OH MY GOD READ IT - Tumblr Posts

i was looking through my masterlist and saw my new husband harvey post & inspo struck. hence, this.

contains ; fluff. sm fluff. new husband!harvey. fem!farmer. drabble. this might be kinda niche??😭😭 looking through harvey’s baby book <3

the boxes, once piled all throughout your previously vacant living room, now limited after the many hours spent working through them. you chose to take a chunk of your day off for this, helping him with the unpacking as he would’ve for you.

although you were leaving one chore for another, there was something so refreshing in the way you sorted through his old stuff, casually making comments about each item before placing it where you deemed fit.

you eventually got to one of the heavier boxes, filled with medical books you didn’t bother to open. just placing them beside you for him to move later.

towards the bottom were books you ended up recognizing from your own childhood, gushing short comments about how the nostalgia made your heart warm, and how you couldn’t wait to pass them onto your own children (which definitely didn’t go ignored by your husband.)

you reached for one that was unrecognizable to you, wide with a wrinkled spine and a puffy, plain cover. “what’s this?” you mumble absentmindedly, cracking it open to peek at the front page.

“hm?” he hums across the room, distracted with his own box.

the distressed corners of the open page, small bubble letters in text that instantly gave you the clue you needed, along with the neat writing of “harvey” underneath.

you gasp at the realization, a little too exaggerated in the way your lips pull to a pout and a loud, “aww,” whines from your throat.

“what?” he jumps, a frantic pinch in his eyebrows as he turns to face you.

you quickly open to the next page, where immediately, you melt.

there’s multiple photographs, the first one of a baby with thin, brown hair that’s hardly a month old. he’s being held in someone’s arms, someone you immediately recognize as your husband’s mother.

“it’s your baby book!” you chirp, leaning in to look at the photo with the softest eyes and the subtlest lip quiver.

the next photo underneath continues to be another baby photo, seemed to be taken the same day as the last, where he’s being held by his father. the sentimental aspect makes your heart ache.

“oh, i haven’t seen that in years.” harvey chuckles, now standing over you.

“aww, you look so cute. look at your little hands,” you gush, scanning the contents of each photo like it was your job.

you whine again when you flip to the next page. the photograph is of harvey, around age two at this point with short, messy brown hair. he’s got a shy smile on his face, cheeks red and due to the pumpkins in the background and the clothes he’s wearing, it’s clear it’s around autumn.

“i think that was my first time at a pumpkin patch.” he contextualizes, to which you let out another enamored squeal.

you don’t even pay attention to him taking a seat next to you, so captivated with the little book in your hands.

you continue to scan each photo, even a few that carry a small caption underneath. several candids of him at home, some at a what you can only infer is an airport—wide shots of him standing next to large planes with an eager grin, or even just him sleeping on the couch that his mom or dad took purely for the sake of how silly it was.

he sits beside you, only a little interested with the photos, but more focused on how you react with each one.

the way your eyes crinkle each time you sweetly sigh. you’ve propped your feet on the coffee table, resting the book on your bent knees while flipping through each page, making sure not to skip a single one.

and each time you find a particularly sentimental photo, you look at him for the backstory that lies behind it.

you flip to a picture where he’s grinning wide at the camera, around age seven or eight. there’s a large gap between his teeth, and the context is clear in the way he’s holding up the missing tooth with his thumb and forefinger for the camera to see.

this is the first picture where he’s wearing glasses, similar to the ones he still adorned even 25 years later.

“harvey,” you drawl, tone pitched an octave higher as you still carry the same whine. “this is so sweet, why haven’t you ever shown me this?”

“i would’ve if i knew i still had it,” he explains, looking from you to the book.

he can’t even remember when he last thought of it. maybe the last time he actually spent this much time sifting through it was when he was in college, so to be sitting here with the woman he married only days ago, well, it did something to him.

the soft whimpers you’d let out looking at an old photo of him posing with armfuls of his favorite miniature planes.

how you giggled when you stumbled on a photo he remembers being vividly embarrassed about, teasing him for such while his cheeks grow red and you eagerly beg for the backstory, in which he won’t tell you, so you end up saying, “fine, i’ll just have to call your mom and ask about it later.”

and it feels like his whole world is falling into place when you lean in to get a closer look, whispering a quiet, “god, i want one, i want a little you.”