re entrusting two people without kids to take care of OUR kids?” Levi scoffed, laughing and snorting at the same time. 

“It’ll be good practice for them to, you know, learn how to take care of kids,” I wiggled my eyebrows, hoping Levi caught the hidden meaning. Levi remained silent. 

“Or would you rather I call Hange, or Mike instead…?” Levi frowned and vehemently protested. 

With the babysitting issue out of the way, Levi went to pack all the necessary items that Mia and Erwin needed: Extra diapers for the twins, milk powder and milk bottles, oatmeal, bananas, blueberries, and strawberries, extra clothes, towels and napkins, baby powder, baby lotion, baby-friendly shampoo and body wash, some toys, and also their pacifiers. Levi also took a spare baby mat we had in the storeroom. Levi even wrote a long list of instructions on how to make their milk and oatmeal, how to change their diapers, how to give them a shower, and even how to clean them if they peed or pooped. Levi also went to pack some of Renée's favourite story books, her colour pencil set, colouring book, and also her favourite stuffed bear. 

On the other hand, I was giving Renée a shower. It had been a long time since she went over to their place. Renée seemed a little apprehensive about going over too. 

“Mama, why do didi and I have to go over to Aunty Mia and Uncle Erwy’s place?” Renée sulked as I soaped her hair. She always loved it when I soaped her hair because she loved this strawberry-scented shampoo I bought her. However, Renée still didn't seem happy. “Do you not love me and didi any more?” 

“Of course not, ma chérie, Mama and Papa loves you and didi a lot,” I washed the suds off her hair and Renée started pouring her body wash on her palm, lathering it all over and doing a good job washing herself. 

“Mama and Papa have some things to do today, so we can’t bring you, Pierre, and Léon out. Next time, Mama will bring you along, okay? 妈妈答应你 (Mama promise you)。” Renée nodded as I washed the body wash, taking a fluffy towel to dry her up. Once I was done showering Renée, I blew dry her hair while it was Levi's turn to shower. Renée chose her own outfit: a black and orange sunflower dress, and white frilly socks. I tied Renée's hair into two twin pigtails. Just then, Levi came out of the shower and urged me to shower while he went to quickly give the twins a quick rinse. 

While I was showering, I thought about how Levi and I were so used to being parents, and suddenly it felt weird that we're going out without worrying about Léon suddenly crying, or Renée throwing a tantrum while we were outside. Levi and I were also managing our three children really well, we've developed a good balance, command and control. To be honest, I was a little afraid that Mia and Erwin couldn't handle the chaos, they don't have children of their own after all. Deep down, I knew that even though Levi and I were out on a date, our thoughts would definitely be on our children, worrying if they would be causing the couple trouble instead. The twins can be quite a handful, and Renée can be a little too aloof at times. 

When I was done, I dressed up in a simple grey short sleeved dress, and quickly dressed the twins up while Levi got dressed as well. Renée was sitting on her chair reading a book. Levi came out 10 minutes later wearing a white button down and khaki chinos. He even styled his fringe into a slight back comb. I knew it. He’s looking forward to our date night too. How is it that Levi still looks so good when he's already a father of three? If I were single and I saw Levi out in the streets, oh I would fall in love with him and hit on him immediately. 

“Looking good, Monsieur Ackerman,” I giggled, slapping Levi’s ass when he came out. 

“Looking good yourself too, Madame Ackerman.” Levi kissed my cheek as he carried Pierre out of the cot while I took Léon.

Putting the twins into their pram, I grabbed my handbag and pushed their pram out while Levi held on to Renée's hand as he locked our gate and doors. The twins were being really active at the back of the car, cooing and making lots of noise. It's like they know that they're going out and they're excited. Renée kept trying to hush them because she was reading, and she tutted angrily when Pierre tried to pull one of her pigtails. 

Soon, we arrived at the Smiths' place. I dropped Mia a text so that she can open her door for us. The lady of the house soon opened the door, her blonde husband behind her with an arm on her shoulder. 

“Hi Aunty Mia, Hi Uncle Erwy,” Renée greeted them as she removed her shoes and placed them neatly by the side of their gate. 

“Hey Renée, come on in,” Mia stroked Renée’s cheek as she brought her in. “Uncle Erwy bought you a pretty pair of slippers.” Renée took her bag from Levi, slid on her slippers, and walked into the living room on her own, placing her bag down on the floor before asking for the toilet to wash her hands. Mia guided her to the toilet while Erwin helped us move the twins’ pram in.

“Thanks for doing this for us,” I pushed the twins’ pram in, and Pierre started laughing the moment he met Erwin’s eyes while Léon started to whine.

“Oh don’t worry, Rei, it’s a small thing.” Erwin waved his hand before taking the large and extremely heavy bag from Levi with a groan. “Oh damn, Levi, what’s in here?”

“Clothes, food, diapers, towels, baby shampoo and body wash, toys, baby powder, pacifiers, and baby lotion. They’re all for the boys.” Levi frowned before reaching under the pram, taking out the baby mat. “And this is for the boys too. Renée’s fine on her own, just don’t disturb her when she’s doing her things.” 

“Also, the boys have to be asleep by nine, and Renée by ten. No bargaining even though we’re out,” Levi reminded Erwin once more while Erwin opened the large bag. I noticed him letting out a sigh when he saw the whole list of instructions Levi wrote. Mia came back a while later to look at whatever Erwin was reading.

“You’d better follow the steps inside there strictly, Eyebrows. Also, do not let Renée sit too close to the tv, and do not let her read while eating. She’ll take forever to finish her food and—” I quickly covered Levi’s mouth. He was scaring both of them. 

“Amour, stop scaring them,” I frowned, only releasing my hand when I was sure Levi would stop nagging. I squatted down to kiss the twins goodbye. 

“佳玲要听话，好好照顾弟弟们，知道吗？(Renée must be a good girl and watch over your younger brothers, okay?)” I called Renée over as she hugged Levi and I, nodding her head and pecking us on the cheek. 

“Just enjoy your dinner. They’ll be fine,” Mia smiled at us as she ushered us out. “I’ll call you if there’s anything.” Levi looked like he wanted to say more, but I quickly dragged him away, waving goodbye to the Smiths. 

“I’m worried,” Levi grumbled as he got into the car. “What if Shitwin accidentally drops the boys when he’s bathing them?”

“Oh come on, amour, relax. The kids will be fine. Let’s trust them, okay?” I laughed as Levi began to drive out of the apartment’s car park. “It’ll be good practice for them anyway.” 

“I would prefer them not using our kids as practice.” Levi muttered under his breath.

Levi decided to bring me out for some Thai food for dinner. The night was chilly and we both were craving something spicy. It was close to 7pm and everywhere was getting crowded. Fortunately, this Thai eatery had seats. I settled for my favourite pad thai with extra dried chilli flakes and a tom yum goong while Levi got himself a simple basil pork fried rice. We both ordered some amazing Thai milk tea and lemongrass tea too. 

Levi and I had such a pleasant time together. No crying babies, no whiny Renée, no weird looks from others. It was just Levi and I, and our dinner was perfect. We could finally talk and spend time with each other without distractions and stress as parents, it was like we were in our early stages of marriage again, before Renée was born. 

Once we finished our dinner, Levi brought me to the shopping mall too, saying that a date out isn’t complete without a gift. Sometimes this man really spoils me too much. What did I do in my past life to deserve such a doting husband like Levi? Levi knew I couldn’t wear jewellery like many others due to my sensitive skin, so instead of buying me a necklace, or a bracelet, Levi got me a bouquet of roses instead. Everyone was staring at us when I walked around carrying the bouquet. Honestly, Levi really is the sweetest husband out there. 

Levi and I had time for some dessert at a café too. He got me a slice of matcha cheesecake while he ordered a tiramisu for himself. He also ordered a pot of lychee rose oolong tea for us to share. It really had been too long since we were out on a date. I couldn’t stop staring at Levi and his handsome face the entire night, it was like I’m falling in love with him all over again. 

“You’re staring at me a lot tonight, mon cœur,” Levi muttered without looking up from his cake. 

“I was just thinking,” I ate another spoon of my cheesecake and leaned forward. “What if you were single and I saw you looking like this while you walked down the street?” I giggled, leaning my head on my palm. Levi grabbed my left hand and lightly kissed my wedding ring on my ring finger. 

“Tch, you would probably just gawk at me with your mouth open, not doing anything and then complaining to someone when I’m gone.” Levi gave me a slight smile and stroked my fingers, looking back at me without a word. I returned his gaze and smile, gradually rubbing my foot against his calf with a slight giggle. 

The both of us remained like this; Levi's hand on mine while I gave him a little footsie under the table. Levi suddenly raised his eyebrows and his smile became a smirk instead. You, me, in bed, tonight. Watch out. My smile became wider, my foot went a little higher. Come at me, baby. I'm more than ready. While our eyes were still locked on to each other, I had to ruin the moment with a sneeze. Urgh, why didn’t I bring along a cardigan or something? 

“Why didn’t you bring a jacket? You knew it was going to be cold,” Levi frowned as he poured more hot tea for me while I took a piece of serviette to clean my nose. I smiled sheepishly, eating the rest of my cake. Once we were done, Levi downed the last of his tea and escorted me out of the café with a hand resting on my back. It was going to be 10pm soon. How did time fly so quickly? Levi suggested making our way over to Mia and Erwin’s place for the kids and I agreed. Levi and I had uh, pressing matters to attend to at home as well. I dropped Mia another text when we were near, giving her and Erwin enough time to pack. 

“Do you think the twins are asleep? Did they eat their oatmeal, or drank their milk?” Levi started nagging again and I rolled my eyes. He was perfectly fine during dinner, and now he’s acting like this again. 

“They’re fine, amour, Mia didn’t call the entire time, right? Our kids are well-behaved.” I chuckled while Levi continued driving. Soon, we reached their car park again and slowly made our way up. knocking the door, Mia opened up and I noticed that the house was dim. 

“Shh, the kids are asleep,” she hushed us as we removed our footwear and stepped inside, afraid of the mess the twins might have created. Instead, what greeted us was the sight of Renée sitting in Erwin’s lap, head on his chest while her arms were laced around his neck. Renée was sleeping soundly on Erwin’s chest while Erwin had an arm around her protectively. My heart warmed at the sight. It was the first time our little princess slept so soundly around others. I turned to Levi who had a smile on his face as well. 

“I hope they didn’t give you and Erwin any trouble?” I asked Mia as we quietly packed the baby mat and everything else while Levi carried Pierre and Léon out from their bedroom and gently placed them in the pram. 

“Oh, of course not, they’re all really lovely and obedient. Renée’s really sensible, she helped us with your boys. Told us how to change their diapers and all that.” Mia smiled as we kept the toys, turning to look at Renée sleeping in Erwin’s lap again. 

“Thanks for entrusting your babies to us,” Mia chuckled as Levi packed up the baby mat and kept it under the pram. “Erwin and I had a lot of fun, and practical experience.” Even under the dim lighting, I could tell that Mia was blushing. Call it a woman’s sixth sense, or my mother’s instinct, but I knew that perhaps, they were finally ready to have children of their own. I gave Mia a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry, you and Erwin and more than welcome to babysit our kids anytime. But who knows? Maybe you’ll take care of your own kids soon.” I giggled and Mia helped me push the pram out of their house as Levi went to wake Erwin up. Erwin and Levi were talking for a bit, and then Levi carried a sleeping Renée out of their house. We bid the Smiths goodnight and slowly made our way to the car. 

“What did Erwin and you talk about just now?” I asked Levi as he drove home, our kids sleeping soundly at the back. 

“Oh, it’s nothing, He just apologised for not letting Renée sleep more comfortably,” Levi scratched his nose and looked at me when he stopped at the red lights. “He also said he’s thinking of having kids.” My eyes widened in surprise. 

“Really?! That’s the feeling I got from Mia too,” I squealed silently in delight. “Oh, oh, yes! Took them long enough!” 

“Know what I told Erwin next?” Levi had a slight smirk again and sped off when the lights turned green. Grabbing my hand, Levi placed a kiss on the back of it. “Told him I wanted a fourth.” My eyes widened again. 

“Baby, we’re parents of three kids already.” 

“I know, but don’t you think having another one would really complete everything?” Levi stroked my knuckles and looked at me expectantly, reminding me of what happened back at the café. Oh. So that’s what he meant. 

“W-well, I, uh, I m-mean, a fourth child does sound okay, b-but—” 

“If it’s meant to be, then it will.” I sighed in defeat, turning in my seat to face Levi. 

“We’ll see if we’re that lucky, then.” I gave him a flirty smile. 

As we reached home, Levi helped me bring out the pram as I placed the twins inside, pushing them into the house as Levi carried Renée and the heavy bag. He locked the car and joined me, carrying Renée into her room while I placed the boys back in their cots. Léon stirred in his sleep before falling silent again, Pierre still sleeping soundly. Levi came back after a while, asking me to join him in the shower with a teasing look. I laughed out loud, kissing my husband full on the lips as he started unzipping my dress. 

Let’s see if we’re this lucky, I thought to myself as Levi removed my dress while I unbuttoned his shirt, moving my hands down to unzip his chinos. 

And of course, Levi and I really were that lucky, because a month later, my home pregnancy test kit said I was ‘pregnant’. 

THANKS FOR THE BABY FEVER MRS SMITH XOXO!!!! Also, yes, this is uhhhh, baby 4's origin story hehe >\\<

#levi x rei #reivi #self indulgent writing

[scummy-writes]

Arthur Week Day 1: Firsts

Rating: Mature (themes)

Words: 1334

Pairing: Theo/Arthur

Full fic under the cut!

『• • • ✎ • • •』

With a low groan, Arthur gingerly stretched out his legs, already beginning to feel the ghost of a deep ache settling in. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, arm slung over his eyes, before finally muttering to the other man in the room.

“Just give me a moment, I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

Theo said nothing in response, already having cleaned himself up and was beginning to get dressed himself. And if this wasn’t the usual, Arthur would have been concerned. But this was Theo; This was their relationship.

Or, so he thought.

As the bed dipped under Theo’s weight, Arthur peeked out from under his arm, giving the man a bleary but confused look of concern. “Hey, I know you’re eager to sleep but-”

Theo cut him off with a scoff, plopping a wet washcloth onto Arthur’s stomach- ignoring the small yelp it brought out.

“I’m not that bad, klootzak.”

“Right, forgive me, I must have missed that last time.” Arthur shot a crooked smile his way, “... I take it that I can borrow your bathroom for a bit?”

“Mm.”

It didn’t take long for Arthur to clean up- in fact most of what kept him in Theo’s bathroom was snooping. Looking at the brand; of shampoo, soaps, and cologne he owned- both bottles, frowning when he saw the one he had gifted Theo last Christmas still basically untouched. He shook off the annoyance, taking the sudden flash of the emotion as a cue to leave.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he saw Theo sitting in bed with a pillow propped behind his back. Odd, considering he expected the man to already be trying to sleep.

“Do you remember where you threw my boxers?”

Theo glanced at him, then over towards his desk where their night together started. Beside the chair was his crumbled blue underwear, and Arthur was thankful Theo seemed to turn the other way while he slipped them back on.

“Mm, feeling shy after all of that?” He commented, slowly picking up his scattered outfit from the floor.

“... When you’re done, just put all of that on the chair.”

Arthur paused. “I don’t quite fancy taking a stroll through the halls in just my knickers, ol’ boy.”

“That’s not-” Theo huffed, then much quieter. “Just come back over here.”

Come back…? Arthur mulled on the request unintentionally, stuck wondering if he had actually heard him right until Theo began to glare. Wordlessly, Arthur set his clothes on the seat of the chair.

It shouldn’t have felt so awkward to climb back into bed, nor should there have been warmth rising to his cheeks as he did so, especially considering how ‘intimate’ they had just been, but… Arthur couldn’t fully look at him as Theo reached beside him, turning the lamp off.

“You can stay here tonight.”

“What’s the occasion?” His question came out strained, apprehensive.

“Does there have to be one?”

With you, yes. But Arthur kept that thought to himself, instead easing under the covers. “What about your darling brother-”

Theo scrunched up his nose, nudging Arthur’s shoulder. “Don’t bring him up right now. Besides, he’s still out with Hondje.”

Right, they were having a little getaway. It’s part of the reason Theo didn’t mind bringing the fun into his bedroom this time around, since they didn’t have to worry much about others hearing.

Arthur kept quiet as Theo settled beside him, trying to ignore the awful thumping in his chest. It wasn’t as if he hated this- actually quite the opposite- but there was the dread of when the ‘other shoe’ would drop. Because when was the last time Theo was even remotely affectionate towards him? Aside from when drinks were involved, that didn’t count.

But they were both sober this time around, as much as Arthur wished he wasn’t. A bit of a drink might calm him down…

“Do you always sleep so stiff?”

“Depends. Which part-”

“Arthur.”

He chuckled at Theo’s tone, finally turning to face the man.

“How about you? One part of you has calmed down, but the rest is still stiff. Unfair to tease me when you’re the same, hm?”

“It’s because you are.”

Arthur hummed as he looked away, drumming his fingers against the sheet covering his stomach. Could he sleep without mentioning it? How forced all of this felt?

“I’m just curious about the sudden change, is all. It’s not like you to have the need for snuggling-”

“What, do you not like it?”

Arthur blinked at him, mouth open for a moment until he closed it.

“... No, it’s… It’s rather nice.”

“Then,” Theo turned on his side, easing his arm over Arthur’s waist, “what’s the issue?”

Oh, he hated this. His cheeks were burning hotter by the second, not to mention how small he felt. But, he took in a deep breath, battling with the sudden feeling like a schoolboy with a crush.

“The issue is that you’ve never done this before. I-I don’t know how to take it.”

Of all the responses to get, he nearly felt offended when Theo chuckled. The only reason he didn’t was because Theo tugged him further into his embrace, making Arthur’s thoughts cut off short.

“Where’s all that confidence from earlier? You were yapping about how I never give you the ‘treat’ you want-”

“That is an entirely different context and you know that!” Arthur rolled his eyes when Theo kept laughing, stubbornly huffing. “Theo, don’t act like this isn’t strange. We always just have our fun and then go our separate ways. Pretend we didn’t until the next time we want to have a bit of fun. Hell, you don’t even wear the cologne I got you.”

“Mm, it’s for special occasions.”

“‘Special’? What do you me- Now wait, don’t go changing the subject!”

Theo seemed to ignore Arthur’s quiet ‘come on’ of protest as he hugged him against his chest. Arthur could feel Theo’s chin on top of his head, and it just made him frown further until Theo spoke.

“I’m not good at these things.”

“I’ve noticed.”

A scoff, and then he continued. “Let’s… try this out. For tonight. Your birthday is coming up soon, yeah?”

Arthur pulled back from Theo’s chest to look at him directly, but the words he had readied to firmly ended up tumbling out clumsily when he saw the deep pink dusting Theo’s cheeks.

“You- You never do gifts- Are you expecting me to- No, Theo, am I going to wake up tomorrow with you pretending this never happened?”

“Do you want to?”

They stared at each other for a moment, the ‘fight’ slowly ebbing from Arthur as he mulled over the idea. Moreso, his own thoughts on the matter, recalling other times this- the near admission of whatever relationship they had- stung the nights after. He hated to admit that, even to himself. “... No.”

Theo shrugged, the casual movement so strained it was anything but. “Then I won’t pretend. I won’t act like this never happened.”

Neither of them spoke. Arthur carded his fingers through his hair with a sigh as Theo turned to lay back on the bed, his grip loose on Arthur now.

They really could pretend this awkward night never happened, despite all the fun that preceded it. But how long had they played this game? And how often had it sent Arthur out in bitter avoidance of the mansion residents?

With one glance it was easy to see how Theo’s blush had extended to the tips of his ears. And Arthur, knowing fully well Theo wasn’t the only one, finally let his shoulders relax.

“Gods, we are truly terrible at this, aren’t we?” Arthur wasn’t looking for an answer as he muttered it.

“There’s only one way to fix that.” Theo finally met Arthur’s gaze, motioning for Arthur to lay back down with him. And this time Arthur finally let himself relax, carefully settling himself in Theo’s warm hold.

“Mm… I suppose you’re right.”

------

I always hc that they both struggle with accepting their ~feelings~ towards each other are more than 'friends with benefits'. Causes a lot of rocky moments, But with some practice, they can fix that.

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist | Arthur Week | Ikevamp Server

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #theocona #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp theo #arthur week #they are both fools

[secret-rendezvous1d]

D E C E M B E R  5 T H

REQUEST Could you do maybe a sadder one after Ellie and Alfie’s miscarriage and for Christmas they all cheer him up

A little bit of a sad one.

Edited from the request but still following the concept.

We haven’t really gone in too deep with Alfie and Ellie’s miscarriage so that may be something we need to talk about in the new year; it’s a massive part to their storyline, therefore a huge part in the missus and Harry’s storyline so, as sad as the topic may be, it would be something I’d like to delve deeper into. To give you an insight to that part of their lives.

I know a lot of you are eager for some smut to commence and those stories will soon be posted for you to read; keep bearing with me as Blogmas progresses.

!! TRIGGER WARNING; THIS STORY CONTAINS AND MENTIONS ELEMENTS OF MISCARRIAGE !!

If this is one topic that you are don’t want to read, can’t handle reading or don’t feel comfortable reading then please SKIP this story.

Feedback is welcomed, as always - please let me know what you think of my pieces, send me any constructive criticism you think would help out, any ways to make my writing better, anything. It really helps me and keeps me motivated to write and we get to work as a team to make things better, for me to write and for you to read.

Enjoy! x

D e c e m b e r  2 0 t h  2 0 1 8.

YN had always loved big, family Christmases.

Ever since she was a little girl, when she was old enough to know what Christmas was all about, she had always loved when her parents got everyone together for the twenty-fifth of December; old family friends who they had asked round to celebrate, her grandparents who they invited round for a big dinner in the afternoon and her aunts and uncles who they had asked to come round to enjoy a buffet tea in the evening. Seeing those family members and those family friends that she and her parents rarely saw through the year but had always missed and would look forward to seeing when the time came along with hatter filling a home that was usually quiet and empty from the masses of people and wasn’t commonly filled with drunk laughter filling the rooms from silly stories and the cracking of horrendous jokes being shared throughout the house.

When Harry had walked into her life all those years ago, when she was a new teenager in and amongst the hustle and bustle of London town, each Christmas that they spent together had lead to even bigger celebrations that what she had been involved with when she was a child; Anne and Robin were now a part of her life and had table-places at her parents’ kitchen table for when they planned a dinner, Gemma and Harry had a place in her home like they were another pair of children in her parents’ lives and, sometimes and when Anne had nervously brought it up after much apprehension because she thought it was cheeky of her, his grandparents were welcomed to spend time with them and were given their spare room because it was never fair to send the elders to an unfamiliar hotel.

That was exactly how she wanted to spend Christmas with her own children and with her own web of family that came through partnership and marriage. A full home with all the people she had grown up with and met and grown to love over the years, surrounded by love and laughter and fun and excitement, gorging on the delicious food she had cooked and drinking wine as the seconds ticked passed. Playing board games and singing Christmas songs before cosying down with hot chocolates and cups of tea as Christmas specials showed on the television.

The knocker upon the front door knocked three times, the harsh sound breaking the silence of the lower level of the house and startling her from her place at the kitchen sink, the faucet switched off by her sopping wet hands that she soon wiped on her apron, soap suds popping and disappearing on their own. The sleeves of her jumper hanging over hands as she jogged through the living room and burst into the porch, pulling the door open with abrupt speed, to reveal the only person she was expecting. Her son. Standing tall upon the top step and dressed in a thick coat, with his unruly curls peeking out from underneath his beanie and accentuating his earlobe - one ear homing an air-pod with his other looked empty - and his wind-bitten cheeks matched the rim of his eyes, that were watering from the chill in the air. A bag of Christmas presents by his feet and an envelope tucked into his pocket, sticking out from beneath the wool-polyester flat, topped with a black button. A smile on his chapped lips.

“Hi, mum.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” YN crooned, wrapping her arms around her son’s shoulders and welcoming him into the warmest hug she could muster up. To keep him warm from the bitterness of the December air, the winter bite already nipping at the exposed skin showing from the hems of her tweed trousers and tingling her hands, fresh and clean after spending hours preparing a dinner at the kitchen counter and having stripped vegetables from their skin and chopped potatoes up for her signature mashed potato dish. Her apron still tied around her middle and a knot was situated at the base of her neck, just beneath the messy bun that she had pulled her hair back into. “Oh, darling, it’s so good to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home. Love being up Manchester but it’s lovely to back here with everyone. It’s not as lonely,” he hummed with delight and melted into the soft hug from his mother’s arms. Chin resting upon her shoulder as he took a deep inhale of the smells filling the house, beanie loosening from the tight grip it had upon his head and showing the tops of his ears, curls slipping out from underneath the folded brim and his fringe flopped loose. Meat cooking, which he guessed were mince to be mixed with whatever else they were having to eat, and the smell of steaming vegetables wafted through the door. “It smells good in here. Shepherds pie?”

“Shepherds pie,” she confirmed, pressing a kiss to his wind-bitten cheek before pulling away, bumping the front door closed with her heel and letting it shut with a band, “how are you doing? Me and your dad were going to pop up to Manchester to go see your Nana Anne, the other day, but he was hit with the flu so we had to postpone it. He’s been upstairs for the last two days trying to get better,” she snorted, helping him take his coat off and hanging it on a hanger so he could kick off his boots and set them underneath the porch table. “Gemma travelled up there to pick her up so she can spend Christmas down here with all of us. It wasn’t fair to let her come down alone,” she said, leading the way through to the kitchen and flicking the kettle on as she passed by, “what time is Ellie due here?”

“I said six but she’ll probably be through soon. I’ve only just got off the phone with her,” he smiled. He snagged a raw carrot from the colander in the sink before hopping upon an empty space of the counter, his cheeks tingling from how warm it was and his fingers gaining their senses back as they wiggled under the heat of the atmosphere. A crunch coming from between his teeth as he bit down and chewed. “Her parents are still good to come for Christmas Day, right?”

“Of course! Me and Joan have been planning away on who’s doing what,” YN laughed, wiping down the surface with the sleeve of her jumper.

For the last six years, she’d been inseparable with Ellie’s mother and had always had a story to share about what they got up to when ever they went out and about together. If they went to a coffee house, Joan had always ordered one of each cake because she could never decide what to eat with her latte. If they went shopping, YN had always done something clumsy and silly that people ended up staring at them, which only caused Harry to perk up with a rebuttle of how she had always been clumsy - their first meeting being the basis of where his retort came about. If they went to the cinema, Joan had always ‘almost’ dropped the popcorn and YN had always ‘almost’ spilt her drink. At first, the two teenagers thought it was the worst idea - their parents becoming best friends? What would happen if they split up and had come to a brutal end? A friendship would have been over and they would have felt the guilt. But as the years went by and they realised they were strongly compatible and had a bright future ahead of them,

“We’ve got Jack coming for Christmas, too. I think he said that his parents were away on a trip around the holidays so he and Seff are coming up from Southampton together in a few days.”

Silence fills the room and YN rather enjoys it.

It wasn’t a silence that sounded eerily quiet and made anyone crave for noise; it was a silence that felt full because her little boy, her only boy, was home from university, home from living so far up north, and taking up his space in the house. It wasn’t anyone else’s to have. Irreplaceable. A space that had been left behind when he had packed up his belongings and had gone to stay in a dorm up in Manchester. A silence that the twins couldn’t fill, that Persephone couldn’t fill when she popped up for a night or two, that Gemma couldn’t quite fill when she popped through for a cup of coffee, that Harry couldn’t fill with... no matter how hard they tried, nothing seemed to feel right without Alfie.

She stood on her tiptoes and reached for three mugs of tea; one for her, one for Alfie and one for Harry because the floorboards were creaking upstairs so she knew he was walking around and dressing in something a little warmer to keep himself nice and cosy. The occasional sniffle and chesty cough echoing through the ceiling. To Alfie, he sounded rough but it was an improvement, so to speak. The china clinked as she set the mugs down on the counter, the kettle still whistling on its own as it boiled enough water to fill up three mugs, and she busied herself by gathering the carton of milk from the fridge and the sugar-pot from the middle of the kitchen island since Harry had left it there after sprinkling some upon his porridge that morning. 

“Alfie-”

Alfie couldn’t help but dryly roll his eyes because she was speaking in that tone again. 

The tone that screamed worrisome and concerning... and she had every right to be worried and concerned, and a little sad and upset, too. Because her son and his girlfriend had gone through something so terrifying, that not many teenagers would have to experience, at seventeen years old. A miscarriage was tough on anybody who had ever gone through that trauma but for a young boy and his girlfriend? Who had barely hit adulthood? Who weren’t quite independent and still depended on their parents to help? Who were so far apart from each other because of university? 

He didn’t have the time to grieve properly and YN knew that, he didn’t have the time to cry properly and YN knew that and he didn’t have the time to take in what exactly had and was happening and YN knew that. 

“Mum, I’m fine. Honestly,” he interrupted, half of a bitten carrot rolling between his fingers before he slipped it between his lips and chewed upon the orange vegetable. Eyes staring at the ground as he swung his feet, back in and back out, heels tapping the cupboard door beneath him. “Me and Ellie, we’re doing okay. At least, I think she’s doing okay. We’re not back to normal but, we’re doing okay.”

“Joan said that Ellie took it harder than she had expected. Said that her strong little girl was someone who looked like she had the world taken away from her,” she frowned, spooning two spoonfuls of sugar into the three mugs, upon the teabags that were set at the bottom, “it’s a whole kind of different upset when you go through something as traumatic as a miscarriage. It’s not like you lost a piece of jewellery or a shoe or your mobile phone. You lost a baby and it’s a huge thing to get your head around, as it is, but to lose what you were so excited for, it chips away at your walls,” YN sighed softly, spoon tinkling in Harry’s mug as she left it behind and walked across the stretch of empty space, leaning up to hug him. Her arms winding around his neck and he ducked down to hold her tightly, his face pushing into her collarbone, sighing heavily, “when you told us, god, me and your father didn’t know what to do. We felt angry because it was such a reckless move for you both but we felt happy and excited for you because babies are so amazing and they make you feel so great and you second-guess yourself but we felt so scared for you and for Ellie. Your futures would have been jeopardized.”

“We would have made it work, Mum,” Alfie informed her, pulling away and looking down. Her eyes holding a look of disbelief as he smiled warmly, “we would have, Mum. I would have given up everything to make sure Ellie had someone by her side. To know she was happy and looked after.”

“We raised you right, didn’t we, huh? You are your father’s little boy, to a T,” she sighed and pinched his chin with her fingers and thumb, holding his jaw with her palm. From the green eyes and curly hair to his gorgeous personality and stealthy height, no matter whether they were close or strangers, anyone would comment on just how alike Harry and his son were. How Alfie resembled the good guy that Harry had always proved himself to be; how he stood out in a crowd and how he lit up an empty room from just his laughter and his smiling face; how he was so kind and charming and respectful to everyone he came across, no matter how he was being treated. Anne had said it, Gemma had said it and YN had said it - “the world needs more Harry’s living upon it” and Alfie was one of the minimal number of blokes that could be categorised under that. “Everything we ever wished you would be, you are, and we’re so proud of you, Alf. We’re proud of all of you kids. You make us feel so lucky, every single day, to be your mum and dad.”

“Would I have been a good dad, Mum?”

YN’s face fell. Her palms cupping his cheeks and stroking under his eyes, wiping the moisture away, with her thumbs.

“If you’re anything like your father in that aspect, you will be an exceptional dad, sweetheart. The best father to your little ones,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek and swiped her thumb beneath his eye, “you’ll do just fine, I promise. You might have you dad’s charm and his witty behaviour but you’ve got my brains. All you kids have-”

“Heeeey,” Harry whined from the entryway, a rasp in his throat and a sniffle sounding around the room, “I’m smart, as well. Would like to think I have input in your brains, somewhere along the way.”

“Of course,” YN grinned, turning back to her son and winking, “dad’s pretty smart, too.”

*

There was something different about being back in London...

His family and his girlfriend and his best friends were there, for starters. The scenery was different in London than it was in Manchester; from the journey down, it changed from a city centre to plentiful countrysides before changing to a busy city centre that seemed much busier than where his temporary location had been. In an Uber on the way home, there were more streets than he had remembered driving down. From the balcony in m his parents’ bedroom, he could see street lamps that lined streets that were miles away in the distance and the town of Hampstead that was just a short walk down the road, to the left.  

But there was a homely feel that hit him when he walked through the door. The feeling that was missing when he left London town.

“Here you are.”

Alfie lookee over his shoulder and took in the look of his bleary-eyed girlfriend, with two glasses of mulled wine in her hands, a warm smile on her lips.

“Wondered where you were. Said you went for a wee but never came back. Your dad thought you’d fallen in the loo,” she giggled, walking over to him and stretching an arm out, offering a glass of mulled wine to him, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just thinking about things. Uni, bow this year went, you and me, our holiday next year,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead and taking the glass from her, “do you ever think about what life would have been like if-”

“If I never miscarried?”

Him falling silent was all Ellie needed to know that that was exactly how his sentence ended.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, taking a seat at the table and setting her glass down and gripping the lapel of her jacket, tightening the garment around her shoulders, “we wouldn’t be going on a holiday next year,” she smiled quickly before looking down at her lap and twiddling her thumbs, “we would have had a baby, Alf. Our own little bub. Our life would be so, so different and- and I wish they weren’t taken away from us.”

“It was cruel,” he muttered, leaning on the balcony and dragging his fingertip around the brim of his glass, “it wasn’t fair, El. Our baby, they were taken away from us so unfairly. So horribly. We never got the chance to see them or hold them, got to see who they looked like the most. We never got to become parents,” his voice sounded wet, eyes glistening under the light that came from the patio beneath them, “they gave us a baby and then they took them.”

“Oh, Alf.”

“Ellie, we were going to be a mum and dad,” he laughed bitterly. She stood from her seat, forgetting about her glass, and wrapped him in a warm hug, ducking her face into the warmth of his neck. Inhaling a deep breath, smelling the musky scent of his cologne before exhaling a deep sigh. Her arms tight around his middle as he squeezed her with one arm; his other making sure that his glass didn’t spill down her back. “I miss them.”

“I miss them, too,” she whispered, straining away and looking up, kissing his chin softly, “but there will be a better time. A better place to have a baby, yeah?” He nodded softly and pressed a kiss to her nose, “we’ll try again when the time is right, baby. We will.”

#blogmas 2018 #harry styles #harry #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts #harry styles concepts #harry styles writing #harry styles preferences

[harryseyebrows]

Hazoff Baby Bath Time

The new and hopefully improved version of the original, which was deleted. Cleaned up and fixed for continuity. Same concept, though. Harry and Jeff bathe the twins and get them changed and fed. Warnings: an insane amount of gratuitous niche fluff, mpreg, and male nursing. So if none of those things appeal to you, I wouldn’t advise reading this. 4.5k and edited by me and me only, so any mistakes are my own.

“Is everything all ready?” Harry asks.

Jeff looks around the bathroom. Everything seems to be in order, various items strewn about and sitting on the vanity counter -- clean diapers, onesies, the swaddle wraps that Harry has taken to calling “kangaroo pouches”, baby lotion, shampoo, cotton pads (because they read that they’re more gentle for cleaning baby faces), towels. Harry is currently kneeling next to the tub and testing the water temperature for the plastic baby bath, using the back of his hand and his wrist for good measure, a look of pure concentration on his face.

“I think so?” It comes out more of a question, because while Jeff might think they have everything now, they always forget something. He blames the lack of sleep.

“Do you know if they’re up from their nap yet?” Harry asks while he turns off the tap and gets a washcloth ready.

“When I checked on them a few minutes ago, Jude was awake but Eli is still conked out.”

“Looks like Jude goes first then.”

Jeff grabs one of the towels from the stack and throws it over his shoulder. It’s still warm from the dryer, and scentless, because they have special baby detergent now. “I’ll go get him.”

The boys’ room is quiet aside from the soft sounds coming from Eli’s crib as he sucks on his pacifier and the little swishes of baby feet against their sleeping mats, midday light filtering in through the blinds. When Jeff pokes his head over the rail of Jude’s crib, he’s immediately met with a little burble that he thinks is a happy one. It’s still hard to tell so far.

He keeps his voice low when he speaks so he doesn’t wake up Eli. “Hi, buddy. Did you have a good sleep?”

Jude just wiggles in response, in that jerky, erratic way that new babies do. One of his little protective mittens has come off while he was napping, so Jeff pulls the other off too before picking him up and tucking him up near his shoulder, his little head bobbing to and fro, not able to support it quite yet.

Jeff keeps one arm under his butt and places the other on his back, his palm and fingers covering the entire expanse of it and whispers, “Should we change you first? So you can have a nice bath? Yeah? I think so too.”

Placing him on the changing table, Jeff gets rid of the old diaper and wipes him down before wrapping him in the towel he brought to bring him to the bathroom, not bothering with a fresh diaper.

Harry is resting with his elbows braced on the side of the tub, head in his hands, clearly taking measured breaths, but he perks right up when he hears them walk in. Jeff can tell he’s still exhausted in a different way than Jeff himself is, but he always puts on his brave front, like sliding a mask on, except this one can’t hide the near purple bags under his eyes, or the nervousness that changes all the planes of his face.  

“Look who’s ready to get squeaky clean.” Jeff bounces Jude in the crook of his arm.

Despite his tiredness and apprehension, Harry’s face transforms again, sliding into the softest expression Jeff has even seen. It’s the same one he always wears when he looks at their boys -- warm and open and full of complete adoration. Impossibly, it intensifies when Jeff leans down to pass the baby to him. Harry handles Jude ever so gently, settling him into his own arms and placing a kiss on his fuzzy baby head, his lips lingering while he smells him.

Jokingly, he wrinkles his nose and whispers conspiratorially, “Stinky, stinky baby. I think it’s time for your bath, lovey.”

Jeff kneels down next to them and puts a towel down on the floor after Harry unwraps Jude and puts him in the baby bath, a little hammock-like mesh that keeps him afloat.

Jude isn’t impressed at first, his little face going red and mutinous like he’s seconds away from wailing, and it makes them both laugh, half in amusement and half in relief. When Harry places a warm cloth over his belly and chest, he mellows out even more, peering up at them with wide, blue newborn eyes, wiggling and pouting his little lips, fingers clenching and unclenching in the water.

“Do you like the bath, sweetheart? Does the water feel nice?” Harry asks softly, filling a cup from the tub and slowly pouring it over Jude’s legs and arms. Jude wiggles and makes a bit of noise, half-grunts and burbles, but otherwise seems relaxed.

“Look at him -- his eyes are getting heavy.” Jeff says after a few minutes, snorting in mild disbelief.

“Are you gonna fall asleep again, baby?” Harry coos at Jude, not once taking his eyes off him. “That’s okay. You’ll just be awake alllll night, and then you can stay up with your daddies.”

Jeff would like to argue that they actually both really need the sleep, but Harry’s deep, loping drawl is almost convincing him that staying up with Jude wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

So instead, he squirts some of the baby soap onto another washcloth and starts to soap up Jude’s feet and legs while Harry uses the cotton pads to gently swipe over his face. That makes him fuss a bit, grunting in displeasure and trying to turn his face away, but Harry keeps up a steady stream of soothing chatter that keeps a meltdown at bay.

They work quickly to get him clean, making sure to get in between all of his rolls and wrinkles, even though he’s still too new to have any chunk yet. It’ll be nice when he puts on some significant weight and loses the odd, baby-bird-like look that twins and multiples often have, with their thin limbs and too-pink skin.

Harry moves a bit so he can drape Jude over his forearm, wiping down his back and rinsing all of the suds away. The next part, however, he’s expressed his acute nervousness about multiple times, even though the nurses showed him the proper way to do it at the hospital and he managed to do it there perfectly. He pulls Jude out of the tub and takes the towel Jeff offers him to wrap Jude up quickly before he can get cold, and takes a deep breath.

He tucks Jude under his arm, kind of like an American football, so that his head is facing up towards the ceiling, that way Harry can use the hand from the same arm to support his head and neck. Leaning over the tub, he fills the cup with water and pours it over Jude’s hair to get it wet.

Jeff watches as Harry very determinedly and carefully lather’s Jude’s wispy baby hairs with shampoo and uses a soft bristly brush to massage it in. He places a comforting hand on Harry’s lower back and presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“See?” he whispers. “You’ve totally got it, kid. You’re a natural.”

Harry goes pink and pleased, picking up the cup again to rinse Jude’s hair. “‘S not so bad, I guess.”

Once all of the shampoo is gone and Jude looks like the most blissed out newborn on the planet, Harry passes him back to Jeff.

Jeff immediately sniffs his damp little head. He loves that new, clean baby smell. “I’ll finish drying him off and get him dressed.” He nicks a onesie and a swaddler as he’s standing up, along with the bottle of baby lotion.

“Okay. I’m gonna change the water for Eli.”

Eli’s just starting to wake up when Jeff walks into the room, his eyes blinking and adjusting to his surroundings, lower lip pouting dangerously. He’s usually cranky when he wakes up.

“Hey, little man. You okay?”

Eli starts to breathe quicker, his tiny face going red and pinched before he lets out a wail.

Jeff puts Jude on the changing table, who just blinks up at him owlishly, seemingly undisturbed by his brother’s distress. Jeff pokes his belly while he unwraps him from the towel, unfolding a clean diaper. “Is Eli being very loud right now? Yes, he is. I don’t think he’s very excited about bath time. That’s okay, though. We’ll still keep him.”

Once Jude is all changed and swaddled, Jeff puts him back in his crib with a pacifier, before moving to pick up Eli, who’s still giving his little lungs a workout.

“C’mere, bud. Shh. You’re all right. Let’s go see daddy.”

Eli quiets a bit, but he’s still crying when they get to the bathroom. The smile Harry gives them when they walk in is watery; Jeff thinks it probably has a lot to do with hormones, the way Harry always gets teary and panicky when the babies cry, but he also thinks it has a lot to do with Harry’s general self-deprecating nature. They’re learning very quickly that Eli is more prone to being vocal about things, will cry until someone picks him up and holds him to try and soothe with soft and gentle words and little pats on his bum. He seems to respond better to Jeff for no apparent reason, and Jeff can see the way it hurts Harry, despite Harry’s adamence that it doesn’t bother him.

“This one is clearly not as happy about his impending good hygiene,” Jeff jokes.

Harry takes Eli when Jeff hands him over and places him on the mesh hammock in the baby bath, wincing as Eli’s wails get louder and increasingly distressed. Harry tries to be light with his tone, but it comes out too shaky to be convincing. “I know, darling. It’s terrible. Daddy’s so mean.”

Eli’s cries are getting hoarse and he’s kicking his legs angrily, even after Harry puts the warm cloth on his belly and tries to calm him. Harry looks at Jeff worriedly, biting his lip until the skin around his teeth turns white, his eyes glassy, nose turning pink.

Jeff lathers up some soap on a wet cloth. “He’s fine, H. You’re not hurting him. He just isn’t used to it yet. Here.” He hands Harry the cup with he gets to work on washing Eli’s flailing limbs as quickly as possible, instructing Harry to rinse when he’s done.

“Do you want to wash his hair, or do you want me to?”

Harry looks torn. He’s not one to admit defeat, so it shocks Jeff a bit when he quietly requests that Jeff do it, looking back and forth between Jeff’s face and their screaming newborn.

“I think I’m gonna go check on Jude. He needs to be fed.” Harry strokes a gentle thumb over Eli’s head before quietly leaving the bathroom. Jeff can only sigh.

“Looks like it’s just me and you, little man. You gonna let me wash your hair all nice for you?”

Eli just hiccups, his face still red and upset. He settles when Jeff gets him wrapped up in a towel after finishing washing his body, but starts really wailing again as soon as Jeff wets his hair, using the same holding technique Harry did with Jude. It makes something painful twist in his stomach listening to him, some sort of primal instinct that’s flashing in his head to alert him that his baby is stressed and needs his help. Except the rational part of his brain is aware that Eli isn’t being hurt and that he’s just unhappy about getting a bath.

Jeff suspects that Harry is having a harder time grappling with instinct and rationality, mostly frustrated with himself for not being able to deal with things without getting upset. It’s only been a little over a week, but it doesn’t seem like something that’s going to fix itself overnight, despite Jeff’s best efforts to assure Harry that he’s doing nothing wrong.

It nearly killed Jeff to watch Harry’s expression fall, when they hadn’t even had the babies home a full day yet and Eli wouldn’t stop crying until Harry passed him to Jeff, where he nestled into Jeff’s neck and his crying tapered off into little hiccups until he eventually drifted off into exhausted sleep. Harry told him it was fine, that he shouldn’t be the only one the boys rely on and get comfort from. They have two dads, he’d said, genuine and insistent. But it’s turned into a habit, or at least a recurring pattern, in which Eli is very rarely receptive to Harry’s attempts at soothing him, seemingly only wanting Jeff to hold him and rock him.

On top of his apparent feeding issues, Harry is worried that himself and Eli aren’t bonding properly. He’s convinced that Eli doesn’t like him very much, despite the fact that Eli is ten days old and does not have the capacity to dislike anyone or anything, especially not his own father who carried him for nine months. Jeff can only attempt to reason with Harry so much before it turns futile.

Once Jeff starts drying Eli off, wrapped in a soft towel, and in the crook of Jeff’s arm, he finally stops crying, barely able to keep his eyes open. Jeff imagines that it must be very tiring, being so upset over something and crying being your only means of voicing your feelings.

Harry isn’t in the twins’ room when Jeff walks in, and Jude isn’t in his crib. He isn't worried; he gets Eli lotioned up, diapered, and changed before heading further down the hall.

He finds Harry where he predicted he would: sitting up against the headboard of their bed, shirtless, the nursing pillow around his middle and with Jude draped across his chest, happily sucking away, his tiny fist curling and uncurling near Harry’s collarbone.

Harry has one hand cupped loosely around the back of Jude’s head, the other sweeping lightly over his back. He looks less on edge now, his expression more mellow, likely pleased with how much easier Jude seems to be getting the hang of latching properly and eating, and that Eli is significantly less unhappy now, the house finally quiet.

“You good?” Jeff asks, kneeing up onto the bed, trying not to jostle Eli in his arms or disturb Harry and Jude.

“Mhm. Better now,” he murmurs. “Much easier than this morning” he tips his head towards Jude. “Latched right away and he's swallowing better.”

“That's great, babe.” Jeff sits back against the headboard next to him, close enough that their arms are touching, and adjust Eli so he’s laying against his chest.

“I think,” Harry pauses, hesitating, “I think I wanna try with Eli again.”

Jeff searches Harry's face but he's avoiding his gaze, watching Jude. “Are you sure? I have no problem fixing him a bottle.”

Trying to feed Eli earlier that morning was a disaster, both him and Harry reduced to tears while Jeff stood in the kitchen trying to get the right ratio of formula to water, listening to them both from down the hall, staring out the window above the sink with burning eyes as he watched the sun creep up from behind the horizon.

The doctor told them that it's fine, during a slightly hysterical phone call from Harry a few days prior, where he patiently explained to them that one baby can nurse and the other can bottle fed, that it’s not an issue. She said that sometimes certain babies are cut out for nursing and others are not. Even twins can have differences like that, which seems to be the case with Eli, who takes a bottle like a champ but can't seem to latch properly with Harry.

The doctor also urged Harry to not take it personally, letting him know that it's nothing he's doing wrong. Eli will be just fine with a bottle and they should continue to do what works for Jude. If trying to nurse Eli is going to cause stress, they were advised against pushing it too much. But Harry can be stubborn and persistent when he wants to be.

“You can make a bottle too.” Harry laughs, but it isn’t meant to be funny. It’s short and self-deprecating. “We’re probably gonna need it anyway.”

Jeff pointedly ignores his pessimism. “Just in case, then. Here, I'm gonna put him down and go start it. Do you need anything else while I'm up?”

“No, we’re good.”

Jeff drops a kiss on Harry's forehead before he heads to the kitchen.

He mixes the formula carefully, making sure the water temperature is just right. Harry tried pumping at first but it was painful enough to turn him off it, and what he managed to get out was barely enough to fill a tablespoon, so with the doctors approval, they’ve switched Eli to formula.

It makes Jeff feel more like a part of the process. He would never begrudge Harry if he was successfully able to nurse both boys, but as it stands, he likes being able to feed Eli his bottle, to have that connection and opportunity for one-on-one time. There’s just still a large part of him that wishes he could talk Eli into cooperating a bit more, to cut Harry some slack and let him feel like he’s doing an equally good job with him as he is with his brother.

Jeff lingers in the kitchen for a couple extra minutes, to mentally prepare himself for what is ultimately inevitable. He’d never say anything to Harry, of course, because Harry needs him to be positive and reassuring. To anyone else, Harry comes off as all glitter and sunshine. Which is not to say that he isn’t, but Jeff knows him. He likes to think he knows him better than anyone, and behind closed doors, Harry can reduce himself to a sinking pit of negativity. It’s enough for the both of them and then some.

That’s why when he gets back to the bedroom, he makes sure to plaster a warm, encouraging smile on his face while he helps Harry swap out Jude for Eli on the nursing pillow. Harry looks nervous but determined.

“Relax, H. He can tell if your anxious, so you gotta be calm. You can do it. Both of you.”

“I know, but-- I just don’t know why he isn’t picking it up. What if I’m--”

“Harry, you’re not doing anything wrong. If you were, it wouldn’t make any sense that Jude is doing it fine. Eli’s a different kid. He just might not be suited for it.”

“But what if bottles weren’t an option? What if he couldn’t use a bottle and he wasn’t latching right? He’d starve.” Harry sounds like he’s getting increasingly hysterical, voice raising in pitch, breath coming more shallow.

“Babe, please don’t be irrational. Don’t focus on what-if’s like that. We do have bottles and he eats from them fine. He’s gaining weight. He’s growing. Don’t think like that, please.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a few moments, absorbing Jeff’s words, eyes down while he chews on his lip. When he speaks it’s barely a whisper. “I just wanna be able to do this for him. With him.” His voice cracks. “‘S not fair.”

“Harry…”

“Don’t. Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not-- Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.” Jeff raises his palms up in surrender. He really doesn’t want to argue and he knows that Harry isn’t usually like this. This is all coming from a place of frustration and vulnerability, Jeff reminds himself.

“Here,” Jeff says, leaning over Jude on the bed and adjusting Eli so he’s closer to Harry’s chest, stroking a finger over his tiny lips to start his rooting reflex, angling his head towards Harry.

Harry seems like he’s holding his breath, staring down at Eli intently, sweeping his thumb over Eli’s tiny shoulder, murmuring softly, “C’mon, baby. You can do it.”

Minutes go by as Eli tries to latch properly with no success. His mouth won’t align right, and no matter how much he tries to eat, he’s not getting anything, simply making the motion without any results.

Jeff can practically feel the frustration rolling off Harry in waves and Eli is starting to get fussy, hungry and annoyed with his parents persistence. A single tear rolls down Harry’s cheek, but he wipes it away quickly when Jeff glances at him.

Gently, Jeff suggests, “Why don’t you let him have a bottle, H. I don’t want you two getting worked up, okay?”

Harry’s lip wobbles but he nods, transferring Eli into Jeff’s arms. He removes the nursing pillow from around his waist and picks Jude up again, who’s nearly asleep, and nuzzles close to his neck.

Eli responds much better to the bottle, soft little sighs escaping his nose as he’s finally able to eat, eyes closing in contentedness. Harry’s watching him with an odd expression on his face, sinking down further into the pillows, a hand on Jude’s back. Jeff leaves him be, to let him process in peace.

By the time Eli is completely done, Jude is completely asleep again, milk drunk and pink-cheeked.

“Why don’t you let me put Jude in his crib and you can burp this one?” Jeff offers.

“Okay.”

“And once they’re both down again we’ll start dinner?”

Harry hums in agreement. “Yeah. I got the stuff for pasta. The kind with the spinach that you like? I’ve been really craving carbs.”

Jeff snorts. “Sounds good to me. Now gimme him. Switch.”

They trade babies and Harry puts a towel on his shoulder, lays Eli over it and starts patting his back. He follows Jeff into the twins’ room, walking slowly and bouncing his steps while he keeps up his steady thumps, stopping intermittently to rub Eli’s back in circles. Jeff sends a silent thank you to the higher powers that Eli isn’t being difficult for Harry right now.  

Jude doesn’t stir when Jeff lays him down in his crib; so far, he’s been a very good sleeper. Harry’s mum told them they need to start vacuuming during naptime, so that they can get used to noise while they sleep. Harry insists it’s too early to start that, but he doesn’t shy away from watching TV loudly while the boys take their naps. He’s been a very odd mixture or neurotic and casual lately, like his brain won’t decide if he wants to be a scared shitless new parent or and old pro. Jeff hopes he can find a happy medium soon, but he’s willing to be patient.

Eli lets out a little burp and Jeff manages to turn around in time to watch as Harry delightedly congratulates him, his down-in-the-dumps mood from only a few minutes ago seemingly gone.

“Was that you, bud? That was an awful big burp for such a little baby. Are you gonna do another one?” Harry practically coos.

After a few more moments of Harry patting his back, Eli does burp again, spitting up on the cloth on Harry’s shoulder.

“There we go,” Harry soothes. “That’s what I was looking for. Do you feel better, lovebug?” He uses the clean corner of the towel to wipe Eli’s face.

“Well, at least he’s good at puking,” Jeff says lightly.

Harry’s mouth tilts up, amused. “Yeah he’s a pro. It leaked through the towel. Now my shoulder’s got spit-up on it.”

Flapping a hand at him, Jeff says, “It’s just baby puke. I think you’ll live. Not like its radioactive or anything.”

Harry puts Eli in his crib and pokes his nose lightly. “Are you a little mutant baby? Do you have radioactive puke? No, you don’t. You’re too cute to be a mutant.”

He’s so ridiculous. Jeff loves him so much. It’s like a tangible weight has been lifted off his shoulders when Harry is happy and joking like this; earlier in their bedroom, Harry’s unhappiness was looming over them like a dark cloud. Jeff doesn’t blame him, but sometimes it can be a lot to deal with. This is much preferred.

They leave the boys’ door open while they work in the kitchen, baby monitor on the counter. Harry’s still shirtless and in loose gray sweats, chopping vegetables with careful, measured cuts. Jeff abandons the sauce on the stove in favor of sliding up behind him and wrapping his arms around his middle, pressing a kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Hi,” Harry says, low and rumbly. Jeff can feel it in his own chest where it’s pressed up against Harry’s back.

“Hi. Have I told you lately that I love you?” Harry’s skin is so warm and soft. Jeff can’t help but press his palms to his lower belly, stroking over the skin there. It’s still slightly distended, not quite having gone down yet; apparently it can take longer after multiples.

“I believe you have. But I’m not opposed to hearing you say it some more.” Jeff can hear Harry smiling as he says it.

“Well, I love you. Kind of a lot, actually.”

Harry puts the knife down on the cutting board and turns around, lets Jeff box him in with his arms on either side of him and his hands resting against the counter. He has that grin on his face that lets Jeff know he’s about the say something foolish.

“That’s cool. Although, I should have you know that I’m married. And I have kids. So I’m not sure my husband would be very pleased right now, no matter how handsome you are.”

Jeff laughs, loud and unabashed. “You’re an idiot. And you are so lucky you’re cute.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Smoothing a hand over the dip in his waist, Jeff asks, “Seriously though. Are you feeling better now? I know earlier was a bit…”

Harry’s face goes pinched only for a second, wiped away by a small smile almost as soon as it appears. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He pauses to sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting crazy lately. I feel like my hormones are all out of whack. They are all out of whack. And I’m just-- I don’t know. ‘M sorry.”

“Jesus, Harry. Don’t apologize. I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” He pinches Harry’s hip lightly, making him twitch. “I need you in tip top shape, kid. We’ve got babies to take care of.”

Harry smirks and raises his eyebrows, expression going big, open and pleased. “Babies. Plural. Two of them.”

“Two of them,” Jeff nods, his tone very serious.

Harry shuffles to drape his arms around Jeff’s neck and leans in to kiss him squarely on the mouth. It’s brief and firm, but long enough that Jeff can feel how warm his lips are, how they’re a touch dry, but wonderfully familiar. Harry looks moony when he pulls back, but Jeff doesn’t comment, certain that his own face is mirroring his expression.

Like no time has passed at all, Harry very quietly says, “I love you too.”

Jeff just looks at him for a moment, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, where he’s breaking out a bit near his hairline, the tiny scratch on his cheek from where Jude’s fingernail nicked him the other day. He’s lovely and beautiful and every other adjective Jeff can’t think of right now. He’s Jeff’s favorite person. He doesn’t say any of this, because he doesn’t need to. Not right now at least. Harry knows.

Instead he says, “C’mon. Let’s finish making dinner.”

#my fic #hazoff abo #feels weird to repost this and just post in general #but #i did it for the people #all 3 of you who like this verse lol #forgot how sappy this ending was until i re read it and man #i was Going Through It when i originally wrote it good GOD

[tastesoftamriel]

The birthday (a long tale by Talviel)

"Lass, just trust me on this", he said, as he lifted me into a carriage and blindfolded me. "Hmm, I do and I don't, but I don't see myself as having any choice in the matter." I grumbled, still annoyed that our honeymoon had been ruined by work, Daedric princes, and more work. I did my best not to sulk or hold it against my new husband, but our once in a lifetime opportunity to relax and enjoy each other's company and nothing else had been tarnished by his inability to leave work alone for a couple of weeks, and I was generally sour since reaching Cyrodiil. Brynjolf begged me to trust him to make things better, so I sighed and thought nothing more of it. At best he would get me a birthday cake, and at worst we were probably going somewhere to train more youngbloods on how to pick locks. Either way I felt deflated, and sat in silence for most of the carriage ride.

Occasionally I'd sneak a peek out beneath the blindfold. I recognised the odd bit of scenery from my previous travels, but nothing remarkable stood out. Trees, Ayleid ruins, more rolling green plains that were untouched by winter's grasp. Brynjolf would catch me now and then, and smack my hand away from the blindfold, admonishing me for trying to spoil his carefully planned surprise. "This, lass, is going to be the best birthday of your life. I promise." I couldn't help but smile. Most romantic gestures were lost on me, but I did my best to maintain an air of cheer to mask my apprehension. I was never the best at being on the receiving end of surprises.

After a day or so, the rumbling wheels of the carriage halted, jerking me into wakefulness. Brynjolf told me to wait as he paid the carriage driver, and helped me down onto firm ground at last. I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where we were by smell. Flowers, herbs, and various tree scents wafted over me. And something else. Sea salt perhaps? Guiding me gently by the hands, Brynjolf helped me crunch up a gravel path. "Ready, Vi?" He said, sounding as excited as a child on New Life Festival. "I guess? I'm just glad to be able to stretch my legs after all that sitting." I yawned, standing on tiptoes and raising my arms into the cool air. "Alright, here we go." The soft suede tumbled from my eyes at long last, and my eyes ached momentarily in the bright orange sunlight that had started its slow descent over Cyrodiil. I squinted until the shapes around me focused, and gasped. A beautiful villa expanded in front of me, its great oak doors beckoning inside with cheery candles glinting from chandeliers. A large garden sprawled on either side of the gravel path we stood on, blossoming with fruit trees, exotic flowers, and to my delight, a herb garden.

"Bryn, this is fantastic! Where are we?" I beamed in awe, taking in my surroundings. "We're in your new home, lass. Welcome to Nightingale Manor, north west of Anvil." My jaw dropped and I tore my eyes away from the house and garden to stare at my husband agog. "Don't jest with me Brynjolf!" "I'm not, I swear it. I've got the property deed in the strongbox upstairs, signed in your name. Happy birthday, my love." He smiled, pulling me close to kiss me on the top of my head. I grabbed him and planted a kiss on his sweet mouth that always smelled of cinnamon and cloves, my eyes starting to tear up embarrassingly. "I honestly don't know what to say. Oh by the Nine, Bryn. I don't think I'll ever be able to top this for a present!" I spluttered, unable to believe my eyes and ears, and feeling guilty about being so testy towards him over the past few weeks. "It's not a competition, Talviel. But come on in, just wait til you see the place." He grabbed me by the hand and I stumbled after him, giggling giddily.

We stepped into the main hall, warm and inviting as firelight glinted off the polished wood panels that covered the floors and walls. Looking up, a beautiful frescoed ceiling showed scenes of country Cyrodiil. A young Imperial man emerged from behind a door to greet us, carrying flutes of sweet dessert wine and taking our coats. He introduced himself as Barnabas, my housecarl. Excusing himself to attend to our luggage, Barnabas nipped outside as I sipped my wine and walked around, unable to believe my eyes. "Bryn, I honestly don't know what to say. It's a dream, owning a place like this. What in Tamriel possessed you to drop septims on a villa?"

"Well, it's rather a long story. About three years ago, one of our marks owed us a lot of money, but as usual, didn't have a coin to her name. All she had was a large house in southern Cyrodiil, she said, and it was ours if we let her off the hook. Delvin, damn that old bugger, agreed to the arrangement without ever thinking of sending someone to check on the place. Of course, when we finally did get someone down here, it was an absolute mess. Half of it had been burned and looted when Anvil was hit in the Great War. The garden was a mess, the rooms were fit for only a skeever to live in. Nocturnal knows I chewed Delvin's head off for that, but I held onto the deed anyway, figuring we could probably sell off the land one day. That is, until you came back." Brynjolf explained, leading me out a back door onto a marble veranda overlooking the sea, sparkling beautifully in the late afternoon sun. "Before I even proposed to you, I thought that this would be the perfect wedding gift, somewhere to disappear to on our honeymoon. But of course, there were delays here and there by the crew I'd hired to fix the house up, which is why I had to...detain you in the Imperial City. Truth be told, this is my first time looking at the place in years, so I'm glad they didn't make a fool out of me in fixing it up. It looks wonderful, and it's all for you, lass."

I set down my empty wineglass and buried my face in Brynjolf’s chest, blubbering uncontrollably. I'd been awful to think he was intentionally spoiling our honeymoon when all of this had been unfolding behind my back. Ever since I was a child on Beggar's Row, I longed for a big house with a lush garden or even a vineyard, where I could see the ocean. As a young thief, I used to say I was going to own a mansion of that sort one day, which the others used to snigger at. But Brynjolf always took me seriously, when we would sit at the Ragged Flagon and count out my earnings. "Each piece of gold you earn here is going to get you that dream one day, lass." He used to say, both encouraging my desires and motivating me to work hard for the Guild. Never did I think that he remembered my words after all these years, and had turned them into reality.

Behind us, I heard someone clear their throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but dinner is served, Sir and Madam." Barnabas said, beckoning for us to follow him down a small staircase into a secluded alcove framed by trees and overlooking the sea. A table was set in the middle of the alcove, and a bard was playing her flute in the corner. More and more magical by the minute. "You didn't think I was going to let you cook on your birthday, did you?" Brynjolf smiled, as I awkwardly sat and the food and wine began to flow. "I'm not used to being cooked for, or being given any sort of luxury really." I smiled, digging into the cheese and onion tart that had been served as the first course. Pretty good- I would have to ask Barnabas for the recipe. Brynjolf and I didn't say much for a time, enjoying the food and the atmosphere of our very own home. The sun was swallowed by the ocean by the fourth course, and billions of stars came out to play in the velvety night, as torchbugs and luna moths flitted through the tree branches.

By the final (tenth!) dish, I was so full I could have melted in my chair and fallen asleep at the table. Brynjolf helped me up and suggested we explore the villa some. We made a lap around the property, admiring the garden and how well the outer facade had been restored after the War. Creeping vines had begun to cling to the trellises and walls, giving the manor a rustic countryside charm. An empty animal pen had room for chickens, a couple of cows or sheep, and maybe a pig. A roomy sheltered stable around the corner could house Roach and two other horses comfortably. The vegetable garden had been arranged so meticulously my heart sang, eager to try the produce for myself. We went back inside, but Brynjolf insisted we save looking around the house for the morning.

Guiding me down the stairs to the basement, I was delighted to find a large hot pool in a spacious side room, surrounded by little candles. A bottle of Surilie Brothers Vintage 188 (my very costly favourite) was chilling in an ice bucket, and fluffy white towels and soaps were laid out. Brynjolf and I stripped each other naked slowly, sinking into the hot water as we made love. I floated on my back in the pool, smiling with my eyes closed. "Darling, thank you." I murmured, as Bryn wrapped me in a towel and carried me all the way up the stairs on the second floor to our bedroom. "The pleasure is all mine, lass. With the way you used to talk about your mythical dream home, I found myself wanting to be there too, with you. And here we are, finally." Stepping into the bedroom and closing the door behind us, he rolled me onto the bed, dropping the towel. There was a small Jubilee Cake, my favourite, on the table at the far side of the chamber. I groaned, both out of appreciation, and not being able to eat another bite. "Come on lass, just a little slice, for good luck." Brynjolf cajoled me, waving a fork heaping with cake in my face. I whined about my aching belly, and without warning, I was met with a faceful of cake.

"You're going to pay for that!" I cackled, wiping whipped cream from my eyebrows and rubbing a fistful of cake into my husband's red beard. "Great, we're going to need another bath, not that I'm complaining. Come at me, you're never too old for a cake fight." He laughed, and in minutes the cake was decimated and he was licking cream from my breasts while I moaned on the floor with pleasure. Giggling like teenagers, we streaked down the stairs back to the bath, washing off the mess. Finally falling into the soft feather bed as the last candles guttered out, I curled up in Bryn's lap, resting my head against the sturdy shoulders I knew and loved and trusted with all my heart. "I love you, Bryn. Thank you. Thank you so much, for everything." "I love you too, Vi, my little stone of Barenziah. Happy birthday, lass."

#fic #fanfic #tes #the elder scrolls #brynjolf #cyrodiil #geek #nerd #games #gamer #gaming #romance #chapter 26 #long reads #long post

[roxy-davenport]

Tricks-O-Matic

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Beta: @raspberrymama

Word Count: 2,653

A/N: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing’s SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge- Week 4 with the prompts, “You’re supposed to talk me out of it,” and a gif of a couple dancing in a laundromat. Fluff and humor, just go with it trust me. 

                            Also on AO3

You huffed out a breath. You hated doing laundry. It was the bane of your existence, so you always waited until the last minute when you were down to your last panty to do it. You literally couldn’t wait any longer.

You put your laundry in a shopper and wheeled it down the road to the laundromat ignoring the honks directed at you. Of course the bunker’s washer and dryer would break just when the boys left and gave you mountains of dirty clothes. Oh, what fun.

You sighed loudly when you were hit in the face with intensely hot air. Not only was it summer but the Laundromat was even hotter, if that were even possible. Who needs a sauna when you can just do laundry?

You slowly wheeled your mountain of clothes into the laundromat rather awkwardly might I add, nearly tipping over your entire mountain of clothes on the way in. God forbid someone else would be here to help open the door for you.

 In a way, having the Laundromat to yourself was kind of nice, if not slightly creepy. You imagined most people would be at jobs at ten in the morning, not half asleep needing to do laundry after discovering they were down to the last panty. Talk about a rude awakening.

You stepped in front of a washer yawning, happy to be doing busy work because doing nothing in the bunker but waiting for the boys to come back didn’t sound fun. In fact, if you were being honest, you had no idea what to do with yourself for a week alone in the bunker. Hello, boredom.

You quickly put everything in several washers spreading out a little bit as you slowly meandered over to the sorry excuse for chairs that looked as if they’d break the second you sat on them and even worse they were all bright orange to boot. They really matched the yellow wallpaper.

You were desperate for a distraction right now from the boring day you were bound to have. You looked at the magazines. As you guessed they were months behind, nothing good.

And that’s when the TV turned on, no remote in sight. A note fell off the TV as if a wind blew it but there was no wind. The note said, “Broken.” That made your spidey tense tingle. What the ever-living fuck was going on. You whirled around looking for the culprit. You didn’t smell sulfur or feel a cold chill run down your spine. You walked around the laundromat finding no cold spots. Okay, this was creepy. What was going on?

As if in response to your apprehension, the newscaster on the television program seemed to address your concerns. “No need to be afraid, sweet cheeks,” the news announcer said winking at you. There was only one person that called you that and the newscaster looked nothing like him. Eerie. The newscaster actually looked like an underwear model. That guy missed his calling.

 The emblem behind him said “Fenrir News.” Now that’s an unusual name. You were starting to have a distinct idea who might be doing this. The news announcer winked at you as if he knew that you knew.

 The news announcer was still looking at you clearly and not the teleprompter. “Before we get into the local news, there’s something I have to say: There is an epidemic sweeping our country with few solutions available. An epidemic of boredom. It’s a horrible condition that leaves the intended victim without the ability to have fun. I know, that sounds truly horrible. The victim is so bogged down by the inability to come up with or do anything fun they just lie there, frustrated. Take this amazing, beautiful woman watching. She’s stuck in a laundromat desperate for a little adventure. It kills me to know just how bored she is and even more upsetting that they didn’t take her on the hunt. That her besties benched her because she’s recovering from a wound on the last hunt. Not cool, right? Her besties sentenced her to a week of boredom. Sounds like they should have some payback when they return. Anywho, Y/N this one’s for you.”

There was white noise and a blank screen for only a moment when what looked like a commercial came on.

 A woman with a huge smile on her heavily makeuped face waved at the studio audience.

 “Hello there fellow hunters. Do you find yourself struggling to get out hunting stains? You try and try but you just can’t wash out the blood and monster guts? Am I right? Mmmhmm. I know. I’ve been there. It’s terrible but don’t worry I have the solution. Here is Tricks-O-Matic. And it really does the trick. You wanna see?”

 She holds up what looks like Dean’s shirt, the raspberry plaid shit you could have sworn you just put in the washer. You walked over to the washer and looked for the red shirt not finding it. Tons of greens, blues and blacks but no dark red plaid shirt. Huh.

 The woman in the commercial poured a very bright blue substance on it that had the consistency of paint. You shuddered to think what’s going to happen and how you would explain it to Dean. The second she put the substance on the shirt; she dunked the plaid shirt in water. Then she wrung it on a little and then held it up like a champion belt at a wrestling tournament.

 Of course the shirt was wet but there was no mistaking that the stain was in fact gone.

 “That’s right. One, two and gone. No matter the stain, Tricks-O-Matic will get it out. Tough on stains, gentle on your skin. So next time you’re leaving for a hunt remember Tricks-O-Matic. It really does the trick.”

You chuckled at that. Ridiculous the levels you boyfriend would go to, to entertain you but you had to admit, it was working. The commercial was clever and he did get out those monster guts for you that you were sure the washer never would. Dean would be quite impressed with you.

 The catch-phrase was pretty awesome. Tricks-O-Matic indeed.

The TV went blank again, white noise coming out of it for only a few seconds until a soap opera come on. The title flashed across the screen, “Angelic Lover.” Oh how very subtle right? That was your boyfriend, the archangel of subtle.

 A woman ran into the screen, her eyes puffy as if she was crying. “Luke?”

 A man that looked just as tall as Sam came onto the screen. “You should be with the angel,” he said in a gravely voice.

 “What? “You’re supposed to talk me out of it.” The woman said in a hitch-pitched and rather nervous tone. “You’re supposed to make me marry you. That’s what our parents want. You’ve lusted after me for years, now desperate to claim me as yours but you will never have me.”

 “How can you be sure I’m Luke?” the man asked with a quirked eyebrow smiling at her.

 “Who are you then?” the woman asked apprehensively as she slowly stepped away from him.

“Can you not recognize the man you love? I am your angel, my darling,” the man confirmed, his arms outstretched.

“But you -.”

“Have the face of your enemy, I know. I got a face transplant to break into the mansion and get past the guards but it is I, my love. I killed your enemy. He is no more.”

The man took off his face revealing a completely different man. The studio audience went wild. As did the woman. She fainted into his arms, waking up a minute later. He looked down at her adoringly.

“It is you,” she said in a soft voice.

“It is me,” he repeated.

She looked at him again, growing nervous. It couldn’t be. She slowly stepped away from the man. “No. That’s not possible. We can’t be together. I’m a human. You can’t possibly love me.”

“But I do.”

“You do?” she asked incredulously.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“But what of my friends?” Gasp. “They…They…will not let us be happy. My father will never rest until you are dead. You must leave. We can never be together. We’re from two different worlds. We don’t belong together.”

“But we could.”

“Could we? Could we really?”

“Yes.” The man then grabbed the woman and kissed her passionately on the lips. She swooned and her legs fell out from under her before she fainted again into his arms.

You rolled your eyes. “A tad dramatic, no?”

The TV went blank again and then what looked like men playing a game of basketball outside came into focus. One of the players stopped playing and stepped up to the camera. The rest of the players were fuzzy and out of focus.

 “Dramatic is better than being bored and you know what else is better than being bored? Taking twice daily Baldur. It cures the boredom right up so I can get back to doing what I love doing like playing ball.”

The commercial faded out as the men played basketball in the background. A list of side effects came onto the screen. Some caught your attention such as; intensive farting, love of anchovies, need for kinky sex, need for the Trickster, a deep yen to prank others, acid reflux, vomiting negativity, becoming more awesome, so awesome in fact that you can’t hang out with people wearing plaid. That had you laughing. You were sure who it was now.

You glanced at the washer. Time to add more soap. The TV went blank as you put more soap in. You had to admit that this was making you happy and a lot less bored. You loved being with Gabriel and was hoping he would be able to visit you when the boys were away. The silence was deafening and you missed his assortment of entertainment. Sure enough, the second you sat back down, the TV came on again.

A black and white program came on called, “Tricked,” but the actors looked like the same ones that were on the TV show “Bewitched.”

“My friends will be here soon. No powers okay. You promised.”

“Of course I’ll be on my best behavior,” the man stated holding his hands up.

“Why don’t I believe that?” she said in a grumpy tone.

Smirking he replied, “I don’t know. I have an incredibly believable face.”

“Mmm hmmm.” The woman opened the door and she found two dogs on the doorstep.

“Your friends weren’t already dogs? Maybe they never showed and they sent dogs instead? Strays?”

 The woman turned around and glared at him. He simply shrugged. “It beats them wearing plaid all the time. This is a new look for them and besides, they always ruin my fun and all I want is to-“

The screen went blank again. Talk about a cliffhanger.

An announcer came on waving at a studio audience that was clapping wildly. “Welcome to Dance Wars: Laundromat. We have Y/N and Gabriel, returning champions. Can they keep the throne? You’ll have to tune in and watch.”

 You looked at the TV confused. You felt a shift in the air behind you and then what felt like a gentle kiss placed on the back of your neck. You jumped and he laughed a warm laugh. His breath fanned over the back of your neck.

“Did you really not guess it was me? I mean I thought I was being pretty obvious. I’m kind of offended. Who else would dedicate all this time to making you smile? Fenrir and Baldur? Hello? Trickster? Loki myth.”

You smirked. “I knew it was you from the beginning. From those clues.”

“Aren’t you clever cupcake?” Gabriel grabbed you around the waist, rutting against you, pressing his hard cock against your ass. “How am I doing about making your day better? I thought I heard laughter and I definitely saw smiles.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job as always.”

Gabriel twirled you around and brought you back into his waiting arms and then out of nowhere swing music appeared and you danced around the laundromat.

 A customer tried to come in to wash their clothes and saw you both dancing. He tried the door but it was locked. You gave Gabriel a look.

 “This is our time,” he pleaded with you.

 You rolled your eyes. “We have all day; and if you’re free, all week. Let the poor man wash his clothes?”

 Gabriel sulked.

 On the next twirl, you spun away from him, unlocking the door and spinning back into his arms. Gabriel’s frown only intensified. He dipped you and gently ran his hand down your face to your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath at the tender touch. He righted you and grabbed you closer to him as he kissed you passionately. You chose to ignore the customer who looked at you both uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Gabriel implored.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling silly. You should have called. “You’re an angel. One that’s trying to keep a low radar and you have angel stuff to do that is definitely more important than preventing a human from being bored.”

“No. Okay yes. I am trying to hideout. Dear old Dad and Luci need to think I’m dead. I plan on staying out of the whole epic battle. And yeah there may be some angel tasks and just desserts I have to attend to from time to time, but you and only you are the most important thing to me sweet cheeks. No angel business is more important than the love of my life. Anytime you want me, please let me know. If I could, I would never let you go. But I know you love the Winchesters and you hunt. I know but I would want to be with you every second, if I could. And hello Trickster here: curing boredom is kinda my speciality. “

“Can you forgive me?”

“Always.”

The random dude in the laundromat was eyeing you two weirdly. Did he hear your conversation or did he just see the massive amounts of PDA? Whatever the reason, you pushed on Gabriel’s chest to release you from his arms. He disconnected with you slowly after a lingering glance. You slowly took out mountain of clothes from all the washers. Gabriel proceeded to grumble behind you.

Gabriel whispered into your ear, “That guy there will never know. He’s not even watching us right now. Why can’t I just snap my-.”

“He’s giving us side-eye. He is most definitely still watching us. Why not show him you have magical abilities? Why could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m sensing sarcasm in your tone.”

You smirked back at your boyfriend. “Hey, I have an idea - why don’t you just turn him into a dog?”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

 You shook your head at your boyfriend and slowly left the laundromat. Gabriel happily held open the door for you. The second that you were clear, no one on the road and the man from the laundromat couldn’t see you, Gabriel snapped his fingers and you got back to the bunker with all the clothes there, clean, dry and in everyone’s respective drawers. You looked down to see the both of you naked.

“I might have another idea on what to do to cure boredom.” Gabriel said in a playful tone

“Do you now?” you asked in a seductive tone.

“How long are the boys away?”

“A week.”

Gabriel’s smile was huge. “We could fit in a lot in a week.”

“Well, what are you waiting for tiger? Come get your girl.” He pounced on you like a lion and you squealed and giggled when he tackled you to the bed. A week with Gabe never sounded better.

Tagging

Forevers @purgatoan @killerofthesouth @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @everyday-supernatural-af @kalliravenne @toogardenenthusiast @winchesterprincessbride @one-shots-supernatural @take-me-tonirvana @hellsmother @ellen-reincarnated1967 @faegal04 @deals-with-demons @mamaredd123 @atc74 @hamartiamacguffin @donnaintx @love-kittykat21 @impala-dreamer @evansrogerskitten @lucifer-in-leather @hiswickedkitty @riversong-sam @rosie-winchester

Gabe peeps  @manawhaat, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @deathtonormalcy56, @for-the-love-of-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @deansleather, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @mrswhozeewhatsis, @ilovedean-spn2, @wi-deangirl77, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @fandommaniacx, @revwinchester, @oldfashioncdvillain, @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @castieltrash1, @mysaintsasinner, @bohowitch, @vintagevalentinexx, @thinkwritexpress-official @deals-with-demons, @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @crzcorgi, @deerlululucy, @mrsjohnsmith, @growleytria, @sleep-silent-angel @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @thegleegeneration, @babypieandwhiskey @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @kittenofdoomage, @lilyoflothlorien, @ferferelli, @ackleslaugh, @curliesallovertheplace, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @katnharper, @winchester-princess @notnaturalanahi, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @tia58, @winchesterswoonathon, @castiels-forbidden-angel, @jotink78 @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @wayward-mirage, @hexparker, @alangel1895

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