Lance plays games with kids all over the universe. When they laugh at him for losing, he shows them how to play fútbol and wipes the floor with them in revenge. He learns new pick up lines from pretty people at liberation parties and teaches them ones from Earth in return. He pets all sorts of pets, furry and not furry and big and small, though he nervously begs off petting the ones with poisonous spikes. He learns jokes from castle servants with loose lips. Learns curse words from street vendors with looser lips. Tells stories about home to people who almost lost theirs. Puts his feet on hundreds of different beaches, sand digging familiarly into the spaces between his toes. Learns millions of different ways people say hello, goodbye, and I love you. And even though it really sucks, being so far away from his own little beach, the knowledge that things like that are universal - things like games and jokes and love - makes the universe feel just a little bit smaller.
Nearly every year, for the past thirty years, Frances Goldin has gone to New York City Pride holding a sign that reads, “I adore my lesbian daughters. Keep them safe.” (x)
“Since the beginning of the parade, I’ve been going and waving my sign,” Goldin said. “It sort of hit a nerve with people, particularly those whose parents rejected them. The response to the sign is always so great — it urges me to keep going.”
“Everybody would come running up to her and cry, kiss her, and say, ‘Would you call my mother?’ or ‘Would you be my mother?’” her daughter, Sally, explained.
“She’d take down names and addresses and write letters to these kids’ mothers!”
When asked about all the young LGBT parade-goers who have begged her to speak to their own mothers, Goldin replied, “I think I changed a few people’s minds and I’m glad about that. Everyone should support their gay and lesbian children, they’re missing a lot in life if they don’t.”
Look, can I just say: Going into somebody’s ask on anon or joining their creative brainstorming chatroom to yell at them and call them oppressive and bad for not producing the content you want them to (which i have seen MULTIPLE EXAMPLES OF this week)
is a shitty tactic for getting people to produce the content you want.
If you’re angry because the fandom doesn’t focus enough on certain issues, yeah okay me too, and there’s a place for anger, but the sad proof is that when you want someone to do more creative work, to focus more on a certain topic, singling them out and sending them messages about how awful they are is 100% counterproductive.
Only the most robust and pliant artists will do what you want, and “robust” and “pliant” aren’t words that leap to mind when I describe general personality traits of creative people. The rest will either do the opposite of what you want out of pure obstinacy, or get so anxious and overwhelmed that they stop producing entirely. So if your intention was to make them produce what you want, you lose; if your intention was to make them so distressed that they feel unable to produce creative work that, although not to your tastes, is not actually hate speech, then congratulations you are a bully.
METHODS THAT WORK 1000% THAN BULLYING PEOPLE INTO DOING FANDOM HOW YOU WANT
Producing the kind of content you want to see!
Reblogging the kind of content you want to see!
Leaving feedback on
the kind of content you want to see!
LEAVE FEEDBACK ON THE KIND OF CONTENT YOU WANT TO SEE OH GOD YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IMPORTANT IT IS TO ENCOURAGE CREATORS, ESPECIALLY AROUND MARGINALIZED TOPICS!
Following blogs that produce
the kind of content you want to see!
the kind of content you want to see!
the kind of content you want to see!
Writing essays about why you want to see this kind of content!
Ignoring people who don’t create work relevant to you!
Finding people who are as upset as you about the topic you care about and building community with them!
Finding a support group or therapy or something!
Finding a different activist outlet where you can use your willingness to be assertive and righteously angry in a productive way (because this tactic is a bad one for getting art made, but a good one for, say, getting legislation passed)!
Petting a kitten, or smelling a flower, or like, anything!!!
Request: Newt x Reader with a storyline where everything is going Extremely Bad. Desperate situations calls for desperate measures so Reader “takes the chance to sacrifice her own life to save everyone because she can only do it” cliche. Angst like a punch in the gut.
Newt looks down at the little girl squirming in the train seat next to him. Her thumb’s lingering near her mouth, ready to pop back in the second she gets her answer, and a part of her hair’s sticking up.
Newt smiles halfheartedly and reaches over to tuck the errant hair into a butterfly clip. “We’re going to Bulgaria, honey.”
She frowns, the thin wrinkles hiding some of the freckles that dot her face. “Where’s that?”
“Where?” She persists. Newt almost laughs at the stubborn set of her small features. She’s a near copy in that aspect, an exact match.
“Do you remember when we went to see uncle Theseus? How far we traveled then?”
She nods, thumb now in her mouth as she watches Newt with patient eyes.
“It’s right next to there. Do you think you’ll make it?”
“Yes. Teddy and I are gonna be just fine.” She pauses, as though she’s thinking something over, then continues. “Thank you very much.”
“Someone’s been spending too much time with aunt Tina.”
“Auntie Tina likes me. She said she’d have a whole bunch of chocolate for me when she gets to see me again.”
“Yes, well, Aunt Tina spoils you too much.” Newt busies himself with the bag at his feet, digging through it for the box of crackers.
She kicks her feet. “She says she wouldn’t if you listened. She says you’re a bad listener, dada.”
He slows his search, the familiar anger he’s felt over the past few months stirring in his chest. “Does she, now?”
“Mmmhmmm.” She hums. Her summer green eyes are focused on the box Newt pulls out, and she completely misses the flash of annoyance her news earns.
He takes a deep breath as he shakes the crackers into his hand. It’d be best to ignore the comment. “Here, love, eat up. We’ll be on the train for a long time before we can leave.”
She grabs the crackers, her grubby fingers leaving streaks of saliva on Newt’s hand.
Newt wipes his hand on his blue jacket as more commuters lumber onto the train and shuffle past him. The train hisses, a bit of steam making its way in the door a few rows away. Newt’s surprised he can even hear it over the dull drone of the others, those who take the route daily speaking about politics and the recent construction started in London. Others, those who are new to the train like him, sit quietly, hands folded in their laps as they watch the crowds move past the window. Some squint at crossword puzzles, doing their best to make out the tiny clues in the dim light of the sunrise.
Newt’s nose wrinkles as a particularly strong cologne passes by. He quickly covers his daughter’s mouth when her nose wrinkles too and her mouth opens.
“Hush,” he murmurs. “We should be nice.”
He can hardly bring himself to say the words. Not after what he’s done the past few months, the things he’s said to Tina, the way he’s treated his brother. Hypocrite. Newt never expected such a description to fit him, but when Theseus shouted it in the middle of the family’s Christmas gathering, earning the attention of every aunt, uncle, and cousin he’s ever met, he’d been unable to argue the point.
“Dada,” she whispers against his palm, “why can’t we go home?”
On November 13, 1996, the first chapter of the manga series Inuyasha was published in Japan’s Shonen Sunday magazine. Thank you Rumiko Takahashi for giving us such a beautiful series and tons of characters that we adore! Inuyasha had a big impact on a lot of people’s childhoods and a lot of us are still obsessed with the series. Thank you ♥
여러분 안녕하세요! 재민이에요~!!
오늘 저의 생일을 축하해주신 모든 분들 정말 감사해요*^.^*
저 많이 보고 싶으셨나요오~? 저도 여러분들 많이 보고 싶지만ㅠ.ㅠ
허리 치료를 열심히 하면서 팬 여러분 만날 날을 손꼽아 기다리고 있어요~!
이번에 컴백하는 저희 NCT DREAM 의 We
Young!! 많이 사랑해 주시고
저 재민이도 우리 멤버들 응원하면서 열심히 준비하고 있을게요!~
요즘 너무 더운데 아프지 말구 건강 조심하셔야 돼요~
다시 한번 저의 18번째 생일을 축하해주신 모든 분들께 감사드리고
정말 많이 사랑해요!!
Hello everyone! It’s Jaemin~! I am so grateful to everyone who celebrated my birthday today *^,^*
Did you miss me a lot~? I miss everyone too ㅠ.ㅠ As I work hard to undergo treatment for my waist, everyday I countdown to the days I can meet the fans again~!
NCT DREAM is coming back with We Young!! Please give them lots of love I, Jaemin, is preparing to cheer hard our members too!~
It’s (the weather) really hot these days, please take care of your health and not fall sick~ Once again, I want to thank all of you for congratulating me on my 18th birthday. I really love you so much!!
Short something about Tom Holland also
testing the waters with writing about him. Requests are still open and will be
open until stated otherwise. So don’t worry, you can still send in your
requests! That aside, even if I don’t reply your requests, chances are I may
have seen them and will be keeping them in my askbox so that I can easily refer
to them when I write them. Anyways, I hope you enjoy whatever this is! Thank
you for the nice messages you always give me, guys! You are far too nice and
PS: don’t really know if I consider this
as a good news but I’m just gonna share it with you guys: I’m working on fixing
the masterlist on a side-blog and will try to keep it updated as I frequently
can and will share it with you once I am done putting all the links in (which
might take time since I have over 70 pages to go through).
Trying to spend as much time as you
possibly can with Tom while he is free is one of favourite things to do. A
chuckle escapes your lips every now and then as Tom retells all of the
embarrassing stories and pranks the cast of Spider-man: Homecoming did on him
and with him while he was filming for said movie.
The both of you are currently chilling on
your balcony; a thin blanket draped over your shoulders as the wind brushes
against your face occasionally and thankfully, the weather is really fine tonight.
The sky is illuminated by the moon and the beautiful stars.
“I’m glad you had a lot of fun, Tom.” You
smile at him, grateful that he had managed to find some amazing friends that
are a keeper. You take a sip of your cola and look up at the sky; it’s been a
while since you had gone star-gazing with anyone.
Tom nods his head, grinning widely. He
definitely had immense fun hanging out with the lot – they are almost like a
family to him at this point. He reckons he misses them a lot too, now that
everyone is off doing this and that and sometimes, all of them are not even in
the same country. “Yeah, I really am.”
You let out a sigh as you place your cola
beside you. “I have got a random question for you, love.” You could feel Tom’s
eyes on you. “What’s your biggest fear, Tom?” You ask him quietly, eyes
trailing from one star to another as you try to determine if you can recognize
any of them.
Tom furrows his eyebrows as he takes a few
seconds to answer the question. He bumps his shoulder against yours before
placing your hand that he has been holding the entire night on his lap. “You.”
Tom answers softly and you frown as you look away from the sky to stare at him.
Tom catches the look of hurt on your face
right before it disappears, replaced by another expression and he hurriedly
proceeds to rectify the misunderstanding. His right hand is playing with your
fingers. “Don’t get me wrong, darling.” Tom starts and you continue to stare at
“What do you mean by ‘you’?”
Tom lifts your hand to his mouth and presses
a kiss on your knuckles. “There reason behind that is because there might come
a day where you will look in the mirror and realized that you are this amazing,
kind, wonderful person and that you deserve better than me.” Tom explains and
he doesn’t give you a chance to interrupt as he continues to talk. “What if one
day I wake up and you are finally able to see yourself as how I see you; how I
love you.” He can’t really deny the concern that he has regarding this – love
can be a fickle thing sometimes.
You shake your head, a little upset at
what Tom had just told you because literally every single thing he has said is
what you honestly feel every now and then. “That’s preposterous.” You protest,
shaking your head once more. “Everything you said – those are my words, Tom. I
am no one in the industry and there are quite a lot of women out there that is
more suited to be with you.” You can feel Tom’s eyes on you but you simply just
continue talking. “I am absolutely terrified out of my wits – terrified that you
will leave for someone better, someone that’s not like, you know, me.” You
finish lamely and Tom looks as affronted as you had been when he said he is
afraid that you might someone
“Y/N, when I pursued you and confessed to
you; I meant what I said then. When I date you, I am dating all of you which
includes the parts of you that you may not like and the parts that you are
working on – I am not going to leave you even if someone better comes by
because I am in love with you, not them.”
Tom leans forward to kiss you on your
forehead before drawing your head against his chest and you smile as you wrap
your arms around your boyfriend’s body. “I love you, Tom.” Tom chuckles,
pressing his lips atop of your head.
I love how AT is literally the only show that can go for like 4+ seasons and still be good and even GET BETTER as the show goes on. Like every other show I know got worse after the 4th or 5th season but with AT? Nah. Season 8 is one of the best ones if not THE best.
He hadn’t slept so peacefully in months – he hadn’t slept more than five hours alone in months. He’d been travelling to new countries and time zones nearly every week, promotions and touring occupying his time every free moment he had. He didn’t have time each night – like he had wanted and requested – to FaceTime his family, talking to his daughter before she fell asleep and talking about his wife’s day, ignoring all other commitments to be in touch with one commitment he promised to always be on time for. He didn’t like not having his girls on tour – every moment he was home, he would be with his wife and daughter, and going between having all his time available to a tea party with his baby, or a bath with his wife, to not seeing or having any time at all – broke his heart.
He couldn’t wait to come home.
He nearly jumped out of his plane’s window as soon as he saw his wife and daughter standing beside an airport security guard, his hands directing his plane to where he would be stopped, eventually allowing him to exit and find his family. He didn’t need to search – he’d spotted Ophelia’s favourite teddy bear he had bought her (a bear he’d gifted before his very first tour, which she wouldn’t be attending, right away) waving towards him, her smile bright and her feet bouncing off the tarmac as she tugs at your shirt, pointing and waving excitedly, nearly bounding out of your hold as she noticed the plane’s staircase descend to the ground.
“Daddy!” she exclaimed, leaping into his embrace, his grin popping a dimple in his cheek as he wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheeks sweetly as she wraps her legs around his waist, her hands around his shoulders, clinging onto his torso, a shy wave and smile towards Paddy making him chuckle quietly. “Daddy, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, Sunshine,” he smiles, his cheeks blushing pink as you step towards him, pushing your lips against his softly, a hum of contentment pausing your kiss, his mouth pressing a kiss on your forehead as he embraces you, whispering quietly, “Missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too, Superstar. How was everything? How was Sydney?” you spill, your words mending together as all of your thoughts pour into your sentence, his laughter spurring butterflies in your belly, your eyes rolling teasingly as he bumps his hip against yours.
“Slow down, slow down. ‘m right here,” he chuckles, breaking apart to thank his pilot and security guards, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as Ophelia shimmies out of his hold, settling on the ground, before grabbing his suitcase, grinning as she grabs his hand, her hand gripping his handle as she drags his bag behind her. “Takin’ ‘me suitcase fo’ me?”
“Mhm,” she hums confidently, her tiny legs bouncing as she follows closely beside him, his hand attached to yours as your fingers lace together. He didn’t notice until she’d whispered, “Daddy, people are waiting outside fo’ you, again.”
“’s alright, baby. C’mon, can you give Mummy ‘me bag? ‘m goin’ to pick you up and you can hide in ‘me jumper, okay?” he breathes, carefully placing his suitcase in your hand momentarily, lifting her onto his hip and tucking her face into his neck, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his hand gripping yours as you tugged his suitcase behind you, sunglasses perched on your nose and your chin touching your chest as Basil leads you outside, a swarm of paparazzi and screaming girls crowding your exit, his heart tightening as he felt his daughter’s grip on him squeeze in fear, his lips touching her temple as he holds her close, assuring his hold on her. “Hi. Let ‘me family t’rough, please. I jus’ wan’a get home.”
“Happy to be home, then?”
“Very,” he mutters, gently nudging you before him, his arms clutching his daughter as she hums her favourite song, distracting her, her fingertips clutched around his sweater for protection. “’s okay, baby – we’re almost to Mummy’s car.”
“Daddy, I don’t like when t’ose people come around,” she mumbles, her cheek leaning against his shoulder, eyelashes fluttering against his skin as he safely places her in her car seat. He slow walks around, shoving his suitcase in their boot, smiling lightly as he notices you buckled and waiting in your passenger seat. “Why can’t we jus’ be alone – jus’ you, me, and Mummy?”
“Baby,” he sighs, his heart breaking as her bottom lips wobbles, her hands clutching her teddy bear as her feet gently rock against her seat, “do you know how I have to travel and sing?”
“When I go to different countries and cities, magazines have people t’at follow and take pictures of me, because t’ey want to make stories -,” he starts, buckling his belt, carefully turning on his engine and beginning to drive.
“Stories t’at Mummy and I don’t read, right? Because t’ey tell lies about us?”
“Right, baby. So, t’ey want to make stories, and, in order to write t’eir stories t’ey have to try and find different t’ings about us to write about – which is why t’ey follow us and ask questions,” he mumbles sadly, his hand carefully reaching behind and squeezing her hand, his fingers lacing through yours as he turns around, his eyes focused on the road and his all-too-familiar route home. “But, when we go home, only you, me, and Mummy are t’ere. ‘s jus’ our home. No one else. Just us.”
“Miss you when you’re gone, Daddy,” she mumbles, her fingertips toying with her teddy bear’s arms, bouncing him lightly, clapping excitedly as she noticed her home popping into view.
“Miss you more, Sunshine. Can’t wait until you’re out of school and can travel alongst wit’ me,” he grins, parking your car carefully, sliding out of his driver’s seat and opening Ophelia’s door, laughing as she bounces into his arms, hugging him as he grabs his suitcase out of their car. “Can I walk in, silly goose?”
“No, Daddy. Wan’a stay wit’ you.”
“Okay, okay,” he smiles, gently setting her on her feet, holding her hand in his tightly, locking their car as he leads their path into their home, candles lit and scented around their foyer, a smile perched on your lips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly as Ophelia drags his suitcase into your lounge. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you grin, kissing his lips softly, your eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, his lips touching your neck as he squeezes your waist, his grip lifting you slightly, your giggle swelling his heart with love, a sigh breathing through his mouth as he sets you on your feet. “’m happy you’ll be spending your birthday with us, baby. We can’t be singing ‘Happy Birthday’ through FaceTime – just isn’t right.”
“’m twenty-eight tomorrow. Holy shi-.”
“Daddy! Don’t say t’at word – ‘s a naughty word,” Ophelia gasps, her gentle voice drawing his attention, a chuckle slipping through his lips as he leans down, a grin on his lips as he opens his arms, her tiny figure bumbling into his embrace, giggling as his fingertips tickle her sides. “Daddy, stop ticklin’ me!”
“Say ‘Daddy, I love you more t’an Mummy’ and I’ll let you go,” he smirks, lifting her upside down, his hands gripping her waist as she hangs over his shoulder, her hands lightly tapping his back in protest.
“Daddy, I love you more t’an Mummy,” she breathes, her giggle beginning to hurt her chest, her cheeks bright pink with her smile. “Le’ me go!”
“Okay,” he grins, setting her on her feet, his palms gripping her cheeks and pressing a kiss to her cheek as she scrunches her nose. “Knew you loved me more.”
“I love Mummy more, now, because she doesn’t hang me upside down!”
“Mhm, that’s right, Lia – you tell him,” you giggle, smiling brightly as she wraps her hand around yours, hugging your waist as you near your kitchen, an aroma of your premade dinner filling your nose, a hum of Niall’s approval making you turn your attention. “Smell good?”
“Baby, you made my favourite,” he smiles, his cheeks blushing pink, butterflies swarming in his belly as he kisses your temple, chuckling as you nudge his hip towards your dining table, his form settling in his chair, huffing lightly as your daughters bounces onto his lap, leaning her cheek on his chest comfortably as she snuggles into his warm embrace. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now, c’mon. Let’s eat.”
“Daddy,” Ophelia sighs, her fingertips toying with her nightdress as she sits between his legs, his hand gently brushing through her damp hair, her favourite film playing on her television, her nightlight turned on, ready to be used as he tucks her into bed, “do you like being on tour?”
“Touring is a lot of fun, darlin’,” he whispers, his heart breaking as he notices her distressed features, worry and confusion lacing her expression, her face slowly turning over her shoulder as she listens carefully, “but, not’ing is as fun as when I’m wit’ you and Mummy.”
“Mummy and you are ‘me favourite people in t’e entire world. Everyone knows about you – you’re ‘me little girl. Miss you lots and lots, when I’m gone. I can’t wait until you and Mummy come wit’ me and travel and we can show you our favourite places to see,” he smiles, gently kissing her forehead, his fingertips lightly lifting her onto her cotton sheets, a chuckle slipping off his lips as she wiggles beneath her comforter, much like how you settle into bed each night, her arms clutching her teddy bear as he tucks her in, sitting beside her as she lays against her pillow.
“Where are y’a gon’a show me?”
“’m goin’ to show you Paris,” he begins, his words barely above a whisper, as if he would be telling a secret no one else could know besides his baby girl, her smile swelling her heart with love as he speaks. “We’re goin’ to visit where Mummy and I had our honeymoon, where we got married. We’ll visit Grandma and Grandad in Dublin.”
“I miss Dublin, Daddy. ‘s my favourite place in t’e whole entire world,” she lisps, her eyelashes beginning to slowly beat against her cheeks as she drifts in and out of consciousness.
“’s mine, too,” he smiles, nudging his nose against hers softly, his lips touching hers and he whispers his goodnight. “Go to sleep, Sunshine. I’ll see you in t’e mornin’. I love you.”
“Love you, Daddy. See you in t’e mornin’. ‘m happy you’re wit’ us, again.”
“’m happy, too, baby. ‘m happy, too.”
“Happy Birthday, Cuddles,” you whisper sleepily, your heart swelling with love as he turns his head, his smile bright and wide, his blue orbs hidden by his eyelashes, his lips touching your forehead softly. “I love you, you old man.”
“’m twenty-eight – ‘s not t’at old,” he grumbles, squeezing your naked hip, your panties hanging loosely on your waist, his dirty tee shirt rolling beneath your breasts as you cuddle into his chest, his boxers sitting low on his hips, his legs intertwined with yours as he snuggles close to you. “Still have ‘me sex appeal to y’a, if t’at says anyt’ing, ‘m sayin’ I still got it.”
“Oh my god,” you smirk, rolling your eyes teasingly, untangling your legs, swinging your thigh around his waist, straddling his hips, your palms placed flatly against his chest, a giggle slipping off your lips as his hands reach underneath his shirt, a smirk lifted on his lips as he props his knees up, your face leaning against his, his lips touching yours softly. “Still got it.”
“I love you,” he smiles, slowly lowering his legs, your figure settling on his thighs smoothly, his fingertips slipping through yours softly, his eyes gazing into yours lovingly as he speaks. “What are we doing, today?”
“Hmm,” you hum, giggling as he slips his hands away, poking your sides playfully as he smiles. “We have your birthday party, you numb nut. What else would we be doing?”
“Well,” he smirks, his thumb tracing your jaw as he whispers, “I had quite a few ideas in mind.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” you smile, grabbing his wrist, kissing his palm softly, lacing your fingers with his, your cheeks blushing pink as your murmur your secret. “Ophelia is goin’ home with Harry and Jenna, tonight.”
“Mhm,” you grin, giggling quietly as he tosses you off his lap, his knees straddling your hips, his palms pressed flat against your pillow as his lips ghost across yours. “Didn’t think I’d end your birthday without a surprise or two, did you – especially since I haven’t seen you in nearly a month.”
“God, I really do love you.”
“Phew, what a relief – thought you were havin’ an affair or somethin’ on tour,” you tease, rolling your eyes once more, a smile lifting on your lips as he pushes his lips against yours, a moan echoing against his lips as he dips his hips against yours, his shaft slowly hardening against your thigh, your eyelashes pressing against your cheeks as you breathe heavily.
“T’ought I was havin’ an affair, hm?” he whispers, his lips touching your ear, gently biting your earlobe as his lips drag across your neck, gently biting your collarbone as he travels alongst your jaw. “Can prove to you I wasn’t – you’re t’e only one I ever t’ink about, baby, especially when I have to get me’self off after a show because I don’t have you wit’ me, t’at’s t’e worst part about touring.”
“Can’t do t’is,” you puff, biting your lips painfully, your pelvis aching to push against his, his dip of his hips drawing a moan off your tongue. “She’s going to wake up, any minute. She’s been waiting fo’ you to come home.”
“’m sure you’ve been waiting, too, huh? Gettin’ yourself off before bed, once she’s fallen asleep, yeah? ‘m right, aren’t I?”
“Shut up,” you mumble, pressing your fingertips into his hips, nudging him backwards, picking up his chin with your fingertips, your lips nearly touching his as you mutter, “if you don’t move, right now, I will quite literally knee you in your balls and not give you anything tonight. ‘m not in a mood to be interrupted when we’re nearly done, like last time. If I’m having you, I want all of you, not just a tease.”
“Ooh, baby. Didn’t know you could be so demanding,” he hums, sitting back on his heels, grabbing your hands softly, lifting your body off your mattress, kissing your lips, mumbling quietly against your plump flesh. “Can’t wait fo’ later – goin’ to make up fo’ lost time, and make you feel so good.”
“Niall,” you smirk, kissing his lips lightly, cupping his cheeks in your palms, your cheeks bright pink and flustered, “you better.”
“Happy Birthday, Daddy!” Ophelia grins, nudging your bedroom door open with her hip, her tiny figure bouncing on your mattress, a present gripped in her hands carefully. “Have a present fo’ you.”
“Thank you, baby. ‘m goin’ to wee really quick and I’ll be right back to open your gift, yeah?” he smiles, ignoring your quiet giggle and smirk, gratefully leaning into her soft kiss on his cheek, his cheeks beginning to ache as he slips off your bed, fumbling into your bathroom, shutting your door behind him silently.
“Mummy, I hope Daddy likes ‘me present,” she confesses quietly, her fingertip pulled between her teeth as she nibbles her cuticle, pouting slightly as you softly pull her hand away from her mouth.
“Oh, baby,” you sigh, lifting her figure onto your lap, her bum settled on your thighs, her palms holding onto her gift as you squeeze her in a tight hug. “Daddy is going to love your present, I promise.”
“’m going to love your gift, Sunshine,” he grins, padding across your carpet, settling himself on his part of your mattress, shuffling your comforter on his legs, patting his thighs, grunting quietly as Ophelia pops onto his legs, her present clutched in her hands, a smile perked on her lips as he kisses her temple. “Can I ‘ave it?”
“Daddy, I made you a picture in art class,” she whispers nervously, her fingertips picking stray strands of cotton off your comforter, her gaze avoiding his as he peels open her carefully wrapped paper, which he knew you’d taped together, his grin bubbling excitement in his daughter’s heart, “and you’ll be able to have a picture of you, Mummy, and me, whenever we’re not with you.”
“Ophelia,” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes as he admires her carefully drawn picture, her coloured characters of herself, him, and you, each hand connected and holding each other, your home and flowers surrounding your figures, his hair coloured a new brown shade, his chuckle drawing her attention, her bright blue eyes staring into his blue orbs, “I love your picture, baby.”
“Mhm, I really love it. I’m going to keep your picture with me wherever I go – I promise,” he smiles, kissing her forehead sweetly, grinning as she puckers her lips, kissing his lightly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, Daddy. Can’t wait for your birt’day party – Jax and Henny are goin’ to be t’ere, too!”
“Jax, huh?” he smirks, rubbing his fingertips alongst her spine, gently humming, his palm patting her bum as she touches her cheek against his collarbone. “Do y’a fancy him?”
“Boys are yucky, Daddy. He’s my friend.”
“Jus’ making sure,” he chuckles, kissing her temple softly, her hair flowing alongst her shoulders, brushing against his bare chest, her giggle bubbling his heart with love as she brushes her hair behind her ear. “’s your hair fallin’ on me? Guess ‘m goin’ to have to cut it.”
“Why not? Don’t you wan’a have hair jus’ like me?” he shrugs, pretending to furrow his eyebrows in confusion, purposefully ignoring your hidden giggle, your palm covering your mouth as you admire their interaction.
“Daddy, I love you, but I like ‘me hair. ‘s long and pretty – like Mummy’s!”
“What?” she whispers, perking her ears with careful attention, her blue orbs gazing into his as she awaits his confession.
“I love Mummy’s hair. ‘s one of my favourite parts of ‘er.”
“What else do you love about Mummy?” she wonders curiously, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she listens carefully, his heart swelling as she stares wonderfully at you, in pure admiration of your beauty, much as he does once you’ve fallen asleep and he’s lying awake wondering how he’d fallen so lucky with his life.
“I love a lot about Mummy,” he starts, cupping her cheeks in his palms, his lips touching her forehead as he mutters, as if their entire world had frozen time and only you, your husband, and your daughter existed. “I love her smile, which you have. I love her eyes, I love her dimples. I love her heart, because she is so sweet and she loves you and she loves me, even when I’m a silly boy.”
“Daddy, you act silly sometimes, too?”
“Mhm, sometimes. I love how much Mummy loves my best mates and -.”
“Like Uncle Harry?” she interrupts, her cheeks blushing pink as he pokes her nose playfully.
“Jus’ like Uncle Harry. Mummy and Uncle Harry have been friends since your age, y’know?”
“Since four? Mummy must’ve been so little.”
“Hm, guess t’at means you’re little, too. Still my baby girl, always,” he smiles, kissing her face with butterfly kisses, her giggles spurring his loving touches, her laughter echoing off your bedroom walls as you join, her cheeks being covered with kisses as she sits comfortably in her father’s lap.
“Mummy, Daddy, stop kissin’ me!”
“Oh my goodness, are we bothering you, lovely?” you smirk, kissing her lips softly, lifting her off Niall’s lap, laying her against your mattress, your fingertips beginning to tickle her tummy, her giggles and smile drawing a grin on your lips, Niall’s aching cheeks swelling your heart with love and admiration for him – not only as your husband but as a father. “We are so sorry.”
“Mummy,” she grumbles, hiding her tiny face in her palms, a smirk on your lips as Niall’s callused hands gently grip her wrists, pulling her hands away, his lips touching hers as he touches her nose, his fingertips poking her hips, his palm hitting her bum as she wiggles onto her feet, lightly bouncing on your bed as she smiles. “Haha! Got up b’fore you could get me, again!”
“’m sure Uncle Harry ‘s goin’ to get you and Hensley, later, t’ough. How would you like to have a sleepover wit’ Hensley, t’night?” he smirks, winking sneakily as you smack his arm, his smile spurring butterflies in your belly as you blush, your daughter oblivious to his naughty remark.
“Okay!” she cheers excitedly, her figure sitting on your sheets her lips pout, her fingers twiddling her lap as she thinks carefully. “Daddy, are you goin’ to pick me up in t’e mornin?”
“If you’d like me to,” he smiles, kissing her temple sweetly, his tone becoming softened as he notices her soft frown. “’s only t’night, poppet. Gon’a have fun wit’ your best friend – jus’ like when your uncles come over t’night – we’re goin’ to have so much fun.”
“Will you sing, t’night? Will you and Uncle Harry and Uncle Louis and Uncle Liam sing? Like you did fo’ my birt’day?”
“Maybe,” he smiles, scrunching his nose together as she leans in, pressing her nose against his as she whispers, her staring drawing a smile on his lips he couldn’t mask. “Hey, start getting dressed and ready. We can get a birt’day breakfast before Grandad and Grandma come over. Mimi is comin’, too.”
“She is? Oh my goodness, Daddy, ‘m so excited! ‘m seein’ ‘me best friends, havin’ birt’day cake, and we can sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you with you, t’is year. ‘s so much fun!”
“Birt’days are always fun wit’ you, baby girl. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
“Niall, mate, you’re twenty-nine! How do you feel?” Louis smirks, grunting lightly as Ophelia shoves into his legs, her arms wrapped around his waist as she embraces him tightly. “Hi, little one. What’re you doin’?”
“Jax and I are playin’ tag and you and Daddy are our safe spots.”
“Haha, okay,” he chuckles, kissing her hair softly, patting her back as she begins to quietly bound around your kitchen, her giggles mending with Jax’s as he chases her, their laughter echoing off your freshly painted walls as guests begin to enter your home. “How do you feel? Old?”
“Been feelin’ old since nineteen when I had to get my fuckin’ surgery,” he chuckles, kissing your cheek softly, his hand patting your thigh as you sit comfortably on his hip, your figure leaning against his chest, his fingertips drumming against your hips as he listens to their conversation. “But, ot’erwise, not so old. Feelin’ pretty damn great actually. ‘m home wit’ ‘me wife and daughter, ‘me friends, doesn’t get any better t’an t’is.”
“Daddy, Daddy!” Ophelia squeals, bouncing onto his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck, her ankles crossing over your lap as she settles on his bare thigh, your bum set on his leg, giggling quietly as she pokes her tongue out at Jaxson. “Jax was goin’ to get me, but I got away jus’ in time. ‘s because ‘m really fast.”
“Oh, really?” he smirks, kissing her temple softly, his cheeks blushing pink as you kiss his cheek, brushing your fingertips through his hair.
“Still want birthday cake?” you smile, lifting Ophelia onto your hip, bouncing her excitedly as you pad into your kitchen, giggling as she bumbles around your marble island, picking up her father’s candles, setting the package in your palm as you carefully place each on around his cake. “Start singin’ first, Lia. Daddy ‘s goin’ to be so surprised to hear you singing.”
She could sing. Really sing. Proper set of lungs.
Niall noticed her talent one day in their car, on their drive to the airport, your flight returning from Hawaii with Eleanor on your holiday delayed, his fingertips drumming against his steering wheel as he hums alongst to Flicker, a request of his daughter’s as her favourite of Daddy’s records, her tiny high-pitched tone beginning to belt out lyrics he didn’t realise she’d memorised.
“Waiting here for someone, only yesterday we were on the run, you smile back at me, and your face lit up the sun,” she sings softly, her voice matching his pitch, his jaw gaping as he stares into his mirror, admiring her as she hums, her eyes closed as she murmurs every lyric she knows.
“Singin’ jus’ like me, huh?”
“Daddy, I wan’a sing like you.”
“Do you?” he smiles, his chest swelling as he notices her blushed cheeks, her pure smile and innocent eyes bubbling love in his heart, pride tracing through his brains as he realises, she’s his daughter – he helped make her. “One day I’ll have Mummy bring you on stage wit’ me.”
“I’d really like t’at, Daddy,” she smiles, clapping excitedly as she notices you nearly bounding towards your car, opening her car door, pressing kisses alongst her cheeks as she giggles, your cheeks blushed red as you notice his grin in love and admiration. “I love you.”
He hadn’t realised his daughter and wife had gathered their guests into their lounge, smiles on lips and hands held together as she begins to sing, her tiny voice singing with fear, his arms opening, lifting her onto his lap as he kisses her cheeks, a surrounding sound of singing ‘Happy Birthday’ making his cheeks blush pink, his grin burning his cheeks as you hold his cake, a smile perked on his lips as you whisper quietly.
“Happy Birthday, baby.”
“Happy Birthday, Daddy.”
“Gon’a help me blow out ‘me candles?” he whispers, kissing her ear softly, her giggle perking a smile on his lips, his heart pounding in his chest as all of his closest friends and family gather around, recording and capturing pictures of such a candid moment. “Ready? One, two, three.”
Ophelia smiled brightly, hugging him tightly as she claps, a surrounding sound blended with cheers and whistles around him, her baby blue eyes gazing into his as she snuggles into his chest, graciously thanking you as you place a tiny slice of cake in her hands, her laughter drawing a smile on your face as Niall swipes her icing on her nose. “Hey!”
“Have to give Daddy some icing on his nose, now, Lia,” Louis encourages, winking with a smirk on his lips, laughing loudly as she rubs icing on his cheeks, slipping off his lap and hiding behind your legs, her tiny arms wrapped around your waist, her cheek pressed against your bum as she stays behind you. “Great job, munchkin.”
“I-,” Niall begins, chuckling loudly as slowly his guests disperse throughout his home, laughter and chatting echoing off your walls, Louis’ hand smacking his thigh as he laughs. “If our children weren’t around, I’d have a few choice words fo’ you.”
“Ye’, ye’, I’m sure,” he smiles, hugging him, patting his back as you and Eleanor admire their interaction fondly. “Happy birthday, mate.”
“T’ank you. T’ank you fo’ coming. Haven’t seen my buddy in a whilst, haven’t we Jax?”
“Uncle Niall, ‘m gettin’ real good at footie, too! Daddy’s been teachin’ me.”
“T’ink you’re better t’an me?”
“I don’ know,” he sighs, his finger tapping his lip as he thinks, a chuckle sliding off his lips as he nods. “Maybe.”
“One day soon, Daddy and I will make a day where you can come over and play with Lia, and we’ll play football, too, yeah?”
“Okay! Can’t wait!”
“Daddy,” Ophelia wonders, her tone dropped and laced with nervousness, his arms opening as she reaches into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling against his chest as he lifts her onto his hip, “will I play football with you and Uncle Louis and Jax, too?”
“Of course, darlin’ – you can play anyt’ing you want to. Horan’s can do anyt’ing, yeah?”
“Ye’,” she hums excitedly, lifting her head and meeting his gaze, “we can do anyt’ing.”
His fingertips pinched his lip, his figure leaning against your bedroom doorframe, his ankles crossed as he admires your bustling figure. He couldn’t hide his smile, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his cheeks blushed pink as he pays careful attention to you – how slowly you would lift a tiny article of clothing off the carpet, how suggestively you bent over your bedframe, ruffing your comforter to be slept in, how your hair laid alongst your spine, your silk pyjamas becoming translucent underneath your bedroom light. He’d been waiting nearly a month to be alone with you, to touch you, to make love to you, and he could feel his jeans tightening with only a peek at your perfect figure.
“’m goin’ to burst in ‘me jeans if you don’t stop t’at.”
“Baby,” he hums, stepping towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands cupping your bum as he presses kissing alongst your jaw, slowly mapping your neck as he whispers against your skin, “you know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Mhm, maybe,” you smirk, pinching his chin with your fingertips, your fingertip tracing his lips as his eyes gaze into yours. “Do you want me?”
“Want you so bad.”
“Go on,” you whisper, kissing his ear, dragging your fingertip down his chest as you cup his hip, nudging him towards your bed, his heart pounding in his chest as he sits on your mattress, his figure settled in between your pillows, his hands cupping his head as he lays back. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”
“Why not? ‘m havin’ a great birt’day, ‘me gorgeous wife is wit’ me, ‘m havin’ a really great day, baby.”
“How much better would your night be if I gave you everything and anything, you wanted?”
He didn’t know how he hadn’t busted his jeans’ zipper, his cock was aching in his boxers and he could feel his tip throbbing against his thighs, ready to be pleased and milked of a long-awaited orgasm he’d been yearning for. His feet pressed into your sheets as you straddle his thighs, your hips settling on his as he moans, your lips pushing against his as his hands grip your hips, a gasp of breath cutting your kiss as he lifts you off his thighs, your figure hovering over yours as his lips attach to your neck, his breath heavy against your heated skin, his fingertips ripping your clothing off your body, his panting drawing your fingertips along his taut skin, his scattered clothing parading across your carpet, his naked pelvis dipping against yours.
“Baby, jus’ want you,” you breathe, gently guiding his cock in your heat, his forehead dipping against your shoulder as he moans, his hips thrusting against yours, a smirk lifting on his lips as you swear, praising his name as he pushes against your softest spot, his grunts and pants hotly hitting your collarbone, your core squeezing his shaft, drawing his orgasm near yours. “’m so close – oh, fuck.”
“’s okay, baby,” he whispers, his pelvis tightening as you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him impossibly close, hugging him tightly as you orgasm, his climax pulsing into your core as he thrusts, his lips touching your cheek as he lightly pulls himself out, his figure laying against your chest, his mouth pressing against your collarbone, your fingertips brushing through his hair as his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. “I love you.”
“I love you. Happy Birthday, baby.”
“Hi, baby,” Niall grins, wrapping his arms around Ophelia tightly as she bounces into his hold, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs tucked around his waist as she clings onto his torso. “Did you have fun?”
“Mhm!” she grins, her cheek laying against his collarbone as he squeezes her, a giggle slipping off her lips as he tickles her, his lips kissing her cheek lovingly, his smile bright as she tucks her face into his neck. “Do you t’ink we can spend today toget’er - like, have cuddles and treats in t’e lounge wit’ Mummy?”
His heart burst in his chest with love, his lips touching her temple as he hums, whispering as he rocks her, waiting on his best friend to chat with him for a moment before he would leave, thanking him with gratitude for his night alone with you. “’m sure we can – wouldn’t want to spend my day wit’ anyone else but you and Mummy.”
“Hey!” Harry grins, walking across his wooden floorboards with her duffle bag in hand, a stuffed teddy bear tucked underneath his arm as he steps towards him, handing over her bag to her father before holding her bear, “Did you forget something?”
“Thank you! Thank you, Uncle Harry!”
“Of course, love,” he smiles, handing her teddy bear in her palms lightly, a smirk on his face as he notices his best friend’s scruffed hair and blushing cheeks. “Did you have a good night?”
“Piss off,” he blushes, patting her bum softly, her breathing softening as she falls asleep on his chest. “We did, yes.”
“Y/N deserved it, you deserved it. ‘m happy fo’ you,” he nods, cupping his shoulder, his lips pursed in a line as he utters his sentence. “Do we have another Horan possibly on the way?”
“No, no,” he chuckles, shaking his head, his mind tracing every thought about how hectic having a baby would be in that moment. “Not yet. We’re waiting a few months – until everything slows down. I don’t want to miss appointments and all t’at.”
“Okay,” he hums, a smirk on his lips, a huff of breath slipping through his teeth as his daughter leaps behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug, smiling and waving at her uncle as she giggles and bumbles into her bedroom. “Jus’ know, Jen and I are ready to be godparents when anot’er baby comes along.”
“Y/N and I know,” he smirks, nodding slightly, turning on his heel as he steps towards his front door. “’m goin’ to get her home, I’ll text you, later on.”
He steps outside slowly, cupping his hand around his baby’s head, walking towards his car and gently placing her in her seat, buckling her tight, stepping into his driver’s seat and starting his engine, his heat being turned towards his daughter, fearing her becoming sick as he finally settles home. He grinning, his attention gazing towards her, admiring her soft and delicate features as she sleeps soundly, ignoring honking and traffic as she travels home, where she would be safely tucked in her father’s hold, snuggled and warm as she carefully pays attention to her favourite films, singing alongst as a musical number begins, persuading him to sing with her, drawing smiles on their lips in a mimicked smile.
“Good morning, baby.”
“I missed you,” she confesses, her tiny voice quieted and hushed, his heart dropping as he notices her nervous features and furrowed eyebrows.
“I missed you more, baby,” he sighs, leaning his hand behind him, cupping her knee lightly as he drives, his smile drawing on his lips as he notices your home, lights turned on and curtains opened, revealing your figure bustling through your kitchen, cooking and cleaning as he pulls into your driveway. “But, hey, I’m home and I’m going to be home fo’ a whilst – but, t’en you and Mummy get to come wit’ me, and we’ll be toget’er, yeah?”