#davidhowardthorton

You and David had been back together for a few months after a tough breakup , and you couldn't be more at peace. You guys got separated for a while, but you missed each other so much that it was almost natural for you to get back.

Moving in together had been his idea, and while you’d hesitated at first, his enthusiasm won you over.

Life with him had been a blend of comfort and adjustment. He went out of his way to make you feel cared for, even hiring help for the house and leaving little notes for you before he left for a long shoot.

David moved mountains to make you comfortable around him. He managed the press and crazy rumors about you two, always stepping in to never let anything disturb your peace.

And you guys got so much closer.. I mean, the distance made you miss him so much more. You felt like making up for being apart.

You had been intimate several times, especially when he came back from tours. And now, when he was gone for months, It was like waiting for him to get back would make your desire for each other grow bigger and bigger.

When you first realized you were late, you laughed it off. “Pregnant? Yeah, right,” you muttered to yourself. It felt absurd, almost comical. You’d always been careful—or at least, you thought you had. Still, as the days passed, the laughter faded, replaced by an insistent uncertainty.

The idea became impossible to ignore. You noticed every little thing: the way your body felt different, the sudden aversions to certain foods, the waves of exhaustion. The possibility was no longer funny—it was real.

So you started sound distant and maybe cold at times whenever you guys talked on the phone.

David, of course, noticed that something was off. He called you every night, his voice tinged with concern. “You sound different,” he said one evening. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you replied, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

“Of course,” you lied, brushing him off with a laugh. “Stop worrying so much.”

But he didn’t stop. Each night, his calls grew more insistent, his tone more anxious. “I can’t lose you again,” he said quietly one night, his words catching you off guard.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you reassured him, though your own voice wavered.

And then you started running out of excuses. You were not scared of being pregnant. You were scared of being a mom.

You knew how David would be. You knew him too well. He would give everything up to be with you. And that was too much pressure. He would not bear to be away from you. He would want to be around all the time and just the thought made you feel guilty. You would feel the worst if he refused anything to be with you.

Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, you bought a test. Alone in the quiet apartment, you stared at the little stick, laughing nervously at how ridiculous you felt. “This is probably nothing,” you muttered, trying to convince yourself.

But when the result appeared, the world seemed to tilt.

Positive.

You froze, the air leaving your lungs. For a moment, you couldn’t process it. Then came the flood of emotions: disbelief, fear, hopelessness. You laughed, a soft, shaky sound, as tears welled in your eyes. “This is real,” you whispered to yourself.

Over the next few days, you avoided David’s calls as much as you could, offering clipped responses when he managed to catch you. “I’m fine,” you said again and again, though your voice betrayed you.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked one night, his voice tinged with desperation.

“No, of course not,” you replied, guilt twisting in your chest.

“You’ve been so distant,” he said softly. “I just… I need to know we’re okay.” You knew how much this hurt him. You knew his worries and how he was dedicated to making this work, but just wasn't there yet.

“We’re fine,” you insisted, though you weren’t sure you believed it yourself. You were carrying his child.

So you went through every emotion a human can possibly go through. From desperation to utterly fear, from acceptance to excitement.

You thought about what it truly meant to be David's partner—and now, the mother of his child. You pictured the life ahead, and for the first time, relief washed over you.

Motherhood had always seemed daunting, even suffocating, but with David, it felt… like a blessing.

You realized you could trust him completely. The more you thought about it, the more you understood: you wanted this child. The panic you’d felt before wasn’t about the child itself—it was about the fear of repeating the past.

You’d grown up knowing you weren’t planned or wanted, carrying the weight of how your existence had complicated your parents’ lives. That kind of pain had settled deep into your bones.

But this was different. This child wouldn’t know that kind of hurt. They would never feel like a burden because they would be loved—so deeply and completely. They would have two parents who wanted them more than anything in the world. And David.. you knew that no matter how complicated your relationship got bad, he would literally give up anything to have a family. The thought was a selfish confort that you just needed to have.

And you would make sure, no matter what, that they felt the joy they brought into your lives. This child would grow up knowing they were a gift, a reflection of the love you and David shared. That certainty calmed the storm inside you.

When David finally came home, his relief was palpable. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I missed you so much,” he murmured, his lips brushing your hair.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, the weight of your secret pressing down on you.

Throughout dinner, he watched you closely, his concern growing. “You’re still acting strange,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze.

David protested when you dismissed him and refused to take a shower together. When you avoided his touches and questions about how you have been in his absence. You knew how much it confused him, but you couldn’t bear this conversation. You needed to organize the idea first.

You had to think of a way to tell him during his days off so he could focus on work properly. You had already put the test in a box but wanted to decorate it. The plan was to set a camera to record his reaction so you could show you kid every once in a while just so they remembered their meaning in your life.

Later, as you stepped out of the shower, you heard him call out from the bedroom. “What’s this?”

Your stomach dropped. Slowly, you made your way to the doorway, finding him sitting on the bed, the small box in his hands. The lid was off, and the test lay inside.

His eyes darted to you, wide and filled with questions. “Is this real?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. “It’s real.”

"But I dont want you to stop what you are doing. I know how hard you work to get where you are, so please dont give up on it"

"Are you kidding me?" He said. "This. "He moved the test in his hands and touched you belly with the other "this is my dream. I don't want you to worry about anything else than this."

For a moment, he just stared at the test, his breath catching. Then his shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky laugh, tears streaming down his face. “I thought…” he began, his voice breaking. “I thought I was losing you again.”

“You’re not,” you said softly, stepping closer.

His hands trembled as he set the box aside, pulling you into his arms. “You’re having my baby,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

“I am,” you whispered, tears falling freely now.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cradling your face. “I was so scared,” he admitted. “But this… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice small.

“Really,” he said firmly, his eyes shining. “ I was never a believer, but... this feels like a miracle. You know how much I've lost in life, and now this.." a sigle tear dropped " You and this baby are everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Fuck. This man was precious.

Happiness came flooding your heart, the last of your doubts melting away. As he kissed you, slow and tender, you allowed yourself to finally feel it all: the joy, the love, the excitement.

You two deserved this.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you whispered against his lips.

“And you’re going to be the best mom,” he replied, his voice full of certainty.

Your family wouldn’t be broken.

You were about to write a new life from scratch, a home not shaped by fractures, but built on love, commitment, and unwavering care.

In that moment, you realized this wasn’t just the beginning of a new chapter; it was the foundation of the life you’d both longed for, a dream finally coming to life, together.

It was a miracle.

This is dedicated to my DHT girlies:

@artsoveralls

@daveythorntonslocker

@clowncafeb

You and David had been working together for a while now. You were hired as his personal assistant, responsible for scheduling interviews, organizing his breaks, and managing his day-to-day agenda. So You had access to his phone, personal planner, and appointments.

David was on the rise, becoming a big deal, and needed someone to guide him on how to navigate stardom. You knew you were the right person for this. You were a fan, had all it took to do the job and was fearless.

However, as you would find out soon, David personality was from outside this world.

After years of struggling to find his place on screen, David remained humble and deeply grateful to his fans. You admired that about him, but you’d seen this story before. Fame was a double-edged sword, and as he grew bigger, the downsides and unwanted attention would inevitably take their toll. It was only a matter of time.

David wanted to hug everyone, kiss every pet, and play with every child. People even wanted him to sign their butts and he would do it despite being a little unconfortable.

So, you started coaching him teaching him how to be a little less accessible. No need to be cold or distant, but because establishing boundaries early on was crucial in this field. People needed to respect him, to think twice before crossing lines. It wasn’t an easy job, though.

It was frustrating. He was too sweet, too open. To the point that each person expected more of him. Because every fan wanted to feel special, wanted a different photo or video.

And David would let them. No surprise they hired you.

“You can’t afford to be this kind,” you’d argue, worried that his generosity would backfire.

“You don't understand." He answered once "this movie only happened because of them,” he’d counter, after you scolded him for holding a fan’s baby for far too long.

“Those fans aren’t real, David” you snapped, your voice sharp. “No one who genuinely cares about you will be upset if you set some boundaries.”

"Listen, I got this " he would say. "I've chosen this life. I dreamt about it for years. What looks like chaos to you is heaven to me"

You understood that part. But his positive perception of events won’t protect him from harassment. And you would rather die in the hands of Art the clown himself than let something happen to this man.

"Not a chance in hell, David. I will do my job and you will follow my lead" you tried to be firm with him. But it didn't always work.

Whenever he noticed talking was not solving, David would just flash his charming smile, and within minutes, he’d disregard everything you said.

Despite the tension, after some events, you found yourself laughing at his jokes during arguments. He found that you would loose your posture when he changed his voice to Mickey Mouse, and now every time you got mad, Mickey would appear.

It was impossible to keep things serious. He joked about everything!

Funny thing is.. you dont think the jokes were that funny. It was more the way he told them. David could say the most silly thing and people would still laugh their asses off. People wanted to laugh with him. That was the difference.

He was disarming, and he knew it. Slowly, the two of you grew closer. At some point you noticed that You trusted David, and he trusted you.

The freedom you guys had to speak your minds, the openess. It was as if you could be mad, give harsh critisism at one minute, and in the next be completly confortable around him. Because David knew you were mad on behalf of him. Not at him. And he was greatful for this.

Your conversations, once limited to brief exchanges on set, expanded. First, it was casual chats in the breakroom.

Then, it was late nights at David’s apartment, sharing a bottle of wine while reviewing his interviews. You’d tease him for his cringe-worthy answers, and he’d poke fun at how out of touch he felt with people your age.

The age gap between you two became a recurring topic, though you never gave it much thought. That was, until you started noticing him in a different light.

You thought it was just a work thing, but the two of you grew increasingly protective of each other. You could anticipate his needs (when he’d want a coffee or an energy drink) and, in return, he would listen more attentively, pausing whenever you started to speak. He began asking for your input beforehand, coming to you first and following your advice.

For the first time, you felt yourself relax, realizing how naturally good he was at this. He was born to be an icon, it was effortless for him. You felt proud, genuinely happy for all the opportunities coming his way.

One night, the two of you sat on his balcony under the soft glow of dim lighting, wine glasses in hand. Laughter echoed between you as you swapped stories. And then, without thinking, you placed a hand on his knee.

It was casual, innocent... wasn’t it? His reaction, though, was far from casual.

David’s smile faltered, his expression turning serious. His green (or gray) eyes lingered on yours, then dropped briefly to your lips. You instinctively moved to pull your hand away, but he caught it, his grip firm.

“You gotta to stop doing this,” he said, his voice low. You forgot that behind his sweet smile, David was a grown man. And you were touching him a lot lately.

“Doing what?” you asked, your heart squeezed.

You knew what. It wasn’t on purpose, but you knew.

“Flirting with me,” he replied, with a sad smile on his face. His soft hand still holding yours. He was looking at them.

Your breath hitched. “Come on, David. We’re just friends,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

But his grip tightened slightly. "I am your friend. I respect you" He started with that half smile on his face, his silver hair perfectly combed. “But I’m a man after all,” he said, his tone uncertain. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m going to develop feelings for you.”

You stared at him, stunned by his honesty. His green gray eyes layed into yours, a mixture of feelings you couldn't tell, your hand still in his. And in that moment, the lines you’d carefully drawn between professionalism and something more began to blur.

Of course, you saw the man he was. And yes, you had been flirting, but it never occurred to you that he might react to it. That he would take you seriously. You were just starting in your field. No kids, no stable money. And he was the kind of man who dreamed of a family, so you simply assumed you weren’t his type. You were too different.

“David,” you began, but he let go of your hand, after holding it for too long. Too long for you to believe it was just an unintentional gesture. No, David had been wanting to do this for a while. And it stung that he let go if it.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he breathed, still looking into your eyes “I’ve just been lonely for so long that I can’t help holding on to the first thing that felt like love.”

You lost your composure then, seeing him so affected. Over the past few months, you’d learned how to read him, and now you were attached in a way that was impossible to ignore.

“I…” you tried to say something, anything, but David’s words had left you reeling. This wasn’t a confession. He wasn’t asking for anything, wasn’t hoping for anything. He was just being himself, honest, vulnerable. He was telling you how deeply you’d affected him and asking you to stop before it became too much.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” you managed, your voice cracking.

“You’re not bothering me, love,” he said softly. “I’m just telling you… if you keep bringing me closer, at some point, I won’t be able to let you go.” He ran his fingers through his silver hair and continued without giving you time to answer "so please, dont play games on me"

"I am not," you said, your voice trembling with heartbreak. And then it hit you, something bitter. Guilt. You felt guilty for flirting with him. Not because it was wrong exactly, but because you’d let yourself believe it was harmless.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of him that way before. You had. Often. But the idea of him actually being into you? That was too much, too good, too unreal. So you’d convinced yourself it was fine to keep going, not to play games, but because it felt good. Flirting with him, talking to him, working alongside him, it all felt so natural, so right.

He probably thought you were just toying with him, using him as an ego boost.

But that wasn’t it. Not at all.

You cared about him. Deeply. And when you’re single and drawn to a man who’s undeniably attractive, this is what happens. You let your guard down. You become playful, silly. You smile more. You giggle. Yes, you flirt.

"What if I don’t stop?" you said, your tone challenging.

He looked into your eyes intensely, his chest rising with deep breaths. The question got him by surprise. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, his lips red from the wine.

"I’ll fall in love with you." His words went straight to your heart. And you felt a insane relief.

You fucking loved this about him. That he would say exaclty what he was thinking. Even if it was too soon or too much.

"And what makes you think I don’t want that?" You teased. Trying to do the same he would do to you.

"I didn’t think I was..." he started, a bit confused.

"Yes, you are, David." You interrupted him, gently.

He reached for you, his hands cradling your face. Both of you a little shy about this new way of seeing each other. You closed you eyes, to concentrate on his touch. You didn't want to miss this.

Before you could process it, his lips were on yours, pressed gently, almost hesitantly. You were taken aback by how soft they were, by how much tenderness he had been holding back all this time.

He kissed you with so much care, so much attention. His lips moved slowly against yours.

When your tongue met his, you heard him moan softly. His fingers ran through your hair, and he pulled you closer by the nape of your neck. He touched you so delicately, as if afraid to scare you away or to break you. You felt his scent l, his breath, and it was overwhelming.

He pulled back at some point, because even though this was a gentle kiss, you two were out of breath.

He grasped your hands, gently lifting you before leading you through the house, his grip steady and unyielding. When you reached the sofa, he eased you down onto his lap. Once you settled into a comfortable position, he drew you closer by the waist, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles along your back.

You could tell he would take things very slow.

The two of you spent the rest of the night like this. David would say the sweetest things, on how you were beautiful, precious, and how he has been wanting this for so long. You on his lap, with your foreheads touching, exchanging soft kisses, your hands tangled together like you couldn’t bear to let go.

David’s apartment wasn’t just a place; it was him. And somehow, it had become home to you too. The kitchen was where he kissed you for the first time, the kind of kiss that didn’t just ignite sparks but felt like it had always been waiting to happen.

The bedroom was where he asked you to be his girlfriend, in true Brazilian style, with rings, flowers, and a nervous smile that made your heart swell. Of course, you said yes. How could you not?

But there was one thing you hadn’t said yet. Neither of you had said I love you.

According to you, it was a big thing, a sacred thing, not to be said lightly. David had hated that rule at first, his frustration bubbling up in the quiet moments when the words almost slipped from his lips. But he’d agreed, because that was who he was. He wanted to give you the full romantic experience, and he wanted to do it your way, even if it meant holding back.

He’d even started learning Portuguese, determined to understand your culture better, to connect with you on every level. The effort he put into it, the way he’d practice phrases under his breath or ask you to teach him words for little things like “sun” or “kiss” , melted you.

David wasn’t doing these things to impress you. That wasn’t his style. He was simply him, the kind of man who poured his heart into everything he did. Love and kindness radiated from him, effortlessly, because that was all he had to give.

You’d only been together for two months, but you knew from the moment you met him that you’d fall for him. It was impossible not to. He had this charm, this quiet confidence that made you feel like the only person in the world when he looked at you. And maybe that was the problem. You’d become too dependent on his attention, too tethered to the way he made you feel seen. When his eyes weren’t on you, you felt like you might disappear.

Lately, though, things had started to shift. It wasn’t David who had changed, he was still the same man who kissed you goodnight and whispered broken Portuguese phrases to make you laugh.

It was the world around him. On set, you’d begun to hear whispers, murmurs of people talking about him. How good he was, how fast he was rising. And then there were the whispers about you. How “basic” you were, how you didn’t fit into his new, glamorous life.

You tried to ignore it, but the words lingered. They rotted, eating away at you. You began to notice the things they said, on how David turned down dinners and networking events just to spend more time with you. How he was carving out space in his rising star for you, and how that space might one day cost him something.

Not that David ever made you feel like a burden. He was more than capable of making his own decisions.

But you couldn’t shake the guilt, no matter how hard you tried. It clung to you like a shadow, whispering the thing you didn’t want to admit: that his world was growing bigger, brighter, and somehow, you were the weight pulling him back.

You couldn’t ignore the thought that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to mess with his life. And even if he didn’t see it that way, you did. You had to stop it before it went any further. Because loving him meant wanting the best for him, even if it hurt.

Sitting on the edge of his couch, you glanced at him. David. Just his name brought a warmth to your chest and a knot to your stomach. Two months wasn’t long, but it was enough to know that he was different. That what you felt for him wasn’t fleeting. And that made this moment even harder.

“What’s wrong?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, soft yet steady, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that made it hard to hold his gaze. He cared. That’s what made it so painful. He genuinely cared.

You shifted uncomfortably, toying with the hem of your sleeve. "I heard something about you," you began, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound calm. "I know I shouldn’t listen to these things, but it’s inevitable. You’re getting more attention, from big people. Everyone knows how good you are."

You took a deep breath, looking away as his expression softened, his concern deepening. "I saw your last scene, and I was shocked to realize there was nothing of you in it. I mean, I guess that’s what acting is, right? But my point is..."

You hesitated, the words weighing heavy on your tongue. "I heard you got some offers. Good ones. And I know you didn’t accept them yet, and I know this has nothing to do with me, but..." You looked at your hands, knotted together in your lap. "David, I think at some point you’ll get an offer you do want, and you’ll leave."

The admission hung between you, and you felt the tears start to prick your eyes. You loved him, but you couldn’t ignore the reality. "And the thing is..." You forced yourself to keep speaking, even as your voice broke. "You’re too good for this, for just this. But me... I want kids. A big house. A dog. Wine on Friday nights and dinner parties with friends."

You paused, a tear slipping down your cheek. "And the thought of you leaving me for something bigger, something better, it’s too much. I can’t just sit here, waiting for it to happen. Not that I think I’m equal to a big offer, but it would hurt like hell to have to learn how to live without you."

Your love for him made it all the harder. It was suffocating, knowing you had to let him go before it hurt more.

"So, maybe I’m making a mistake here, but I don’t want us to get to that point. And if you ever had to choose between me and a big opportunity, I would never forgive myself for being in your way. Cause I love you. " You couldn't believe this was the way you were going to say this. "So..." Your voice dropped, trembling, heart broken to use these words in such painful moment. "Let’s break up, David."

His green eyes didn’t flinch. They were locked onto yours, fierce and unyielding. There was no pain there, just a deep attention, as though he was piecing together every word you’d said. You stood, grabbing your bag, your heart pounding. "I think I’ve been clear"

"No," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. He stood too, closing the space between you in a few strides. His hands found your face, cupping it gently. "You haven’t been clear at all. You’re still learning to make things clear to me, but let me be very clear with you now."

His eyes bore into yours, his tone unwavering. "Dont you ever say that again, you hear me? I want the same things you want. I want you."

Your breath caught, your tears falling freely as his words settled in. He wasn’t letting you go.

"I know exactly what this life demands, what it will make me give up. And I have been giving up a lot. But you? You’re not something I’m willing to lose. I don’t care if it’s too soon or too complicated. I’m not giving up on what we have because, yes, I’m in love with you, too."

Before you could say anything, he kissed you. His lips pressed against yours with a deliberate softness, like he was sealing a promise. You clung to him, your tears mingling with the kiss, overwhelmed by the rawness of the moment.

He pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "When the big offer comes, I’ll take it. But I’m taking you with me." His voice was low but resolute, each word carrying the weight of a vow.

Then, with a softness that made your chest tighten, he said, "I love you... I mean, te amo" The words came out with a thick, clumsy accent, his attempt at your language unmistakable. It was meant to be romantic, meant to be serious. And it was. But this was David, it came out just a little off-key, a little awkward, equal parts endearing and hilarious.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your tears mingling with the sound. He grinned sheepishly, but his eyes held yours, steady and full of love. Only David could turn a confession like that into something so perfectly, completely him.

A laugh escaped through your tears, shaky but real. "David... I love you too"

"Just promise me one thing," he said, his lips curving into a small, teasing smile. "I get to choose the dog’s name."

You laughed again, relief flooding through you.