Ahhh Ive Just Found All Your Stories And I Absolutely Love Them! Could I Be Added To Your Henry Cavill

Ahhh I’ve just found all your stories and I absolutely love them! could I be added to your Henry Cavill tag list please?? I can’t wait to read everything you’ve wrote

Thank you so much. I hope you’ll enjoy them, I’ll be sure to add you to it

The one with “We were on a break”

I have had this one shot ready for a week, but I didn’t post it because is not festive, but today I said fuck it 😂

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader

Summery: After a fight you and Henry decide to take a break… you spend all your night deciding if maybe you didn’t make a mistake, Henry spends his night differently Warnings: angst, cheating (is it cheating? is it not? if you have seen the episode of Friends this is inspired of, you know what I mean), child abandonment. Poorly written English, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes

The last year had been difficult for you and Henry, the constant arguing, the couple therapy, the costant nagging every time he traveled for more than a week without you, the fear every time he went out with his friends.

It all had started 12 months ago: you had just been promoted at your job and you couldn't have been happier, after years and years of given your all to your job your boss was finally recognizing your effort, you were engaged to the love of your life, you had a beautiful house and a super cute and fluffy pup. But the promotion hadn't only come with the gratification of your effort being recognized, it was also followed by a lot more responsibilities and hours in the office.

Henry had been happy and supportive of you, of course he had been, he had always wanted for you to be fulfilled in every aspect of your life and he knew that, even if you didn't need to work because he could provide with anything you could need and want, you had always wanted to be indipendent, you didn't want him to think you cared about his money, not even for a second. You always joked that when he got tired of it he could just "hang up the cape” and you would give him an allowance.

Even though he couldn't have been happier for you and your accomplishments, the longer hours in the office had started to weigh on both of you and your relationship.

Your relationship had always needed a lot of work: Henry traveled a lot for his job but you had always managed because you used to have stable hours, but being now the head of your own team you couldn't always go back home at 5 p.m. like you used to, beside you had just been promoted you couldn't ask for time off already.

All of that had reduced the time you could spent with Henry when he was home and it had started a chain of reaction that had ended with the biggest fight you and your fiancè had ever had in four years of your relationship.

You could still remember that day, and the days after, like it was yesterday, you could still remembered the emptiness you had felt as soon as Henry had slammed the door of your house, you could still feel the dread of losing the love of your life for a mistake you weren't sure you could forgive.

-10 months before-

You were in your office with your boss Daniel, trying to fix the mess that was the last shipment, you could see your cell lighting up with Henry's calls, but you could also feel your boss eyes burning the back of your head so you couldn't really answer, beside you were almost done. You didn't know what time it was, you didn't know how long it had taken but you had done it: you had fixed the problem and you had impressed your boss.

"Good job today, I was sure you were the right person for the promotion but i'm happy I wasn't wrong"- Daniel, your boss had smiled at you… and he never smiled, so you took it as a win.

"Thank you"- you had said while putting your coat on

"Why don't you take the next couple of days off? I know the last couple of months, after your promotion, have been tough and don't think I haven't noticed that you have been the last one leaving the office almost everyday since getting promoted. The project is bascially done, we have fixed the shipment problem, I'm sure your team can manage the last details without you"- you wanted to jump for the happiness but had tried to stay professional.

"Are you sure?"- you double checked

"Of course, you deserve it. I don't want to see you until next week"- Daniel said while leaving the office.

You were on cloud nine, you were tired of course but you couldn't wait to be home: all you wanted was to get home, drink a glass of wine and tell Henry the good news. You couldn't wait to spend some time with Henry: maybe you could take a long weekend trip, it was going to be amazing.

You arrived home and the first thing you noticed was that Kal didn't come as soon as he heard your car and that could mean only two things: he and Henry weren't home or Kal was too busy taking care of Henry to come to the door and that worried you...

"Babe? Kal? I'm home"- you said while hanging your coat. Henry didn't answer you but you could now hear Kal wining and the tv on so that meant he was home.

You went to the living room, sure that Henry was there by now, even if he hadn't answered when you had said hi, maybe he had just fell asleep while watching a film.

Only when you entered the living room you were able to noticed that the table was set, a simple candle as center piece, and a bouquet of red roses was resting on what was supposed to be your side of the table. Henry was on the couch and it was clear he was very much awake

"Babe. I'm so sorry, I-" you tried but he didn't let you finish

"it's 11 p.m. Y/n, you told me you were going to be home at 6 at most... at 6 and it's 11 pm"- you could see it was upset and the last thing you wanted was to have a fight. You were so tired, you just wanted to hug your boyfriend and go to sleep preferably with your bear of a man and your baby-bear of a pup keeping you warm.

"I know I'm sorry, I really tried but the shipment department made a mistake and it took a while to fix it but listen-" he stopped you again and now you were getting annoyed. He knew there were really few things that got on your nerves and people not letting you speak was one of them. But you took a deep breath trying to stay calm as long as you could because you could see Henry was mad and one of you needed to keep a clear head if you wanted to avoid a fight

"You tried, yeah that's what you keep saying, that's the only thing I have been hearing from you in the last two months, well that and the message on your voicemail since you seem to have decided to stop answering my phone calls. Do you even remember what today is?”-he asked and even before he had finished to speak you wanted to curse. Fuck the roses, the home cooked dinner, he was wearing your favorite suit...

"It's our anniversary"- you whispered, it's not like you had completly forgotten, you had rembered this morning but you hadn't seen Henry before going to work since you had gotten out while he was still on his morning run, just to be sure not to get late. You had asked your boss to go out a little bit early but then the mess had happened and you had forgotten about the anniversary, about the dinner Henry had planned weeks ago without telling you anything about it, wanting it to be a surprise. He had only aked you to be there and well... you hadn’t been .

"Yeah it's our anniversary and I just spent it without even seeing my fiancè since she was busy working all day"- he wasn't screaming, Henry never did, especially not at you, but it didn't mean he was any less angry

"I tried, I swear I had asked Daniel yesterday to finish early but-"

"Daniel of course"- he interrupted you again and now you had had enough

"What's that supposed to mean?"- now you were getting angry... ok you were sorry you forgot about dinner, you were sorry you got home late, but calm-Y/n had run out of patience and you didn't like the tone your fiancè was using with you

"There is something I should know? about you and Daniel?"- Henry asked and in that moment you could have strangled him

"Please tell me you are not serious right now"- you tried one last time to reasoned with your fiancé

"Do you think I didn't noticed how he looked at you at your promotion dinner? How he always tried to get his hands on you?"

"OH MY GOD! Not this again, there is nothing between us, he is fucking married and even if he wasn't do you really think I would cheat on you? is that the consideration you have of me? Do you really think that low of me?"- you didn't know if you wanted to cry or scream, maybe a bit of both. You were sure your relationship was solid but now it almost seems like it was falling to pieces in front of you

"No of course not. I dont know"- Henry said sounding deffeated

"You don't know... after four years together you dont know"- you could feel tears starting to fall but you didn't give them any mind -"Maybe we should take a break"- you added after a while you and Henry had spent waiting for the other to say something

"Yeah... let's just take a breath, I'm gonna take a walk, do you want me to get you something while I'm out?"- Henry was looking at you and even though you wanted to stop your mouth before it could spell the next words, you couldn’t, it almost seemed like you had lost control

"I meant a break from us"- you muttered

"You want to break up?"- Henry asked and you could see he was shocked and mad all over again

"I..."- you wanted to tell no but you couldn't speak, you wanted to stop him while he was getting his coat, you wanted to tell him you loved him when he was almost at the door, but you didn't. All you did was watch the love of you life slamming the door of your house while crying, Kal spent the whole time whining

-Now-

You had spent that night crying, trying to reach Henry on his phone to tell him you didn't really mean it, you were just tired and a little bit mad, you wanted him to get back home so you could rest and have that conversation when you weren't running high on emotion.

You had wanted to tell him you didn't mean it, there was no way you had meant it.

You heard the door opening and Henry getting in the house, you took a deep breath and tried to stop thinking about the past: you and Henry had moved past that fight and what it lead to. You had needed months of couple therapy but you were finally in a good place again.

"Hey baby"- you said while hugging Henry, the memory of that night had left you needing a little bit of affection

"You ok?"- Henry asked, he could probably see a lingering pain in your eyes, the pain form remembering but you didn't want to bring up that fight again, you had talk it through in therapy and you were over it, but sometime you still thought about that night, about what you could have said differently, you still wished no mistake had been made at work so that you could have been home on time... nothing would have happened then, or maybe it would have anyway, who knew. Your therapist had told you there was no good that could come from the 'what if' but you couldn't help yourself and, even if he didn't tell you, you knew it was the same for Henry, you knew he still thought about it, he still wished things had gone differently.

"Yeah of couse, I can't stop thinking about our trip for our anniversary in two months. Paris here we come"- you laughed trying not to think that your anniversary would always coincide with the worst memory of your relationship with Henry. But you had both decided you didn't want to lose the pleasure to celebrate your anniversary.

Henry smiled at you while tenderly kissing your temple

"I love you"- he said and your heart warmed as it did every time you heard those words from him. You two were ok... yeah you were

"I love you too"

You were about to kiss Henry when you heard Kal barking and the ring of the doorbell soon after.

"Are you waiting for someone?"- you asked

Henry shook his head before going to the door, you decided to stay in the kitchen so you could start cooking dinner, whoever was at the door Henry could handle it. But when 5 minutes had passed and Henry hadn't yet come back and hand't invited whoever was at the door in, you started to worry

"Henry who was it?"- you asked while reaching Henry at the door, but once you were there you almost stopped breathing: she was in your house with a stroller at her feet.

-10 months before- the day after the fight-

You had spent the previous night trying to reach your boyfriend on the phone to ask him to come back home, to let him know there was no way you wanted to break up, not even take a small break. That wasn't true, you had just been a little bit mad and very tired. But your calls hadn't been asnwered. You had then decided to leave him a message

"Hey baby I'm sorry about our fight, I didn't mean it, of course I don't want us to take a break. I'm gonna wait for you in our bed ok? Please come home. I love you"- your message had said

You were sure that as soon as Henry would have listened to your message, he would have come back home and you would have made up. There was no doubt in your mind.

You had fallen asleep while waiting.

The next day you had woken up expecting to find the warm presence of your fiance next to you, his big arms hugging you like he always did but you were alone, Henry's side of the bed was made.

You started to worry: there was no way that Henry after listening to your message hadn't come home, something must have happened.

You were ready to call every member of the Cavill family, every hospital in town to make sure he was ok, when you heard the door closing.

"Henry?"- you knew you were almost screaming but you were scared, you had been sure your fiance was nearly dead until a minute ago, otherwise why hadn't he answered your calls, why hadn't he come home.

"Oh my god Henry"- you flew in his arms as soon as you saw him, he squeezed you in between his arms, almost like he was sure you were going to leave. - "I'm so sorry about yesterday, I was just tired, you were right I need to balance my work and my personal life better, but you need to know I would never cheat on you, not with Danel, not with anyone. Beside Daniel gave me the next couple of days off, we could take the car and go on a road trip, we always wanted to do that. Henry are you ok? Did you get hurt?"- you asked in the end when you finally noticed you had been talking for minutes without Henry saying anything back.

"I'm sorry"- he only said

"I know I'm sorry too, we just had a fight, nothing that a calm conversation with a hot chocolate can't fix"- you gently kissed him on the nose.

Now that you weren't scare to death for your boyfriend safety, now that you could finally breathe and think clearly you noticed that your phone hadn't stopped beeping since you had woken up

"Oh my god, what is happening? I swear to god if something happened at work again I'm quitting"- you went to pick up your phone to understand what was happening that had people blowing up your phone.

"i'm sorry"- you heard Henry's saying once again while you looked at the thousand messages people had sent you, every one of them had photos of Henry with his arms around someone else, of Henry entering an hotel with another woman, photos of Henry kissing a woman that wasn’t you.

You looked at Henry and when he once again said sorry you were sure you were gonna be sick

-Now-

And now that woman was on your door step, with a straller on the floor at her feet.

"what is she doing here?"- you asked Henry and you knew you sounded harsh.

You could see the hurt in Henry's eyes, the fear of losing you, the same fear you had worked on together on therapy, you could see it, of course you could, but at the same time you could also see the woman your fiancé had cheated you with in your home, with a baby in toe.

“I don’t know”- Henry said unsure, it was clear he didn’t know who to look at, his eyes kept going from you to the women at your door to the baby no one had talked about yet.

You wanted to run, you really did, the woman that had almost broke your relationship forever was in front of your fiancé and even though you didn’t think Henry would hurt you like that again you weren’t going to risk it. You didn’t want to hate her: it was Henry who was in a relationship back then, he was the one who had made the mistake, but still you didn’t want to see her.

“I don’t want it”- the woman said bringing back you on earth

“What?”- Henry said

“I don’t want it, the baby, it’s yours. You can do whatever with it, you can keep it or give him up for adoption, I don’t care”- she sounded like she was talking about a thing and you really wanted to punch her

“You can’t just leave your baby with me, you don’t even know me”- Henry said while you stood there looking at the scene like it was a movie you were watching, like it wasn’t really happening in real life, like it wasn’t happening in YOUR LIFE.

“It’s not my baby”- she said before turning her back to you and leaving, the baby was still asleep in the stroller on the floor.

Henry picked the stroller up, and started to go in the living room, probably trying to understand what to do now

“Y/n”- Henry called you once he noticed you stood still at the door but you couldn’t move. You wanted to look at your fiancé but you knew once you did everything was going to become real or well real for you at least.

“Y/n, baby”- Henry said coming back to you once he was sure the baby was safe and asleep. He gently shook you, trying to get you to look at him and not at the now closed door

“You have a baby”- you just said

“I-“

“You have a baby with another woman… you had a baby with the woman you cheated me with”- you knew you sounded like a broken record but you were still processing

“We-“- Henry tried but you stopped him before he could even really begin

“Don’t even try saying that we were on a break, because I swear to God Henry… Fuck, you have a baby, and it’s not mine, fuck”- the tears were coming, you knew it, but you couldn’t help it, what do you do when your fiancé have a baby with the woman he has cheated you with?

“I think I need a moment”- you said

“Ok”- Henry said thinking you were going to go to the bedroom, but soon it was clear he had been mistaken -“where are you going?”- he asked when he saw you putting shoes and coat on and opening the door

“I need a moment”- you left without even looking at you.

You knew you should have stayed, you didn’t want to hurt him, you really didn’t but at the same time you were feeling all the hurt you had tried to leave behind and you didn’t know what to do.

-10 Months ago, the day after the fight-

“Y/n, talk to me please”- you had been staring at your phone for what it seems like hours without saying a word and Henry was starting to get worried. He tried to gently take your arm but you took a step back

“Don’t touch me”-

“I’m sorry, Y/n I made a mistake, an horrible one but I’m sorry”- Henry tried again

“A mistake?! You slept with another woman Henry”

“She didn’t mean anything”

“And yet she was worth jeopardizing our relationship”

“I didn’t think there was a relationship to jeopardize, I thought we were broken up”

“I asked for a break, a break I was ready to call off as soon as you got out of the house, I tried to call you so many times last night but you were too busy screwing someone else to answer me. You were busy sleeping with another woman after you had just accused me of cheating”-

“I’m sorry, I thought we were broken up, it doesn’t justify what I did I know, I fucked up but please, please, tell me we can fix it, tell me how to fix it”- Henry asked with glossy eyes

And you just stood there looking at the man you loved asking yourself if you would ever be able to forgive him

-Now-

You weren’t even sure where you were gonna go, you weren’t even sure what to do, you just got in the car and stood there.

You just stayed in the car, in front of your house where your fiancé was alone with a month-old baby, a baby that you didn’t give him.

You looked at your phone, you didn’t even know how but you had spent an hour in your car without doing nothing, you took a deep breath and looked at the house: there was no doubt anymore, you knew what you were going to do.

You exited the car and got in the house; you could hear the baby’s screams, so you let them lead you where your man and the baby were.

“You’re back”- Henry took a deep breath as soon as he saw you: you didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know if you were actually going to come back tonight or at all, or if he was hoping you could help him with a baby that apparently had been crying for a while, almost for as long as you had been gone.

“Why is the baby crying? Did you check the diaper? Did you feed him?”- you asked getting closer to Henry and gently caressing the baby’s feet

“You’re back” Henry said again

“Henry focus, yes I’m back”- you looked at your fiancé’s eyes for the first time since you had been back and you could see he was just as scared as you, you were both scared you weren’t going to survive another tsunami

“You left”- he just said

“I know, I’m sorry, I needed a moment or an hour apparently”- you shrugged

“Where did you go?”- he asked

“Nowhere actually, I just got in the car and stayed there, I needed a moment but we are gonna be alright, ok?”- you caressed Henry’s curls before pooping the baby nose softly watching the baby stopping screaming for a second before starting again -“we’re gonna be ok, we are probably gonna need to schedule a couple appointments with the therapist, but we are gonna get past this, but we need to focus on the baby right now.”

“Ok”- he just said waiting at you for direction… oh your man

“I think she left some formula and some diapers so I’m gonna take care of the baby and you are gonna make some calls”

“Calls?”

“Yes Henry calls. You need to call one of your brothers to get some stuff for the baby, the last thing we need is paps seeing me or worst you buying baby stuff, we need to be careful, at least until we have a better understanding of the situation. You also have to call your lawyer we need to know what to do, how we can be sure the baby is safe, how we can be sure no one can take him from us”- you were on a roll

“Us?”- Henry asked still shocked about the whole affair

“Yes us, if this baby is yours we’re gonna take care of him, love him like he deserves, like I know you have wanted to do as soon as she said it was your baby even if you haven’t said anything because you think I’m gonna leave you, I’m not. If you are the father, this baby is mine too, that’s it! But Henry tomorrow you need to make one more call, we need to have a paternity test made and probably have a doctor take a good look at him, just to be on the safe side”- you could see Henry’s heart breaking a little.

The little man has been in his life for just an hour and he was already attached, he was heart broken at the simple idea of giving him up.

“Henry I really hope she told the true, I know you want to be his father, but if you’re not, don’t you think his father deserves to know?”- you gently smiled at him

“You’re right”

“Of course I am, I always am right”- you smiled at him knowing that you were going to be alright. The baby, who had calmed down a little as soon as you had taken him in your arms and had started bouncing around, gave a little scream of unhappiness

“Yeah someone is hungry, aren’t you baby boy?”- you softly said to the baby.

You looked up, knowing that Henry was looking at you two and seeing his eyes filled with love you knew you were gonna make a beautiful family

“We’re gonna need a name”- you and Henry smiled

Ps: Feedback is always welcome and appreciated ❤️

Henry Cavill taglist: @xxxkatxo @mansaaay @thorins-queen-of-erebor @maan24 @grounded-in-light @omgkatinka @xprettyqueenx @marytudorbrandon @kebabgirl67 @narnianaos

(If you’re name is crossed it’s because I wasn’t able to tag you. If I forgot to tag someone please forgive me and tell me again 😅)

Hi when will you be posting a new part of the one night stand series ?<3 and good luck with med school

Hey I’m sorry, I know it’s been a while, I’m trying to work on it but I’m having some trouble with my inspiration for the story. But I’m not going to give up, so I’m hoping it’ll be soon even though I can’t tell you exactly when ❤️

Actress!y/n Talking About Harry in Interviews Over the Years (2014-2017)

A/n: before committing into writing 2014 til 2023 I want to see you guys opinion, and I just watched a bunch of interviews to get ideas from. Just as a career background for the reader: She’s a former Disney Channel star, from the Miley, Selena, Demi, Jonas Brothers generation, she went into Hunger Games to solidify herself, before going for more Award bait movies and a musical career. She won Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in 2016 and Best Actress in 2017, this has happened before once at the Academy Awards, Tom Hanks if I am not mistaken.

word count: 2964

The Ellen DeGeneres Show, Oct, 2014:

“And we are back with Y/n Y/l/n.” Ellen said to the audience before turning back to the young artist sitting in her couch. “So, you’re single…”

The people cheered in the audience.

“I like how you say this and it isn’t even a question.”Y/n joked looking a the people in the audience, making everyone laugh, including the presenter, who laughed a little embarrassed by the misstep. “But, yeah, I’am single and ready to mingle.”

“So just to clear up rumours: you aren’t hooking up with your hunk of a co-star?”the blonde joked, keeping up with the young woman sarcasm and good humor. 

“Which one? You have to be specific here, I literally have a lot of male co-star, but as a personal rule, I don’t date them… or hook up.” The young actress clarified, looking at Ellen and them the public. “But I specially don’t hook up with guys in relationships, that’s really trash person behavior.”The girl’s response was applauded by the women in the audience. “Thank you, thank you,”She said seriously, signaling them to calm down, “don’t go applauding me for not doing something I wouldn’t want done to me.”

Which generated a new wave of applause.

“Now, calm down guys, we have a game to play” Ellen asked the audience, waiting for the noise in the studio to subside before turning to the guest in the couch, “So, you’re single, and ready to mingle, so we’re going to play a game, so I can get to know your type, and perhaps help you find love, and end your loneliness.” The presenter said looking at Y/n while ‘Who’d You Rather?’ appeared on the back screen. “It’s a little game of Who’d You Rather? We are going to put two pictures in the screen and you’re going to choose one guy over the other.”

“O-kay.”he young actress agreed, looking to the screen 

“Perfect, let’s start with two people, Nick Jonas or Harry Styles?”The host asked as pictures of the two man showed up in the screen.

Y/n looks pointedly at Ellen, who’s hiding a little smile while looking straight to the young artist.

“I’ve been really enjoying Nick Jonas’s music, ‘Chains’ is just so sexy, and ‘Jealous’ is kinda of sexy and funny, and I totally see his appeal…”

“I am feeling a ‘but’”Ellen interrupted her.

Y/n paused for a moment amid the crowd cheering, laughing at they enthusiasm. “But, I don’t know Nick Jonas, and I kinda of know Mr.Styles…”The crowd went crazy with her declaring to know the One Direction singer. “Harry is such a nice guy, very polite.”

“So, Harry Styles, because he’s polite?”Ellen asked her with that knowing smile.

Y/n just hided her face with one hand, the blonde was doing that on purpose, probably with her boyfriend’s blessing to torture her in national television.

She just nodded in agreement without taking her face off her hand.

“Okay, so Harry Styles or Michael B Jordan?”Ellen asked, seeming to be having the time of her life.

Y/n raised her face, looking at the two pictures.

“I mean…”The young woman put a finger in her lower lip, arching her eyebrow towards the audience. “Gosh, this is tough, but I am nothing if not constant, so I will keep Mr.Styles.”

“Harry Styles or Zac Efron?”

“I don’t feel like Zac is age appropriated for me, so I will keep Mr.Styles.”She knew that Harry was probably having a lot of fun in her dressing room.

“You know this is only a pretend game, right?”The presenter asked, making even Y/n break character. “Harry Styles or Bruno Mars?”

“Bruno is a very talented man, but I will keep my answer, I feel like he’s a little older for me, different phases, while Harry and I are around the same age, so, let’s keep Mr.Styles.”She shrugged.

“Harry Styles or John Meyer?” Ellen asked.

“Give me some Harry Styles.” She didn’t even had to ponder her answer, the whole world probably knew already that John Meyer was a walking red-flag.

“Harry Styles or Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“Jake is hot, I had a major crush a few years back, but that had been said, I got over it, and I will keep Mr.Styles.”The young woman said without taking her eyes off the hem of her Oscar de la Renta dress.

“Harry Styles or Calvin Harris?”

“You know, I am starting to think that you took those guys from a Taylor Swift’s exes list.” The actress commented, making the audience go wild as Ellen laughed. “That said, Calvin Harris is Taylor Swift’s boyfriend, so I kinda of feel obligated to choose Mr.Styles.”

“I’s not because you want to choose Harry…”Y/n hated he cynical smile in Ellen’s face.

“Noooo-no-noo-no.” The actress denied hilariously. “I’am a respectful girl, I don’t want other girl’s man, and that’s why I’am keeping Harry Styles.”

“Perfect.” Ellen said still smiling, “Yeah, Harry Styles or Jared Leto?”

“Wouldn’t it be fun, if I came the whole game with Harry just to switch him for Jared Leto?”She asked, knowing the uproar it would cause. “Jared is so handsome, so very talented, he’s vegan… but like, he’s in his forties, kinda of my mom’s age, it would be weird, so let’s keep Harry.”Not even Ellen was been able to keep a straight face anymore. “I mean, we came all this way, I feel like settling for Harry.”

“I think you’re one of the few twenty-years old that would ever say that.” Ellen said, making Y/n laugh, the two looked at the screen expecting the next guy, only to have Harry photo single out in the middle of the screen. “Looks like we have a winner, Mr. Harry Styles, wouldn’t it be funny if he was backstage?”

The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, Nov, 2015

“You’ve had quite the year, you released a album, that it’s absolutely amazing and is at the top of every chart, and you starred in three fantastic movies this year: Cinderella, Carol and The Hunger Games Mockingjay Part II, which by the way is premiering tomorrow…” Jimmy Fallon said to the cheering of the audience.

“Yeah, feels like the end of a era.” Y/n said with a bright smile, crossing her legs and resting one elbow on the support of the armchair.

“This is the last installment in the franchise, it must be quite a special premiere,” Jimmy said. “early this year, during Cinderella’s London premiere you had a very special guest at the red carpet with you, are you bringing him again for this premiere, or that was a one time only thing? Are you guys still friends?” He joked using the term the actress herself had used before when referring to hers and Harry’s relationship.

The actress blushed a little, a shy smile on her face as the audience cheered.

“We’re still great friends, the closest…” the young woman said full of innuendos as Jimmy smiled wildly. “You know, I actually didn’t know he was coming to the Cinderella UK premiere till I was ready to leave the hotel.” She told he host. “He was supposed to be on a plane to South Africa, where he had a show the very next day.”

“He surprised you?” Jimmy asked, clearly pleased that the private young actress was opening up, for the very first time, about her very private relationship at his show. “And for those in the audience who doesn’t know, ‘he’ is the One Direction’s heartthrob, Harry Styles.”

The female in the audience went wild to the mere mention of his name.

“He did, I had invited him, because we were in that point of our relationship where we decided to be less secretive, so I was attending every show of his that my schedule allowed, trying to be a supportive girlfriend.” She explained, smiling when thinking about her handsome boyfriend. “At that point so far, his tour schedule hadn’t allowed him to go to my premieres, and then he surprised me, he was waiting for me inside the car, my sister slash assistant helped him.” The audience once again went crazy.

“Is he coming with you tomorrow?”

“He is, he had  last minute suit fitting today, it’s so amazing to be able to bring him with me,”Y/n admitted with a smile. “since the band went in a break, we’ve been able to spend so much time together, no more tour for a while.”

“How long have you guys been together? If you don’t mind me asking?” Jimmy was leaning slightly over the table, his body directed towards her.

“Sometime.”She replied vaguely, with a mysterious smile. “Longer than most people imagine, thats for sure.”

The Jimmy Kimmel Live!, March, 2016.

“Congrats on a very successful Award Season, I think you kind of won every award out there, you won the Academy Award of Best Supportive Actress for Carol, the Golden Globes, Cannes back in may, you just won five Grammy’s for your first album, Y/n Y/l/n I” The host said as soon as they’re both seated. “And, last but not least congratulations on your marriage.” He gave emphases to the word ‘wedding’. 

In what became a viral moment, Y/n Y/l/n had thanked her husband ‘H’ for being ‘just the most supportive and amazing hubby’

“When did you guys get married?”Kimmel asked. “We see each other all the time, I feel like this is the kind of thing you tell your neighbor, am I getting a new neighbor, are you guys moving out…?Honestly I am kind of hurt I wasn’t invited.”

“Thank you.”Y/n said with a polite. “Don’t feel hurt, the only people invited was our parents and sisters, we had a civil ceremony back in December in England, we didn’t want to wait, but we’re planning a bigger ceremony sometime this year or the next.”She clarified.

“Did you change your last name?”

“I did, legally I am Mrs. Harry Styles, but professionally I am still going to be Y/n Y/l/n.”

The Ellen DeGeneres’s Show, Dec, 2016.

“Congratulations.” Ellen said pointing at her belly. “Last time you’re on the show you had just got married, and won a Academy Award for Carol, I wasn’t able to attend your wedding, because you guys decided to get married in Italy…”

“But I send you and Portia your gift basket.” Y/n interrupted, smiling at the memory of their idyllic wedding at their Italian villa back in May.

“And we loved it, thank you, it was very nice of you and Harry.” The host said as a picture of the basket was shown on the screen behind them, Y/n handwritten note for all to see. “So, you won a Oscar, you won five Grammys, you got married, La La Land went amazing in Cannes, and now your having a little baby, I remember the first time you told me about you and Harry, back in 2014, you’re here for a interview about The Hunger Games and he tagged along…”

“You made me play ‘Who’d You Rather?’ and he was in the dressing room having the time of his life…”

“Yeah, well, I was having fun too.” Ellen admitted making the audience laugh. “Back then it was all very secretive, so I didn’t ask you, but Harry was here later with 1D, and he didn’t get into much detail, but he said you guys were set up on a blind date.”

“Hold up.”Y/n raised her hand. “Did he actually said ‘WE’? Because recollections may vary.” The actress said with humor. “IF memory serves me right, I was basically ambushed into a blind date with him, he actually ASKED our mutual friend to set us up after he found out she knew me, and then my sister in law waited until after we announced we are having a baby to tell me that Harry had a crush on me since 2006, and he basically had a poster of Rosie Lewis, my Disney Channel character, on his childhood bedroom and…”The audience starts to laugh. “Hold on guys, and apparently he told Gem, my sister in law: you don’t believe me now, but we are soul mates, one day I am going to marry that girl.” 

“And you didn’t run for the hill? It’s kinda of creepy.” 

“It’s…”The actress seemed a little at loss of word in how o defend her husband, but kept a amused smile on her face. “I think is kind of cute, is a little creepy, sure, but it’s nice to know he was crazy about me since forever and that I was his celebrity crush.” She said to the ‘awn’ of the audience. “I mean, I always thought it wold be some thirty-something year old cougar, 

 The Late Late Night Show with James Corden, Aug, 2017

 “Oh, My Gosh! This is absolutely disgusting.” Y/n said looking at all the smelly disgusting food in front of her. 

“I know!”James said in pure joy. “You go first. To eat, I’m going to give you a little cod sperm.” He turned the table until he dish was in front of he, he took the card with the questions and laugh. “Y/n, your husband, Harry Styles, was part of one of the world’s biggest boybands, One Direction, list the boys from your favorite to your least favorite, vocally.”

Y/n was silent for a second, only looking at James with half-closed eyes, she speared the cod fish sperm with her fork, lifting i in the air, causing the audience to react.

“There is no way I am eating this.” The artist said, putting it down, she rests her elbows on the table and intertwined her fingers. “I don’t think it is really hard to answer this.” She rested her chin on her fingers, looking defiantly at a shocked James. “My question is: to rank the five boys or minus Zayn?”

“Let’s do it minus Zayn.”The host said. “Are you really going to answer it?”

“I am not eating it. So… H first, I feel that he was the one with the strongest vocals, Niall, because he has this really lovely voice, Liam and then Louis.”

#

“I’am giving you the bull penis now.” Said James. “Y/n, rank those Harry Styles hair style’s”

The man proceeded to show her three pictures, one of 2011 baby!Harry, in all his preppy glory and curls, 

2015 longhair!Harry and 2017 Dunkirk!Harry.

“I mean…”The artist sighed. “Long hair Harry was the H I started to date, so sexy, looks like a bad boy but it is actually a pretty shy guy, that hair makes me feel things, so I will say that this one is my favorite.”

“I honestly found it disturbing to hear you speaking of him like that.”James said seriously, making the audience laugh. 

“Stop James, this is a serious matter, short hair Harry, which is his Dunkirk haircut, by the way, is also very hot, he’s in a suits phase and all those silk shirts, and it’s just so very ‘daddy’ you know, he’s just lucky to no longer have that long hair, because Atticus is just in that phase that he is happy to push things.” She laughed seeing James shaking his head with eyes closed as the audience cheered.

“I honestly will never be able to erase you calling Harry ‘daddy’”

“But he is, we have a son together James, get over it, Harry is a daddy, I call him daddy all the time,” She picked the picture of her husband, showing it to James, “just look at him, he’s such a DILF, who wouldn’t want to call him daddy?”

The host hided his face behind baby!Harry picture.

“Y/n I don’t need the specifics just the ranking.”

“But I don’t want to hurt my husbands feelings about his hair choices, you put yourself in this situation James, you said: do you want to play a really fun game?”Y/n said with a mischievous smile. “It isn’t that funny anymore is it? Moving on. So, baby!harry, he looks cute, I think 2011 Y/n would totally have a crush on him too.”

“So your ranking is Long hair, short hair and baby Harry?”asked James.

“Yeah.”Y/n agreed, “I honestly would fu** him in all those hairstyles, he’s just so dreamy, you know what I mean?”

sweet pea ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst

word count: 4.6k

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”

Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.

auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this

It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.

It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.

Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”

“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”

“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”

“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath. 

“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”

You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”

“I mean—”

“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”

“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”

“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”

He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)

—

This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.

It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.

But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.

“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.

Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.

“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”

A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”

“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”

“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended. 

“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.

“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?” 

“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”

“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”

—

It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.

“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.

You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.

“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”

“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”

“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned. 

“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.” 

“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements. 

Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.

—

You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.

She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”

—

The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.” 

It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”

He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”

“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”

“Why would it smell like che—”

He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach. 

“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.

He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”

“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”

“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”

“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”

—

The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.

“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”

Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”

“One more word,” you warn sharply. 

“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”

You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.

“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”

There it is.

—

Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.

The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.

“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.

You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.

“Are you crying?”

“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway. 

You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.

—

Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.

Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.

It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after. 

Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”

—

You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.

You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet. 

“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.

—

You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.

The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”

“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”

—

Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.

“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”

“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”

“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”

“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.

He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Blame the alien,” you sniff. 

He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”

—

Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.

“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”

“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.

“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”

“Girl.”

“Boy,” you say dismissively.

“Girl.”

“Boy.”

“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.

You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.

You let him buy pink paint later that day.

—

You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.

First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.

“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are. 

“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.

He inhales. “I’m scared.”

This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”

“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”

It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?” 

“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”

“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.

“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”

—

The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.

He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)

—

You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.

The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.

—

It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.

Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy. 

“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.

“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”

“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”

He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately. 

You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.

Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.

“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”

—

The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.

You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.

“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.

“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”

Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”

“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”

“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.

“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.

“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”

—

Lil 3s ago

does it hurt?

i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better

love from houston. i will call you ASAP.

You 1s ago

yeah it hurts so bad

apparently they don’t do epidurals

fuck europe

—

In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.

The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”

“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.

“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”

“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.

“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.

—

It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

His two girls.

Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.

It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.

Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”

“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”

It’s perfect.

Feeding the U.S Army

summery: You’re a Masterchef contestant, and during the team challenge you and your team have to cook for 100 army men. Easy right?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Warning: very bad english, no proof-read. ENGLISH IS NOY MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES I’M SORRY.

I don’t even know what this is but I hope you like it

Masterchef! You had just passed the last selection and finally were going to cook in the Masterchef kitchen.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting when you send in your request to partecipate to the new season of Masterchef, the only thing you knew was that you loved cooking.

You had started cooking when you were really young: you were only eight when you helped your mom baking your dad’s birthday cake for the first time and you hadn’t stopped ever since.

It could seem strange for some people but, growing up in a farm, it was normal for anyone to help as much as they could: you had started with tidying up your room, you had learnt how to collect the eggs from the chicken goop first things in the morning, you had gone with your father to take care of the cows; but as soon as you and your family had found out how much you enjoyed spending your time in the kitchen, that had become your kingdom. You still helped with any other task if help was needed, but most of the time everyone left you do what you did best and what you loved the most: cooking.

So yeah.. you loved cooking: you cooked when you were happy, wou baked when you were stressed, you cooked when you were stuck in your own head, you went to the kitchen when you needed a moment to yourself knowing that very few people had the guts to follow you in your place in the house. 

Anyway the idea of participating at Masterchef first come out while the previous season of the show was on air: you were in the kicthen (surprise surprise!), you were preparing everything for that night gathering; your father was keeping you company while preparing a fruit salad (the only thing you had given him permission to touch, he had pretended to be fed up with your behavior but you both knew it was just for show). You were talking, the tv was on in the background when a new episode of Masterchef had began and your father had stopped answering your question.

“Dad?”- you had asked while still chopping the onions; there was so much to do in so little time you didn’t have time to pay attention to what your father was doing

“You are so much better than him”- your father hadn’t been making any sense

“What are you talking about?”- you had taken your attention from the onions to finally look at your father

“You should try and get on Masterchef”- your father had insisted still looking at the screen where Joe Bastianich was talking to a man in a black apron.

“You’re crazy”- you had simply said before getting back to your cooking. 

You hadn’t talked about it again that day, but the idea had lingered with you and even though you had kept your thoughts to yourself, your father knew you better than anyone else, so one day you had found the Masterchef application on your bed with a post on it 

‘I know you can do it honey- dad’- the post had said 

You had had a lot of fear: the fear of dissapoint your family, the fear of being on national television, the fear of leaving your family that needed your help at the farm every day, the fear of not suceeding, the fear of not being good enough,the fear of not pass even the first selection. Your father had come to your help once again “Honey the only way you could lose is if you didn’t even try. What’s the worst that could happen? that you don’t get in? Who cares? You will always be our favorite chef”

Your father’s words had been the push you needed, so you had send you application and when you had been called for the selection you had been excited.

You had survied the first couples eliminations and now you were going to be the captain of your team, the red team, in the first team challenge and you were scared shitless: not only you could go home if you made any mistakes, but the future in the competion of your team mates depended on you too, and as if that wasn’t enough you had to feed one- hundred army man. So yeah you were panicking and trying not to show it because you needed your team to trust you and to be calm enough to serve good food.

You took a deep breath and focused on what the judges Gordon Ramsay, Joe Bastianich and Aaron Sànchez were saying.

“Each  team will have to devise a menu that includes a protein, two vegetable and a sauce”- Joe said

“Now remeber, at the end of the day one of you will be eliminated and this will be last time he will be cooking in this competion”- Gordon’s words kept your anxiety spiriling but you tried to keep your focus- “All right, are you guys ready? let’s go”

You and your team sprinted as soon as Gordon had done talking. Once what you wanted to cook had been decided, you gave a task to each and everyone of your team mates and you all started cooking.

Managing between doing your own prep and making sure every team member was doing ok and didn’t need your help, wasn’t easy but you made it; the judges tasted your dish after half an hour and, aside from some suggestions to make it better, they liked it.

So you were on cloud nine: the judges liked the dish your team had devised, your prep had gone alright, your team was doing ok. But then service started and YOU PANICKED: you had to serve 100 army men and women and you had no idea how to prepare 100 dished that were perfect and that looked all the same. Your team was looking at you for direction but you had no idea what to do: you had never worked in a restaurat, none of you ever had, and when you cooked for your family gathering everyone made their own dishes, you were so out of your comfort zone. 

And that’s when things started to go even worse: service had started, the army men and women had arrived and had a very clear view of your stations, you had no idea how you wanted to plate the food and Gordon Ramsay came to you and he didn’t look happy.

“Red team come here, all of you, RIGHT NOW! We need a system, your tray is cold, the food is cold, I’m not letting you serve fucked up food. Take your food back in, warm it up, warm your tray. Y/n come here. YOU ARE THE TEAM CAPTAIN, SO FUCKING WAKE UP, DECIDE HOW YOU WANT YOUR FOOD ON THE PLATE AND START A PRODUCTION LINE. RIGHT FUCKING NOW Y/N”- Gordon pratically screamed in your face, you knew he just wanted to make sure the food that came out was perfect, he only wanted for you guys to succeed, but you had never liked when people screamed in your face even if you knew they didn’t mean any harm. Your eyes watered but you weren’t going to cry, you were going to do this, but when you thought things couldn’t go any worse..... you found out you were obviously very wrong.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”- a voice boomed behind Gordon and once you raised your gazed to see what was going on, you saw a mountain of a man, dressed in uniforme, coming towards you.

It was clear not even Gordon knew what was happening

“Can I help you, sir?”- Gordon asked, you couldn’t sure but his voice sounded a little bit unsure

“You wanna help me, why don’t you start by not screaming at a woman?”- the army-man’s voice was much calmer now but he wasn’t any less intimidating. Gordon didn’t know what to say and you knew it, so you took a step forward

“It’s really not a problem.. ehmm”- you read the name of the man on his uniform - “Captain Syverson, sir. Chef Gordon was just giving me a pep talk, everything is good. We will be serving you your food very soon”

As soon as you had started talking the man’s eyes had moved from Gordon to you and for the first time, since he had come over, you noticed how bautiful they really were. His eyes had become gentler when he had started looking at you, you had almost shivered when his attention had been on you and you only.

“Mhhm”- Captain Syverson said like he was still assessing the situation before deciding - “You can called me just Syverson”- he said before turning around and going back to his men.

You stood there for another second, all eyes were on you and you were sure your cheeks were burning

“Back to work guys”- you said. There was no way you weren’t sarving your best food to that hunk of a man.

Everything had gone smoothly after that, you had felt eyes on you some time during service but every time you had looked up you had never been able to pin point who was looking at you, so you had always gone back to work.

Once the judges had annouced your team had received 70 votes against the 30 of the other team and you had won you couldnt’ been happier, you had been sad for the contestant that had had to leave the show, but it was a competition and that was how it worked.

You were still celebrating with your team when you heard someone clearing their throath behind you

“Hello”- captain Syverson was behind you

“Oh Captain, hello”- what was happening?

“I thought I told you to call me Syverson, or Nathan if you prefer, but none on that Captain crap”- his raspy voice was doing things to you that shouldn’t be possible when you had just met the man.

“Right. Was everything ok with your food?”- you asked because why would he be here, if not because there had been something wrong with his food

“The food was amazing, you’re a fantastic cook, sugar”- he said and your cheeks burned once again at the name. What was this man doing to you

“Oh thank you, it was a team effort”

“Well you are the team captain, so I think you deserve some credit, sugar”- he said before looking back where a man was calling for him - “I need to go, but I really hope to see you again sugar”- he winked at you before leaving.

“uh”- you stood there staring at his back not sure of what had happened.

Everyone had joked about what happened between Gordon and the captain for the rest of the season, but you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man that had screamed at Gordon Ramsay (GORDON- FUCKING- RAMSAY) for you.

The competition had gone on and without even knowing how you had arrived to the grand finale and to your surprise YOU HAD WON!

So yeah when you sent your application for Masterchef you didn’t know what you were expecting, but in the end it was clear you had left the show with so much more you had even though you could win.

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itsMeYN When I sent the application for Masterchef, because my father conviced me to, I never thought I would even passed the first selection, let alone win the finale. This journey has given me so much, I learnt from every single one of the other contestat, some of which have become really good friends. I don’t even know how to start thanking the judges, Gordon, Joe and Aaron, They have taught me so much and always known when I needed a nudge to wake up and start believe in myself. Thank you, thank you this competition has given me so much 

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yourmominsta I’m so proud of you honey 

jennifer So happy for you, I was rooting for you since the first episode

haley234 Congrats! can we please talk about the team challenge with the army man ;)

austin  Oh my god! that episode was the best, that army captain was totally hitting on her

felicity Does Captain Syverson have instagram? Please does anyone know?

austin I dont think so, I’ve been looking for him too

rachel  Guys I was watching her story the other day and I swear there was a very familiar scratchy voice in the backgroud

yourbestfriend Oh my god... @itsmeYn I think you got busted

itsmeYn @yourbestfriend shut up

haley234 wait what

liked by masterchefus, gordongram, yourbestfriend and 345,678 others

ItmeYn Had the pleasure to dine at @gordonndram restaurant, and wasn’t that an experience. Also I think the second meeting between Gordon and at certain someone went a lot better

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austin “Certain someone”... yep she is totally dating Captain Syverson. Is it normal being so obsessed with the idea of them together when I have only seen 5 min of them together on tv?

haley234 Same sis, same.... and maybe it’s not normal but who cares

gordongram We still yelled at each other so I wouldn’t say it went so much better

itsMeYn “We” is the key word here, you yelled at Sy too, i think it’s mostly out of love now 

austin Sy... I repeat she wrote Sy... My ship is real

Yeah Masterchef had given you so much…

Masterlist

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