#I love content that has all might embracing the dad jokes

[ebodebo]

Forbidden Fruit

NSFW CONTENT

—you and ghost had a relationship before you went off to college for your master's and he comes back for your father's and his bestfriends, captain price, party he’s hosting.

—dbf!ghost x f!reader

—1.6k+

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

"So, what are you celebrating anyway?" you ask your dad as he stands in the kitchen frosting cupcakes while you sit on the counter half-assisting him.

"Uh...nothing in particular," Price says as he carefully frosts a cupcake. "I just thought it could be nice since everyone's in town."

"Mhm," you remark as you stick your finger in the frosting. He stops frosting and stares at you. "Oh, come on, my hands are clean, plus no one has to know."

"I would know," he earnestly says, half joking, half serious. "And I'll tell everyone, you stuck your finger in the frosting. You might as well stick your finger in their mouth."

"Oh my God, you are so dramatic!" You exclaim, laughing. His laughs follow yours until you begin talking.

"So, who's all coming anyway?" You question finally picking up a cupcake to begin frosting it.

"Uh...just the usual." He continues. "Kate and her wife, Johnny, Gaz, and Simon." Your eyes dart up. "Simon?" He sets the frosted cupcake down. "Mhm—oh damn it." He says, as he spills some of the frosting on his shirt. "Why?" He questions as he reaches for a paper towel.

"Uh...no reason. I just haven't seen him in a while." It had been a while or so since you last saw Simon. And saw him you did. 

"I guess it has been a while. Well, you two can catch up. Talk to him about college." You half smile.

"I should go change," you say, sliding off the counter and heading towards your room. Your mind is clouded with thoughts of Simon.

These are mainly thoughts of the way he left before you went back to college to pursue your master's. You confided in him, cried to him, embraced him, and even loved him. 

He said he would keep in touch, but that had been all of five years ago. You had not spoken to or seen him in five years. Of course, your father had no idea of the sentiments you and Simon shared. He could never know. 

You had sat in your seat for almost forty minutes. You were busy conversing with Laswell, mostly about college. You were just glad your dad answered the door for him. 

Your goal was not to look in his general direction for the rest of the night, but your dad forced you to greet him. It's a good thing his greeting is pretty much always serious and to the point, so it wasn't odd to John that his daughter and Simon shared only one word. 

However, then your dad had the grand idea to play a board game, which would force you to look at Simon. This would not do. You were looking for any reason to leave the table, to leave Simon. 

Thank God Kate spilled some of her wine on the table. "No problem. Let me go get some napkins," your father chimed as he stood up.

"I'll get them." You stood quickly, heading to the shed before anyone could object. 

You make your way outside to the shed to grab the napkins. You open the wooden door, which is surprisingly quiet, and step inside.

"If I were a napkin, where would I be." You whisper to yourself as you rustle around the knick-knacks crowding the shelves. 

With no luck finding the napkins on the lower shelves, you investigate the higher shelves. You notice the familiar shade of white on the top shelf. "Bingo," you proclaim, but soon discover it would be impossible for you to reach. You scope around, noticing an old wooden box.

You drag the box in front of the shelves and stand on it, slowly extending your arms higher and higher until your finger grazes the napkin packaging. However, you feel the box holding you up starting to tilt—just your luck.

"Fuck!" You squeal as you feel your body falling, though you never do hit the ground. Instead, a force holds you up. You open your eyes to see Simon's eyes peering into yours as his arms encapsulate your body. 

"You should be more careful," he gruffly states as he gently puts you down. You narrow your eyes at him. "What are you doing out here?" you question, irritability lacing your words. 

"Price asked me to check on you," he says. “You were taking a while." You turn towards the napkins again. "Well, tell him I'll be out in a minute." You step onto the box and are expecting Simon to leave, but to your dismay, you turn your head to him in the exact same spot. 

"This is usually the part where you turn and walk out the door." You chime as you place your hands on your hips. 

He stayed stationary, no words coming out of his mouth. You narrowed your eyes again at his lack of action. "Simon," you annoyingly said as you impatiently tapped your foot. 

He should most definitely not be thinking about you the way he is at the moment. You aren't just his boss's daughter; you are one of his best friends' daughters. It's unforgivable. You were off limits, forbidden fruit. 

Forbidden fruit Simon Riley wanted to take a bite out of. 

"Whatever." You scoff as you begin to reach for the napkins once again. "Stop." He bluntly says. You don't stop, though. You were going to get these God damned napkins one way or another.

"Y/N." He began, his voice becoming increasingly annoyed at you blatantly ignoring him. 

You still stretched your arms, finally feeling the plastic bag holding the napkins between your pointer and middle finger. 

"Enough." He sternly said as you stalked up behind you and roughly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you off the box.

"I almost had them." You breathed out, seething with anger. Though you were safely planted on the floor, Simon didn't let go of your waist. His hands stayed on your body.

Your eyes were staring into his. Your breath synchronized with his shallow breaths. "Let go, Simon," you breathlessly said, breaking the silence as you felt his hand grip tighten. 

"No." He gruffly says as he brings you closer to him. 

No, no. He wasn't just going to come back after years of ignoring you and years of your yearning for him. 

"Your parents didn't teach you any manners?" It was a low-blow and you knew it, but you were furious. You didn't know the ins and outs of Simon's relationship with his family, but you knew there was some deep-rooted trauma there.

"I guess not." He plainly states, bringing his hand up to cup your face. 

"Go figure." You whisper as you feel his hands on your face. 

"Now that we know it's not my fault, can I kiss you?" He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours, his lips hovering over yours. 

You are a weak woman, and you know it. It was just one kiss. That didn't mean you forgave him. I mean who are you to deny him one kiss?

You answer his question by hungrily connecting your lips. One of his hands slips into your hair while his other hand slides down to your waist. 

Your hands instantly connect with his hair, slightly tugging at his roots and eliciting low grunts from him. He carefully slips his hand under your pale yellow sundress.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whisper as he kisses your neck, moving to your collarbone. "What if someone finds us? My dad?" you question, worry coating your voice. 

"You want me to stop?" He questions, slowly pulling his hand out from under your sundress. You eye him before grabbing his hand and placing it back under your dress, causing him to let out a gruff laugh.

"That's what I thought." He cockily says as he slowly rubs through your underwear, causing you to let out a moan.

"You've got to be quiet now." He continues rubbing light circles. "We would hate to have your dear old dad come in, wouldn't we?" You raise your hand to cover your mouth.

He shakes his head. "Move your hand." He commands. You hesitate for a moment. He raises a brow. You finally oblige, and as you uncover your mouth, he shoves your underwear aside and sticks his finger inside you. Making you open your mouth wide, but he is quick to slam his mouth onto yours, preventing the sound from escaping. 

You bring your hands up to lock around his neck for support as he glides his finger in and out of you. He picks up the pace, grunting into your mouth as he feels you tighten around his finger.

"Gettin' close, huh?" He whispers into your mouth. You frantically nod your head. He curls his finger inside you, finally making you release. 

He holds you up while you ride down your high, legs too shaky to stand up straight. "You know I'm still mad at you." You say as you place your hand on his shoulder for extra support.

"I know, sweetheart." He nods. 

Your legs finally stop shaking, and you are able to stand without his support. Your eyes widen in horror. "What are they going to think? We have both been gone for a while." You start pacing. 

"Relax." He gently grabs your shoulder. "They won't know a thing." He assures. You skeptically look at him. He tilts his head.

"You'll be fine. Come on." He guides you to the door and opens it for you.

"So, now what?" You question as you make your way to the backdoor of the house. 

"Tell me about college." He says as he opens the door to the house for you.

Even though you were still furious with Simon for essentially ghosting you, you couldn't help the small smile on your lips at the thought of regaining the relationship you once had with him. 

"Got a boyfriend yet?" He cheekily says.

Baby steps, you remind yourself.

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[vehicular-nimbus]

mksdadshipping thoughts I wrote down because I love the goofy goober dads

ngl I feel Tang would have a soft spot for Wukong and even spoil him to an extent-- he likes cupping his face often or even at least just one hand on his cheek. When SWK gets injured or tired from fighting a rather powerful enemy, Tang might often be the first to reach him just right before Pigsy, and cup his face and look over injuries like, "Are you hurt?? Did he strike you that bad?". The other two feel Tang is also aware of the irony, but it's obvious it's from genuine love and concern for the real Sun Wukong, long moved on from just the idol he's grown to worship almost all of his life.

Wukong likes to hug Pigsy from behind and purr against his cheek or tease him when the chef isn't having any of his antics at times, but in reality, he likes the feeling of Wukong's strong arms in a secure yet caring embrace. When not arguing or bickering, Pigsy likes to slow dance with Tang or just act like an old couple with him, while Wukong is contently smiling behind or beside them on either of their arms. Sometimes they take turns dancing and can even melt into sounds of laughter. While out and about, the two may often speak for all three of them as Wukong lets them take the lead, his eyes may be contently closed or his tail lazily swings as the two go over on what they should buy for groceries later on that day.

Sometimes Pigsy jokes the two alternate who's the "better freeloader" of the poly, but his two lovers know he has the worst soft spot for them than anyone else in the world and even spoils them slightly rotten when he's not too ticked off by their shenanigans. They might be more "freeloaders" than necessary, but they're his rotten noodle and peach heads, dammit. Usually, it's not surprising that Pigsy is protective of Tang, but even Wukong gets surprised or even touched when Pigsy vouches for him or they share a genuine moment of love and care for each other.

[hen-of-letters]

@spnprideweek day one: flags

This little ficlet for #spnprideweek is brought to you by my big, non-binary bisexual love for this beautiful fandom, and my desire to fix that moment in 'Baby' when Cas indulges Dean by saying "werepire", but Dean doesn't hear him and Cas doesn't know. It ended up getting a bit long, so there's more under the cut or over on AO3. Thanks!

Dean's at Pride, and feeling a rising level of discomfort.

It's not the fact that he's wearing eyeliner in public for the first time in his forty-two years. Hell, he'd been wanting to do that ever since he was a kid, dreaming of being a rock star. The covers of music magazines in gas station racks had been windows on a world free from the brutally narrow definition of what his Dad meant when he told him to "be a man". Gradually, though, he'd learned what is gloriously apparent today under the hot June sun: that there are as many ways of being a man as there are men.

It's not because the sleeveless white t-shirt he's wearing is somewhat snug. (The heat had made him shed his pink, purple and blue plaid shirt - the one he'd worn today because Claire always called it his 'bi flannel' - and tie it around his waist.) He and Cas are both wearing a little of their contentment on their waistlines these days, and he believes Cas when he says that he adores his body because he means it when he says the same to Cas.

It's not the big, heart-shaped sticker slapped on his chest, which is striped in the colours of the bisexual pride flag in a way that's much less subtle than the flannel. Dean's always known that he wasn't only into chicks, but putting a name to it is new. Dean's had jobs and Dean's had roles, but having an identity had always seemed like a luxury well beyond Dean's means. Now he's not constantly running for his life, though, he has the breathing room to figure himself out. And he's good with this part of himself. More than good.

It's not the two flags that are padding the pockets of his jeans. One, he'd bought for Cas: it's striped in pale pink, pale blue and white. Earlier, he'd gone with Cas when he'd met up with some friends he'd met online (having managed to get past all the cats this time). The ex-angel had found that discussing their experiences of being trans had helped him feel happy in the body that had become his own. Dean could only feel immense gratitude for the way Cas' face had lit up afterwards when he'd talked about how he was creating himself, becoming himself, and embracing the human condition of change.

Dean hopes that the gift of the trans pride flag will show Cas that Dean understands and loves him, and the same is true for the other flag, which he'd picked up for Jack. It's yellow, white, purple and black. Dean had had to do a little research when Jack had used the term non-binary - it's amazing how the world can move on while you're living in an underground bunker. He'd kept on researching, too, after he'd learned the basics. Maybe he was still figuring himself out. Maybe there was more to discover about himself, and wasn't that fantastic?

Jack is wandering around somewhere with Claire and Kaia. Jody and Donna are here, too, with Alex and Patience. Adam and Michael have probably partied their way through fifty international pride parades by now, but they should be meeting up with everyone else later. Sam and Eileen are not far away. Eileen was the one who's slapped the bi pride sticker on Dean's chest - with unnecessary force, if you asked Dean. She'd grinned at him, showed off the identical sticker on her own chest, and said, with a suitably cheesy wink, "we need to stick together". He remembered the moment he'd nervously asked her the sign for 'bisexual', and when she'd shown him - the letter signs for 'b' and 'i' - she'd added, "me too," and Dean had scooped her up into a crushing hug.His love for his family is endless, and them all being here is definitely not why he's uncomfortable.

And it's not the body glitter freckling his cheeks and his shoulders with gold, although his feelings might change by the time he tries to remove it tonight. He'd been gilded with it when he'd been dancing up a storm with a group of drag queens. They'd admired his eyeliner - a deep brown shot through with gold along his upper lashes - but winked and said it was "a little subtle for Pride". As soon as Dean had seen the tube of glitter, he'd yelled "hell yes!" and even managed to hold still long enough to be coated in the stuff before moving his body to the beat again. Although he's sure his feet will be aching later, so far his favourite cowboy boots are not the source of his discomfort.

It's not the bright pink feather boa, either, which he'd acquired from the same source as the glitter, when he'd been sent off with a kiss to the cheek and the words "be bold, honey!" He'd expected the boa to tickle or irritate, but for some bizarre reason the sensation of feathers around his shoulders and the back of his neck feels incredibly comforting and reassuring. He feels warm and safe and oh. Oh.

As that particular realisation sweeps over him, Dean tightens his hold on Cas. He's standing behind him with his right hand on Cas' hip, and his left arm is up over his shoulder and wrapped around his chest. His hand is splayed out, at once putting his silver wedding band on display and somehow attempting to conceal Cas from the eyes of his many admirers (and, well, good luck with that. Cas is incredibly beefy these days).

Which brings us to the source of Dean's discomfort; to the thing that's deepening the furrow in his brow and the dimples beside his pursed lips: namely, the sheer number of guys hitting on Cas.

It's not like Dean can blame them. Cas' muscular frame is wrapped in black jeans and a tight black t-shirt bearing the Led Zeppelin 1975 tour logo. The short sleeves show off the floral tattoos trailing down his left arm. Cas is wearing a rainbow-coloured enamel belt buckle and, because he's determined to be the death of Dean, black cowboy boots. Before they'd left, Dean hadn't been able to resist grabbing a black kohl pencil and smudging a little along Cas' upper and lower lashes. And, okay, maybe Cas' wide-eyed bewilderment every time he's flirted with is vaguely amusing. But when Dean is right here? Not cool.

Right on cue, here's another one. From over his husband's shoulder, Dean levels his very best glare at the guy. It's a look that can stop a demon dead in its tracks. A vampire would tremble. A werewolf would wet itself. But one young gay guy with a few drinks in him? Totally unaffected. Like the others, he's all smiles and understanding when Cas politely, if awkwardly, waves him away. (Literally. With a final dorky little wave goodbye.)

Dean realises that he's moved his right arm around Cas' waist, so now Dean is wrapped around Cas like some kind of koala/octopus hybrid. An octoala? A koctopus? Definitely koctopus. Heh.

Dean snorts at the thought, which is somewhat unfortunate, given that his face is right next to Cas' ear. Cas flinches and turns his head around to fix him in a squinty glare.

"Koctopus?" Dean says, apologetically.

Cas narrows his eyes further and tilts his head to the side.

"Um, the way I was wrapped around you. I was like a cross between a koala and an octopus."

Dean nudges Cas. "So what does that make me? C'mon, you know you wanna say it."

Cas just tilts his head a bit further to the side, either in confusion or outright despair. Dean has untangled himself from Cas and stepped back, and looks down at the ground, suddenly self-conscious.

Dean feels Cas' hand on his shoulder, and then it smooths over his back, finding the back of his neck underneath the boa. Whatever his shape, Cas' touch has the exact same effect on Dean. He looks up into the impossibly blue eyes of his husband.

"You're a very glittery," Cas begins, softly, "and very beautiful," one corner of his mouth lifts, and then he purses his lips together, trying to hold back the smile, "koctopus."

The corners of his eyes are crinkled. He's not amused by the joke, Dean knows, just absurdly pleased to be saying something he knows will make Dean happy. Of course Dean knows that Cas loves him, knows the whole cosmic-realm-crossing magnitude of it, but in little moments like this, he's floored by it. Dean can't help his sudden exhale or the massive grin that breaks across his face. He wraps his husband up in hug that they hold for a good long moment, before Dean leans back to kiss Cas.

No one had ever explained to Dean how difficult it is to kiss someone when you can't stop smiling. He'd never had that problem before Cas, but now it's practically a daily occurrence. It's a menace because kissing Cas is one of Dean's favourite pastimes. Now, they trade little pecks between wide, toothy grins, until passion takes over and the kisses become heavier.

It takes someone wolf-whistling for them to part, and then they're back to grinning and staring into each others' eyes, until Dean spots something on Cas' face. And something else. And something else. In fact, there's something all over Cas, and that something is gold glitter. It's on his face, his hands, his Zeppelin shirt, and even in his hair. Dean runs his fingers through the unruly curls - Cas has been wearing his hair longer lately - in an attempt to shake it out, but only deposits more glitter into Cas' locks.

"Oops," Dean says, "I kinda glitter bombed you there. It's all over your shirt, too. Sorry, Sunshine."

He doesn't sound terribly sorry.

"This is your shirt, Dean."

"Aw, man."

He does sound a little sorry now, but his future laundry woes are forgotten when Cas presses another kiss to his pouting lips. They're forgotten again when something across the crowd catches Dean's eye.

"Oooh," Dean exclaims as he drags Cas towards the stall he's spotted.

It's selling cowboy hats in every configuration of colour imaginable, and Dean is practically jumping on the spot excitement. Cas looks his husband up and down, slowly.

"You think your outfit's lacking accessories?" he deadpans.

"Yup," is Dean's gleeful reply, "and so's yours."

Cas' groan is lost to the noise of the crowd and the beat of the music, so no-one will ever know if it was one of protest or defeat. He does, in fact, end up wearing a black cowboy hat with a rainbow band, so if it was protest then it was highly ineffective. Dean's has a pink crown, purple band and blue brim, and he's carrying another black one with a band in the non-binary flag colours for Jack. Cas admits that Jack's going to love it.

"Damn, this is awesome," Dean says as they head back to meet up with the rest of their family.

Walking hand in hand with Cas, Dean's thoughts wander. Dean could kick his younger self for every time he'd called someone gay or a girl as a way of saying they were weak. Because all he can see in the people around him is strength. He grins again, giddy with the atmosphere of defiant joy. All around him is everything he'd spent his life fighting to protect: freedom, family, and love. Holding his husband's hand a little tighter, he's grateful that in the end he gets to have both: freedom and peace.

[thisissirius]

buck deserves good things.

i hope you appreciate how hard it is to get into buck’s head instead of eddie’s ;_; they are so very very different

help

crush(ed) [ao3 link] buck. therapy. buck in therapy. buck/therapy. a little of buck/eddie but that is NOT the focus.

It’s not something Buck chooses to hide, but it becomes easier when he finds a private therapist who seems content to take him on. She doesn’t even bat an eye when he tells her he’ll change his times from week to week depending on shifts. She has no ties to the LAFD and tells Buck it’s up to him whether or not he informs his work place. 

I should, Buck thinks instantly. Then, breathing out slowly, he tells himself, no. 

This is something he wants to keep to himself, for as long as he can. 

It’s not until Buck sees Eddie that he almost caves. They promised each other they’d do better at communication after the lawsuit—and Buck can’t think about it without wincing—but this feels different. He doesn’t have to tell Eddie if he doesn’t want to, that’s the first thing Dr. Copeland tells him. 

“You don’t even know him,” Buck points out. 

“I don’t have to, Evan.” Buck likes the way she says his name. He doesn’t hear it often, not even from Maddie, and it makes him take everything she says seriously—people use his name when it’s important. “The choices here are all yours.”

Buck nods, knows his breathing sounds shaky, but doesn’t care. “Part of me wants to tell him. He’s my best friend. He’s—but I know he’s busy with Chris and he doesn’t need this.”

Dr. Copeland nods. “Do you see yourself as a burden?”

“No,” Buck says immediately. Then, “yes.”

__________________

Loneliness takes him by surprise. 

With Abby, he’s sure he’s found something real, something solid. He isn’t joking when he tells Bobby he thinks he might be a sex addict, but he’s also not telling the whole truth. When he’s having sex with someone, when someone’s with him, the loneliness feels further away. Buck wants to be loved. It’s something his parents told him again and again. It’s something he’s known about himself for a long, long time. 

If he confused affection with love then—that’s nobody’s fault but his own. 

“Is that how you really feel?”

Buck gives her a wry smile. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

Dr. Copeland inclined her head. “A fair point. Though sometimes we say things we think we feel.”

“I had sex with more people than I like to think about,” Buck says, wincing. “Why else would I do it?”

“Some people just like sex.” Dr. Copeland never looks anything but 100% engaged. Buck settles the tablet on the bed, rubs his hands over his knees. “Evan?”

“I don’t know that I do,” he says quickly. When he thinks she might get the wrong idea, he follows it up with, “I mean I do. Just not—enough to have it with that many people.”

Dr. Copeland doesn’t judge him and Buck feels like he can breathe.       

__________________ 

 Buck has a standing date with Maddie every Thursday. Even now, with the pandemic raging around them, they make sure to Zoom and watch something on Netflix. He’s got beer, her, a mug of something she assures him is only tea. “Can I ask you something?”

Maddie looks up, cradling the mug in her hands. “You wanna pause?”

Buck shakes his head. The sound of the movie drowns out whatever’s running through his head. “If I wanted to go to therapy, would you judge me?”

“No,” Maddie says without hesitation. “Why?”

The words get stuck in Buck’s throat. He shrugs to cover the struggle. 

“Buck, I love you. If you need therapy, I will support you.”

Buck clenches his hand around the beer bottle tightly. “The crush that Chim keeps teasing about—”

“You want me to stop him?” Maddie looks so concerned that the rush of warmth Buck feels in his stomach makes it easier to speak. 

“Maybe,” he allows. “It’s not what anyone thinks. Please don’t interrupt,” he asks, when she opens her mouth. “I need to say this. It’s not—she’s a therapist.”

There was silence on the other end of the screen. Maddie’s not angry when he looks, but he’s startled to see tears in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, hand over her mouth. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck stresses. “I just needed you to know.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Maddie finally manages to get out. She drops her hand, wiping at her eyes. “I’m happy you��re getting what you need, Buck. She is helping?”

Buck thinks of how wrecked he feels after a session, how he’ll surround himself with whoever’s in the apartment because he needs the noise. There’s also the sense of comfort that comes from someone hearing him and listening, giving him advice he actually thinks he can follow.

“Yeah,” he says, after a long pause. “She is.”

__________________

“I want to tell Eddie,” Buck says, looking Dr. Copeland in the eye. “But I’m worried about what he’ll say.”

Dr. Copeland took a moment to reply. “His response isn’t on you, Buck. We can only control what we do, how we react. It’s Eddie’s choice.”

“Doesn’t stop me worrying,” Buck pointed out. He thought of Eddie’s resistance to Frank, the barrier he puts between himself and therapy, while simultaneously embracing it on Chris’ behalf. “When it’s Chris, he’s all for it. Thinks it does Chris good. When it’s adult,” Buck adds. “If it’s me? I don’t know.”

“What’s the worst way he could react?”

“Tell me I’m weak,” Buck says, but even as he says it, he knows that’s not something Eddie will ever say. 

Dr. Copeland nodded. “Has he ever given you that impression?”

“No.” Buck bites at his bottom lip. “He’s told me the opposite.”

As if sparing him from talking about it more, Dr. Copeland leans a little further forward. “Your other workmates—Hen and Chim?—how do you think they’d react?”

Buck doesn’t know. “Chim’s been teasing me. Thinks every time I’m up here, I’m talking to a crush.” He flushes, tries not to look at Dr. Copeland. “Every time I try and tell him who I’m actually calling, something stops me. I know they don’t think it’s a bad thing. We’ve all had to have it at some point. The job is hard, you know?”

There’s silence from the other end of the screen and it makes Buck’s screen crawl. The silences always make him desperate to fill them, to throw words at her and hope she makes some sense of what he’s trying to say. 

“Hen?”

It’s hard not to smile. “She’s always been supportive. Always tried to be there for me. Even after I sued the department.”

“She didn’t hold it against you.”

“No,” Buck agrees. “Not like Bobby. Like Eddie.”

“Bobby,” Dr. Copeland says, ignoring Eddie, something Buck’s grateful for. “Your Captain?”

Buck nods, readjusting his position on the bed. “I keep thinking I should have told him. This is something the department should know.”

“Only if you want them to,” Dr. Copeland reminds him. “Sometimes we don’t feel safe enough to talk about our mental health, especially if it’s outside of mandated sessions.”

It doesn’t stop the guilt striking Buck at the worst times. 

__________________

“Can I speak to you?”

Bobby looks up from his desk, surprised. “Buck. Of course.”

Buck feels awkward. He’s only ever really in the office when he’s done something wrong. Taking the seat opposite Bobby, he looks up from under his eyelashes, still nervous. “What happens if someone has therapy that isn’t mandated?”

Staring at him, Bobby rests his elbows on the desk. He’s not a stupid man and Buck doesn’t doubt he already knows what Buck’s trying to say. “The department likes to know,” Bobby says easily, “but it’s not their right to know. You understand?”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes. His skin feels too tight, trapped in the four walls of the office. 

“Look at me,” Bobby says gently. Buck does, realises Bobby looks concerned and not angry. “You alright?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think—I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t tied to the department.”

 Sliding his chair out from the desk, Bobby stood, coming round to stand next to Buck. He hesitates. “You don’t have to explain.”

“After the lawsuit,” Buck starts, tries to ignore the flow of emotions that cross Bobby’s face. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d hate me for—”

“Stop,” Bobby says quietly. He rests a hand on Buck’s arm and Buck starts, standing so quickly the chair skids away from him. Bobby takes his hand away. ”Sorry.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it. He doesn’t know what his emotions are doing and tries to grasp a hold of one of them. “No I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

“Buck.” Bobby reaches out again, and Buck steps into it, feeling awkward when Bobby doesn’t automatically hug him. Oh god. He moves to step away, but Bobby surprises him again, drags him into a hug, hand to the back of his neck. “It’s okay, kid.”

“It’s not,” Buck mutters, bites back the tears but takes the embrace as long as Bobby will let him have it. “But I’m trying to be.”

__________________

Buck’s leg won’t stop moving. He’s been staring at his phone for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for Dr. Copeland to reply. What if she can’t speak to him? Maybe he’ll have to get through this on his own and he’s not sure he knows how to do that without her guidance. 

Mom and dad are coming. 

Just like that. No warning. No asking if it’s okay. Just. We’re coming. 

Buck’s mad and afraid all at once. Maddie’s the same, but she’s got Chim. Buck’s just got this; his apartment, Albert downstairs watching TV, and Eddie on shift. Buck can’t just call. 

When the text comes through, Buck scrambles for his tablet, hands shaking as he answers the call. 

“You sounded panicked, Evan,” Dr. Copeland says. “Is everything okay.”

“My parents are coming,” Buck blurts out, wincing.

They haven’t talked about them yet; Buck knows she’s inferred some stuff, suspected others, but Buck’s never outright talked about them. “That scares you?”

“Yes,” Buck says, laughing nervously. “Angry. They never ask. Just told Maddie they’re coming. She’s pregnant so of course they wanna fix their mistakes and—”

He talks and talks. 

And talks. 

“I don’t want them to come.”

Dr. Copeland nods. “You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t leave Maddie alone,” Buck protests. “Maybe,” he starts, pauses. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“You have support, Evan,” Dr. Copeland says, and it doesn’t feel like she’s patronising him. “You have friends, co-workers. Any of them would understand.”

Buck doesn’t think so. “They’re not bad parents,” he says. 

Dr. Copeland pauses for a moment. “There are different ways to be bad parents.”

__________________

Buck’s working out, pent up aggression flowing from fists to punch bag. 

“You wanna tell me what’s got you so worked up?”

It’s not that he’s avoiding Eddie. It’s just hard, sometimes, to know he’s holding something of himself back from Eddie. “My parents are coming.”

Eddie stays silent as he punches through some more of his emotions. “My parents tried to take Chris.”

Buck pauses, drops his arms. “What?”

Staring at the ground, frowning, Eddie looks as if he’s far away, probably wherever, or whenever, this happened. “Thought I was dragging him down with me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Buck says immediately, suddenly angry on Eddie’s behalf. Eddie looks up, surprised but pleased, trying to cover it. “It is, Eddie, you know that, right?” 

“I didn't,” Eddie admits. “Not for a long time.”

 Buck presses, “but you do now?” He doesn’t know why it’s important that Eddie knows it. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, with a certainty Buck doesn’t always expect from him. “Until I came here.”

“Good.” Buck doesn’t know what Eddie’s trying to get at. “Why tell me that now?”

“I’m a good father because I taught myself to be,” he says, and Buck doesn’t understand. “Sometimes our parents don’t do a good job. Sometimes we love our parents, or we don’t. But we don’t have to agree with everything they do, either.”

Buck works off the gloves. “Okay.”

Stepping into his space, Eddie wraps a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and squeezes. “You can tell them to fuck off.”

Buck laughs, grateful, and drops his head forehead, touching Eddie’s. Eddie closes his eyes and Buck does the same, revels in the touch. “I haven’t seen them in so long. I’m a disappointment.”

“Not to me,” Eddie says, voice full of emotion. 

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck says. 

__________________

“I think I’m going to go to dinner,” Buck says. Dr. Copeland doesn’t say anything, so he nods, as if to make a point. “Maddie needs me.”

__________________

It’s a disaster. 

Buck knows, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, that it won’t go any other way.

“So,” Phillip says. Buck doesn’t know when he stopped referring to his parents as mom and dad. Sometimes he feels like he’s a separate entity, apart from all family. Except Maddie. Maddie’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a mother, a sister, a role model. Until she— “how’s working with Evan, Howard?”

“Fine,” Chim says, frowning. “He’s good at his job.”

“He should be,” Phillip says, raising his eyebrows. “We didn’t raise him to slack off.”

“You didn’t raise me at all,” Buck says, the words tripping off his tongue. He sits a little straighter, anger blossoming through his chest. 

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Margaret says, narrowing her eyes. “You will speak to your father properly.”

Buck’s courage seems to dissipate.

“Dad, Mom,” Maddie says, pleading. “Buck’s doing the best he can. He’s even going to therapy!”

Instantly, she knows she’s said something wrong, and Buck shifts in his heat, panic overriding the anger. 

“You’re in therapy?” Phillip’s tone drips with condescension. 

“The job can be hard,” Buck admits, unable to look anywhere else but at Phillip. “I just needed to talk to someone.”

Phillip looks disappointed. As if he’s ever looked anything but. “Weakness has always been your problem.”

“Hey,” Chim starts, stepping forward. 

“No,” Buck says, putting his glass on the table. “Say what you need to, Phillip. Why is therapy such a weak thing?”

“No Buckley—” 

“What would you know about it?” Buck snaps. “Do you know how long it’s taken to admit to anyone that I’m in therapy? Because of what you drilled into me! You’re gonna stand there and tell me there’s something wrong with it?”

“Yes,”  Phillip says, tone hard. “I thought we were done with this attitude.”

“Dad,” Maddie starts. 

“No,” Buck snarls. “Let him talk, Maddie. Can’t wait to see how I fucked up this time.”

“Evan!”

“It’s Buck,” Buck yells. Now he remembers why nobody calls him Evan. “Nothing I did was ever good enough!”

“And it never will be,” Phillip snaps in response. 

Buck draws himself up. “Maybe if you didn’t always leave—”

“Why would we stay?” Kartrina says, her words gentle, and they hit all the harder for it. 

Deflating, Buck doesn’t think he can breathe. It feels like a physical slap and he moves, walking fast away from his parents, away from a past he can’t work his way out of. 

__________________

“It was a disaster,” Buck says later.

Dr. Copeland nods, sympathetic but professional. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck does. 

__________________

“I called Eddie,” Maddie says, coming to sit next to him on the back steps. 

Buck wants to be mad about it, but now that the anger’s dissipated, he’s just  tired. Shaking. Shaking because he’s so tired. 

“I messed it up,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Maddie leans against him, wraps an arm around his shoulder and kisses his temple. “I should be apologising to you. I’m sorry I left.”

There’s a burning behind Buck’s eyes and he drops his head, clenching his hands into fists. “I always get left behind, Mads. Always.”

“I know,” Maddie whispers, and Buck loves her all the more that she doesn’t try to correct him.

When Eddie arrives, he looks pissed. He takes one look at Buck’s parents and the anger morphs into something else. A quiet fury. Buck worries that everything’s going to fall apart, but Eddie reins it in—and god, Buck loves him so much—and ignores them. His eyes land on Buck. The fury’s still there, simmering, but it fades behind concern as he crosses the distance between them, crouching down. “Buck.”

It’s just his name, but Buck sobs, emotionally wrung out.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Buck. Buck falls, let’s himself give up on being anything but a mess. “I’ve got you,” Eddie says again, and Buck believes him.

“Evan,” Phillip says. “This is nothing to cry over.”

“Stop it,” Maddie protests. 

Buck ignores them, blinks at the expression on Eddie’s face. 

“Alright?” Eddie asks, voice dipped low. 

“Yeah,” Buck starts, but is cut off by his mother. 

“If this is what therapy has done—” 

“You wanna know something,” Eddie snaps, climbing to his feet. Buck’s chest is tight with worry, but Eddie stays close to Buck, between him and his parents. “You wanna know why Buck needs therapy? Where the hell have you been?”

Phillip frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your son,” Eddie snarls, “was almost killed. Twice. A fucking truck crushed his leg, something you couldn’t have avoided knowing about, and yet nothing. Not a word.”

Buck’s oddly fascinated with the way Eddie’s holding himself. Hands clenched, back straight, ever the soldier. But his tone? It goes soft. “Buck’s the best man I know. And no,” Eddie continues, giving Buck’s parents such a look of contempt, “that’s got nothing to do with you.”

There’s that familiar look on Phillip’s face: anger, disgust. “You don’t get to tell me—” 

“I’m a father,” Eddie says. “I have an eight year old son. Buck saved his life.”

“Yes,” Margaret says. “We heard.”

That sets Eddie off again and Buck knows he should step in, should take this out of Maddie’s house, but he can’t seem to make himself move. “You have a problem with Buck?”

“He hasn’t turned out—” 

“Finish that,” Eddie says, his voice a deadly tone. “Please.”

Phillip keeps quiet. 

“Buck’s a credit. Not to you, but to himself. He turned out like this on his own merit. Despite you. Despite being abandoned time and again. He’s strong, kind, compassionate, and I have no idea where he learned to be, because it certainly wasn’t from you!”

Buck’s heart is pounding, blood rushing in his ears. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how.

“He deserves better,” Eddie says, “than anything you can give him now, because you’ve decided a grandchild gives you a second chance.”

Turning his back on Buck’s parents, and just the dismissiveness in that rears the old fear, but Buck tamps it down and Eddie gives Buck a look. “You wanna leave?”

“Buck—” Margaret starts.

Maddie nods her head. He gives her a tight smile.

“Yeah,” Buck says, taking the hand Eddie offers him and standing on wobbly legs.

“It’s alright,” Eddie mumbles. “You’ve got this.”

Buck does. He nods, sharing a long look with Eddie, and then swallows down everything to stand straight. “Sorry, Mads.”

“Don’t be,” Maddie says.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Evan.” Phillip’s expression is tight.

“No,” Buck says, digging deep to find courage. Eddie’s hand squeezes his arm. “I’ll be with Eddie and Chris. I’ll call you. Maybe.”

“You can’t—” 

“He can,” Eddie says.

“He can,” Chim echoes.

“We will not—” 

“It’s alright,” Maddie says eventually. “They’ll be leaving after you.”

Margaret looks shocked. “Madeline—”

“It’s Maddie,” Maddie says. “Eddie’s right. You can’t make up for us,” she says, gesturing between her and Buck, “with my baby.”

  __________________

“How did that feel?”

Buck huffed, not sure how to answer. “Good? But also terrifying. It’s like closing that door completely. It means we’re cut off. Money, name, everything.”

Dr. Copeland hums. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” Buck says. “Some of the money they can’t touch. The name—it’s nice to have it, but I can always change it. I’m still me.”

“I’m proud of you for going,” Dr. Copeland says. “It took strength, Buck.”

“I, uh,” Buck starts, looking around the room, “told Eddie.”

“Oh?” The fact that he can’t detect anything from her tone is a credit. “How did that go?”

Buck sighs. “My mom actually said it, during the fight. I thought he’d hate me for it.”

“Evan—”

The name doesn’t hurt like it had when Phillip used it. “No, it’s okay. I know—I projected that onto him because I was worried. I didn’t want to lose him.”

Dr. Copeland waits. Then, “How do you feel now?”

Scared.

__________________

“I’m sorry,” Buck blurts out. 

Eddie frowns as he shuts off the truck. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Buck says. 

A pause. Eddie looks confused. “You did.”

“Not about my parents.” Buck’s quiet, looks at the house. Chris is inside with Eddie’s abuela. During the height of the pandemic, they’d been together, both vulnerable. When it was safe to go home, Eddie's taken him back to the house, but abuela and pepa both are both taking enough precautions to stay with him when Eddie’s at work. It’s worked for them so far and Buck hopes it stays that way; Chris deserves to be safe. “About therapy.”

When Eddie’s hand lands on his knee, Buck jumps. Before Eddie can take it away, he grasps it. Eddie gives him a soft smile when he looks up. “You don’t have to be sorry. If it’s something I needed to know, you’d have told me.”

Buck lets out a shaky breath, tips his back against the headrest. “I’m messed up.”

“Maybe,” Eddie allows. “Isn’t everyone, a little?”

“I keep getting left behind,” Buck admits, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “My parents. Maddie. Everyone at work. You,” he adds on last, because if he doesn’t get this out, he doesn’t know when he will. “Not now—after Bobby said I couldn’t come back to work. You left me.”

Eddie opens his mouth. It closes quickly and Eddie ducks his head, a flush rising on his cheeks. “I was a shitty best friend,” Eddie admits. 

“We both were,” Buck allows.

“You were crushed by a firetruck,” Eddie protests.

Buck raises his eyebrows. “Your wife died, Eddie. We didn’t talk to each other. I needed you but I didn’t ask.”

Eddie nods, turns his hand around so he can link their fingers together. Buck’s heart skips, doesn’t know what to make of it. Is this something they do now? The lines between them have always blurred, but he doesn't know— “I’ve never had a best friend before.”

“Neither have I.”

“I didn’t know how to ask for help,” Eddie continues, “because I’ve never had someone to ask.”

Buck’s throat is dry. “I make everyone think I’m okay, but inside I’m not. I hide how I’m really feeling.”

“I’m angry all the time,” Eddie admits. “Not so much anymore, but sometimes. It gets so much and I don’t know how to let it go.”

Buck nods, works through what he wants to say before he speaks. “Then maybe tell me when you are. I don’t know what I’ll do, but tell me.”

With a slow breath, Eddie agrees. “And if you need to tell someone how you really feel, text me or call, or I guess, talk to your therapist.”

Buck makes an assenting noise. 

“How do you feel now?” Eddie asks, and Buck realises he’s talking about his parents, the events after dinner. 

“Terrified,” Buck says quietly. “Just Maddie and I.”

“And Chim,” Eddie points out. “Bobby, Athena, Hen. Carla.”

Buck nods, the tension drawing out. “I guess.”

Eddie looks at him, expression saying a hundred different things. “You don’t have to ask.”

“Maybe not,” Buck concedes, “But sometimes I need to hear it.”

“You always have me,” Eddie says. His voice isn’t loud or hard. The words feel too big for the space. “I’m not leaving you, Buck, especially not now.”

Buck nods, closing his eyes. 

__________________

Buck sits back on the couch. “I feel—like I have something to look forward to.”

“I’m pleased.” Dr. Copeland gives him a smile. “How does it feel that everyone knows?”

“Good,” Buck says, thinking it through. “I still hesitate to talk about it, but when I do, they just—accept it. Accept me.”

Silence draws between them, but for once, Buck’s not scrambling for something to say. He feels lighter in places. There’s no magical fix, no cure for the fear and worry that still gnaws at him, sometimes. 

“Being honest isn’t always as scary as I thought it was.”

“No,” Dr. Copeland agrees. 

Buck looks up, to where Eddie and Chris are in the kitchen, the first time they’ve been able to in so long that Buck’s still surprised at the changes in Chris. “I think I could stand to be more honest.”

“And that,” Dr. Copeland says, “Is something we should talk about next session.”

“Not if I tell him first,” Buck says, with a grin. 

Dr. Copeland laughs. “I’ll see you next week, Evan.”

“Bye,” Buck says, waiting until she’s gone to put his tablet down. 

“Okay?” Eddie says, leaning against the door jamb. 

Buck smiles, pushing himself up off the couch. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good,” Eddie says, shoving Buck towards the kitchen. “I burnt shit, fix it.”

Buck laughs, dragging Eddie along with him, holding on like a lifeline.

Eddie takes a hold of his hand and doesn’t let go.

[hissterical-nyaan]

The Promise

Pairing - Bucky Barnes/Desi! Female reader

Warning - Angst, sad ending, more angst

Summary - Bucky Barnes broke one promise that meant the most to Y/N

Word count - 1.5K

A/N - This is my first ever fanfic, I am very anxious so please be gentle with me :) This was created purely to make y'all cry lol. This is a songfic of "Lag ja gale" of Lata Mangeshkar ji. I absolutely adore that song and found it quite fit for this story!!! Also English isn't my first language and there might be grammatical mistakes. Thanks to @soradragon for beta reading this and helping me complete it, you are a blessing. Love you 💙 happy reading folks!

It was  peaceful in Wakanda, a cool night had taken its place from the hot humid air of the day, the stars were shining bright and serenity hung in the air.  It was impossible to imagine what the next day would have in store for everyone. No one had a clue that tomorrow was the day that would change everyone's lives forever.

There was the sound of soft humming coming from the modest hut which housed the one and only the White Wolf and his lover.

Inside was you, singing songs softly in your mother’s tongue before the two would go to bed for the night. It was a nightly ritual the two of you shared. For Bucky had found your voice so soothing it would chase away the recurring nightmares that would haunt his sleep every night. Bucky Barnes was unable to sleep without his love in his arms, without her angelic voice singing for him, and without her soft hand weaving through his hair. 

You had an awful day today, throughout the day you felt anxious and restless. As if your mind has been screaming at you that something bad was about to transpire. You had no idea what, but it was bad. if there is one thing you hated most, it would be not knowing what will happen next.

You liked being prepared for everything! Your distressed state made you itch for your ma's presence and her wise words. So the next best thing to feel like she was there was to sing your ma's favourite song. It was a song you had  beautiful emotional memories attached to.

Lata ji's masterpiece ‘Lag ja gale’. The song that always left you peaceful.

"What's on your mind, chaand? No cheesy love songs today?" Bucky teased lightly, slightly puzzled by the song choice. Normally, you would sing more happy, sweet love songs when you were in a good mood, not to forget how out of character you acted the entire day. 

"Acha? You said you don't like my cheesy songs na, so I thought today I will comply with your wish and not sing my ‘overly romantic, Shona Babu songs.’”  You shot back, poking your tongue out as not to worry him. Bucky pouted slightly.

"Arre baba okay now don't pout, I was just joking. I will sing the cheesy songs again tomorrow, right now this song just feels right to me.” Hearing that, Bucky mumbled a quiet yes and snuggled deeper into you, holding you tightly and moving his head ever so slightly to listen to your voice.  

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Jaa Gale Ae Ae… (Embrace me, dear, who knows whether or not this beautiful night will ever come again. Maybe in this life we may or may not meet again)

You remember the first time you met Bucky, in Shuri's lab. You were a   good friend of Shuri. You were a researcher staying in Wakanda with T'challa's permission and eventually befriended the Princess. The two of you loved to talk about anything and nothing. One day Shuri told you about the Winter soldier staying here in Wakanda. You had heard many things about him, but never had you seen him in the flesh. Till you saw him come into the lab, bruised and eyes swiming full of emotions, but the distraught was the most clear in those blue piercing eyes.

It was at that moment that you had decided you would help him, and try to soothe the aches and scars that had been covering his fragile heart. He was put in the cryo soon after your first encounter, but you couldn't help but think about him often.

Ham Ko Mili Hain Aaj Ye, Ghadiyaan Nasib Se

Ji Bhar Ke Dekh Lijiye, Ham Ko Qarib Se

Phir Aap Ke Nasib Men, Ye Baat Ho Na Ho (I have been given today, this time by destiny. To your hearts content see me closely, who knows, if your destiny, may present this situation again.)

Six months later, Bucky came out of the cryo and on his request, was given a small hut away from the palace in the fields. You often saw him, with his tiny herd of goats. You remember how one tiny goat - which Bucky had endearingly called Steve -  was the one who caused you to talk to Bucky. Maybe that's why he was still your favourite goat, afterall he was responsible for giving you the love of your life.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Your phone rang suddenly. Bucky moved his head from your lap as you moved to get the phone, it was your brother who was calling you. It puzzled you, it was nearly midnight in India. "Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." You went numb...The words didn’t make sense, you couldn’t make sense of them... Ma papa? No, no this can't be happening. You...you just talked to your mom a few hours ago! Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, holding you so close. He whispered some words into your ear trying to soothe you. But you couldn’t hear them, your mind just kept repeating your brother’s words inside your head like a mantra. That’s when the tears fell, soaking Bucky’s shirt. You didn’t remember you screamed. 

Paas Aaiye Ki Ham Nahin Aaenge Baar-Baar

Baahen Gale Men Daal Ke Ham Ro Le Zaar-Zaar

Aankhon Se Phir Ye Pyaar Ki Barsaat Ho Na Ho (Come closer to me, as I will not be able to come to you every time. Put your arms around me and let us cry our hearts out. Who knows, if our eyes will ever see these tears of love again.)

You couldn’t imagine what you would be without Bucky, your Bucky. He was your rock, You couldn't live a day without him. From the day you confessed your love for each other till today, not a day has gone where he wasn't showering you with love. Even through all his trauma and pain, he did his absolute best to be there for you, his sweet, sweet Y/N.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Remembering the past left you in an emotional mess, you didn't even realise when the waterworks started.

"Chaand? Hey, no shhh why are you crying? Is everything okay? Talk to me."

"Bucky?"

"Haan chaand?"

"Promise me that you will never leave me." You uttered in a broken whisper

"I promise."

He broke that promise. Bucky Barnes broke his promise and left his chaand. It happened so fast, the Avengers fighting Thanos, and suddenly everyone turning into dust.

You felt helpless and scared, numb and cold. what was happening? Bucky had told you to not come out of the palace unless told. He didn't want you to be in harm's way. No, his Y/N was too precious, he can't risk it. You reluctantly agreed, but you weren't of much use on the battlefield anyway. You just hoped your love would return to you very soon.

Steve broke the news, and your whole world collapsed in front of your eyes.

"Steve, no..no it can't be... please tell me you are lying. This isn't the time to joke around! Where is he!?" you couldn't help but scream at him. All your dreams, hopes and future with Bucky shattered. He was gone, in just a snap.  It couldn’t be real, this was a sick joke. that had to be it. A sick joke…

But deep inside, you knew it was real. All of it was real. The world around you seemed to crumble, all of it came down, it was as if someone let a glass cup fall and it shattered in a million pieces. Unable to be put back together again…

Now you had no one, no mom and dad, no Bucky...He was your rock wasn't he? He wasn't supposed to go...

After a few days, Steve offered to take you to America with him. The least he could do for his pal was to make sure the girl who had his heart was taken care of. But you couldn't go, it was too painful. Brooklyn will always remind you of Bucky, and you promised him when the time came to go back to his home, you will go together. No, unlike him Y/N L/N knew how to keep her promise.

You went back to India, to start a new life. A miserable one. If only you would have known that the last song you’ve sung to him would come true. 

You never sang your mother's favourite song again

Tagging - @spiderrpcrker @a-dragon-under-the-stars @lil-stark @jacquessouvenier @soradragon (I hope you won't mind me tagging you!) And I also hope you liked it :))

Translations (please let me know if I forgot to translate something) -

Chaand - Moon (an affectionate term in this context)

Acha - Really (in this context, it can mean many things otherwise)

"Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." - "Y/N please come fast here, mom and dad were in an car crash, I am so sorry but we couldn't save them" (ma = mom, papa = dad)

Haan - yes

[nctsjiho]

Heart-to-Heart

warnings: mentions of the pandemic and about mental health, but we don’t go deep into the topic (I hope you are pulling through loves🤍💚🤍 Stay healthy!)

❀  JiHo opens up about her past and how she’s currently feeling

JiHo waits a few seconds for the comments to roll in to make sure she’s live before bringing her hand up and waving at the camera. She looks a lot more tired than normal, but that could be because it was currently 3 in the morning.

It looks like she’s sitting on a couch or maybe even her bed with her knees close to her sweater clad chest. The hood of the sweater hiding her hair and ears with the strings tied tightly at the neckline.

“Why are you awake this early?” She hums after reading the question. A smile starting to form on her lips before she answers. “I’ve been up all night playing games with Haechan, Chenle and Jeno.” She chuckles.

“Everyone. My hair has become so long.” JiHo starts to undo the strings of her hoodie and uncovers her head. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, which she also undoes to show her hair longer than it had ever been (during her time in NCT at least). The strands of hair fall to her chest and she cards her hands trough it. “I would usually cut it by now, but I’m too lazy to go to the salon.” She sheepishly grins. “And I’m actually starting to like it a little, what do you guys think?”

It’s been a while since the fans had seen JiHo’s hair like this. Messy with her natural curls much more visible. “I love your hair unnie!” JiHo laughs at the comment before thanking the fan. “I like your short hair, but the long hair is also really pretty.”

“Did you celebrate Ten’s birthday?” She reads out. “There’s a lot of birthdays in February so I tried to do something for every birthday boy. I’ve already wished Ten a happy birthday and gave him his gift, but this year I could only really celebrate with the boys who I live with.” She nods to herself, hoping the fans would understand.

While reading comments on her phone a creaking noise could be heard, JiHo’s gaze moving to her side. “Is there something?” She asks, followed by footsteps that become gradually louder. “I saw the light from the hallway so I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep with the lights on.” It was Taeyong’s voice. The girl nods and then looks at the screen in front of her. Taeyong moves into frame while asking if she was live on V App. “Yes, I was playing with the dreamies earlier and then wanted to go live for a little.” She explains and the leader hums in reply. “Don’t stay up too late okay? Bye everyone.” Taeyong leaves, but not before patting JiHo on the shoulder, somewhat using the girl’s shoulder as leverage to help him stand up.

“How are you today?” An English comment catches JiHo’s eye and she reads it out loud. A deep sigh leaves her lips and she looks back into the camera. “It’s not that I’m feeling bad, I’m just really tired lately. I got sick before our gimme gimme comeback because I was so exhausted. But don’t worry I’m better now. I just think the situation we’re in right now with the pandemic is taking a toll on my body and mental health. Luckily I have NCT with me and they all try to help each other feel better.” A genuine smile covers the slight frown she sported while talking. “I’m not an expert and I’m pretty bad at giving advice, but if you’re feeling down please reach out to someone. They might not be able to help much either, but just talking about how you feel is so much better than keeping everything to yourself. I also hope that NCT can be a light in your day whenever you feel down. We still have a lot of content going out on YouTube and our music is always there for you to listen to.”

The live stream had really taken a turn. With JiHo reading out a lot of comments and sympathising with the fans, every now and than trying to lighten the mood by cracking a dumb joke. The jokes were never funny, but JiHo was slowly getting sleep-drunk and everything started to seem funny to her. Despite that she couldn’t change the overall mood of the V Live, with comments still as sombre as before.

“I live with my roommates but I still feel lonely, sometimes I just miss my family.” As she reads the comment, something in JiHo’s eyes changes. Her soft expression falls into almost a frown, the word ‘family’ coming out as only a whisper. It’s quiet for the next minute or so, the fans clearly picking up on something as comments flood in about her family or asking if everything was alright.

It’s clear that the girl is trying to hide her true feelings as she forces a smile back on her face.”Don’t worry everyone, I’m fine.” She laughs softly. “I’ve never talked about my family right?” JiHo can’t even keep her eyes on the camera. “I don’t really talk to them a lot.” She realises how people could misinterpret the meaning behind those words and shoots up in her seat. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not on bad terms with my family. I’m just not really close to them either.”

“I moved to Korea on my own when I was almost 14, I spent that birthday here with some of the trainees I used to live with.” She smiles at the fond memory and the fans in the comments seem to be more at ease after seeing her smile so genuinely. “Before that I used to live with my grandparents for most of my life. So I’m closest to them, and I call them at least once a month. It used to be a lot more but now I usually just message them.”

“I have a lot of friends in France though and we video chat a lot.” She laughs and tells a story about a late night video call session where they played Jack Box together. “I do miss them a lot, so I hope I get to see them in real life after the pandemic is over.”

“What about your parents? My parents? It’s a bit complicated.” She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “I lived with them for 4 years before my mother got really sick. She needed special treatment, and my dad got a big job opportunity. The moved together because she’d be closer to a hospital where they could help her even better. That’s when i moved in with my grandparents and I could stay close to my friends and the rest of my family.”

“When I was 11, my mother was healthy again and so we all moved back in together close to my grandparent’s home. It was a little awkward at first.” JiHo brings her hand up to scratch her scalp, her head drooping down for a second. “I only lived with them for 2 more years before I got scouted, so we didn’t get really close again. But they were always so supportive of me, so they still feel like my real parents.”

“They even host parties every now and then to celebrate new albums or milestones NCT achieves, and then they’ll send me pictures and tell me that they are proud of me.” The fans who were all listening intently had resorted to spamming the comments with hearts and an occasional ‘aww’. “I sometimes think that if I didn’t get scouted I’d be really close to my parents now and I’d have such an amazing childhood. Not that I haven’t had a great childhood already.”

That last comment had just left her mouth without much thought and people started to fill the comments with questions again. “Don’t say that, otherwise NCT wouldn’t have you in it” JiHo laughs before explaining herself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I think getting scouted is the best thing that ever happened to me. NCT and Czennie are like my second family. Please forgive me.” She brings her palms together in front of her face and bows, a bright smile clearly visible. JiHo then moves her hands away from each other before twisting her fingers into 2 finger-hearts. “I love you guys.”

Though she didn’t tell the fans everything about her past and her life in France was still a big mystery, everyone seemed pleased to know more about their neo girl. JiHo, herself, even felt a bit relieved like she lifted a big weight off her shoulders by telling her about her past and how she was feeling.

She knew now that she could trust her fans with a few more personal things. What she didn’t know though, was that her roommates had also been watching her live stream and just as she was about to end the stream on a high note, 4 boys barge in her room, with the tallest and the youngest of the four launching themselves on the girl.

“Ack-” She shrieks, surprised by the sudden appearance of her roommates. “What’s going on?” “Hmm, I’m so proud of you!” Haechan had JiHo’s shoulders locked in his arms and he was squeezing her tightly. “We’re all proud of you.” Doyoung had said from behind the camera.

The girl rests her head against Johnny’s chest, acting as if she was trying to get as far as possible from her same-aged-friend who was still holding on to her. “Okay! Okay! I think we’re good now. You guys can leave.” JiHo shoos the boys away and Johnny takes the hint, ruffling the girls hair before leaving with the 2 men who weren’t trying to suffocate the youngest. “Haechan~” She whines and the boy mutters something about letting him do his thing a little longer.

She had managed to wedge her hand out his hold and started to push him by his chest and head. When she realised he wasn’t budging she just gave up, her body going limp and now she was almost leaning into his embrace. “Czennie, see what I have to live with. He only hugs me on camera, otherwise he’s only bullying me.” Haechan gasps letting the girl go. “The audacity! JiHo is a liar.” He places his hands on his chest where his heart would be and feigns being hurt. He gets a shake of JiHo’s head in response before she ends her stream by telling the fans that they should take care of themselves and their loved ones.

[confinesofmy]

Question about the conservatorship fic, do Shiv and Roman (and Connor) ever process that their dad treated their brother like an object? Or do they feel the need to keep their distance when he’s so regressed?

hey char! thank you for the ask! i think it's super complicated and could see it going all sorts of ways, but i have a fuzzy idea of what might happen. i'm gonna put it under a read more bc it's a sensitive topic etc. content warnings for discussion of parental death, abuse, ableism, and all the other normal warnings for the pringles can fic.

i think at the very beginning, after logan's death when they're discovering where kendall's been this whole time, they develop a theory that logan and kendall had worked out a deal. kendall basically retires to a cushy life of hermithood and bides his time and when logan dies he pops back out, a dark horse, and takes control of the company, completely fucking over his siblings. that's the energy they take with them into the apartment. they think it's going to be a 3-on-1 (or maybe 2-on-1, connor doesn't like confrontation) battle for control.

that idea probably starts to decay pretty rapidly when they get a good look at him and when he starts crying at the sight of them, even before they tell him that logan's dead. talking to household staff and eventually talking to him also erodes the idea bc no one closely involved in his day-to-day particularly minces words anymore, and it's pretty obvious that, like, oh. he wasn't allowed to leave. oh god.

so they probably attempt to shift to "dad only did this to help kendall," which is what kendall himself is saying. but all his siblings have their own moments of "he doesn't have a phone," or "he doesn't know the address for this apartment," so that also falls apart. then the specialists they send him to to figure out appropriate care basically communicate, "yeah, he's fine. he can probably care for himself, actually, maybe with a little help? that's up to him." which really does not line up with logan doing this to help him at all.

roman probably jokes about stockholm syndrome and even worse things a lot but it's not funny and he's barely even joking.

i don't really know how they would grapple with it all, once they had all the information available. i think their dad dying would devastate all of them, and send them into their own little spirals of "was dad abusive," "did he ever really love me," "how do i live without him," etc. add in kendall, who's almost unrecognisable and incredibly traumatised, walking proof of the consequences of logan's love and care. i can see them being very uncomfortable in his presence bc he makes questions like "was dad abusive" a little too easy to answer.

i like to think, after months of trying to interact with him the way they used to in the before times, and all attempts failing miserably, they would be able to shift their communication methods and have a relationship with him again. that would create a lot of potential for the siblings' processing bc the way that kendall acts would be so visibly tied up in logan's dehumanisation of him.

i don't think connor has a chance in hell of processing it. i think after his dad's death he would fully embrace idealisation of logan now that logan's not around to prove him wrong. he'd be the family member who's always shutting down conversations by scolding, "hey, don't speak ill of the dead." hopefully that would resolve at some point but i have no idea how. it's actually possible that he and kendall talking about logan together could hurt both of them bc they're both so caught up in idealisation.

shiv and roman would be grappling with it together, i think they'd have better odds. they'd also maybe be more involved with kendall's day-to-day needs so they'd have to face it. it might even help them to more quickly process their relationship with logan? in a weird way? bc kendall says logan loved him and took care of him and any pushback results in arguments involving kendall explaining that he was heading for an early grave and logan saved him from that. but then also a trip to the park can make him have an hour-long panic attack bc he can't really tolerate fresh air or open spaces or other people anymore. so shiv and rome have to face the reality that kendall himself can't face and they might not have bothered to face on their own.

probably a big part of why i abandoned it is that i don't know how that processing and recovery would go. there'd be a lot of room for missteps and the siblings falling apart from stress. and honestly the business side of things is incredibly complicated. i like logan leaving the company more or less to kendall for the drama of it all but i have no idea how that would go, realistically. guy's been locked in an apartment for over a year, y'know. idk.

i do like to think about it tho! so thanks for the ask! c:

[sappy-seresin]

heat wave (j.m)

Requested: No, I was just inspired by how hot it was today and had this concept come to mind.

Summary: You’re a kook but, like Kie, you’ve been best friends with the Pogues for years. The outer banks is experiencing a heat wave and you’re trying to manage the heat with your friends.

Warnings: None, other than a few curse words. Overall just fluff.

———————

I hopelessly roll over on the small twin-sized bed, trying to get comfortable under the weight of JJ’s arm lazily strewn over my waist. A frustrated sigh falls from my lips as he moves to pull me closer, I can’t help but grimace at the feeling of our clammy, sweat-covered skin coming into contact.

The sweltering heat in the house has made it absolutely impossible for me to sleep. Living in the Outer Banks all of my life has built up a high heat tolerance, but this is a different level. My damp clothes cling to my feverish skin; everything I touch feels slightly moist due to the sweat that both mine and JJ’s bodies have accumulated since we’ve laid down. 

JJ passed out awhile ago, tossing and turning in the heat had managed to exhaust him while it only prolonged my process of trying to get comfortable. I feel like I’m suffocating. Between the heat in the room and JJ’s body curled against my own, it’s as if I can’t breathe.

Finally giving up on trying to sleep, I carefully slip out from JJ’s grasp and make my way towards the living room; hoping to find something to help bring some sort of relieve against the heat.

“Can’t sleep?” John B’s voice questions, breaking the calm silence in the house. I jump, placing my hand over my heart in surprise, squinting in the dark to make out his silhouette sprawled across the couch carelessly. 

“It’s too hot to get comfortable,” I complain, hobbling over to the fridge. I pull the door open quietly, blindly waiting for my eyes to adjust to the brightness in the mostly empty fridge. An involuntary hum falls from my lips as the cold air meets my clammy skin, bringing a temporary wave of pleasure at the contact. I bask in the coolness of the air for a moment, leaning into the fridge, before I grab two beers from the top shelf and swing the door closed. 

I clumsily make my way to the small living room, tripping over unknown items as I wait for my eyes to readjust to the darkness in the room.

“Is JJ sleeping,” John B asks, gladly accepting the beer from my hands before I plopped down on the pullout couch across from him.

“JJ could fall asleep in a burning room,” I roll my eyes, making John B chuckle in agreement. We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping on our beers while my eyes slowly begin making out my surroundings.  

Not too long after that, JJ comes sauntering out of the guest room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, disoriented. He groans, collapsing onto my body whilst I yelp in surprise, protesting due to the bottle in my hands. He ignores my protests, closing his eyes as his head settles onto my chest.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I hum, pushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead to press a chaste kiss against his skin. 

“Couldn’t go back to sleep when you left,” he huffs, his words slightly muffled by the skin on my shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, but it’s too hot. I can’t sleep when I’ve got a koala bear that needs affection twenty-four-seven,” I tease, cringing at how warm JJ’s body feels against mine, but choosing to leave him be on my chest. 

“Excuse me,” he gasps, voice raspy as he pushes off of my chest to stare at me, feigning offense. “This koala bear doesn’t need your sass. He’s sensitive. His need for love and affection is a touchy subject.” 

John B snorts, placing his beer on the floor as he watches us banter back and forth for awhile. The casual banter slowly escalates into a full blown fake argument, resulting in me carelessly shoving JJ onto the floor in an attempt to settle it. 

“Ow,” he complains, playfully pouting at me from his position on the floor. “Dad, Y/n pushed me.” He spun to face John B, who is now cracking up at our childish antics.

“You guys are children,” he shakes his head, standing up to stretch. The hint of a sunrise now peaks through the windows, lighting up the boys features as he yawns. He sarcastically salutes us before disappearing down the hallway to his room.

“Do you want to try to sleep,” JJ asks, casually crawling back onto the couch next to me. I sleepily blink at him; suppressing the yawn threatening to escape my chapped lips. 

“It’s too hot to sleep,” I hum, beginning to feel grumpy due to the sleep deprivation and the continued heat soaking up the air in the Chateau.  

“Okay, we won’t sleep then,” he states, pushing himself off of the couch to stalk down the hallway. I hear him have a quiet conversation with John B before he comes sauntering into the room with his backpack slung over his shoulders. He stops in front of me, lips curled into a goofy smile as he he sticks his hand in front of my face for me to grab. “Come on.” 

“Where are we going,” I ask, hesitantly allowing him to pull me off of the couch and out the front door. He just gestures towards the boat, waiting for his idea to click in my head. 

“I thought that it might help cool you down a bit,” he shrugs, helping me onto the HMS Pogue before climbing in himself. “Besides, you always say that it’s your favorite nap spot, so if this is the only way to get you to sleep, so be it.”

I shoot him a lazy smile, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before we take off down the marsh. I hazily take in the world around me; a content hum falling from my lips as the wind brushes past my previously clammy skin. I settle into my seat comfortably, watching the sun begin to peak over the horizon as the boat carries us further and further away from the horizon. 

My eyes begin to droop; my body feeling comfortable enough to fully relax in to my seat. I close my eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position before allowing the sound of the water to lull me to sleep.  ——————— I woke up a few hours later to the rest of the Pogues obnoxiously clambering on the boat. 

“Good morning,” Kie smiles, casually sliding onto my lap. I wrap my arms around her waist, curling into her embrace, still half asleep.

“Hi,” I rasp, squinting due to the bright sunlight beating down on us.

“Rough night?” Pope asks, handing JJ a cooler before jumping into the boat. 

“Something like that,” I reply with a shrug. “It was impossible to sleep last night. I love John B and the Chateau, but the kook side of me has made it impossible to live in those conditions. Air conditioning in the midst of heat waves my entire life has ruined me.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I couldn’t cater to your kook needs, princess,” he jokes sarcastically, taking JJ’s place at the wheel. 

We spend the day on the water, allowing the cool water to be our escape from the sticky heat. It’s easy to tell that thee three of us who stayed at the Chateau last night are exhausted. Our comebacks to any teasing were slurred, our reaction time slow, and our eyes never really fully adjusted to the suns rays. ——————— “Cuddle with me,” JJ yawns, pulling me onto the hammock with him after we’d all decided to call it a day. The sun was beginning to set causing the temperature of the day to lower slightly; yet it was still a little too hot to be smushed against JJ. John B had offered to drive Pope and Kie home, leaving us at the Chateau by ourselves. 

I casually pull my damp hair into a high bun; JJ grunts below me when my hair smacks against his sun kissed skin.

“Sorry,” I murmur, placing a lazy kiss against his bare chest. He sighs in response, allowing his eyes to close.

“I’m so tired,” he shifts, a yelp falling from my lips as the hammock jerks due to his movements. I cling onto him, scared that we’re going to tip over before he gets situated, holding me firmly against his chest.

“Get some rest, I’ll make some food when JB gets back.”

It isn’t long before his breathing evens out, signaling that he’s fallen asleep. My fingers curl into his hair, mindlessly playing with the blond strands, as I silently watch the sun disappear over the horizon.

———————

“Are you staying over again?” John B asks, appearing on the porch. JJ stirs awake with a slight groan, hiding his face in my hair.

“As tempting as spending another sleepless night baking in the heat sounds, I think I’m going to bask in the air conditioning that my house provides,” I reply, moving to stand up. JJ grumbles in disagreement before following my movements, drowsily stretching when his feet hit the ground.

“Oh, so our Pogue-like conditions aren’t good enough for you anymore,” JJ sasses, placing his hands on his hips. “I knew your kook family would rip you away from us eventually, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“Once a kook, always a kook,” John B chimes in, ruffling my hair jokingly.

“Well, my kook parents are out of town for the week, and I thought I’d spoil you guys with my lifestyle, but if you’re going to sass me I’ll just invite Topper and Rafe over instead,” I fire back, shoving John B’s hands away from me.

“Oh yeah,” JJ raises his eyebrows; the boys sharing a knowing look before lunging at me. I screech launching myself off of the deck as they chase after me.

“Take it back, Y/n,” John B demands once they caught up to me. I grip JJ’s arms tightly as he dangles me over the edge of the dock.

“Yeah, take it back, or you’re swimming with the fish,” JJ adds, leaning further over the edge of the dock. Our reflection stares back at me as I scurry to latch onto him tighter.

“You know, I don’t think Rafe and Topper would-,” before I’m able to finish my thought, JJ’s arms untangle from my waist, dropping me into the water without warning.

“JJ,” I exclaim, sputtering when I resurface.

“You actually dropped her in,” John B cackles, doubled over laughing at the look on my face. “I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

“Asshole,” I mumble, gripping onto the dock to pull myself out of the water. JJ reaches down to help me onto the dock, an amused smile on his face as he tries stifling his own laughs. “Maybe I should just leave you here and let John B bask in the glory of my air conditioning tonight.”

“You wouldn’t-,” JJ gasps defensively, his hand shooting up to his chest dramatically. 

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. You owe me a dry pair of clothes before we head over there though,” I tell him, cringing at the feeling of my wet tennis shoes rubbing against my feet as we made our way back to the house.

———————

“Feel free to entertain yourselves however you want. I’m going to make dinner,” I tell them, stalking into the kitchen as they trail behind me.

“Air conditioning and free dinner? Damn, Y/n you should let us go full kook more often,” John B states, jumping to sit on the island as he threw m&m’s into his mouth.

“Honestly, why don’t you sugar mama me more often?” JJ questions, pressing a kiss against my cheek before mirroring John B’s actions.

“You guys have only been here for an hour and you’re already letting it get to your head,” I roll my eyes, focusing on the pasta in front of me. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

The boys laugh, continuing to pester me as I focus on finishing dinner; fully expecting to spoil them as much as I can while they’re here.

———————

This is kind of trash, but I’m also here for it. I hope you enjoyed reading it!

[dreamypeaches]

don’t wake up pt. 1 | rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe cross paths at a boneyard kegger and find a space to escape in each other

warnings: making out, cursing, alcohol use

word count: 2.2k

a/n: so i posted this last night, then realized my account is so new that it wouldn’t show up in the search or tags. but i just got a bunch of followers, so hopefully y’all enjoy this! also, all characters in my fics are 18+, unless i specifically say otherwise. also also, fuck canon rafe, we don’t know him.

series masterlist

 The Boneyard was packed with Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons. It was the middle of the summer, the height of the party season in the Outer Banks, and there was no party like a kegger at the Boneyard. You and the Pogues were at the center of it all, music pounding in your chest louder than your heartbeat as you danced with Kie and Sarah. The liquid in your red solo cup spilled as you spun around, accidentally bumping into JJ, who was approaching the dance floor with a drunk grin on his face.

“Having fun?” He questioned as he gripped your waist to keep you from falling.

“Always am!” You slurred, gripping his hand and pulling him onto the dance floor with you and the girls.

At the beginning of the night, your dancing would have been sexy, grinding with Kie and Sarah, shaking your hips as you moved seductively. Now, you were a point of drunkenness where your legs no longer coordinated with your mind. You jumped and yelled along with the music, a goofy grin on your face. You wrapped your arms around JJ’s shoulders as you both screamed the chorus of the song, rocking back and forth like the waves not far from the dance floor. As the song faded out, JJ led you off the dance floor. You downed the last of your drink and giggled as you and JJ tripped over nothing in the sand. JJ collapsed on a log next to Pope and John B., both boys much more sober than the rest of their friends.

“You too better not puke in my living room,” John B commented.

“How dare you, I’m not even that drunk. In fact, I could go for another right now,” JJ said, standing from the log, swaying, and immediately falling back down on his ass. He stood up again, successfully, and grinned at you.

“Y/N, care to join me?”

“Nah, I’m gonna go for a walk. I want to feel the waves on my feet!” You giggled as you turned away from your friends and marched towards the ocean. The music slowly faded the farther you got, stumbling to an empty area several yards away from the party. As you stepped towards the water, letting the tide roll over your feet, you noticed a figure a few feet away sitting on the beach. He was nothing but a silhouette in the night, but you approached him anyway, your drunken state leading you to want to be a little too friendly than you normally would be. You stumbled over to the stranger, but realized as you got closer that it wasn’t a stranger at all. Rafe Cameron sat on the sand with his need pulled to his chest, hands resting on his knees. His button up shirt was halfway open, blowing slightly in the breeze as he stared at the ocean.

Being a Pogue, your normally would have avoided Kooks like the plague, especially this Kook. But for some reason, possibly your drunkenness or some invisible string of fate connecting you to him, you continued walking toward him until you were standing right above him. You unceremoniously collapsed into the sand beside him, causing him to glance at you strangely.

“What are you doing here, Pogue?” He said, though he lacked the usual venom behind the words. You turned your head towards him slightly, giving him a small smile before turning back to the ocean.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? Especially at night, you can see the moon reflecting off the water. It looks like a portal to another world that just goes on forever. Sometimes I wish I could just jump in and disappear. End up in some other universe where everything is as beautiful as the ocean.”

Rafe stared at you as you spoke. Despite you being a Pogue, he’d always found you beautiful, though if his friends asked he would use a different word like hot or fuckable. But right now, as the moon shone down on your hair and the light from the kegger illuminated your outline, he couldn’t think of any other word but beautiful. As you spoke, your words floated from your mouth and into his chest, wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace. He had gotten into an argument with his dad before the party and he felt like shit. He’d tired to bail, but Kelce and Topper dragged him from his home on Figure 8 and down to The Cut, promising liquor and drugs would cure his bad mood. They had no idea the real reason behind his anger and sadness.

As soon as he could, he escaped from the loud and chaotic kegger to this quiet spot on the beach, needing a moment on his own to just be. Then you come along and, had you ben anyone else, he would have yelled at you to go the fuck away. But no, it was you, the Pogue who always smiled at him when they made eye contact, the one who apologized for her friends when they started shit, but wasn’t afraid to chew him out when he was the shit-starter. He’d always tried to ignore his little crush on you, knowing it would never happen. But now you were here and speaking to him like no one else had.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He replied, not taking his eyes off you. You turned and made eye contact with him, raising an eye brow at him.

“So, what’s the Kook King doing sitting over here all alone?” You asked. Rafe gave you a sad smile, breaking eye contact to look at his hands, tapping his fingers on his knees.

“I could ask the same thing of the Pogue Princess,” He said. You laughed and Rafe’s heart skipped a beat. He’d never heard your laugh before but now it was the only thing he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

“I’m not the Pogue Princess,” You chuckled, shaking your head, “I just wanted some air, and to feel the waves under my feet. Helps me stay grounded.”

Rafe nodded and looked back at the ocean. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a short moment. You were the one to break it.

“So? I answered your question, now you need to answer mine. And I asked first so if you don’t answer that’s just plain rude.”

Rafe chuckled and glanced at you. He ran his hand through his hair, messing up the slicked back style. You watched as his hair fell in his eyes and licked your lips. Rafe was a dick, yes, but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. All those times he and JJ were at each other’s throats, your eyes would wander to the tall boy, taking in every detail of him. You would never admit it the other Pogues, but he intrigued you. He was never as rude to you as he was to the other Pogues. Once he’d even smiled at you and said “thank you” when you’d handed him a cup of beer at a kegger. Kiara, who had been right next to you, was convinced he had been possessed.

You had never been a fan of the whole Kook versus Pogue rivalry, you thought it was cliche and dumb. But you continued to abide by the rules of the island, despite the constant urge to go up to Rafe and befriend him. After all, you had made friends with Sarah, why not the other Cameron sibling?

“Didn’t really want to come to this kegger in the first place. Since I’m here, might as well enjoy some shitty beer and a great view while trying to ignore all my problems.”

“I get that. I ignore my problems all the time. Whenever I get ice out of the freezer and a couple cubes fall to the ground, I always just kick them under the fridge.”

Rafe laughed, a genuine, joyful laugh that made your heart flutter.

“I’ve done the exact same thing many, many times,” He said.

“I’m assuming your problems are a little bigger than ice cubes.”

The smile slowly faded from his face and he nodded. “Yeah, just a little bit,”

You looked at him as a pained expression crossed his face. You already missed his laugh, and you were determined to hear it again.

“Well, can I help you ignore your problems? Even if it’s just for a little while?” You said.

Rafe looked up at you, eyes sad but a smile on his lips. “I would love that.”

You and Rafe talked about nothing as the party continued to rage on behind you. You told him all the shitty jokes you knew while he told you about embarrassing stories about his sister and his friends. You got into a short argument about what fast food place had the best fries, never coming to an agreement. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, hours maybe, but you didn’t want it to end. You had moved closer to Rafe and he to you until your thighs and shoulders were touching. The conversation had died down for a moment as you made eye contact with each other. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips, drawing your eyes to them.

“Do you know what else will help you ignore your problems?” You asked. Both of you slowly moved closer and closer towards each other, eyes flicking from eyes to lips and back again.

“What?” Rafe asked. You answered him by leaning forward and connecting your lips to his. Your hands gripped the sand for balance has he reach up to place a hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand rested on your hip, gripping it as if his life depended on it. You raised your hands to run your fingers through his hair, almost falling on top of him. The Hand on your hip swiftly wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, fingers threading through his light hair. He tasted like beer and mint and heaven. His tongue ran along her bottom lip and you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore to his heart content. His hands moved underneath your shirt, running up and down your sides. One of his thumbs brushed up against the bottom of your breast, feeling you through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a moan into his mouth that motivated him to move further. His grip on you tightened, pulling you flush against him. Your lips were soft and sweet, every negative thought disappearing from his mind, being replaced by you, you, you. Rafe didn’t want to forget a single part of this moment. He memorized the curve of your hip, the softness of your lips. The way you smelled and the way you moaned and breathed and tasted. He was euphoric, questioning whether or not this was a dream.

His hand had just ventured underneath your bra, lips creating dark spots are your neck when someone yelled from the direction of the kegger.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open as you looked towards the edge of the kegger. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of the Pogues against the fire light. They were waving their arms and shouting your name. Rafe, however, paid no mind, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear that made you moan.

“Rafe,” you moaned his name. You pulled his hair, forcing him away from your neck to look in your eyes. “I have to go.”

You kissed him again as you slowly removed yourself from his lap. His hand gripped your arm as you stood, your lips still attached. You giggled as your rested your forehead on his, pecking the tip of his nose. You finally disconnected from him, but your eyes never left his as you walked backwards toward the other Pogues.

“I’ll see you around, Cameron,” You said before turning on your heel, jogging towards your friends. Rafe stood their frozen, hair a mess and lips swollen as he stared at your retreating figure. A he couldn’t help but smile as he stood up, brushing the sand from his body. As he walked toward where Topper and Kelce were standing, he prayed for another moment where he got to taste your lips.

You reached the Pogues, a smile still on your face as you adjusted your messy hair.

“Ready to go?” John B asked. You nodded walked next to Kiara and Sarah towards the Twinkie. Both girls examined your giggly state and the hickies that littered your collarbone and neck.

“Who was that?” Sarah asked, smirking at you. Your words caught in your throat for a moment, unsure if you should tell the truth or not. You quickly glanced over the fire and met Rafe’s gaze. He winked at you and blush crawled up your cheeks. You quickly looked back at Sarah and smiled.

“Just some Touron,” You answered. Sarah and Kie laughed at your blushing face, asking you more questions about the Touron you had just made out with on the beach. You told them you knew nothing about them, dodging their questions and suggestive looks. Tonight had been a dream, you weren’t ready to wake up yet. As you approached the parked van, you took one last glance at Rafe and smiled. You hoped you would never wake up.

[trashboatprince]

Since I’m still in a sci-fi mood (along with, like, monsters and romance stuff too, but that’s always there), and I haven’t been able to really... make any new written content recently, I decided to rework an old one-shot I wrote for the space pirate au with how my Henry, Hugo, met Bendy in it.

I honestly don’t remember if I ever posted it here, I know I posted it on discord for my friends to read, but I’m posting up a better version here. Plus, rewriting an old drabble might help me get back into the swing of things when it comes to writing! Especially since I’ve got a zine entry to work on. 

As always, Hugo is a half human/half alien (Asterian), and he’s fourteen in this. Bendy is a being from another universe or dimension, it’s unclear where Bendy’s from, but he’s a demon.

Asterians are a race of aliens that have the ability to travel through the vacuum of space with no need to breathe and have bioluminescent skin, but because Hugo is part human, he can’t last as long in space as he should.

On with the fic!

--

Hugo had lost count of how long he had been left on this stupid hunk of space rock, but he knew that he would probably be dead in due time. 

He considered that he’s probably got about an hour or two left, and knowing the Butcher Gang, they’ll either show up last minute to watch him suffer before putting him back on the ship, or they’ll just let him perish. They’re real jackasses like that.

At least he took his sketchbook with him after they threw him off the ship for their own enjoyment, but still, not much to draw when all around him was just inky darkness and a weak light source from a distant star. 

He sighed, soundless, his skin gently flashing a neon green, starting from his face down to his fingertips.

“Dat’s a real fancy trick ya can do, kid.”

Hugo’s eyes widened and he turned, shocked to have heard a voice, when he normally couldn’t hear anything in the vacuum of space. He was surprised to see something moving in the darkness of space around him. Something shifted, specks of lights moving around in front of him, before something formed. It looked like a wide, cartoon-ish smile, and from there a whiteness started to spread, forming an odd shape. Then two black, nearly full ovals, with little cuts in them, appeared in the white. It was a face!

“Hiya!” The face greeted in a childish voice, though clearly accented. The shape got closer and as it stepped onto the rock with Hugo, the half-human saw a shape form.

The darkness of space took on legs, oddly shaped, along with a long tail, them a small body that was sorta shaped like a bean. Arms with clawed hands followed, and the face seemed to have more of a head shape to it, though clearly shaped like a strange crescent form. The blackness of the body was covered in what looked like stars, twinkling and flashing, a variety of colors.

“What?” The strange creature asked. “Ya not gonna greet me?”

Hugo frowned, gesturing to his throat and then opened his mouth before shaking his head, his skin flashing involuntarily.

“Ah, right,” The creature nodded, frowning, “ya guys in dis universe can’t talk in da vacuum of space. Hold on.” 

He snapped his fingers, the snap actually made a sound, and a bubble surrounded the whole rock. Hugo let out a surprised laugh, before slapping a hand over his mouth, blinking. “W-what?”

“Just a li’l trick, super easy to do!” A grin formed on the other’s face. “It’s made outta natural gases dat drift around us, can’t just make it all, ya know, willy-nilly, but it’s super simple! So, what’s yours dat mine’s Bendy!”

Hugo had to take a moment to register what this guy, Bendy, has said. “It’s, uh, it’s Hugo.” He replied, coughing, trying to sound deeper than he naturally was. 

“Hugo, huh?” Bendy grinned brightly. “Nice to meet’cha! So, whatcha doin’ out here in an asteroid belt? Not really a social spot fer ya... what are you?”

“I dunno.” Hugo shrugged. “Human and somethin’ else, I reckon. What exactly are you?”

“Demon!”

“Demon? You mean, like, those human monsters?”

Bendy snorted loudly at this. “Pah-lease! Nonononononono- weeeellll... yes? No? Maybe so! Hard to tell, I mean, demons an’ angels aren’t technically natural to dis dimension, but we exist! We’ve been to Earth! I’ve been there, a number of times, really nice, an’ kinda bad, but it’s got lots of fun stuff there! Ya ever been?”

Hugo shook his head. “No, never really been in that area of the galaxy. Been, uh, stuck in situations were I don’t get to pick where I go.”

The grin slipped on Bendy’s face, as if he was reading the situation and figured out what Hugo was referring to. “Ah, I getcha. Still, maybe you’ll get to see it! It’s pretty neat!” The grin returned and cosmic eyes glanced to the sketchbook resting next to Hugo. “Oh! Ya draw?”

There was a nod, and Bendy asked to see. Hugo let him and Bendy started to look at the sketches and drawings Hugo’s done over the past few months. He seemed rather excited and giddy about them, chatting and pointing out what he loved, or pointed out what was good but could use some improvement.

It was... kinda nice, Hugo thought as he sat there, listening to Bendy ramble on and on. He hadn’t really had anyone to talk to in ages, not since his escape from his previous life and being cabin boy on the Butcher Gang’s ship didn’t give him much respect from anyone onboard, so having a strange being this excited to talk to him was like a breath of fresh air.

“So, why are ya sittin’ on this floatin’ rock, Hugo?” Bendy asked after a while, when their conversation had turned into small talk and such.

“I got left behind for no good reason by the Butcher Gang, they’re the pirates I ‘work’ for.” Hugo stuck out his tongue, making a face. “They’re a bunch of lowlife bastards, is what they are! I bet I could be a better pirate than them any day!” 

“You wanna be a pirate?”

“Yeah!” Hugo got to his feet, grinning. “I wanted to be a ranger when I was a kid, but I think a pirate would be cooler! Better! I can make a name for myself, I can rule the skies in my own ship! One day, I’ll have my name known across the galaxy! People will fear the name Hugo, no more lookin’ down on me and thinkin’ I’m just some freak or useless mutt!”

Bendy stared at him for a moment, quietly, and Hugo suddenly felt self conscious, before Bendy’s grin grew even bigger than it had before, nearly face splitting. His eyes sparkled with stars, brightly, it was so strange. “That... SOUNDS AMAZIN’! Can I join!? Can I be part of yer crew, Hugo!?”

Hugo was a bit caught off-guard by this. “You... you wanna be part of my crew? Why?”

“Cause dat sounds like so much fun! Look, I’m a drifter, I explore wherever I drift to, but dat gets so borin’ after so long! An’ bein’ a space pirate sounds like a blast! I’ll help you escape, an’ you an’ I can go on a bajillion adventures together!”

Bendy shoved his hand out at Hugo, smiling. “I’ll make yer dreams come true, Hugo. If ya want mah help.”

“...” Hugo looked at the offered hand. “What do you get outta this? No offense, but from what I know about demons, they like to make deals.”

“None taken.” Bendy shrugged, casually. “I getcha, not easy to trust a demon, we do have a rep fer deals an’ da like, kinda ruins it fer the honest demons like me. But listen, all I want outta this is a fun life! An’ I think yer just da guy to make dat happen.” He winked and Hugo chuckled.

“Alright, you’ve got a deal, Bendy!” Hugo took the offered hand with manic glee.

--

“Wait, you just... took the deal? Just like that?” Harrison asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not consider that it could have been a trick?”

“Honestly?” Hugo shrugged. “I considered that, yeah, but Bendy sounded honest, and somethin’ about him screamed ‘he’ll be the most important friend you’ll ever have’. And I was right.”

Hugo chuckled, rubbing at his right palm, where black mark was in his skin, like a tattoo. It was Bendy’s mark, meant for protection and connection. Harrison had asked about it, had asked how Hugo had even met Bendy, and the pirate decided to tell him.

“Do you regret it?” Harrison asked as he looked at the mark.

“Nope, never have, never will. Bendy and I are friends till the end.”

“I see... wait, how the heck did you two become father and son then?”

“Oh, see, now that’s a really funny story! So, when I was fifteen...”

--

It had been a slip from Bendy, by the way, he has accidentally called Hugo ‘dad’ and then it sorta just stuck around. Hugo has embraced the role of dad with his whole being, especially since he can get away with dad jokes now.

But yeah, here’s how these two met in this au! 

Harrison is my friend inkspottie’s Henry, by the way. 

[whompingweasley]

The Perfect Team

George Weasley x Reader

Brief Authors Note: Hello there! Welcome to my new (and first ever) blog! This is my first time writing a fanfic for tumblr, it is my first time writing a fanfic at all! Soooo it might not be the best but I had a blast writing it and I hope someone out there enjoys it! I wanted to create a more domestic type story with George, because I absolutely love the idea of him as a dad. I am still trying to figure out how tumblr works, and I am hoping to learn as I continue on with this blog, but for now please bear with me! Thank you so much, and enjoy!

Summary: Your husband George Weasley comes home from work to his loving wife and daughter after a long day. His wife, noticing his increased stress and sleep deprivation, offers him some much needed love and support. 

Word Count: 1.6k

“Look, mummy, look!” shouted the small, redheaded girl, flailing her tiny arms in the air as she danced to a jazzy tune coming from the record player. With her long, golden red hair and beautiful freckled face, she was the spitting image of her father, and your husband, George Weasley. 

It had been six years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and as much pain as the aftermath brought you, your friends, and your family, the years that followed were some of the happiest of your life. Shortly after the battle (and not wanting to waste any time) you married the love of your life, whom you had been with since your 5th year at Hogwarts. A year later, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl; your daughter, Vivian Molly Weasley. Now you are the happiest you’ve ever been, living in a lovely flat in Diagon Alley, with your loving husband and the gorgeous child the two of you created.

“Wow, Vivi! Look at you!” You exclaim, pulling your eyes away from the pan on the stove containing your dinner for three. “I think you have real talent, my love.” you say, walking over to your daughter and pulling her into your embrace, kissing her cheek. “You hungry?” you ask, brushing an auburn lock from her face. She nods, causing the same lock to fall back into its original position.

“When will daddy be home?” Vivian asks, eyeing the stove, admiring the delicious dinner you have prepared for your family. 

“Should be any minute now.” 

Just as those words escaped your lips, you hear the rattling of keys, followed by the turning of the front door knob, eliciting an excited squeal from your daughter. The door opens to reveal a tall, handsome, ginger man; your man. He appears tired from a day's work at the joke shop, but over the moon excited to see his two favorite girls.

“Daddy! Daddy!” shouts Vivian, full of excitement as she dashes from across the room, and into your husband's arms.

“Hey, princess!” George bends, picking up his daughter and spinning her around. He plants rapid kisses on each of her cheeks and her head, releasing a combination of both their giggles into the air. You watch from the kitchen, admiring the love the two have for each other, and thinking to yourself “how did I get so lucky?”

George sets Vivian down, and she scurries off into the living room, mumbling something about a new toy she got earlier that day. George saw this as the perfect opportunity to greet his beautiful wife.

“Hey, mama” George pulls you in for a quick, but deep, kiss; a kiss he has given you thousands of times, yet still makes your knees weak. “How are you, darling?” he says, pulling his lips from yours, still holding you in his tight embrace.

“Alright,” you wrap your arms around his neck. “Happy that you’re home. I missed you.” You lean in for another kiss.

“I missed you too. And how was Viv today? Cause any trouble?” You and your husband look over to see your daughter, curled up on the floor, her little voice changing octaves as she imitates a conversation between two of her stuffed animals. 

“Oh, yeah. She wreaked havoc.” you say, sarcastically, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you glance back at your daughter. “No, she was an absolute angel, as always.” You direct your  eyes to meet George’s. “And how was your day, darling?” you ask softly, caressing his cheek.

“It was good - tiring, but good. We got a massive shipment today. Gonna have to test some products over the weekend, I reckon.” You gaze into your husband's eyes. You noticed what used to be so full of life, and energy, had become more and more strained over the past few weeks. You knew work was weighing on him, however you weren’t aware of the extremity of his fatigue until just now. 

Swiping your thumbs along the dark circles under his eyes, you open your mouth to speak. “Dinner should be ready in just a minute. You must be starving.”

You and your little family sit down to enjoy supper; the most important meal in your household for it was the only meal of the day in which you could enjoy all together. Amidst the jokes, laughs, and silly stories shared by Vivian (like father, like daughter), you couldn’t help but lock eyes with George every so often. Judging by his tired eyes, loving glances and smirks, and the way he frequently brushed his leg against yours under the table, you could tell tonight was one of those nights where George needed extra love and affection. You gave him a smile, in which he returned, and reached for his hand to give it a gentle  squeeze, letting him know you were there as he tried his hardest to listen attentively to his daughter's rambles. 

“Daddy! Are you listening?” Vivian asked, playfully swatting her dad's arm. 

George quickly snapped out of the trance prompted by the beauty of his wife, and turned his attention back to his daughter. “Of course, baby. And then what happened?” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the evening grew late, you found yourself curled up on the couch with your two favorite people, finishing a movie that Vivian had picked. You were tucked under your husband's left arm; your daughter curled up on the other side of him, latched onto his arm. George turned his head to check on her.

“Looks like the little one’s asleep.” George declared. You sat up to see for yourself. You, nor George, could resist Vivian when she was asleep. Aside from finding it so undeniably adorable, you both treasured the way she laid, pressed against her dad's bicep, so peaceful, so calm; strands of ginger hair spread across her forehead. You sat together, admiring your beautiful creation for a moment until George spoke again. “How did we get so lucky?”

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and let out a loud sigh, bringing your hand up to his firm chest. Reminding yourself of what occurred at dinner, you took this as the perfect opportunity to comfort and offer support to your stressed husband.

“Georgie?” You asked into his neck.

“Yes, my love?”

“When was the last time you got a good night's sleep.” You asked, concerned. For a second, he was silent, contemplating the question as if he could not recall the last time he had a decent sleep, which furthered your concern.

“Well...I can’t seem to remember.” he confessed, letting out a small chuckle which lightly shook his whole body. “I have just been so busy with work. Y’know, coming home late, waking up early, the whole ordeal. Why? Can you tell?”

You sat up to look at him, cupping his face in your hands, contemplating an answer that wouldn’t offend him.

“It’s alright, darling, I know I look like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He said, letting out the same soft chuckle as before. You laugh into his chest. 

“Honey, I hate seeing you like this. Every night this week you’ve come home, absolutely drained. Is there anything you can do to maybe... take some time off? Or at least come home earlier a few nights a week? You work the shop from open to close. There has to be more people to take some shifts” You say, playing with his fingers.

“M’ afraid that’s the problem with running my own shop, darling.” He says, letting out a loud sigh. “It’s hard to find good employees when I really only trust myself to get the job done. And Fred-” He stops, fighting back tears. “We worked so hard for this. For the shop. I will do everything in my power to see all his dreams and ideas come to life. He deserves it. I just want to make him proud, y’know?” 

At this point, your own tears began streaming down your cheeks. You kiss George’s cheek, pressing your forehead to the side of his. “Of course. He would be so proud of you Georgie. I am so proud of you.” George leans his head down, and you catch him in your hands, pulling him into your chest and caressing his hair. “I understand. But you have to stop doing everything on your own. It’s ok to ask for help. In fact, I could help out at the shop a few days out of the week. Help take the burden off you.” 

George lets out a breathy laugh. “I would love that, actually. And I trust you more than anyone.” He said, looking up at you. 

“I know. I think we’d make a great team.” He smirks, then lets out a very pronounced yawn against your chest. “For now, though, you must get some rest. I want you to go get ready for bed. I will handle the munchkin.” You carefully climb out of George's embrace, and scoop your daughter up. The movement wakes her from her deep sleep. She brings her little hands to her eyes to wipe the sleep away. 

“Mummy?” She asks through squinted eyes.

“Shh, it’s ok baby. It’s time for bed, ok?” You kiss her forehead. George slowly gets up from the warmth of the couch to kiss his little girl goodnight.

He pulls her away from you to give her a tight squeeze. “Goodnight daddy.” Vivian says reaching for him, with a hint of grogginess in her voice. 

“Goodnight my beautiful girl. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah? I love you.” Viv mumbled back what sounded like an “I love you too”, although it was muffled out by her burying her face back into her mom's shoulder. As you headed for your daughter's room, you turned back to George, mouthing an “I will be right in” as he headed for the room you two shared, looking back at his better half with the uttermost content. 

[we-are-inevitable]

HmmmmmmMMMMMMM *grabby hands* GIMME THAT JATHERINE (platonic or romantic idk I’m just content starved) FOR ‘why don’t you care?’ Please ily!

it takes a village // jatherine

A/N: GOD I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCH

Read On AO3!

***

"So, Jack, I have… There's something we should talk about," Katherine says softly one night.

They're at the dinner table- a shoddy little thing on its last legs, but Jack finally has some time to fix it up later on this week. Replace a few boards and whatnot, just so they won't have to be as careful anymore; truth be told, the both of them have been expecting the damn table to collapse for weeks, but it's holding out.

But Jack can't focus on a shitty old table now. Not when his wife is staring at him from across it, looking gorgeous as ever but more nervous than he’s seen her in ages.

Jack nods as he takes a drink of water from his glass. He's noticed that Katherine has been a little on edge lately- walking on eggshells, feeling anxious, having strange bouts of sickness during the day- and Jack has been worried about her. He's told her such, too, but Katherine is nothing if not stubborn, and she's insisted that she's been fine.

Something tells him that's not the case anymore.

"Is everything alright?" He asks softly, frowning as he reaches across the table. Within one moment and the next, she has her hand in his own; she's not angry, not upset- thank God- but she still looks apprehensive. Nervous is not a look she wears well. It just- It doesn't fit the rest of her. She's always been incredibly confident and proud, so seeing her so shaken the last week and a half has been... unnerving.

Katherine nods, after a moment. "Of course, dear. Everything is- it's all good, okay? I just…" She takes in a deep breath, and smiles nervously at Jack. "I've been trying to find the right way to tell you, but everything I've seen on Pinterest has been ugly or gimmicky or painfully heterosexual, so I- I'm just gonna come right out and say it."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm… I'm not gonna do anything, so I'm sorry it isn't a grand gesture. I'm sure it'll be underwhelming."

"Mhm."

"Just know that I really was planning something, something sweet and funny and, like, something you'd like, and it involved this little canvas and a paint-by-numbers thingy and--"

"Kat," Jack says with an amused grin, cutting through the endless whirlwind of her thoughts. He squeezes her hand sympathetically. "Baby, what's got you all twisted up?"

Katherine pauses, rubbing her thumb against the back of Jack's hand, and says while shrugging, "I'm pregnant."

Just like that.

With two simple words, Jack feels his blood run cold.

His eyes widen, and he feels his face fall. Jack must be silent for a few moments too long, because Katherine's smile fades out, and she quickly looks down at her lap, gulping hard. "I- Listen, babe, I know we're- we're young, and we weren't really planning on having a kid so early, but--"

"How did…" Jack trails off, his throat painfully dry. "You… Your birth control…?"

Katherine shakes her head. "I've been taking it correctly, but I… I looked it up, and there's a small percentage that it might be faulty, a-and I guess it was... faulty, I don’t- I don't know," She murmurs, frowning. "Are… Jack, are you--"

"I- I'm so sorry, this is just--" Jack pulls his hand away from Katherine's and runs both of them through his hair. He feels like he can’t breathe; each breath comes in faster and faster until he feels like he's on the verge of a panic attack, and with that, he stands and walks to the kitchen, rubbing his jaw with his right hand.

"Jack?" Katherine asks, standing as well. He looks over at her, watches her hurry around the dinner table between them, and gulps when she walks up toward where he's resting against the kitchen counter. "Listen, I get it, it's stressful, but- but I need you to not look pissed off, okay?" She pleads, desperate. "It's not like I was expecting this!"

Jack shakes his head, eyes wide. "No, baby, I'm- I'm not pissed off, I just--"

"Why don't you care?" Katherine asks, staring up at Jack with tears just barely beginning to well in her eyes. His heart breaks at that; Katherine isn’t supposed to cry. She rarely ever does, and the fact that she’s tearing up over him… It shatters him. "I thought- I thought you'd be happy, b-but I guess I was--"

"Katie, hey, listen to me," Jack reaches for her hands, holding them in a tight grip. He looks into her eyes, sees all of the fear and the uncertainty there, and he quickly surges forward, pulling her into a tight hug. Katherine melts into his embrace, gripping the back of his shirt. “I love you, okay? More than anything. This is just…” He trails off, and Katherine nods against his chest.

For a moment, they stand there in heavy silence, until Katherine whispers, "If you… If you don't want a kid yet, we have- we have options…"

Jack gulps hard and pulls back, looking down at her. "You're… you're sure you're pregnant? It ain’t a- a false positive?"

"I took four tests, Jack," She says with a sad little smile, sniffling. "Four different brands. They- they're all positive."

"Holy shit," Jack whispers, and takes a deep breath. "O-Okay. I… Okay."

"...You don’t seem very stoked," Katherine whispers, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. "What’s wrong?"

Jack pauses, and glances over to the table, to their empty dishes. He gulps hard, and squeezes her waist. "Let's clean up, and… and then talk, okay? I'm sorry, I just--"

Katherine shakes her head. "No, don't apologize, it's… it's a lot to process, I know. It's alright."

Jack presses a long, gentle kiss to the crown of her head, then walks to the table. The two of them work in tandem to clean the kitchen; Katherine puts up the food and brings Jack the dishes, which he washes in silence, his mind swimming.

Katherine is… pregnant. She's pregnant. With a baby.

Their baby.

And as much as Jack wants to be excited…

"Jack, dear, you're shaking," Katherine whispers from behind him, which startles him hard enough that he drops the skillet he's washing. The metal clang against the sink makes him cringe, and he rubs his face with damp hands, letting out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," He whispers, turning around to face Katherine. She doesn't look angry, but then again, she's never been angry. She understands that he… He gets like this sometimes. He's gotten like this plenty of times within their three years of dating, and their additional year of marriage- it's not a common occurrence, but it happens, and she's always been there to support him. Help him get his head screwed on, help him get his thoughts collected before he says something stupid. Katherine's taken it on without him even asking; she's always been so patient, so kind… She's incredible.

She's incredible, and Jack isn't even giving her what she needs right now.

Jack takes a step forward and presses their foreheads together for a moment, before pulling back and looking into her eyes. "Bedroom?"

"Wanting to try out pregnancy sex already, huh?" Katherine says softly, in a teasing tone, and Jack lets out a soft, barely there chuckle. He's always admired her way of cutting the tension; she's brash and vulgar when she wants to be, and it's one of Jack’s favorite things about her. Her ability to joke around rivals his own, and after a few moments, Jack simply rolls his eyes and picks her up bridal style.

"As much as I'd like that, we need to talk first," He murmurs against her temple, walking to the bedroom. Jack closes the door once they're inside; there's no one else in the apartment, but having the shut door just… provides another sense of security.

Jack carefully sets Katherine down on the bed, then walks around to his side and sits down, letting out a deep sigh. Katherine moves closer, leaning into Jack's side and resting her hand on his chest. He brings his hand up to intertwine their fingers as she says, "Tell me what's going through your head, Kells."

"...I just- I wasn't expecting…" Jack starts, trailing off for a few moments. He closes his eyes and gulps, squeezing Katherine's hand. "I'm happy, I really am, I'm just… I'm scared, Kat."

"I am, too," Katherine whispers, and Jack feels her shift. A moment later, her free hand is carding through his curls. "Why are you scared?"

Jack takes a deep breath, and whispers, “What if I’m not a good dad?”

There's a long stretch of silence, but Katherine's hand doesn't stop running through his hair. He feels her shift again, until she's sitting sideways on his lap. "Jackie, look at me."

Jack slowly opens his eyes, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees the serious expression on her face. He offers up a sad smile, and she frowns. "Baby, you- you're going to be an amazing dad! Why do you think you wouldn’t be?"

Jack stares into her eyes, then glances away, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I just--" He cuts himself off by rubbing his face, staring off to the side, right at the corner of his bedside table. "I don't… I don't know how to be a good dad," Jack says simply, gulping hard. He feels his heart rate spike. His hands feel clammy. This… He wants this so badly, but… "The only- the only example I've ever had is m-my dad, and I… I don’t wanna turn out like him. What if I- What if I turn out like him?"

"Oh, Jack ," Katherine whispers, cupping his cheeks with her hands. "Jack, listen to me. You will never be like him, okay? You'll know what--"

"But what if I don’t? I don’t know how to take care of a kid, and--"

"Jack," Katherine stops him, furrowing her brows. "Jack, I don’t… Do you realize how much experience you actually have?” She asks, and Jack slowly shakes his head. “You took care of your foster siblings, you took care of your friends and their siblings-- Jackie, you know what you're doing! All of those skills are transferable, I promise. And, baby, your dad wasn't someone to look up to, but… But he showed you what not to do. And I know you  know you’ll never do that.”

Jack gulps. “But, what if--”

“You aren’t going to be perfect,” She cuts him off, patting his chest. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be kind of a dick sometimes, okay? But that’s normal. You… You’re not going to be as bad as him. Never in a million years. You’re not going to hurt anyone- not our kid, and not me. We’re both going to make mistakes, Jack, but trust me, you’re still going to be an amazing father. No matter what.”

Jack looks up at Katherine, cheeks aflame, and he stares into her eyes, searching for any uncertainty- but she looks serious. Serious, genuine, earnest. The look in her eyes is the same one she had when she suggested marriage, the same one she had when she actually proposed to him, the same one she had during their wedding ceremony last spring.

Katherine doesn't lie, and Katherine doesn't play games. 

"You really think so," Jack realizes softly, gulping hard. "You- you think I'll be a good dad?"

"I think you'll be the best dad," Katherine corrects with a smile, leaning in closer. "The absolute best. You already have the dad jokes, and the hawaiian shirts will just be, like, dad shirts instead of ‘hey, I’m bi!’ shirts, and--"

Jack cuts her off with a high laugh, and shakes his head. "Alright, fine, fine, but you're going to be the best mom. I just know it. You’re gonna knock it out of the park, mi cielita.”

"I'll be a hot mom," Katherine grins, winking at Jack. "Milf status! Finally!"

Jack throws his head back and laughs, a genuine, happy noise, one from deep within his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her that much closer, one hand coming up to tangle in those gorgeous copper waves. Jack presses their lips together, which makes him feel butterflies like always- no matter what, kissing Katherine makes him feel like a teenager, even though they got together when they were twenty.

He places his hands on her waist, though one soon travels to rest against her stomach, and he pulls back to look down. It's not like he can feel anything- she isn't even showing yet, so she must be just a few weeks out, but it's still… surreal.

Slowly, Jack's smile broadens. "...We're gonna have a baby," He whispers, as if he's trying to believe it himself. "We… We're gonna have a baby, Kath…"

"I know," Katherine whispers back, giggling quietly. "It's crazy, right? We're gonna be parents, hun."

"This is gonna be one hell of a dysfunctional family."

"Oh, come on, Jack. We're both from wack family backgrounds; this'll be a piece of cake."

"We're gonna be so lost."

"We have your mom, at least."

"Oh, shit- we need to tell Mama," Jack says with a grin, tilting his head. "I can see if we can have dinner with her soon."

Katherine smiles back at him. "We need to tell the Jacobs' family, too. Sarah will kill me if I don't tell her."

"Dave'll probably hit me with his car if we don't tell 'im," Jack smiles. "Esther and Mayer are gonna be real excited. Les, too."

"We'll have to let the boys know all together, or else someone is gonna be pissed they weren’t told first. Probably Racer, or Charlie," Katherine giggles while she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Jack's cheek. "We need to plan, like, a big group dinner-- Oh, my God, can you imagine them at the baby shower?"

Jack laughs softly, nodding his head. "This is… This is gonna be so fuckin' crazy. Our kid is gonna have, like, eighteen other parents."

"It's going to be great," Katherine whispers.

Jack nods in agreement, staring into her beautiful golden brown eyes, then gently cups her cheek. As he leans in to kiss her, he lets himself smile. It's going to be difficult, and it's going to be a huge change, but Jack thinks he's ready for it.

He's ready for this next step, all while Katherine is at his side.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

Re: the prompt post: 19, 13, 7 (any!)

7. “You’re a terrible liar.”

December 17th. 1971

John and Paul had taken Julian up to Liverpool; they were staying at Mendips for Christmas, hoping to capture some domestic bliss away from the chaos of being a former Beatle, as well as letting Julian get to know his external family a little better. Since the divorce, Paul had encouraged John to continue seeing Julian most weekends, dropping in on weekdays too, and more recently, start taking Julian for most of the holidays. Cynthia didn’t mind so much, she had a new partner she was seeing so it was nice for her to be able to take a break from Jules every once in a while.

John had in fact almost drifted away from his own kin at one point, but Paul insisted he maintained some sort of relationship with him. His problem was really that he didn’t understand children, he couldn’t relate to or connect to them. A psychologist could spend hours searching the index of his mind, but why bother? What it all amounts to is simply that though John wanted to be able to connect with kids, he just didn’t know how. Paul on the other hand just understood how to interact with kids. Perhaps it was boyish charm ever present in his spirit, but he just understood them far better than John ever could. Still, perhaps they balanced out well as a couple.

Paul unlocked the door to the home - he’d just from his dads, visiting some family. He didn’t bring John with him today (though he would in a few days’ time), because his father still wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement – though he’d have to get used to it, because John and Julian weren’t going anywhere.

“‘M back!” He chirped, shaking the snow off from his shoes.

“Were in ‘ere Macca…” John called out – his speech was slightly slurred, so that of course provoked a few questions in Pauls mind.

Entering the living, he couldn’t help but notice the bottles of beer scattered across the table. His lips plastered into a small grin as he asked, “Have you been drinkin’ love?”

“No…” John denied cheekily. Putting on a faux queen’s accent, he added, “I most certainly have not.”

“Well, I dunno about that. Think all those bottles might suggest otherwise.”

“They’re not mine.” John said with an attempted nonchalance. He was acting as though they were still teenagers, getting caught bunking school only to pop off down the pub.

Turning to Julian who lay upon the carpeted living room floor, Paul said, “What do you think Jules? D’you think yer da’s been drinkin’?” Jules nodded his head with cheeky grin overstating his face, “I saw him!” he said.

“Oi - I told ye not to tell on me!” John snapped, though with no real anger in voice.

“John, it has to be said, yer a terrible liar. I mean, yer truly crap mate.”

“Yeah, well, I never would’ve been caught if Jules hadn’t told on me.”

“Christ John,” he looked around him just to ensure a certain someone was not following behind him before continuing, “im not Mimi, im not gonna tell you off you know.” He picked up the shopping he had bought – Mimi had asked for a couple things – and as he walked into the attached kitchen, he joked, “Besides, think you might be old enough to legally drink by now.”

Following him into the kitchen, John started, “So what’d ye get up to with yer da’ then?”

“Nothing much y’know; just catching up with him and Mikey.” Paul said casually as he unloaded the shopping in his bags onto the table. “Mike’s girl is pregnant, d’you know.”

“Boy or a girl?”

“Dunno yet. They’re hoping for a girl, but they don’t mind so much either way. Da’s girl, Angela, is excited to have some grandkids on the way though.”

“Yeah, well – she might wanna lower her expectations for us. Don’t think we’ll be pushing out any of our own anytime soon.”

Paul dismissed this, continuing, “She’s lookin’ forward to meeting Jules in a coupl’a day’s time.”

John appeared to ignore this, asking with a smirk and sly rhetoricism, “Yer dad still doesn’t like me, does he?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say he doesn’t like you, but y’know,” Paul whipped him a smile as he continued unloading the bag, then added, “don’t think you’re his favourite Beatle.”

“If only you’d gotten with George or Ringo,” John quipped back sarcastically, as he made his way through the small kitchen, over to Paul. He placed a hand on Pauls waist, and brought his other hand up to his hair, to fiddle flirtatiously with the dark locks. “‘M sure he’d be content enough for you to marry either of them.”

Paul let out laugh, “Don’t think he’d be too happy with me marrying any guy to tell you the truth. ’Sides, don’t think George or Ringo would want me.”

“Definitely not George.” John joked back, still twirling his fingers through Pauls hair.

“That reminds me actually, I wanted to give him a ring soon. Wish him merry Christmas and that.”

“We’ll do that later…” John said as he angled Pauls face, bringing him in for a kiss. With some tender passion they kissed in the ever-familiar kitchen, embracing the delight of domesticity - but shortly after, they were sternly interrupted by a shrill from Mimi of, “John, I will have none of that in my house.”

Pulling away from Paul, he groaned, “Alright, Mimi,” though his tipsy voice still remained relatively unburdened. Paul stood there smiling, and fidgeting with Johns hands until Mimi said, “That goes for you too Paul. None of this silliness in my house.”

John just rolled his eyes in response, “Like a bloody boarding school in ‘ere.” he whined, but Mimi ignored the retort.

Dragging Paul into the living room, he kissed him once more as he pulled him down onto the sofa. They made out a little, embracing one another like adolescents, with Paul resting himself on half on the sofa, half on John’s lap – and John entangling his hands around his lover’s legs.

But Paul, being the more responsible of the two, broke away at last to ask, “Where’s Jules?”

“Why’s it matter?” John moaned.

“I don’t want him to see us like this.”

“He doesn’t bloody care!” John insisted.

“I bet he does - how’d you like to walk to walk in on yer own dad neckin’ it with someone?”

“I have walked in on me dad neckin’ it, and I didn’t give two shits-like.”

“Yeah, well, Jules is different,” he added a mocking, “plus, Mim’s isn’t standing for any of yer ‘silliness’ now.”

“Always eager to please the in laws aren’t ye Macca.” John said defeatedly, as Paul crawled away from his lap.

***

Look, I dont even care that its June. I like Christmas. I wanted to write a Christmas fic. I dont even care, im shameless!

Also, ive got quite a few other requests and like, im working on them I promise, but I always like to put in effort y'know so who knows when they'll be out haha. But ill try get another one out today <3

[angst-fairygodmother]

Big News  ~ An Idiot (Affectionate) Story

A.K.A. part 2 of “Where do babies come from?”

A/N: While this is technically a continuation of Late Night either fic can be read alone. And I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 1365 Rating: T Content Warnings: pregnancy, fear of illness, a lot of crying

Ryne shifted anxiously on the exam table, grimacing at the sound of the paper crinkling beneath her, her hands twisted in her lap. She wished that the doctor would come in soon, and that she would stay out forever. 

She was scared, even if she didn't tell Derek just how much when he'd asked that morning if she was okay. She had been too young to know what was going on when she'd lost her mother, but she remembered her being tired and in pain and then gone. So when she made the appointment, she was fully braced for the doctor to tell her the fatigue and headaches were a sign of something serious, that drastic steps had to be taken or her days were numbered. (She attributed the cramps to her fear and the other aches and pains to something in her head.)

It wasn't fair. They'd barely been married a year. She wasn't yet thirty. There were so many dreams and plans ahead of her. After everything they'd been through, the idea of breaking this news to Derek made her feel like she was going to be sick.

The doctor came in. Ryne tried to calm her racing emotions as she explained everything. The doctor nodded sagely and started drawing up an order for bloodwork.

“Now, Kathryn,” the doctor said as she typed, and Ryne suppressed a roll of her eyes at the use of her full name, “you got married about a year ago, is that correct?”

Ryne did the math quickly in her head. “Yeah. A little less than that. Why?”

“And do you and your husband have a...busy marital bed?”

“Are you asking if I have sex with my husband?”

“I don't want to presume what kind of relationship the two of you have, but yes, that is my question.”

“Yeah. We're...I mean we do...pretty regularly…” she found herself tripping over her words suddenly, face growing warm.

“Do you use any methods of birth control?”

“I'm on the pill, but that's it. It's not like either of us has to worry about STIs or anything, we have no other partners.”

“Ah. I'd like to add one more test to the bloodwork then. It'll still take at least a few hours, so we'll call you tomorrow with the results.”

“Tomorrow? What's so serious it has that short a turnaround?” She asked nervously. 

“I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but based on what you've described today, I think you might be pregnant.”

“I...oh.”

Her mind struggled to wrap around the doctor's words. That would be a very different kind of news to break. Her heart skipped a beat. Would he be excited? Nervous? Scared enough to run away?

~

Ryne chewed nervously on her lower lip. It had taken all her willpower not to call her husband immediately when the doctor had confirmed the suspicions shared the day before. But this was news best delivered in person, if only to be able to see Derek's face. 

She thought she might burst by the time he walked through the door that evening. She struggled to maintain her composure, greeting him with a smile and letting him catch her around the waist for a kiss as he passed her in the kitchen.

“Hey baby girl,” he drawled, nuzzling into the side of her neck. “How're you feelin?”

“I'm fine,” she answered maybe too quickly, laying her smaller arms over his. “Today's been good.”

“Really? Cus this morning you seemed pretty sick...you didn't even drink your coffee…”

She could hear the concern in his tone and bit her lip again. 

“Plus you're still kinda pale and look tired. Not that I'm tryin t' insult you or nothin but…”

“I'm not insulted, Derek. You know how much I appreciate you looking out for me. But I promise I'm okay.”  

She fell silent for a long while, just leaning into his touch. She liked this, the casual little moments together, and wanted to savor them while they could. 

“I heard back from the doctor about some of the tests she ran,” she said finally, regretting that she had to break their stillness.

“That was quick,” he hesitated. “Are you...how bad is it? Is it bad? Whatever you need, whatever we gotta do baby, you know I'll take care of you.”

His arms tightened around her waist, a castle against whatever dangers she faced. A sense of calm washed over her then, and she twisted around to face him.

“That depends,” she said, her fingers dancing briefly over the scar on his temple. She met his eyes, finding warmth and love and dedication there, the kind that said he would be on her side through anything. “How do you feel about it not just being the two of us?”

“You mean like a nurse in the house or somethin?”

She giggled, burying her face into his shoulder and unable to stop now that she had started. 

“No, you goof,” she managed eventually. “I don't need a live-in nurse. I mean a baby.”

Derek's face scrunched in a frown of confusion that made her heart flutter. When he remained silent for several long, agonizing minutes, Ryne spoke his name softly, a question. 

“Really?” he asked, the whisper lower than anything she'd ever heard from him before, full of hope and fear in equal measures.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him and reaching up to wipe at the tears building in the corners of his eyes. “Really.”

“You're gonna have my baby?”

“Well it's not the second coming of Jesus so it had better be yours. Otherwise there's some weird shit going on.”

“For real?”

“Oh my god Derek,” she laughed. “Yes. For real. Not a joke, not a dream, high nineties percent accurate test. We're going to be parents.” 

The grin that split across his face was dazzling as he whooped and lifted her off her feet, spinning her in an excited circle. 

“I'm gonna be a Dad,” he cheered and laughed before setting her down and repeating the sentence in a subdued and stunned tone. “I guess I should stop calling you baby girl now huh?”

Now it was her turn to frown, puzzled. 

“We don't know yet, it might be a daughter in there, and I can't have two baby girls can I? That'd be cheatin.”

She laughed again, rolling her eyes at her husband's logic. “And if we ever have more than one daughter? What will you do then?”

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, face drawn in careful consideration. Ryne watched the emotions travel across his eyes: the excitement and wonder, the fear, the love. And then suddenly he was ducking down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Her hands traced soothing patterns wherever they could while she held him, carefully guiding them both through the apartment to the couch without letting go. By the time they were seated, both their faces were wet with tears. 

“I can’t believe this is real…” Derek breathed.

“In a good way, right?” Ryne asked, stomach twisting with nerves, his rollercoaster emotions leaving her scared that he’d settle on ‘abandon ship and run away.’

“Is that a real question? Of course in a good way. In the best way. You’re having my baby. I get to be a Dad. And then you were talkin about maybe more in the future and I just...I love you so much baby girl, and I’m gonna love this kid and you and them are gonna be my whole world.”

His words sparked something in her, the realization that she was really going to be a mom and be able to raise a little life and give them everything she never had, and she had her best friend and partner in crime by her side to do it, and she let out a sob as she threw her arms around his neck. Their lips were salty and wet as they met in their passionate, overjoyed embrace, but neither seemed to care.

“I love you Derek,” she murmured against him.

“Not nearly as much as I love you.”

[vapid-slut]

Perfect Harmony; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Swearing, Michael being a dirty bitch

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Entering her senior year as a cheerio, the reader is excited to combine both her love of music and her newfound popularity. To Michael, however, this is the perfect opportunity to fuck with his innocent neighbor

A/N: Can we say, I hate this, because I really do. I have no idea what has compelled me to post this dumpster, just know that if you read this, no u didn’t <3 + I did not proofread this so if theres any typos I’m so sorry, I’m running on 4 hrs of sleep and 5 cups of coffee

Music was your life. Your parents often joked that you were singing before you uttered your first word. Unfortunately, there were no music clubs during your past two years of high school. It was only last year that you and the glee club won nationals, hence why you were able to keep funding. School administration was never really fond of the arts, but they would bend over backward to give the sports clubs whatever they needed.

Your biggest dream was to get a scholarship, preferably for music, since you excelled at it. All your life, you watched your father slave away to keep you happy. You just wanted to repay his kindness. Abruptly, your dream, which entailed you winning a grammy, was disrupted by the ringing of your alarm clock. Your arm stretched over to your nightstand, turning the device off, bringing the sound to a halt.

Slowly, you removed the sheets off your body, standing up for a brief stretch before walking to your bathroom. You went about your morning routine much quicker than you typically would. Mostly due to your excitement, this year would be the first that you spent closer to the top of the social food chain. Over the summer, your dad became fast friends with Coach Sylvester. She had come over a few times. And although their relationship was strictly platonic, they both had grown fond of each other. A week before school, she offered you a spot on the cheerios, one you couldn't turn down. Cheerleaders were at the very top of the pyramid. Girls wanted to be them while boys wanted to be with them.

Once you had finished doing the bare necessities your morning required, you hastily made your way to your closet, immediately reaching for one of the three cheerleading uniforms hanging on the rack. You stripped out of your pajamas before slipping into the skimpy skirt, unaware that you had an admirer. Michael had moved next door a few months into your freshman year, was a rather charming boy. He quickly became a hot commodity, no doubt due to how impeccably handsome he was. You were never too fond of him, but even you had to admit that he was a divine sight.

It never truly bothered you that the window into your room was straight across from the one piercing into his. But if you could see the look of satisfaction on his face as he watched you undress, you'd feel very unnerved. The boy had always felt attracted to you. He saw you as a challenge. You were one of the few students in your grade who was still a virgin. Not due to your looks, you frankly didn't have the time to go to parties or hook up with people. Your focus was on your education. And if getting into a great school meant sacrificing your social life, you were content with that.

Once you had finished getting your uniform on and slicking your hair into a neat updo, you gathered your things into your bag and hurried downstairs for breakfast. "Mornin' kiddo!" Your dad said, greeting you with a smile. You muttered a cheerful 'hey' in response, walking towards one of the cabinets full of cereal boxes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. My car had to get fixed up last night so, I'll have to take yours today." You shrugged as a reply, not caring. "So am I taking the bus today?" Your father shook his head, reaching for a spoon at the same time. "No. That nice boy next door offered to give you a ride today. Isn't that sweet?"

Fuck- you thought to yourself, of course, the universe found some way to screw up your day. You took a long sigh before shifting your eyes to the clock on the wall. "Shit! I'm sorry, dad. I'd love to eat breakfast, but the Glee meeting starts in 20 minutes." Your dad shrugged, not too bothered. "It's fine, go have fun and tell Michael I said hello." You nodded to your old man, and with that, you were up and out the door.

As soon as you stepped foot outside, there he was. Hair perfectly curled, toothpick dangling from his soft lips. You sighed, walking towards the blonde, waiting for him to get out of the way. "Wow, you become a cheerleader, and now you think you're hot shit?" He spat, you gave him a death glare before pushing him lightly to get inside the car. He followed suit, taking his place in the driver's seat. "As much as I find you annoying, your ass does look great in that skirt." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the boy as he started driving. "Listen up, Pillsbury fuckboy. Though this might seem hard to understand, I don't like you. And I'd rather not spend my senior year arguing with someone as unbearable as you, so can you please leave me alone?!"

The blonde chuckled at your response. Your mouth said one thing while your thoughts said another. "Your wish is my command." He mumbled sarcastically before reaching to turn up the music on the radio to an obscene volume. The rest of the car ride was entirely uneventful, neither of you uttering a word to each other. Ultimately, you had reached the school parking lot. Not many cars were there since it was early, and only a few clubs were meeting today. Before Michael could do anything, you swiftly got out the car, making sure to slam it loudly. "Don't fucking slam the door!" He said, his voice reaching you even though you were still walking, in response you promptly flipped him off. "Fucking bitch." He uttered lowly as you slowly left his field of view.

-----

"Welcome back, New Directions!" Glee's coach, Mr.Shue, said as you embraced your friends. "As you know, this will be our last year together, and a few of our beloved friends have left for college already. Which means we'll be having auditions for some newcomers." As he spoke, he walked over to the whiteboard, grabbing his trusted magic marker. "But there's a twist." You and everyone else in the room watched as he wrote out the words American Idol. "This time, you'll be judging with me."

You would typically be seated next to Tina and Mercedes, but they were both absent for the meeting. Instead, you sat with Santana on your left and Quinn to your right. You had to admit that it felt nice. Usually, you wouldn't ponder on things so benign. But you had spent most of high school getting teased by Michael and the rest of his sought after friends. Not a day went by that slushies weren't thrown in your face, now you could finally walk the halls without fear of humiliation. 

Besides that, you were also really ecstatic to help Mr. Shue with auditions. Glee club was what had brought a group of entirely different people together. So you'd be more than glad to share that with a new ensemble of students before you all went your final ways.

-----

The rest of your day went by quicker than usual. There wasn't much to learn on the first day. Once the clock hit 3:30, You rushed to the auditorium as if your life depended on it. You had to admit that you missed the stage, singing, and dancing with your friends. You made your way the middle of the seating area, taking your place beside Artie.

A majority of the auditions were lackluster. Only a handful stood out. Like that girl Marley and that kid Jake. You were just about ready to leave and go home until something caught your attention. "Michael Langdon?" Your eyes lit up immediately as you heard the name. You watched as the blue-eyed boy made his way to the stage, smug look on his face.

There was no way in hell Michael fucking Langdon, the same boy who referred to glee as "homo explosion," would ever willingly audition. His rendition of "Suit and Tie" was incredible, which only pissed you off more. Not only was he insanely attractive, but he just had to be talented too, fucking men.

You watched as your fellow glee members watched in amusement. It was the girls who seemed most excited.  Eventually, it all became too much, and before the boy could finish entertaining your friends, you stormed off into the parking lot. Far too upset with the blonde to drive home with him, you sent your friend Mike a text asking if he could get you. He lived pretty close to the school, so you knew it would only take a few minutes.

-----

By the time Mike had pulled up to the building, the other glee kids were exiting. You quickly reached for the door of his car, rushing to get to the passenger seat. "You alright?" He asked, worried by how fidgety you were. You nodded. "Yea, I just wanna go home." Mike was always very comforting. The two of you became friends during your freshman year, mostly because of how many classes you shared. You both had a love for music and were smart, so it wasn't long before you two clicked.

Within a few minutes, you had arrived at your house, Mike flashing you a smile. "Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot." The dark-haired boy shrugged. "It's no biggie, see you tomorrow, cheerio." You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Whatever, jock-face." And with that, you entered your home.

The house was currently empty. He was taking the night shift at the hospital so, he probably wouldn't come back till late at night. You walked up the stairs to your room, dropping your bag on the floor. After everything that had gone down today, you were exhausted. You quickly took off the scanty cheer uniform and slipped on your much softer penguin pajamas.

You practically threw yourself on the bed, hoping to get some rest, but were promptly distracted by a notification on your phone. The text, from an unknown number nonetheless, read 'look outside your window.' You quickly sat up, confused, and turned your head only for your eyes to be met by Michael Langdon, who just happened to be balls deep inside some random brunette. 

You gave the boy a disgusted look before pulling down your blinds. Never in your life had you been more repulsed. Your mind tried long and hard to block out any memory of what you just witnessed. After around forty-five minutes, you received another text message from non-other than Michael.

'It's a shame you missed my performance."

'Go fuck yourself, Langdon.'

'If you say so ;)'

The rest of the night, you wondered what you had done to be the new subject of Mr. Pillsbury Fuckboys torment. You had spent most of your high school years avoiding him at cost. Suddenly it seemed like you weren't getting rid of him anytime soon. You were just lucky you only had to endure this for a few more months, and then you'd be on your way.

Or so you thought.

[anotherhargrovebitch]

don’t call him baby : b.h

kinda based on ‘cherry’ by harry styles - as that song fucking slaps. (1.4k) 

* stranger things writing *

(bold/italics is past tense events!)

** one // part two // three 

You weren’t meant to be at the party, you weren’t supposed to see Billy underneath another girl. But you saw it all. You saw him pulling her hips into him, his lips pursing as a moan escapes them whilst his eyes remained closed in content.

The only thing that caught him off guard was the sound of your name being called. He opened his eyes, looking up to see you with glossy eyes staring straight back at him.

Before he could even explain, Steve was by your side. He was slightly breathless, his hand resting on your upper arm as he looked into the room. Steve sighed under his breath at the sight, seeing clothes discarded on the floor as the girl giggled beside Billy.

“Steve, just leave it.” You tugged on Steve’s shirt, pulling him back before he did something he’d regret.

But Billy rose to his feet, rushing toward you as he stumbled over his jeans. You turned away from him, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Baby, please.” Billy pleaded to you, practically begged for you to turn around as you kept walking toward the stairs. You didn’t want to make a scene, but Billy would always cause one.

“Just leave her alone, Hargrove.” Steve spat to Billy, disgust firing up in his eyes.

You turned on the spot as you heard a thud, only to have seen Billy on the ground with Steve on top of him for a moment. That was until the cards changed, and Billy was punching Steve- once again.

“Billy, stop?!” You cried out, covering your mouth to stifle the sob.

Upon hearing your pained voice, Billy stopped. He would always stop when it came to you.

Secretly Billy had hoped you’d bury yourself into his arms. That you’d take him into another room and talk it out. But he felt his cheek burn as you slapped him, hard.

“I never, ever want to see you again.” You told him sternly before Steve took your hand and led you out from the party, leaving Billy stood in his underwear whilst the girl in the bedroom still giggled to herself.

*

Shy of two months had passed by, and you kept as much distance as you possibly could from Billy. 

After the first few days, Billy stopped trying to get you back. He stopped turning up at your house to pick you up, learning from your siblings you had gotten a lift with Steve instead. Billy listened to your name being muttered around the school halls with his name in disgust. Deep down, Billy knew he deserved this, he broke your heart.

And in turn, you slowly broke his. 

It didn’t take him long to notice the smile return to your lips, the one he always caused in the dead of night when he’d lean over and kiss you. He glances your way when you weren’t being blocked by friends whose names he never learned and when he saw you, he noticed Steve’s arm slung over your shoulders. 

Since he spotted Steve with you, he saw it all happen in stages. He began to look out for Harrington rather than avoid him. In study hall, he saw you cosying up next to Steve as you read a textbook in a new spot. Billy would wander over to the corner behind the History books on Indiana alone, without you sitting on his lap as he played with the hem of your skirt. 

Then, he heard your voice. 

“Hey, baby?” You called out and Billy had to stop himself from turning to face you. He watched through a sea of students the moment play out. 

You were looking at Steve, not at him.

Steve walked over to you, leaning against your locker with a shit-eating grin. He knew he won at that point, you were no longer hung up over Billy. 

*

Billy couldn’t help but see how you played with Steve’s hair. You ran your fingers through it as you sat in the parking lot on the bonnet of his car. All Billy could think about was how you once played with his curls. How you would wrap your fingertips around them, making them bounce. He loved to hear you laugh as he rolled his eyes, not that he cared deep down. Billy would do anything to make you laugh as the sound made his heart swell. 

Yet the sight in front of him makes his heart sink into unknown depths. He watched as you leaned into his embrace, giggling at something he said whilst Billy burned his lips on the cigarette butt that was closer than he realised. 

Pain ignited across his lips as he rubbed them, only to see you kissing Steve. He held his fingers to his lips, forgetting what it felt like to be kissed lovingly, and not out of pure lust. 

Steve slid from the bonnet of the car, holding his hands out as you took a hold of them and fell into his arms. His hands rested around your waist as you turned your head, catching Billy’s blue eyes. 

And Billy could feel his muscles tensing. He was caught staring at you, for the first time. 

“Babe?” Steve mutters into your ear, and you tear your eyes from Billy, focusing back on Steve with a smaller smile than normal. “Ready to go?” He asks you and you nod, climbing into the passenger seat and straighten yourself up, forcing your eyes away from the window. 

*

It was a Thursday evening. Billy knew your routine rarely changed, even if he was no longer apart of your life. What he did know is that on Thursdays, your parents take your siblings to their various clubs, leaving you home alone. 

If they approved of Harrington, which they obviously would he wouldn’t be allowed when you were home alone. 

Billy will never forget when your parents finally warmed to him. He overheard your Mom comment on his genuine smile. 

“He’s completely different when you walk in, kid.” Your Mom mutters to you, nudging you lightly as you chuckle under your breath. “When you walked in with dessert, wearing that smile it was as if the world was a better place. Your Dad only has that smile at dessert now.” She jokes, and you roll your eyes. 

“I doubt that’s the case, Mom.” You respond, brushing it off. 

You both continue talking, unaware that Billy is leaning against the doorframe, listening to the approval he’s receiving and affection you have yet to tell him about. 

“I really think I love him, Mom.” You tell her quietly, biting your lower lip as you finish drying dishes. 

She sighs quietly, wrapping her arm around you. “You gotta tell him, hon. If you don’t, you’ll only regret it. And trust me, the boy feels the same.” She squeezes you lightly, turning and smiles to Billy knowing he was there the entire time. 

Parking down the street, Billy wanders down to your house. He lifts his head up to see your bedroom light is on, blinds still open as you sit in the window, lost in a book. 

He smiles at the sight, the automatic response he has whenever he notices you wearing those glasses as your nose remains buried into another world. He once thought it was nerdy, but when you would sit and read to him of an evening, he loved to hear you tell tales of made-up places, not that he’d ever admit it aloud. 

Stepping forward, Billy takes a deep breath. 

Looking up at the window again, he notices you take your glasses off and laugh at something. 

“Steve, stop!” You laugh loudly, and Billy takes a step backwards. “You’re going to make me fall.” 

He listens to you laugh as Steve tickles your sides, tackling you into your bed before the laughter dies down. 

“I think I might love you, Y/n.” Steve whispers into your lips, looking back up to your eyes and searches for any uncertainty. But for once, he doesn’t. 

“Well, Steve.” You shuffle underneath him, resting your hands on his face. “I think I might love you too.” You chuckle before lifting your head up, kissing him passionately. 

Billy sits in his car, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watches your bedroom light being turned out. 

He reaches over to the passenger seat of the car and opens the small compartment. 

And out it falls. A single locket that you had gifted him for his birthday. 

Lifting his shaking hands up, he undoes the clasps until it clicks. Even in the dull lighting of Hawkins at night, it still catches the light. 

“You’ll always be my baby.” Billy mutters under his breath before placing the locket beneath his shirt, keeping it hidden as he pulls away, unaware of you silently muttering his name as Steve kisses your neck.