Down in the Pitt

Unflattering, baggy, odd, not clinging or flattering her frame at all. The dress made her feel self-conscious.

She tried to smooth her hands up and down her dress, to somehow make it look more adequate or somewhat flattering on her frame, but it did nothing to help her current predicament. (Y/n) didn't like how this dress made her look, and she could feel it in her heart that nothing was going to change her mind on that front.

A sigh rumbled through her chest and escaped her lips as she wrangled with the dress, peeling it off her frame and tossing it onto the bed until it was a crumpled, deflated shape that she could now ignore.

Her eyes scanned her reflection in the mirror, staring at the image now looking back at her. Something within (Y/n) relaxed just a little now she wasn't in that dress, but she could hardly go out looking like this. Standing here in her black maternity leggings that were pulled up as high as she could get them.

The leggings weren't tight, thankfully, but they didn't look that flattering either. Pulled up high so the waistband was sitting over her hips and resting as comfortably as it could be over her bump just below her bellybutton.

She stepped away from the mirror for a moment to rummage around in the chest of drawers until she found a blouse that she hadn't worn for a while. Nothing intricate or that would irritate her skin, but not exactly something plain and boring either.

It settled nicely on her shoulders and low down on her chest but something spiked through (Y/n)'s heart when she looked at her reflection. The hem of the blouse barely sat over her bump, it barely reached the top of her leggings.

This outfit looked better than the dress at least, but it still wasn't what (Y/n) was looking for. She wasn't entirely sure she would find anything she was searching for or anything that she deemed would look 'right'.

Again her teeth chomped down on her lower lip until she was sure she could taste blood in her mouth. She turned to the side, hands tempted to scrunch up in the hem of the blouse and yank it down, but she resisted and settled them instead on her bump. Cupping either side of her stomach almost as if she were going to try and lift her bump up like Luke and Ashton tended to do to try and make her feel better and like there wasn't so much weight on her back or pelvis.

They were supposed to be going out soon. (Y/n) didn't want to go out and look odd or feel uncomfortable and self-conscious in what she was wearing. If she went out feeling like that she would think and worry about it for the majority of the afternoon. Looking at anyone they walked past to see if they were looking at her and thought she looked stupid or silly.

But there didn't seem to be much alternative here, because (Y/n) couldn't find something to wear that seemed to suit her in her current heavily pregnant state or something that made her feel okay and confident when wearing it. If she couldn't find something then she was going to have to make do with whatever looked the most flattering and didn't make her too self-conscious.

She didn't know what to do.

"Are you okay there?"

Amusement lit up Ashton's face as he walked into the bedroom, rather surprised to find (Y/n) stood motionless in front of the mirror like she was contemplating something or providing herself with a little fashion show.

He aimed towards her, a smile forming on his lips until he was close behind her. Then he clocked the look on (Y/n)'s face.

The worry pooling within her eyes. The unease written across her face and the way she was chewing her lower lip with the corners of her mouth pinched like she was trying hard to steel or hide her true expression.

The smile on Ashton's lips quickly began to fade out as he approached her, hands curling around her lips as he looked over her shoulder and peered at her reflection. "What's up?"

He didn't receive an immediate answer, nor could he get (Y/n) to meet his eyes in the mirror either.

He took a quick glance around the room, eyes taking in the dress that was crumpled on the bed, not laid out neatly like (Y/n) normally would which meant she had not long taken it off; or tossed it off. The chest drawer and wardrobe door were both open, and here she was stood in front of the mirror like she was scrutinising her reflection.

The pieces were quick to slot into place and Ashton felt his stomach tightening as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

His hands slid from where they were holding onto her hips until his arms were both looped around (Y/n)'s middle. His elbows pressed comfortably into her waist and his hands slid beneath her blouse, fingers splaying out on her stomach as he rested his chin on her shoulder. A warm, gentle smile formed on his lips as he closed his eyes for a few seconds and breathed in her scent, holding onto her like she was his home and he didn't want to part from her for a second.

"I like this outfit," he murmured the words into her neck where he placed a gentle kiss, his chin still resting and digging into her shoulder.

He could recognise the signs. He knew what it was like to stand staring in the mirror or looking down at himself and wondering if what he was wearing looked okay. If it suited him, if it looked too baggy or too tight or just made his shape look different or odd or just not like the person he was trying to be, the person hidden within.

Ashton didn't want (Y/n) to feel like that. He didn't want her to think that way or believe she didn't look okay or that she couldn't wear what she wanted to wear in case it looked wrong or bad or different. And he certainly didn't want her thinking like that when she was almost nine months pregnant.

There was nothing wrong with the way she looked and he wanted to make sure she knew that. He and Luke would do anything to make sure she knew that.

"It doesn't fit."

(Y/n)'s voice was quiet but the unease was clearly woven into her tone as she looked down at herself. Again.

Her hands reached up for the hem of her shirt, pulling in vain until it dug down into her shoulders like teeth. It didn't make a difference. The material would barely pull over her stomach and (Y/n) had a feeling that if she raised her arms and lifted them over her head, then the shirt would ride up and show off her stomach. And she couldn't pull up her leggings any further to cover her bump.

It wasn't that she wanted to hide her bump, there was no chance of doing that and everyone knew she was pregnant anyway, it wasn't a secret. But the thought of having her skin on display, having people able to see her stomach and peer at it, something about that didn't feel right.

Nor did she think it would look right if her shirt was too short or tight. It would look like she didn't have any maternity clothes or anything that suited her, a top that barely covered her middle would look more like a crop top and she didn't like that.

She stared at her reflection, eyes focusing in on where Ashton's hands were beneath her blouse that barely settled over his hands and let his wrists stay visible.

Tilting his head back a bit, Ashton leaned in to peck her cheek. "It's not supposed to be loose sweetheart, not when you're almost at full term."

Not all the maternity clothes she had gotten were supposed to be loose or baggy on her, they were just meant to fit comfortably without being tight. Some were aimed to hug her figure and some looked tight but were stretchy and loose.

Granted, this blouse wasn't a maternity one, but not everything would fit snuggly or hangg low and loose over her frame. Not unless she wore some of his or Luke's clothes. And Ashton thought she looked lovely in this one, it was loose, it hung and flared over her bump and showed off the fact that she was heavily pregnant.

In the next two weeks they would have their baby and (Y/n)'s frame and shape would shift and start to change once again. She was having a baby, their baby, and to Ashton and Luke, she looked perfect no matter what she decided to wear.

(Y/n) wanted to nod, to agree and listen to his words, but they didn't make that nagging voice in the back of her mind disappear.

Her eyes still focused on how the blouse looked as it hung limp around her stomach, though now it was bunched beneath her bra from the way Ashton was roaming his hands over her bump. Pushing the hem of her leggings so his hands could stay against her bare skin.

"But it d- doesn't look right." Her voice was quiet, not wanting to speak any louder in case he didn't understand what she meant.

"Why not?"

Their eyes met in the reflection in the mirror and (Y/n) could see the world of understanding in his eyes. He wasn't trying to act dumb or look at her like he didn't understand what she was trying to say, he simply wanted her to make her point clearer. To explain to him so he could tell her why he thought she looked beautiful.

He hated how self-conscious (Y/n) felt right now and how he wasn't sure what he could do to make her feel better or change her mind.

His arms tightened around her waist, letting her lean back against his chest while his thumbs began to glide up and down her stomach that always seemed to snag his attention like he couldn't look anywhere else.

Their eyes locked for a few seconds as (Y/n) tried to form the right words, but they wouldn't appear. It wasn't something she could put into words. She wasn't ashamed of the way she looked, and she knew deep down that no one else's opinion mattered on how she looked.

But the nagging voice in the back of her head told her to be wary, that she looked as drained as she felt. That her stomach was as large and heavy as she imagined and that it wasn't attractive or good to witness. Her stomach felt ready to pop, the baby was resting low and (Y/n) knew she was going to have this baby very soon, and that was exactly how she imagined people would look at her.

That they would stare and see how close she was, that they would think she looked tired and huge and that if her clothes didn't fit or look right, then people would judge her for that as well.

Every thought possible on this subject seemed to race through her mind until she suddenly felt Ashton's lips against her cheek, taking her by surprise.

"This is natural, that's all anyone's gonna think or see; and their opinions don't matter." His lips caught hers in a sweet kiss that transferred the cherry gloss he wore from his mouth to hers. "We think you look gorgeous and you're doing something amazing."

It didn't matter what anyone else thought and they could keep their limited opinions to themselves. They didn't know (Y/n) like he and Luke did, they didn't need to think anything about her.

All people would see was that she was close to having a baby, that her body was doing something completely natural and that clearly, her partners both thought she looked beautiful whilst doing it.

"I can dig one of my leather jackets out for you if you wanna wear that over the top?"

(Y/n) nodded meekly, biting her lip until she watched Ashton grin and another kiss was smothered against her mouth. He didn't think she was being silly, and he clearly wasn't annoyed at getting his jacket for her. If it would make her feel better he didn't care at all, and (Y/n) had a feeling it might work. She loved wearing Luke and Ashton's clothes, granted they didn't always fit very well, but it made her feel cosy and hidden and protected.

If she went out wearing Ashton's leather jacket it would be heavy and draped on her shoulders, the cuffs would hang low on her hands, the jacket itself should hopefully cover and hang around her hips. It would shade her hips from view and she could pull it close to her stomach so no one else could see her bump.

Luke and Ashton seeing and admiring her bump and her shape was fine, it was the best feeling in the world, it was everyone else that made (Y/n) feel self-conscious.

She felt hollow and cold when Ashton's arms retracted from her frame and he stepped back, their closeness now gone entirely, causing (Y/n) to curve her arms around herself and rest her hands on her bump in Ashton's absence.

She resisted the urge to pull at her blouse again. This was as far over her expanded stomach as it would go and this would have to do. Once she was wearing the jacket she would feel much better.

The anxiety dwelling within her seemed to mellow and subside slightly when Ashton held his jacket out towards her.

She slid her arms through the sleeves, letting the familiar weight settle on her shoulders and hang down near her hips causing an instant wave of relief to wash over her. This did feel better, even if (Y/n) wouldn't be able to zip up the jacket or have it wrapped entirely around her without it being too tight and uncomfortable. At least it felt like she had some sort of shield around her, some sense of hiding, some way of keeping eyes from staring at her and keeping her self-conscious thoughts at bay.

This would do.

She heard Ashton muttering "Beautiful," as he pecked her temple before the pair of them moved to leave the room.

She followed behind Ashton, letting him speed off and aim down the stairs while she walked much slower. If (Y/n) tried to move any faster there would be a horrible ache in her lower back and pelvis. The baby was sitting low these days and it made moving around a slow and tiresome struggle.

One hand rested on her stomach as if to make sure the baby stayed settled and asleep- (Y/n) really didn't want another round of kicking like she felt earlier this morning that had almost brought her to tears- while the other gripped the bannister on her left.

The faintest smile fluttered across her lips when she heard a quiet humming sounding through the air coming from the living room. Luke was in a good mood. She couldn't quite place what song he was humming, but it was mixed in with the occasional whistle and that light-hearted tone that showed he was happy, and that made (Y/n) happy.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she bent forward and scooped up her trainers. They were the best footwear to have at the moment. Nothing with heels as they only made her calves ache and she didn't want any accidents. Nothing too tight or with intricate buckles or laces as (Y/n) couldn't be doing with those either.

She knew she was less than graceful when she sat down on the stairs, but standing up and trying to balance and wedge her feet into her shoes wans't an option right now.

Her breath held deep in her lungs as she leant forward, creasing her large bump against her thighs as she tried to stuff her feet into her shoes.

It wasn't long before (Y/n) felt her eyes welling up with tears and her chest vibrated with each shuddering breath she took.

It wasn't working. It wasn't happening.

The backs of her trainers wouldn't pull up properly and curve around her ankles. Her feet ached the more she tried to wedge them into the shoes. The laces were loosened as much as she could get them, but it didn't make a difference. These trainers clearly weren't going on her feet today.

Luke's head tilted to one side as he shrugged on his jacket and aimed out of the living room.

Sometimes it felt like there was an invisible magnet in the air, drawing his attention to (Y/n) and Ashton. It didn't matter where any of them were or what they happened to be doing; they could be on complete opposite sides of an auditorium or arena, and Luke's eyes would still find his partners in a crowd within two seconds.

His eyes had now found themselves locked on (Y/n)'s frame, focusing in on her as he tried to decipher what she was doing.

His shoes clicked against the laminate flooring as he aimed towards the stairs where she was sat down with her arms on her thighs and her head tucked against her arms. When his sights caught on her trainers resting on the bottom step next to her feet, he figured what she was trying to do.

"Want me to do up the laces for you?" Luke uttered, adjusting the jacket on his shoulders as he leant his hip against the bannister and looked down at (Y/n).

His eyes widened in their sockets when one of the shoes was suddenly launched across the hall. He didn't see her arm slide down or even see her grab the shoe before it was flung with just enough force to get it a good five feet away from them before it crashed into the wall and landed on its side near the wooden cabinet in the corner.

Perhaps not, he thought to himself.

"Can't. They won't fucking fit."

Luke's teeth sank down into his lower lip when he heard the catch in (Y/n)'s voice like a scratch on a record, giving away how close she was to erupting into tears.

With a deep breath he moved round and knelt down on the floor in front of her, knees digging into the bottom step as he reached his hands out towards her. Both hands curled around her thighs, fingers brushing over her leggings while he leant his chest forward into her legs and rested his chin on the top of her knees.

The action caused (Y/n) to lift her head from where it had been buried in her forearms and when their eyes locked, a single tear traced down her features.

"Talk to me sweetheart."

His soothing voice and the world of understanding behind his words made another tear fall from (Y/n)'s eyes, then another until she was sure she was going to burst into fits of tears at any given moment. No matter how hard she was trying not to.

She didn't want to; she felt stupid. But the way Luke was looking at her told her that she could say just about anything, and he would never think or dare imply that she was being silly or overreacting. If something was bothering her then it bothered him too.

Her hand shook as she reached to her right and picked up her other shoe that she felt the need to fling across the room and let it crash land with its matching pair.

Her watering eyes went from the shoe to her feet, and back again before she pointed down at her feet.

"My feet are swollen; my shoes are too tight… this doesn't look right, I- I don't wanna go."

As soon as the shoe dropped from her hand, both (Y/n)'s hands raised up to smother her face because a sob was catching in the back of her throat. And as much as she didn't want to burst into tears, there didn't seem to be a way to stop herself.

Her feet and ankles were swollen to the point that her shoes were going to be extremely uncomfortable, if she could wedge her feet into them in the first place. It wouldn't be a good idea to wear tight shoes and cut off her circulation or make the swelling any worse.

First her outfit hadn't looked right and she still wasn't sure she looked okay beneath the jacket Ashton had given her. Now her shoes weren't cooperating with her. It was a sign that she shouldn't go out with them today, it was a sign that (Y/n) should just stay home and let them both head out together on their own. It would be a lot easier if she stayed home.

No thoughts, no stress or insecurities or worries. No uncertainty about what people would think if they saw her, no panicking about what they might say, no uncertainty that she was making a fool of herself. No stress, no chance or annoying the boys or holding them back or making them all late.

Her hands barely began to press against her face to try and hide herself away when she felt Luke's hands curling around her wrists with a gentle sort of firmness to them. He pulled her hands away from her face, thumbs brushing up and down the inside of her wrists as he brought her hands towards his lips and pressed a few soft kisses to the back of her hands.

There was still the trace of a smile on his lips as he looked up at her from where he was knelt on the floor before her. (Y/n) let him keep hold of her wrists and pull her hands towards his chest, keeping them there for a minute as he took a quick glance around him.

When he let go of one hand it was only to reach to his left and try to pick up a pair of (Y/n)'s sandals. But when Luke hovered them near her feet, a silent debate happened in his mind before he put them back down. They looked as if they might be tight as well, especially since they were the kind of sandals that had little buckles at the sides. The last thing they needed was to try and wedge (Y/n)'s feet into those and cut off her circulation with tight clasps like that.

"Just take a breath, hm, everything's okay. You can wear a pair of our shoes, see if they fit better." He gave a little shrug and a bright smile that was obscured when he bent to kiss her fingers this time.

It was no big deal, this was something that happened a lot, it was normal and if her shoes didn't fit then she could wear some of his or Ashton's shoes. They would be a wider fit and give more room for her and it wasn't like this was going to last long or be a permanent thing. Up to two weeks and their baby would be here, then it shouldn't be long after that for the swelling to go down in her ankles.

"You're about three sizes bigger than mine." (Y/n) turned her head to wipe her eyes against her shoulders since Luke still had hold of her hands and she didn't want to break out of his touch just yet.

There was a clear debate happening in Luke's mind before he leant back and raised his voice. "Ash, babe can you dig out an old pair of trainers for me?"

"You're not seriously going out in trainers and those jeans."

Ashton muttered the words with a shake of his head, but as soon as he walked up beside the stairs and looked down at them both with furrowed brows, realisation hit him. The trainers wouldn't be for Luke, which was now rather obvious because Ashton knew his partner was one for fashion trends, not mix and match jeans and trainers.

He turned and dug around in the cupboard beneath the stairs where a lot of things got shoved aside and hidden away to be sorted out later. It wasn't hard to dig out a pair of trainers that didn't look tattered or splattered with paint or dirt and gravel.

Once he found a decent pair, he tossed them to Luke and crossed one leg over the other, both arms resting on the bannister so he could look down at them both with a fond smile and love pooling within his eyes.

(Y/n) watched through blurring eyes as Luke gently cupped the back of her ankle and helped her into each shoe. They were a bit too big as expected, but when he knotted them up and pressed his finger around the edges to make sure they weren't extremely tight, he nodded.

They weren't tight enough to cut off her circulation or be uncomfortable like her own shoes, but they were knotted well enough that they wouldn't fall off either. It would just feel a bit strange walking with double the toe space at the end of the shoe. But (Y/n) walked at a slow pace these days anyway, so it wasn't likely that she would rush and trip up.

"That should be okay. If you really wanna stay home then we can stay, but if you do wanna go, we'll be on either side of you. No one will stare or get close, I promise."

Tears welled up in her eyes once again when they each took one of her hands and held onto her waist, helping her up from her seat on the stairs when she was ready.

If she was adamant she wanted to stay home then they would all stay, they wouldn't go. Neither of them would ever dream of making (Y/n) go out if she didn't want to or if it would panic her and make her uncomfortable.

But if (Y/n) was okay and wanted to go, then she would be okay as they weren't going to leave her. Ashton and Luke would be right there with her, one of them stood on either side of her. No one would get to peer and watch and stare at her, no one would get too close to her and no one would say anything to or about her, they would make sure of that.

With Ashton's jacket pulled as much around her bump as it would go and her head settled on Luke's shoulder, (Y/n) hummed and gave a little nod.

They were all ready now and she wanted to get out the door quick before she changed her mind.

She could feel Luke's arm binding itself around her waist with his hand resting on the small of her back, knowing that was where she often felt a lot of discomfort. His warm palm was pressing comfortably into her skin, fingers splayed out and rubbing up and down in small patterns while he kept her tucked up into his side.

And on her left she could feel Ashton looming close by, his hand now resting in hers with their fingers entwined and their arms merged up side by side.

She was well and truly baraccaded between both her men. This was how they would be when they went out, if anyone looked all they would see was Luke and Ashton doting on her and shielding her from the rest of the world.

"We're right beside you."

The girl looked to be young, probably a bit younger than (Y/n) herself and she had caramel skin and such wide eyes that seemed almost too big for her face.

There was a small basket in her hands and a rag sticking out of the top, cleaning supplies most likely. The basket was hanging down near the floor as the girl leant forward, analysing (Y/n) like she thought the Empress might well be dead laid there on the chaise lounge.

"Are you alright, Empress?" The maid didn't dare make a move until the Empress spoke.

She didn't want to begin dusting and trying to tidy the usually empty, isolated library in case she disturbed (Y/n). She might have been Empress for a few short weeks, but none of the servants would want to upset her. They didn't know what Geta would do if that happened and no one wanted to find out.

With a deep breath (Y/n) brought her hand up and rubbed at her eyes as she pushed herself to sit up and look a bit more lively and presentable.

There was an awful ache in her lower back, presumably from the way she had slept, and the blanket was half draped over her legs and half on the floor. There was her book laid neatly on the floor by her sandals.

(Y/n) wondered if she looked unruly, if she was a mess and if this was going to spread around the palace as an invaluable piece of gossip.

"Quite… I must have lost track of time."

Her smile was inviting and polite and she clasped her hands together on her lap once the blanket was tossed to one side. (Y/n) was rather surprised she had remembered to put a blanket here in the library for nights like this.

Her bare feet touched the floor and shivers rolled through her skin at the cold contact, but it proved to be useful in livening herself up. Her back straightened up against the cushions and she tried to look alert and presentable as she stared up at the maid who seemed to have calmed down a little. Clearly she had been shocked when she walked in here and found the Empress fast asleep.

And (Y/n) was certainly not going to admit that this was where she spent most of her nights and this was what she had come to call her bed since she had moved into the palace.

"Would you like me to tell the Emperor you were in here? He must worry where you are."

Everyone who worked in the palace knew how both Emperors could act. Most liked to avoid Caracalla in fear of his horrible mood swings, one moment he would be grabbing at them and playfully calling out to them and other times he would be screaming and launching ornaments in their direction.

Geta was the Emperor who no one conversed with, who people were uneasy around because of how precise and controlling he could be.

The maid clearly thought that the Emperor would be concerned that his wife had spent the night here in the library instead of in her room with him. She didn't want him to worry where his wife was or panic and think that something had happened to her when that clearly wasn't the case.

A flash of worry sparked through (Y/n)'s eyes before she managed to mask it and put on a calm smile that shone as brightly as the morning sun in the sky. Her hands clasped together in her lap, pressing down harshly into her thighs to stop herself from fidgeting or tapping too much.

She shook her head timidly, trying not to look overly concerned or eager. "Oh no, he- he will know I'm here, I- I'm always here."

"Very well."

(Y/n) certainly didn't need this girl going to Geta and telling him not to worry, that his wife had fallen asleep in the library. Because then he would have to put on a faux sense of concern and dismiss the maid. He would be irritated by the news because he didn't care.

He knew very well that (Y/n) hadn't spent one night in their supposedly shared bed chambers since their marriage, and he didn't care one bit.

Her teeth sank down into her lower lip when her mind cast back to that first night here in the palace and how it had turned out.

"This union wasn't my decision."

Was that a question? Was (Y/n) supposed to give a response to that, to agree or try and prove him otherwise?

Her eyes were as round as saucers, pupils blown wide and watching Geta with enough unease to make her look like a timid rabbit that was about to be slaughtered by the hunt.

She decided not to give an answer because she couldn't fathom any words to say that would be helpful. It wouldn't do to tell him that this hadn't been her decision either because he already knew that. This marriage was for the better of their two empires, this was to create an alliance, to forge a union that neither country could break.

It hadn't been up to (Y/n) and she had no part in agreeing to this marriage, it had been decided and she understood. Arguing the point wouldn't have done anything but antagonise her father. And (Y/n) knew almost nothing about Geta, she didn't know if he would be insulted or irritated if she stated that she didn't ask or at first want to marry him either.

(Y/n) settled for nodding when Geta looked in her direction, proving that she was listening but that she wouldn't antagonise him.

"I am tied to you for the good of Rome; I shall not be made to endure your presence in my own palace."

It took all of her willpower not to flinch at those words. Was she such a horrid person to be married to? Was her presence irritating or off-putting to Geta? Did it not serve any of his purposes to be married, and to be married to her?

Again, she chose to remain silent and not point out that she was also tied to him, for the remainder of her days, for the good of her home country and for the good of Rome which had now become her main home. Her main concern, her main nation.

This wasn't her idea or for her own benefit just like it clearly wasn't for Geta's benefit to be married to her.

Her hands fisted in her golden dress, the bangles on her wrists clanging together and holting when they caught the edge of her dress or the side of her hip. It was all she could do to stop herself from scrunching the fabric too tightly and causing wrinkles and creases.

She remained glued to the spot, staring at Geta's back as he faced the bed like he couldn't find it within himself to turn and glance at her when he spoke.

"Stay where you choose, do as you please."

(Y/n)'s lips parted but all that managed to come out was a quiet "oh," and nothing more.

The waft of Geta's hand in her direction made her want to take a step back, but her feet would not move.

Did he not want to consumate the marriage? Was this a ploy? If they didn't consumate the marriage then there would be ground for annulling the marriage. And (Y/n) would hate for that to be the case and for the blame to be placed solely on her shoulders.

There was no better match for her than to be betrothed and married to the Emperor of Rome. If this was annulled and she was said to be the reason, she might never find another match.

As much as the thought of lying with Geta intimidated (Y/n), it was a necessity she had wanted to get out of the way. This marriage would be firm, unbreakable. If she had a child then her place as Empress was secured and she wouldn't have to think or to worry about her future here and what any of this would mean for her.

Geta didn't want her around. (Y/n) hadn't been expecting this.

She had expected to be his wife like any other marriage. To have to lie with him whenever he wanted, to have to constantly try her best to please him, to remain at his sides at all times like a prize. She thought they would be engaged in conversation, that she would spend most of her time around him. In the very least she had expected to share a bed with him like she had been repeatedly told when everything was discussed with her and she was told what was expected of her.

But antagonising her new husband wasn't going to do her any favours and (Y/n) didn't want to upset him because she didn't know what his reaction would be or what he would act like if he were irritated and upset.

It would be best all around if she agreed with him and let Geta make the moves and approaches. She could follow his lead and let him set the pace, that way there would be no problems or arguments.

He seemed to realise she still hadn't moved, for he turned and looked at her with arched brows and slight annoyance dwelling within his eyes.

"Go. It's of no concern to me where you spend your time- as long as you don't entertain other men."

It didn't sound like he cared very much. Perhaps he wanted this to be a marriage on paper and nothing more. But then if it was nothing more, wouldn't people begin to talk? Wouldn't they notice that the couple spent no time together, that (Y/n) wasn't staying in her own bedchambers with him. And if she had no child, they would certainly speculate and think something was wrong with her, that she was barren.

She could see in his eyes that he had said that last part because he didn't want this to be known. He didn't want news spreading that they weren't a proper couple.

(Y/n) would never dream of going with another man.

She was married, she understood the sanctity of this marriage. If she were to sleep with another man and someone found out, then it would be an act of treason on her part. There was no consequence of Geta being with other women, but (Y/n) couldn't. She was supposed to produce an heir to the throne and that heir had to be legitimate, it had to be Geta's child and no one elses.

Perhaps he would change his mind soon, maybe he just needed time to adjust to this new situation. And (Y/n) would do whatever he asked of her.

She would become a better wife for him, she would make him happy, make this union worked in any way that suited him.

They had a lifetime together to make this work.

With a nod of her head and her hands still clasped in front of her, (Y/n) bowed and began to step back. "Of course, goodnight Emperor."

Curiosity burned within Geta's eyes as he watched her leave the room. She didn't even bother to go to the trunk in the corner of the room that had been brought in this morning containing most, if not all, of her things.

She didn't take anything with her. She didn't stop and tell him that she wasn't going to be shunned or dismissed like one of the servants.

And he noticed, more as an after-thought than anything else, that she had such a sweet voice.

***

Excitement coursed through (Y/n)'s veins and made her lighter on her feet that barely seemed to touch the floor as she glided through the halls.

Her eyes brightened like flames were burning within them when her sights set on Geta and the little entourage of servants and guards following after him.

He was going to the colosseum, and (Y/n) was permitted to go with him. Of course, he had only asked her because the people of Rome would be very suspicious if their Emperor's new wife wasn't seen by his side whenever he made his limited public appearances.

(Y/n) wasn't sure whether or not Geta would be fine with her going out into the streets of Rome without her, whether she took some guards with her or not. He might not want her going out without him, he hadn't really said, and (Y/n) wouldn't do anything that would upset her husband. She had remained inside until the times he called on her and said they were going out.

When they went out they stood side by side, sometimes he took her hand and kissed it in a display of public affection to appease the people. They sat close together, they shared carriage rides, and that was as much intimacy as they would have.

(Y/n) was simply grateful to be around Geta, to be by his side and allowed to venture out of the palace walls with him.

A hint of confusion pooled within Geta's eyes when he looked to his right and saw his wife approaching him. His wife for all intents and purposes of Rome, and no more.

She was always smiling when he saw her, always so eager to be by his side and leaving the palace. Always happy and joyous and kind, so incredibly kind to any servants who talked to her. Anyone would think she were one of the low born people of Rome who had been allowed to live among the royals. It always surprised Geta.

He noticed the way that she greeted him too. How she nodded her head and dipped into a curtsey to him.

"Good morning, I trust you are well."

For the life of him Geta couldn't understand why she was being so kind, and to him of all people. It wasn't like they were in public yet, being observed and watched by the people and expected to be somewhat loving and share a certain sense of intimacy together.

"You don't have to do that, you're not one of them." His eyes made a sweeping glance towards the staff hovering around them.

There was no need for (Y/n) to curtsey and show him that level of respect. She wasn't a maid, she wasn't someone who always had to wait for him to speak to her before she could talk or even look at him.

(Y/n)'s eyes cast down towards the marbled floor for a moment while she and Geta fell in step beside one another.

"The Emperor deserves respect, especially from his wife." Was the tepid response she gave in that sweet tone of voice that almost irritated Geta because why was she so understanding?

He glanced sideways down at her through narrowed eyes. "And you respect me?"

"Of course I do."

Her response was instant, no time given to think it over because she knew the answer and she knew it was true.

It didn't matter how cold or unsure or arrogant Geta was when he acted towards her. He was her husband, and (Y/n) would always afford him the respect that he was due. He hadn't been cruel towards her, he didn't shout or raise a hand or embarrass her in front of anyone, so she would never do that to him either.

Each time she saw him she would smile, she would nod or bow and speak kindly to him because they were married, and she was supposed to respect Geta above all others. She didn't need to be so formal and kind to him, but she would because that was how she was taught to act. That was how she wanted to be, how considerate she wanted to act to the man she was married to.

How would she be a good wife if she turned away from him or didn't talk to him at all or gave him a snotty remark? How would any of that help their situation and make things better?

(Y/n) wanted their situation to improve, and all she had was time and her personality to win Geta over and prove she could be a better wife. She would be the wife he wanted, even if this marriage hadn't been decided or chosen by either of them.

Surprise swirled through Geta's mind as they began walking. He didn't think she would be so considerate towards him, not with how he had shut her out and how he didn't want her presence around him except for formal events and occasions such as this. He knew he didn't deserve her respect, and he couldn't fathom why she would still give it to him.

Silence blanketed around them as they gracefully walked down the corridor aiming towards the huge wooden doors at the end.

As they walked in tandem, (Y/n) glanced to her left when a small clinking noise caught her attention.

Geta was fiddling with the golden cuff bracketing his right wrist and forarm. It was a lovely item, intricate swirling designs, polished and bronzed to perfection, and the metal was strong enough that it could give a concussion to anyone Geta saw fit to whack with his forearm if he were defending himself for example.

The clasp at the side didn't seem to be doing up properly, and clearly it was irritating him because the cuff was loose and sliding down his wrist towards his hand.

With her lips pressed together into a thin but gentle smile, (Y/n) tentatively reached out for him.

Her left hand braced under his forearm near his elbow to keep his arm elevated and let him rest his arm in the palm of her hand. While her right hand secured over the cuff and pushed down so she could twist the clasp and lock it into place. The touch was barely there for more than ten seconds before the work was done, but it was the most intimate Geta had allowed her to be with him of her own accord. The only touch she had initiated between them, and he didn't push her away.

He remained still and frozen against her, watching with narrowed eyes as she helped him without being asked and without wanting anything in return.

Her fingertips ghosted across the back of his knuckles, causing shivers to ride beneath Geta's skin all the way up to his shoulder. And when the touch was gone, his arm suddenly felt heavy and hollow at the same time, moving back to hang limply at his side as he stared down at (Y/n) without saying a word.

"The colour matches your hair," (Y/n) whispered quietly, still looking at the cuff on his wrist which had been long forgotten by Geta.

Once they were through the great doors and descending down the steps, (Y/n) curled her left hand around the crook of Geta's elbow so she could stand close to his side and keep up with him. Their pace was slow and matched and she couldn't resist gliding her thumb across the crease of his elbow which seemed to make his breath catch in his throat.

She looked so happy, as if she had been a caged animal finally allowed outside, Geta thought as he looked down at her out the corner of his eye.

Such a radiant smile.

***

This felt like one of those days where (Y/n) would rather be back in the palace than out here on the streets of Rome.

That being said, she was pleased to have another visit outside the palace walls. Another morning where she could venture further than the gardens and see more sights and come across the people that were now her people, her subjects.

Being out here was such a difference to being cooped up in the library which had become (Y/n)'s home since moving into the palace after marrying Geta. (Y/n) knew she was lucky that her father had chosen to have her tutored the same as he did his three sons, she could read all the texts in the library and was fluent in Latin and able to write her own ideas and notations if she pleased.

She didn't know what she would have done if she couldn't read the endless books in the library which she presumed the twin Emperors had rarely ever visited or looked upon.

Her days were currently being spent in the library, being there when Geta needed her for formal occasions and outings such as this, wandering the gardens, and being by her husband's side for meals. For the pretense of a normal marriage union.

They had been out for a while now, visiting a temple and seeing the people, and that had been all well and good, but (Y/n) was ready to go back. She was ready to be away from the crowds that were starting to push and shove to get closer to them. Wanting to see them, to either admire or despise them. Either shouting praise or words of vile origin.

As usual when they were out in public like this, (Y/n) had taken to curling her hand around Geta's elbow. Nothing elaborate and if he ever shrugged off her touch she would back away immediately, but he didn't. He seemed to understand she was trying to be an attentive wife, trying to give that impression to his subjects that his wife was loyal, she loved and respected him and wanted to be by his side.

Her steps had fallen out of line with his and she was a pace or two behind him with her right arm stretched out so her hand could remain curled lightly in the crook of his elbow.

(Y/n) couldn't help but fall behind when she was looking at all the people crowding round. She could see people from afar pushing to get closer and the odd flower being thrown at their feet. A generous act that she couldn't reciprocate or show gratitude for and collect the flowers because clearly Geta was a man on a mission, and he wasn't stopping for anything.

Each time that someone shoved their way closer and got a step further towards them, (Y/n)'s skin bristled and she was sure that she could feel Geta tensing beside her. He was looking around too, but he was looking towards his right whereas (Y/n) was looking in the other direction towards the thinner sea of people crowding them.

The guards leading their little entourage and the ones following a close distance behind them were brisk and rather closed off as if they were tuning everything out and trying to move forward whilst ignoring the crowds.

They were close to the carriage now that would take them the rest of the way back to the palace.s

Quickening her steps, (Y/n) tried to fall back in step with Geta but she faltered when something seemed to catch her eye on her left.

A shimmer reflecting the bright midday sun, a glistening light as if a star had fallen from the sky and landed right in their laps. The sunlight bounced and refracted and made (Y/n) blink furiously to stop herself from feeling blinded. That dazzling light came closer and attracted all of (Y/n)'s attention, though it felt like she was the only person who could see or focus on it.

And upon seeing what was catching the light, her blood ran cold and dread dwelled in the pit of her stomach.

A blade.

A blade too short to be classed as a sword, but long and angled and not something (Y/n) would call a simple knife. A dagger, perhaps.

Whatever specific weapon it was, she could see the arm raising to the level of their chest. Hand tightly clasped around the handle of the blade, venom in their eyes, teeth ground down and lips pulled back into a snarl. Feet hitting the floor as he set into a lunge, and his target was made impossibly clear.

Geta.

He was going to attack one of the two Emperors; he was going for the Emperor that was more of a threat, the one that couldn't be controlled or subdued.

"Emperor Geta." That voice was dark, gravelly and coursed with venom that made (Y/n)'s entire core tremble.

"No!"

She was moving before she could stop herself, before her mind could really fathom what she was doing, what she was about to do and what the consequences would be.

Geta turned, exasperation written across his face when (Y/n)'s hand was no longer hooked around his elbow and she suddenly flung herself in front of him. He had no idea what she was doing or what she was up to and it made his chest tighten with an unusual sense of anxiety.

Everything happened so quickly, but Geta could see every little detail as if time had stopped just for him to allow him to get a grasp on the situation.

He saw (Y/n) stand in front of him, he felt her hand shoving at his chest roughly pushing him backwards to get him out of the way. And then he realised what she was obscuring from his path; he saw a blade cross her skin.

He watched the blade swipe across her front so quickly that he actually wanted to believe that the blade hadn't touched her skin at all but had simply caught the ruffled layers of her flowing dress.

That clearly wasn't the case when Geta watched a sparkle of red begin to blossom like petals of a flower bud opening up right before his eyes. It stained the purity of her white gown and churned Geta's stomach.

As soon as (Y/n)'s body started to crumple forwards, as soon as she looked like she were about to drop to the floor, Geta bound his right arm around her abdomen and yanked her back. He didn't know where his own force had suddenly come from but it didn't seem to matter. He pulled with enough force that (Y/n)'s feet almost left the floor and her lower back was moulded up against Geta's abdomen as he curved his chest around her as if becoming a shield for her.

Words tumbled past his lips in a flurry. Calling for the guards, for help, for someone to get that man back and keep him away from the Empress.

What did he employ these men for if they couldn't even protect him or his wife?

None of them had been quick off the mark. Why had it been (Y/n) who had seen what this man was up to? Why was she the only one who had moved, who had done something and tried to protect Geta when that was not her job, not her role or her concern?

"Oh Gods!" He spat, venom dripping from his voice as he twisted to the right and pulled (Y/n) along with him so she was out of the way. "Get him secured!"

He could feel (Y/n) trembling in his arms as the guards finally seemed to get the derranged man pinned on his chest and stomach on the floor. Dirt stuck to the corners of his mouth where his face was scraped down into the floor and the dagger lay disposed at his side, blood sticking it to the sand coating the floor while his arms were detained behind his back.

The rest of the guards crowded in around the couple, clearly realising that they had to do something- they had to do their jobs- and make sure nothing else happened to them.

Both arms stayed glued around (Y/n)'s waist and Geta was sure he could feel her trembling hands gripping his forearm like she was trying to keep herself attached to him or hold herself up.

They moved in tandem, conjoined and clinging together as Geta guided and practically dragged her to the right, aiming for the carriage that would seclude them away from the rest of the world, away from the rabble and give them some privacy and safety.

"Up, up."

Despite the urgency in Geta's voice, (Y/n) could hear something else lying underneath, something softer, something levelling on concern as his hands shifted to her hips and he helped to get her up into the carriage.

"I want a healer at the palace when we get there. Now do what you're supposed to and make sure nothing else happens to my wife or me." There was a maddening look in Geta's eyes and fury laced through his words that spat at the guards like they were nothing more than the grit on his shoes.

They weren't here for appearances or to look appealing to the people of Rome, they weren't here for fun or for something to do. They were supposed to guard the Emperor and anyone close to him. These men were supposed to use their weapons if necessary to keep the people at bay, to stop anyone from harming them.

And they had become slack and allowed the Empress to come to harm and do their jobs for them. That was not acceptable.

As soon as Geta clambered up into the carriage, he slammed the door shut behind him and let his body slump down into the seat opposite (Y/n). The carriage was small enough that even sitting opposite one another, their knees were touching. And if Geta leaned a little closer, his breath would fan across (Y/n)'s face.

He took ragged breaths, pupils blown wide and lips dry and parted as he sat forward and reached out for (Y/n).

At first his hands ghosted across her dress, pushing the torn pieces of material to one side until the strap that had been hanging on her left shoulder suddenly slid down and hung over her chest instead. With the material now loose and at his will, Geta parted it so he could see the wound hiding beneath.

Not a deep thrust from the blade, more of a slice across the skin than a deep puncture wound, which was relieving. But the blood was still soaking into the dress just beneath her collar bone and no doubt it would be causing her pain.

Shudders crawled beneath (Y/n)'s skin when she felt Geta's hands suddenly reach forward and cup her face. His touch was so intent, so fierce and desperate yet he still managed to hold her with some restraint, with some knowledge that she was tender and he didn't want to hurt her.

His thumbs were pressing into her cheekbones and his fingers were touching the tips of her jaw near her ears. He tilted her head until she was looking at him, no ability to look anywhere else but into those dark eyes that were desperate for answers.

He leant in close until their temples were almost touching and (Y/n) could feel the end of his nose so close to brushing hers. Their faces had never been this close before; their lips never this intimate or about to touch.

"Why?! Why would you do that?"

Her blank eyes stared back at him like she didn't understand the question, but it only aggravated him further until he felt like shaking her head in his hands to make her listen and understand what he'd said.

"You could have gotten killed. You- Gods, you do not stand in front of me and take a blade for me. Do you understand?"

Under no circumstances did Geta ever want her to do that for him again. He didn't deserve that. He wasn't the kind of person who should be saved by people like (Y/n). She was pure, she was kind and loving and someone he had mistreated badly. He didn't deserve her kidness or a sacrifice like she had just tried to give for him.

Taking a leap of faith, (Y/n) reached a shaking hand up and curled her fingers around his wrist, holding his touch against her face. Wanting to make sure his touch stayed right there, cupping her face in his hands that she didn't want to part from her skin.

This was the closest they had ever been, and this touch was extremely comforting to (Y/n) right now. She didn't think Geta was the kind of person who could give such confidence and comforting embraces, but now he was holding her, she never wanted this touch to leave. It made the shaking in her system die down and the rapid hammering of her heart simmer down just a little.

"The… the people, Rome need their Emperor, not me."

What kind of person would (Y/n) be if she just stood there and let someone hurt her husband? Hurt the Emperor of Rome? (Y/n) could never rule in his stead, she couldn't make decisions or challenges or lead Rome to glory, that would never be allowed. The people needed their Emperor and if something happened to him, if someone hurt him there could be an uprising and outrage throughout the city.

All (Y/n) had done since she married Geta was try to understand him, try her best to go along with whatever rules he set and try her best to be a good wife, a better wife. That included looking after him and trying to save him from situations like that. Even if it did put herself in harms way.

Geta couldn't understand that logic.

He found himself taking a deep breath as he shook his head as if disappointed in her, but he wasn't. He was simply baffled by her.

"I don't deserve a sacrifice like that from you- especially not from you."

He's been cruel.

It was only now that this was all dawning on him. (Y/n) hadn't asked for this marriage either, she hadn't chosen this the same as he had no choice, but she had been understanding.

Geta had told (Y/n) to leave the royal chambers, he didn't want her there with him during the night, it was his space, his privacy that he wanted to protect and keep strangers out of. He hadn't made other accomodations for her and he didn't know where she ventured off to every night instead of coming to their room and demanding that she stay because it was rightfully her private space too. She hadn't argued with him when she had every right to, and he never gave her any gratitude for that.

He told her he didn't want to be around her, and she didn't push him. Each time he called to her to join him on events and days like this, (Y/n) was right there at his side where he wanted her to be. And she never questioned him.

She didn't get upset, she didn't argue or make logical points with him. She didn't talk badly about him or spread gossip through the servants- which Geta knew now that she had every right to do so if she wished. (Y/n) had kept up the pretenses that everything was the way it should be.

And now she has just stood in front of him because she thought her sacrifice was justified, that the people need him more than they would need her.

"But you," he brushed his thumb delicately across her lower lip and suddenly found himself resting his temple gently and longingly against hers. "You deserve gratitude; a thousand apologies from me. You're my wife, and I haven't treated you as such. That changes now."

His lips touched hers then. Gentle enough that if (Y/n) had closed her eyes, she would surely have mistaken the touch for the gliding of a feather across her lips.

Just as soon as the touch was there, it was gone and replaced with the feeling of Geta's hand leaving her face and curving around to cradle the back of her head. His fingers weaved into the intricate styling of her hair, letting her temple rest against his shoulder while his other arm curved around her waist.

He almost pulled her off her seat and onto his lap with how close he held her to his chest, as if he thought that if he let her go then she might vanish or become seriously harmed again.

(Y/n) found herself winding her arms around his back, fingers scrunching into the soft silky fabric of his robes and her nose inhaled his scent that did wonders in calming her down.

She could just about hear Geta muttering how sorry he was into her hair, and she held him back tighter, glad to be in his arms and feel like a properly married couple for a change.

This was a lasting marriage, this was something that couldn't be undone or changed and (Y/n) wanted to make the most of it. She wanted to make Geta happy and be happy and content by his side. She wanted to have a happy life and a good marriage, because it was the only one she was likely to have.

Each time (Y/n) straightened up and tried to walk, it was like a knife cut into her abdomen and made her want to cripple forwards again.

She took the deepest breath that she could manage and forced her numb feet to continue walking and aim towards the double doors at the end. Even if she hadn't remembered the way back towards the bar and lounge area, (Y/n) would have known which way to go by the crowd of people gathering in that direction.

The security that followed the band wherever they went on tour were currently in the lounge too, making sure that although people were free to go in there and order drinks, they couldn't approach the band.

It was late in the afternoon and the band had only just arrived here in this city, to this hotel where they were staying. They had been on the road for almost twenty hours, they didn't need to be hounded by fans and the media in here too.

(Y/n) was glad for the security keeping everyone at bay because she would hate for the fans to come close and think she was rude or some snotty spouse when in reality, she wasn't feeling her best today. She hadn't been feeling great for two or three days, really.

The moment their group huddled into the hotel, (Y/n) had handed her bag to Luke and aimed for the toilets, saying she was desperate. She wasn't. She needed somewhere to sit in private, somewhere to hold her breath and let a few tears escape and contort her shape into the tiniest configuration she could manage until her crippling, aching muscles relented and she felt better.

Tears blurred at the corner of her vision as she aimed into the bar that looked rather stylish. Lights hanging from the ceiling that looked like configurations of stars, black velvet violas draped over the windows and held up with silk ribbons. Silver and black cushioned chairs that looked soft enough to look like clouds fallen to the Earth.

It didn't take much to spot the band, the mass of colourful hair, the laughter, the heads all huddled together and spreading the drinks out on the table in front of them.

(Y/n) aimed there way, her sights set on the crop of black curls that shone under the bright lights. And those broad shoulders hidden beneath the leather jacket that could show her reflection when she was close enough.

The curved silver seat Luke was on looked rather low to the ground and was made into an oval shape, wide enough that it could fit two people on. Even if it couldn't, (Y/n) would have wedged herself onto the end anyway with the way that she was currently feeling.

Her hand gripped the back of the chair tight enough that her nails almost cut through the soft material and her fingers were surely denting the foam hidden underneath, but she didn't care. Her weight leant onto the chair as she rounded the side and slid down into the seat with less grace than she usually would have afforded herself.

As soon as she was seated, (Y/n) let her eyes fall closed and she slumped to the right, dropping her cheek onto Luke's shoulder as her body curled over. It looked affectionate to onlookers, like she was curling around her husband for some comfort annd affection, but in reality (Y/n) was curling in on herself and pushing into him to try and release the tension in her system.

Her back felt like it was going to break, her chest was tight enough that breathing felt like a struggle, and her abdomen was aching like each muscle had been torn apart by wild wolves.

She managed to bring her knees up towards her stomach with her feet perched on the edge of the chair to keep herself propped up. Her legs leant against Luke's thigh and she curled both hands around his bicep, clinging to him like she was afraid she would become lost completely if she didn't hold onto him.

A smile crept onto Luke's face when he saw that (Y/n) was back, and he turned his head to the right to merge his lips with her temple. His hand slid into the groove beneath her knee and he gently lifted her legs and hooked them over his lap so she didn't have to curl up, she could stretch her legs out over his lap almost like she were sitting on his thighs.

His hand curled around her thigh, thumb softly stroking along her leggings as he leaned into her.

"You good?" He murmured quietly enough against her temple that no one else would be able to hear him. He could feel her breathing was a little different to normal, more depth like it was an effort to breathe as if she had just been running a marathon. And the fact that she was hiding into his side, not uttering a word and not reaching for the drink he had gotten her on the table, made him suspect she still wasn't feeling well.

"Still feel rough… do you have any painkillers?" (Y/n) pressed her lips to his jacket, feeling the cold leather against her lips like they were sticking together as her breaths fanned against the material.

She knew Luke- and the others too- kept painkillers lying around in case any of them had a cold or had an ache or pain that they needed to cure or dampen down so they could go on stage. And (Y/n) was sure that she had used up all the ones she'd kept in her bag for emergencies last night and this morning while they were on the tour bus aiming for this city.

Luke's hand stayed curled around her thigh as he leant forward until his chest was merged into her legs and his free hand reached down for his duffle bag resting by his feet.

After a quick look through, he retrieved a plastic sachet of painkillers and laid them on (Y/n)'s lap, reaching for one of the glasses of water in the middle of the table since he figured she wouldn't want any alcohol just now if she was feeling rough.

"Not feeling well?" Calum's tone was kind and he nodded down to the pills (Y/n) quickly chugged down with the full glass of water.

"Think I pulled something," (Y/n) grazed her hand across her middle, sure that she must have slept funny when they were on that tour bus or that she had moved wrong when she bent to pick something up. Her abdomen ached and standing straight hurt too, not to mention the ache in her lower back.

One or two muscles had definitely been pulled or had seized up from the cold, (Y/n) was sure of it.

She was glad that none of them inquired any further. That when she closed her eyes again and tucked her face into the crook of Luke's neck, no one commented or laughed or thought she was being rude. They let her hibernate into Luke's side, drifting in and out of the conversation while they all tried to relax and stretch out and have some fun before they would need to get ready for their show tonight.

"Alright, let's go check out these rooms."

(Y/n) couldn't have been more glad when Ashton said that and jumped to his feet; she was ready to lie down and rest before everyone would have to go to the arena so the band could prep for their show.

She felt sluggish like her body had been put on slow motion and as if she were walking in a daze. She was silently relieved when Luke told her to wait by the lift and he went and got her overnight bag from the bus for her.

They all had suitcases and bags that mainly lived on the bus, they didn't stay in one place for long on these tours so when they got to stay in a hotel, they only took a small overnight bag with them.

They were all on the eighth floor, their rooms all cloistered near the lifts which seemed appropriate.

As soon as the door opened (Y/n) headed in and made a beeline for the bed, sitting down like her body was about to fall apart. She hadn't done a lot of walking or constant moving about today, not like some other days on tour when they walked for hours around the city in the morning and saw the sights before setting up for the band's shows in the evening.

Today had been a travelling and set up day, they got off the bus, came here to the hotel then they would go to the arena for the sound check and the late night show.

"This is a novelty."

(Y/n) hummed as she sat on the edge of the bed, hands fisting in the covers to try and control herself so she didn't make a disgruntled sound at how awful she currently felt.

She knew what Luke meant. They would be spending two nights in this room not just one. They would get a bit more time to explore this city, to relax and stay in this room and just rest if they wanted to. It was a nice change to the fast pace of this tour.

Her eyes followed her husband for a few minutes as he crouched on the floor and went through his bag to choose an outfit he wanted to change into for the show. Wardrobe was a big thing for all four members of the band and though they did reuse some of the clothes in different shows, they always wanted to change it up a bit and look their best.

With a sigh she flopped back and as soon as her head hit the pillow, her muscles loosened and felt like she was turning to water.

She rolled onto her side, knees curling up to her stomach and one hand fisting in the pillow. Maybe a nap or just a few minutes to close her eyes might make her feel a bit better.

"You still not feeling well baby?"

With his chosen outfit laid out neatly on the chair near the vanity table, Luke turned and padded across towards the bed. He perched down on the side of the bed, resting his right hand on the mattress just behind (Y/n)'s hip so he was leaning over her, staring down at her with a fondness pooling within those baby blue eyes.

(Y/n) nodded and cracked open her eyes, gaging his expression as she spoke. "I- I might stay here tonight… do y- do you mind?"

She felt bad. She felt horrid for even suggesting it, but what was the alternative?

It didn't seem plausible that (Y/n) would be able to make it through the show when she was feeling like this. She couldn't sit in the dressing room huddled in on herself listening to the show from afar and when she felt unwell. The whole point of her being on tour was so she could be with Luke and watch the shows, not to sit in the dressing room and listen.

And what if she needed to rush to the bathroom or if she felt sick? She didn't want anyone to see her when she was like that, nor did she want to spend the entirety of the show sat in the toilets.

Staying here in the privacy of their room where she could sleep or just lie uncomfortably in bed or spend the night in the bathroom if necessary, seemed a better option. (Y/n) could try and sleep off this bad feeling or take a bath and hope to feel better and see the performance tomorrow night instead.

A shiver ran down her spine when Luke's fingers delicately brushed along the side of her face and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"No, course I don't mind. Will you be okay here, on your own?"

"Hm, I'll j- just try and sleep."

"Okay, you know who to call if you need anything or need to get hold of me?"

(Y/n) nodded, a smile gracing her lips as she tried to relax and show Luke that she would just go to sleep. She knew if she needed anything or she felt worse and wanted to get hold of Luke that she could ring his manager and she would pass along the message straight away.

The number was in (Y/n)'s phone for emergencies, but she was sure that she wouldn't need it. She hoped she would be feeling better or a bit more at ease by the time he was back here tonight.

***

Sweat was dripping off (Y/n) in waves; it didn't matter that she had managed to turn up the aircon or that the cover wasn't even draped over her frame anymore, she still felt like she was sticking to the bedsheets. Her pyjamas had felt creased damp and uncomfortable to the point (Y/n) simply took them off, leaving her laid in her underwear and bra. Even that didn't seem to help her situation very much.

Once again she brought her knees up towards her stomach, contorting herself until she was in a small, cramped shape resembling an oval. Her head was burrowed down into the pillow, arms pinned to her chest and her jaw was clenched so tight that her muscles were going to seize up soon enough and then her mouth wouldn't open at all.

She wasn't sure what time it was, somewhere around or just after midnight she would guess because Luke hadn't been back that long.

She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, though she knew from the feeling that Luke wasn't asleep yet either. His arm was draped over her middle, hand wedged somewhere between her stomach and knees as he had been gliding his fingers across her warm skin before she brought her knees up again.

(Y/n) had spent the majority of the night in growing discomfort and rising agony. Sleep hadn't come to her after Luke left, she got a few minutes here and there, but that was about it. The pains came and drifted off in waves. One minute (Y/n) thought she was going to be sick and managed to crawl to the bathroom, then she felt a little better, a little more at ease, and had to make her way back to bed again.

Even a warm bath with bubbles hadn't done anything to relieve the ache in her muscles or loosen the tension in her back and abdomen.

Luke found himself biting the inside of his cheek until he was sure to leave teeth marks chomped down into the skin. He could feel how tense (Y/n) was and how she was fighting the urge to imbed her knees even further into her stomach than this. She was already contorted and pulled together so cramped and tightly that she almost reminded Luke of a frightened child experiencing a nightmare.

Every now and then a shudder would warp through her system and Luke felt each wave.

But when he felt the rattle in her chest and the hitch in her breath, he knew she was fighting back tears. He knew she was holding in a sob, trying to hold herself together and not let him see just how much pain she was in. And that broke something within him.

A sigh escaped his lips and he pushed himself up on his right elbow, his left hand trying to stretch out against her abdomen and draw patterns across her skin to gain her attention.

His chest curved over (Y/n)'s back and his lips attached to her neck where he felt how she held her breath almost as if she were putting up a front to try and pretend that she was okay. She didn't want him to worry, but they were well past that point now.

When Luke came back to the hotel room- trying his best to be quiet- and found (Y/n) awake and still in discomfort, he hadn't been sure what to do. But she had been exhausted, dosed up on as many painkillers as she was allowed to take, and promised Luke she just wanted to sleep and would feel better once she did so.

But he could see that she wasn't feeling better, she wasn't relaxing or falling asleep or mellowing out. If anything Luke was sure that (Y/n)'s pain and discomfort was growing, and he didn't know how to help her. He just knew that he had to try and do something for her.

"Baby you're not well, we're gonna have to do something."

Tears began to fall from (Y/n)'s eyes and soak into the pillow as (Y/n) tried her best to hold her breath and not let the whimpers fall past her lips. The waves of pain were coming and going still, but they were more intense than they had been before. The pain was manageable when Luke left for his show and she was glad she hadn't gone along or else she would of spent the entirety of the night curled up on the toilet floor wishing the pain away.

As much as Luke knew that (Y/n) didn't want to cause a fuss, she didn't want to get up and see a doctor she didn't know in a foreign country to her, and she especially didn't want to go to a hospital, they were going to have to try and do something.

Whether that be Luke's management team finding a doctor who would come here to the hotel to see (Y/n) or just calling up a medical helpline for some advice. Luke needed to do something, he couldn't lie here and watch his wife go through this pain any longer, it was frightening him.

"What?" Luke's tone was gentle as he tried to decipher what she had muttered into the pillow.

He leant over her a little more, his chin hovering over her shoulder so he could see her but his heart was dismayed to see that her face was drenched in silent tears.

"Hurts!" She spat the word through gritted teeth and the sob (Y/n) had been trying to hold in for the last hour finally wormed its way past her lips. "Ooh, Luke."

Now he knew it was bad. His name only passed through (Y/n)'s lips when they were in front of a formal crowd or something was very wrong or frightening her. Luke hated to hear his name past (Y/n)'s lips when he was so used to nicknames and terms of affection and endearment.

With a slow kiss to (Y/n)'s cheek and a quiet hum to try and calm her down, he peeled himself away from her and turned to his right.

His back creaked and clicked as he sat upright and turned on the light, illuminating the room in a burnt orange glow as he found his phone and got to his feet.

The plain white shirt he was weaeing hung off one shoulder revealing his pale skin that had previously been alight with a crimson tint from all the exhersion and sweating out on stage. Even though Luke was wearing his lounge shirt and shorts, he could still feel the draft from the aircon in the room and it made him shiver. He knew (Y/n) had to be very unwell if she was still sweating in this cold air.

His thumb hovered over his manager's contact and he clicked her name, wincing at the thought of waking her up when they had all been exhausted from the constant travelling and late night shows.

"It's me, I know I'm sorry it's late." One hand reached up to tangle in his curls while the other clamped down on his hip, looking like anxiety personified. "(Y/n)'s ill, like really bad, I don't know what to do. Is there a doctor we can call or do I get an ambulance?"

Luke could barely hear her asking what the problem was, what kind of situation they were in and what was wrong with (Y/n) specifically, they needed to know details. Her voice sounded so far away despite the phone being pressed right up against Luke's ear.

He turned back towards the bed, tears glossing over in his eyes when he looked at his wife, curled up on her side in the bed. He wasn't so sure that the specifics mattered right now. She wasn't well, it was bad because Luke was calling for help and that almost never happened. Wasn't that enough information to go on?

"She's in agony, it's her stomach." There was a trace of agony woven through Luke's voice as he looked at (Y/n), eyes trained on her like he couldn't look anywhere else. He could see her trying to push herself up into a sitting position, but she was trying and failing miserably.

With trembling legs he moved to crouch down beside the bed, his fingers grazing along (Y/n)'s arm as he pinned the phone to his shoulder for a brief moment.

"Baby, they're gonna call you an ambulance, okay?"

Somehow (Y/n) found it within herself to nod and force her eyes open just as Luke hung up the call. She wasn't sure who he had been talking to, but she wasn't in any state to ask or to bother thinking about how many people would be woken up now, because of her. Because she couldn't sleep through this pain that was becoming increasingly overwhelming.

She was going to become an inconvenience to everyone, she was already worrying Luke, that much was clear in his glossing expression. (Y/n) didn't want to have to go to a hospital or have any tests done or cause a fuss, but there didn't seem to be much alternative here.

When she flopped her arm out, she managed to curl her hand around Luke's and pull his arm close to her chest like she needed him as some sort of comfort toy to keep her calm. She knew her grip was crushing, she knew she was at the point of hurting him, but (Y/n) needed that touch, that reassurance and something to take her mind off the splitting feeling she was having to endure right now.

A muffled sound escaped her lips and she suddenly tried to push her weight down onto her right elbow in an attempt to sit herself up. Her hand tugged on Luke's arm, almost yanking him off balance from where he was knelt down beside the bed. Watching her in growing confusion as fear as she seemed to be trying to sit up or even attempting to get off the bed.

"Baby-"

"I n- I need… oh fuck," a sob broke off whatever (Y/n) wanted to say and she flapped her hand in the direction of the bathroom, signalling where she wanted to be.

"Okay, okay." Luke hushed gently, untangling his hand from hers so he could slide his arms around her after he set his phone down. If that was where she wanted to be then he would help her with that.

His hands planted down firmly on her waist and in the centre of her back, trying to take her weight and ease her forward against him so he could help her off the bed. It seemed to work well until Luke had (Y/n) on her feet, then she began to crumple. She couldn't seem to hold her weight up at all which worried him to no end as he watched with bleak eyes and lips parted in horror as (Y/n)'s legs shook and caved in immediately.

She began to shake her head, despite the way that her face was meshed into his chest and her nails dug into his bare arms, gripping so tight that Luke began to shake along with her.

Standing had been a mistake. Trying to move from the bed had been a grave error. (Y/n) didn't feel better now she was standing, she felt a whole lot worse. The pain amplified now she was on her feet and it was clear her legs had gone hollow and didn't have enough strength or blood within them to keep her upright.

"No, no- Luke s- something's wrong." A broken sob tremored through her lips as she gripped his arms tight enough to draw blood and make him hiss.

"What? What's wrong, what hurts?" Tears were finally treking their way down Luke's features, a cry of his own clawing at his chest.

He was petrified on her behalf.

He didn't receive an answer, but (Y/n) seemed to try and back up, aiming for the bed again. She couldn't stand, and if Luke managed to get her into the bathroom then she would just collapse on the floor and have an even harder time trying to get back to the bed again. Moving had been a mistake, (Y/n) needed to stay where she was so things didn't get more difficult.

Luke leant her backwards, his chest curving over her own as he helped her back onto the bed where it felt safest for her to be and stay until help arrived.

It looked like (Y/n) was contorting into a different shape once she was crumpled on the bed again, trembling against the pillows as she curled in on herself. But what got Luke's attention as he flopped onto the edge of the bed in a mess of adrenaline and agony himself, was the fact that both (Y/n)'s hands were pushing down deeply and intently against her lower stomach and pelvis.

It made him wonder what the problem was if applying pressure seemed to help or not cause her any worsening pains. Usually if someone was injured or in agony, touching the specific area and pressing down didn't help.

Every muscle in (Y/n)'s body felt like it was morphing and tearing itself apart, like she was abut to transform into a mythical creature or another being entirely.

Deep breaths raged past Luke's lips as he leant to his right, watching (Y/n) with narrowed, tearing eyes as she whined and writhed and fidgeted like it was impossible to lay still. And all he could do was sit like a frozen statue when (Y/n) whimpered "Something's h-happening."

She was looking at him like he should know what to do, like he should be able to help her somehow and he felt as utterly helpless as (Y/n) looked because what was he supposed to do? How was he meant to help?

Tears blurred (Y/n)'s eyes to the point that Luke was merely an outline, a fuzzy halo of black and white shimmering lines that she couldn't seem to make much sense of. All she could understand was the pain she was feeling, the splitting agony that was getting worse and making her breaths come out in shallow puffs of air.

Something like help muttered past her lips in such a feeble tone that (Y/n) was sure she heard Luke cry in response. But then her thighs were tensing, her feet were pushing down into the mattress to try and keep herself stable on the bed and not wriggling too much or at risk of falling.

Then she was moving one of the few articles of clothing she had left, pushing at her underwear, thoroughly expecting to find the mattress drenched in blood from the way she was feeling and how something seemed to have changed.

There was an inkling in the back of (Y/n)'s mind, an explanation that was just as ridiculous as it was plausible, and she was trying to focus her hazy, blurry outlined vision to get Luke back into focus so she could fathom out his expression.

"I'm… I'm not… am I?" She whimpered, unable to say what was on her mind as she stared at Luke through the tears.

All he could do was give her those wide eyes and blushing red lips that were parted, expelling short breaths of air as he stared down. And that look was enough to give (Y/n) her answer, to confirm what was rushing through her mind like a fantasy she couldn't believe was coming to life.

She felt like wailing, like letting out the loudest scream her wheezing lungs could manage, but nothing escaped her lips and her lungs seized up when there was a rapid fire knocking at the door.

Luke's feet stumbled beneath him as he scrambled from the bed and aimed towards the door, partially afraid of who he would fnd and what he was meant to say to them to explain… all of this.

It was their manager, and surprisingly Michael. The red head was leant against the door frame, hair damp and plastered to his face and neck while he rubbed at his eyes to try and liven himself up and show concern. He wasn't sure what was happening or what the emergency was, but he figured he'd best find out and see if there was anything he could do to help.

"Hey, what's going on with (Y/n), why do we need an ambulance?" Michael had been a little bit more than shocked when he found the manager and about three of the hotel staff talking in the hallway, reassured that an ambulance was on the way.

And as he stood here in the corridor, leant against the doorframe, he could fele his frame tensing up and shudders crawling beneath his skin at the sound of (Y/n) crying. Michael couldn't remember the last time- if ever- he had heard or seen (Y/n) cry other than shedding a few tears when the band played a rather emotional song.

"Did you call them?"

"Reception called, paramedics will be here soon. Is she okay, what's wrong?"

"I think- God, I think she's having a baby."

That brought a frown to both their faces and made Michael push off the door frame.

If it weren't for the sound of (Y/n)'s cries, he would have been sure that Luke was now pulling some elaborate prank. They were always pulling stunts, making pranks and games when they were on tour, it was a tradition since they first toured with One Direction.

It didn't seem too extreme or too far fetched that Luke would pull a prank in the middle of the night and try to panic them. But he wasn't the type of person to waste emergency resources and call for an ambulance if one wasn't necessary, and (Y/n) was clearly in some kind of agony.

"Uh, I don't…" Michael shook his head because this just didn't seem believable.

A horrid thought struck the back of his mind and made his lips curl into an awful frown at the sudden wonder if Luke had worded that wrong and this meant (Y/n) was suffering a miscarriage.

Because since when had she been pregnant at all? Michael had children of his own, he knew how it worked and he knew that (Y/n) hadn't displayed any symptoms or characteristics, she didn't look pregnant or act it, the couple hadn't mentioned anything of the sort.

This wasn't something they would keep quiet, this wasn't something that went unnoticed by everyone, it just didn't work like that. He knew Luke was a private person, he didn't talk to the media about his home life, but he talked to the band. If (Y/n) was pregnant, he would have told them, and if she was at the late stage of giving birth, they would have known or noticed.

Luke didn't have time to explain and a grunt left his lips as he ran his hand up and down his face before attempting a response.

"She is!" He sounded desperate; so desperate that Michael was already believing him despite how absurd it was. "Go tell reception she's in labour and we need the medics now."

The urgency in his voice was like nothing they had heard in the singer's voice before andn they found themselves stunned as they watched him delve back into the room, leaving them stood there in shock, staring after him.

Both of them peered around the door but quickly backed up out of sight and over the threshold when (Y/n)'s pleading voice called out to them.

"Get out," she seemed to whimper through the words, but there was something frightening in her voice that made them comply instantly. She didn't want to be watched or observed like some circus attraction, and she certainly didn't want any of her close friends- who she considered family- to see her in a state like this.

"It's okay, it's alright baby an ambulance is coming."

Luke was back to sitting on the edge of the bed, glad that when he reached out or her, she didn't lean back or push him away.

One arm curved around her lower waist, helping her to sit forward since he could see that was what she wanted to do. Her hands clutched at his back, scrunching up into his shirt until it was creased and woven between her fingers. And Luke's other hand came up to rest against the back of her head, curling in her hair as he attached his lips to her temple and breathed raggedly against her skin.

"I didn't know," (Y/n) uttered the words on repeat against Luke's chest, as if desperately trying to convince him and make him believe her.

"I know you didn't, and you're doing so good, you hear me? My strong girl."

(Y/n) continued to clutch at his back, trying not to grip too tightly or dig her nails through his shirt and into his skin. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Luke, but clinging to him like this made her feel the slightest bit better. It helped deviate her mind from the torture her pelvis was succumbing to.

"Just wait until I tell mum; she won't believe this."

They both knew that his mum would be the first person that Luke would tell about this ordeal. And they knew she wasn't going to believe a word.

She would think that Luke was pranking her, that he was trying to get her reaction and get her hopes up for a grandchild. Then she would believe that they had known about the baby but kept it a secret from her, from everyone and she wouldn't be pleased about that either. It was going to take a lot of explaining and reasoning for her to understand that none of this had been known or planned.

(Y/n) didn't know she was pregnant, she didn't suspect for a moment that she might be having a baby. She would have told Luke if she thought she was, things would have been so different from this. She wouldn't be on the tour right now if she knew and thought she was close to her due date. (Y/n) wouldn't have carried on as normal and assumed everything was fine if she had a small, sneaking suspicion about any of this.

By the time the paramedics arrived, (Y/n) felt like her face was glued into Luke's shirt with the pespiration and tears streaming down her features.

Her knees were coiled up near her aching stomach, heels digging down into the bed and her hands were still clutching at Luke's back like she was trying to merge herself into his chest and hide away against him.

"Alright, we heard there's an emergency in here?"

"You think you're having a baby?"

(Y/n) didn't have the energy to respond to them, nor did she want to open her eyes and see their bewildered or sympathetic glances. Her hands finally unlatched from Luke, leaving his shirt tight around his front and scrunched up and crumpled against his back, and let herself shakily sink back into the pillows.

She was grateful and glad when Luke quickly entwined their hands so she still had that touch and connection to him while she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling through blurred eyes, refusing to look anywhere else.

It was both a tremendous relief and a horrible shock to hear one of the medics confirm "You are indeed having a baby, and fast."

Because as much as this had seemed like the only plausible explanation and how she had known deep in her bones that it was right, it was still a shock. It was a relief to know she was right, that they weren't panicking over nothing or it wasn't something else entirely like a hernia or a prolapse or a twisted intestine. And the medics weren't calming her down or telling her she had overreacted and jumped to a horribly wrong conclusion.

It wasn't much better to know that she was having a baby she had no idea about. A baby that wasn't known or thought of or planned for. She and Luke had nothing ready, they were on tour for heaven's sake. He was doing shows almost every night and they were moving from state to state, country to country, going all around the world.

This wasn't the time or the place to stop and have a baby, they had no clothes, no preparations, no items or necessities, nowhere for this baby to even sleep. And what did this mean for the tour? What was Luke going to do? What was (Y/n) going to have to do, go back home straight away? Prepare the house for a baby that was already here and waiting?

So many thoughts clouded (Y/n)'s mind until she let out a careless sob and tried to smother her face with her other hand to stop the tears and hide herself away.

It didn't work, because Luke simply leant over her with those shining ocean eyes glossed with tears and a gentle smile that could have patched up the worst wound in the world. He took her hand in his, holding both her hands to his chest, and he bent his head down to flutter his lips over the back of her trembling fingers.

"Everything's gonna be okay, I'll sort everything out once they're here and safe, I promise."

Luke would make all the necessary arrangements and preparations. He would talk to the band, the management and touring team, he would sort everything and tell their families and make the calls. He would get their house ready as well, he would do everything that needed to be done so (Y/n) didn't have to spare one worried thought about any of it.

He would do all of that just as soon as this surprise baby was born and they and (Y/n) were okay and taken care of.

"The head's already out, well done. Small pushes and panting breaths now, just keep doing what you're doing (Y/n) because you're on the right track."

(Y/n) didn't care anymore about the screams, groans and whimpering coughs that left her lips. This was one of the worst pains and experiences she had ever been through, and she had spent the majority of it in the dark, unsure what was happening with just her husband here to coach her through it and try to help her.

She had a feeling that most, if not all of the band had gathered out in the hall and she couldn't care anymore if they could hear her screams, if they could seense the agony she was in and if it worried them. All that mattered was getting this situation over and done with.

Bells began to ring in her ears and stars flashed before her eyes causing (Y/n) to close them tight in a bid to get rid of the flashes.

Her arms coiled to her chest, Luke's hands entwined with hers and pressing down on her lower chest as she tensed up, pressing back into the pillows as every last ounce of strength went into the splitting agony tearing through her core and pelvis.

When she found the tension leaving her body that seemed to sink into the mattress like she was falling through a cloud, there were far too many voices around her for her to focus on. The mixture of laughs and excited praises leaving Luke's lips that were now meshed against her temple. Whatever the medics were trying to say to her, whether they were asking if she was alright, trying to make her open her eyes and give them some sort of answer, or wehther they were just telling her she was done, (Y/n) had no idea.

Then there was the quiet, mewling cries that seemed to block out everything else and made (Y/n)'s heart give three extra powerful thumps against her ribs like it was reaching out for the source of those noises.

A baby. Her baby. Her child.

The world was a mess of bright colours, illunimating lights and excited faces when everything started to make sense to (Y/n)'s hazy eyes.

She wasn't sure when Luke had managed to let go of her hands or when he had started to cradle the back of her neck and attach his lips to her cheek, kissing and whispering how much he loved her.

It felt like volts of electricity shot through her when one of the medics leant forward on the bed, motioning with her arms to the bundle she was cradling in one of the hotel towels, clearly the closest thing to a blanket that they could find at such short notice.

The weak nod of (Y/n)'s head made her mind spin and her breathing completely stopped when that tender weight was settled on her chest.

Those snuffling breaths seemed to tremor through to (Y/n)'s lungs and the feeling of her baby wriggling, whacking their tiny fist against her chest and shimmying in her embrace made (Y/n) feel like she was in some sort of waking dream.

Was this really real? Was this her reality now? When had she gotten so lucky all of a sudden?

"You've got a little girl there, happy and seemingly healthy. You'll both need to spend some time at the hospital and have a few checks, just to make sure everything's okay."

(Y/n) leant her temple against Luke's, trying to smile through the buzzing adrenaline and shock and bluss and everything else in between that she was currently feeling. The smile on his face, the flash of his teeth, the tears pouring from his eyes, it all moulded into the most beautiful look (Y/n) had ever seen and she wanted to capture and remember that look each and every day.

She felt his thumb stroking along the back of her neck like he was trying to ground her back to reality with him, and his other hand shakily curved around the back of their daughter's head, staring at her with utter disbelief and amazement lighting up his eyes.

"What a beautiful gift," he murmured against (Y/n)'s lips, looking between his two girls, one of which had already wormed her way into his heart in the space of two minutes.

If someone told Luke this morning that in the space of one day he would have his very own child placed in his arms, he wouldn't have believed them.