lol at the title i’m so sorry but like i couldn’t resist LOL sry if this is a giant vacuole of shit, but like the lil idea popped into my head, and so instead of requesting it from someone else, I thought i’d give a go at writing. But as you all probs know… i’m a double science major so i can’t write worth shat… lawls. anyways, idk why i can’t do anything without rambling. Enjoy this. It gave me a good chuckle.
word count: idk… a lot?
You wake up early this morning from the urgent sense to throw up. You try to be as discreet and quiet as possible so you don’t wake your snoozing husband, Shawn, who is laying in the bed next to you, but your old New York City apartment squeaks if you breathe the wrong way.
You ditch any effort of silence, though, when you feel the puke coming on, and within a matter of seconds you are hunched over the toilet bowl. As you are hurling your guts out, you feel a warm hand settle on your back and another move the baby hairs out of your face that have fallen out of your sleepy bun.
When you can’t puke anymore, you sit there almost draped over the toilet with your forehead resting on the seat. You never get sick like this. You haven’t puked since your freshman year of Uni, and that was only the result of an excessive amount of alcohol consumed during that infamous Delta Sig Frat party.
“Baby, are you okay? You don’t feel fevered or anything. Do you think you have food poisoning?” Shawn asks you after a few minutes when he decides you’re probably not going to throw up anymore.
“I don’t know, we didn’t eat anything weird for dinner last night. I don’t know what it could be.” You reply back, looking at the concern in his honey brown eyes. You get up off the floor and move to the sink to brush your teeth to try and get the horrible after taste out of your mouth.
In the middle of rinsing out your mouth, you start counting on your fingers after a thought pops into your head.
You drop the toothbrush in its holder and run to your closet trying to find some yoga pants and a t shirt to throw on.
“Babe, what… where are you going?” Shawn asks, following you back into the bedroom.
“I’m late” is all you say over and over again. You can’t find a t shirt of your own, so you hop over the bed to Shawn’s closet. You grab your favorite t shirt of his– the grey one with the Hogwarts crest on it– and his maroon hoodie that he swears you wear more than he does, and throw them on over some yoga pants, putting on your adidas sneakers right after.
“Hon, late for what? It’s Saturday.” He says, coming up to you and placing both of his hands on your shoulders to stop you from racing around the room like a maniac.
You stop moving at his touch and look right into his eyes, “I’m late, Shawn. I’m two weeks late.”
His eyes widen with surprise and his lips form an “O”.
“So..are you…does this mean…” He stutters, trying to form a coherent thought, but the idea of being a dad swirling around in his head is keeping him from being able to process.
“I don’t know… maybe? I gotta… i gotta go to the drugstore. Get a pregnancy test or something, right?”
You’re just as baffled as him. You’re both at the peak of your careers right now, so you never chanced unprotected sex. You’re about to graduate medical school and he is just three months away from releasing his fifth album.The thought of being parents was always super exciting and something the both of you wanted to do, but it always seemed so far into the future. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant now.
You return from the store about an hour later with 6 pregnancy tests (”I didn’t know what kind to get or what brand to get or what would be the most accurate or really anything about pregnancy tests or pregnancy in general because i’m only 24!”) and run into the bathroom so that you can take them. You pick the first one out of the bag and rip it open. As you’re peeing on the little stick, all you can think is “Please God, don’t let it be positive. Don’t let it be positive.”
Shawn keeps knocking on the door trying to get you to let him in, but you can’t. You can’t have him in here if you find out that you’re about to stall his career with a baby.
The timer on your phone rings signaling that the test is done, but you don’t even flinch. Shawn hears the sound through the door and starts knocking again.
“Y/n, please, I need to be in there with you. This isn’t just you. I’m the… I’m the dad.” He says softly through the door. You take a deep breath in and out. He’s right. This is happening to the both of you, not just to you. You decide to let him in before you look at the results.
At your first little jiggle of the handle to unlock the door, Shawn practically knocks it down trying to get in as fast as possible. He sees the little white stick sitting on the counter face down and instantly freezes.
“Have you looked at it yet?” He asks, not breaking his fixed stare at the test.
“I can’t. You have to. I can’t.” He looks at you with nervous eyes and walks over to the test, picking it up and flipping it over to look at the results.
You stare at his face anxiously awaiting to read his expression for signs of relief or regret, but his face stays expressionless.
“Y/N,” He starts, looking right at you.
“Yeah…” You reply nervously, eyes fixed on the test in his hands.
“I don’t know how to read one of these things.” He says, and a smile forms on his lips. You let out a shorty chuckle and smack your palm to your forehead.
“Damn, way to ruin a dramatic moment, babe” You say, but on the inside you’re glad that he found a way to lighten the mood. This is one of the many reasons why you’re absolutely certain that you married the right guy. The nerves evaporate from your body, and you start to get a little excited at the thought of having a baby with Shawn.
With this new feeling of reassurance, you take the stick from out of his hands and flip it over, knowing that if you drag out the process of discovering if you’re about to become a mom any longer you will actually explode.
You read the results on the stick and let out a breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding in and your stomach drops.
“So, does this mean I get to call you ‘Daddy’ now?” You say with a smile forming on your face.
Shawn’s eyes widen and he lets out a huge laugh before pulling you into a big hug. You wrap your arms around his neck and you feel yourself lifted of the ground. He spins you around before setting you back gently on the ground once he remembers that there’s now a baby in your tummy. His baby.
He drops down to his knees and presses his ear to your stomach as if he could actually hear the baby inside of you. Then, you start to hear a barely audible whisper saying “Hi, baby, I’m your dad. Me and your mom love you. We’re gonna love you and hold you and protect you forever. I can’t believe I’m actually your dad.”
You feel a few tears spill over down your cheeks, and one drops onto one of Shawn’s hands. He looks up at you with the biggest smile on his face that you have ever seen. He stands back up slowly and gently grabs your face. He leans in and kisses away the few tears on your cheeks, then your forehead, and down to the tip of your nose, finally pressing his soft lips agains yours.
“You’re going to be the best dad.” You say once you break apart from him.
“I love you so much.” He tells you, looking deep into your eyes before pulling you back in for another kiss.
a/n: I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO END IT I’M SORRY IF ITS TERRIBLE AJSRKJANSLJNA OK BYE
Grantaire doesn’t dress up. The closest he’s gotten is the solid red polo he bought for his first part time job. Usually his wardrobe consists of ripped jeans, paint or coffee stained shirts, and the occasional button up that’s so wrinkled it doesn’t even pretend to look nice.
Enjolras is totally fine with this not only because he’s gotten used to it but because he’s grown to love it and it’s Grantaire. That doesn’t stop him from imagining what R would look like in a proper button up and some slacks though.
So when Grantaire shows up for their anniversary at his door wearing a dress shirt, bowtie (borrowed from Courf), and vest, Enjolras pretty much dies.
Sam Cortland watching over Celaena and seeing her visit his grave. insp / some direct quotes from Queen of Shadows
Seeing her dressed in that tunic of spring grass he knows, knows what it means for them, who were clothed far too often in black, in death, to dress in a color so full of life. So full of life, she is now, and his heart aches with the happiness of that realization. She burns with it.
He watches her place the stones, three of them, and they sparkle in the sunlight against the grass.
She whispers then, “Hello, Sam.”
He wants to reach out from the Afterworld and grasp her and never let go.
“I miss you. Every day, I miss you. And I wonder what you would have made of all this. Made of me.”
His lips form the prayer that she is wondrous, he loves her.
“I think-I think you would have been a wonderful king. I think they would have liked you more than me.”
His tears fall down his cheeks that she used to cup in her hands. They dance down across his lips that miss hers against them. He tastes salt, but he still smells lavender soap.
“I never told you-how I felt. But I loved you, and I think a part of me might always love you.”
I love you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, it’s the ultimate truth to him in this moment.
“Maybe you were my mate, and I never knew it. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering about that. Maybe I’ll see you again in the Afterworld, and then I’ll know for sure. But until then … until then I’ll miss you, and I’ll wish you were here.”
I’m waiting, I’m here. His words are lost to her, he knows. He misses her too, but he does not wish her here. Watching her rattle the stars and find herself, he never knew the depth of her strength or the amount of fire in her heart.
He watches the warrior approach behind her, and his heart’s ache lessens because she isn’t alone anymore.
Okay so I’m clear you’re saying, after you went into the body of a woman and escaped from a mental hospital, where all the patients have magically concealed inside their rooms you think you saw me getting out of a car.
Louis ignores him. “Hi, Harry,” he greets loudly. “How are you today?”
He’s talking to a frog. Harry doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Louis, you know it’s not going to reply to you, right?”
“Shut up, Harold, I’m trying to listen to what Harry’s saying.” He puts his ear to the glass, as if trying to listen to what the frog’s saying. “Are you having a nice day?”
It’s obvious that he’s just doing this to rile Harry up, but Harry can’t help but get riled up anyway.
“Louis,” he says. “It’s a frog.”
The frog suddenly croaks, like it’s trying to argue with Harry about its frog-ness. He loses, of course, because he is a frog. Harry knows these things, since Harry is human, and not a frog.
“His name is Harry,” Louis corrects, haughtily. “Stop disrespecting him.”
“You named him after me.”
“All frogs are named after you,” Louis replies matter-of-factly. “It’s `cause you look like all the frogs.”
He’s a complete nutjob. Harry resists the urge to smack him.
Harry decides to change tactics. Louis can be incredibly bullheaded about things like this, and he knows from experience that Louis can argue about a point for hours, for no other reason except that he ‘just felt like it’. “Does this make me Harry number one, then?”
“No,” Louis replies. He’s still got his ears pressed to the glass of the cage, and he looks silly. “you’re Harry number five.”
“Yeah,” Louis answers. “Prince Harry, Harry Potter, Harry Osbourne from Spiderman, Harry over here, and then you.”
Harry crosses his arms. “Why does the frog that was named after me come before me?”
“He doesn’t talk as much as you,” Louis says dismissively.