#Just kinda throws himself at him and knows his dad will catch him

[starry-bi-sky]

im being hit with The Visions again

the Vision this time is a "homeless danny in gotham" au except its pre-robin Batman again because im on a batdad kick. --------------------

Danny finds a car.

Which-- isn't, like, anything super interesting or impressive. It's Gotham, it's a big city. There's cars on every corner, can't throw a stick without hitting one somewhere. And then setting off the alarm.

But-! It's a car, and it's past midnight-- or he thinks it might be past midnight, it's late enough to be. He doesn't have a watch and he left his phone at Vlad's; asshole put a tracker on it after the last time Danny ran off.

It's been over a month since, it's a new record -- last time it took just over two weeks for Vlad to find him and drag him back to the mansion. This time, Danny ran further. Left the state and everything. See how long it takes Vlad to find him now, hah.

People go missing all the time in Gotham.

Anyways-- there's a car, and it's midnight, and it's parked in an alleyway. Danny would've called it invisible with the way he pretty much trips over it, phasing through the wall of the building beside it and not watching where he's going, but it's not. So he doesn't.

Danny runs into the hood and nearly faceplants right into the darn thing with an 'oomph', hands catching himself on the metal as a flash of irritation flashes hot through his gut. It doesn't hurt or anything, but getting the wind knocked out of you sucks always, and he's tired and hungry, and as a result not in the best state of mind.

He's just about to sink his foot into the side of the wheel -- it wouldn't do anything, he's not that big of an asshole, but it's the principle -- when he stops.

Danny pauses.

He takes a step back, holding his hands out 'n' everything, and examines the car. He squints, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, considering the closest streetlight is twenty feet that way and positioned in a way that none of the light is hitting it.

Danny would not call himself a car guy. He doesn't think he counts, considering his size and lack of everything. But, but, he knows his way around a few cars, and he had an old obsession with older models when he was little that kinda petered out of existence after his accident. Had a bunch of little car models sitting on one of his shelves back in Amity, and Dad offered to get his hands on an old car for the two of them to fix up together so it'd be ready for Danny when he got his license.

...Anyways.

Point is: Danny can appreciate an old car, and this car has an older -- albeit obviously modified, if the matte paneling and plated wheels meant anything -- look to it. That kind of flat top went out of style years ago, and it's got this kinda rectangular look Danny doesn't see often these days on modern cars.

Other than the electrical cars, but he doesn't think those count. That's boxy, not rectangular.

Danny frowns, tilts his hands down, and leans back further as if that will let him get a better look at this thing. "...What model is this?" He mutters, it's hard to tell in this lighting.

Wait, he should see if there's anyone in the car. It's not running or anything, and nobody's come out to yell at him -- or shoot him -- but, still. People are crazy in Gotham, crazier than they've ever been in Amity. The last thing he needs to do is piss off some guy from the mob.

Danny peers into the window and-- there's no window, okay. Well, no window, and no driver. Some idiot left their car unprotected and without windows, in Gotham?

He pulls on the door handle just to be annoying -- it doesn't budge. Okay, maybe not that stupid. Especially since Danny didn't even see it until he was quite literally running into it.

So. Not that stupid.

Danny looks around warily, pulling his hoodie around him tighter, and then starts circling the car slowly. Like a vulture. No license plate; shocker. Hear how shocked he is? Clutching his pearls right now.

"Reinforced bumper. Cool." he says, er- whispers, really, quiet enough that it doesn't even echo. Danny squats in front of the car and runs his hands over the -- what, should he even call this a bumper? It's bigger than his head, and it's covering the grille. He picks at these... things on the side that remind him of leather straps. Probably to keep this bumper up? Like a ratchet strap?

Danny leans back until his butt hits the ground and he can sit back properly, propping himself up on his hands -- maybe not a good idea. There's probably broken glass somewhere here and he doesn't wanna pick shards out of his palms, again. It's like popping the world's most annoying zit depending on if it gets under the skin.

(He could always just phase them out, but the picking gives him something to do. It doesn't hurt that much.)

Eh. It'll be fine.

With one knee propped up, Danny looks the front up and down, and furrows his brows. The style kinda reminds him of a dodger, especially with the placement and style of the headlights. He plants his hands on the concrete -- hissing when he feels something cut into his palms, ow, there's that glass he was talking about -- and leans down to look under the car.

Hm, nothing jutting out that much. Looks pretty normal. Good space between the bottom and the ground.

He gets up and circles the side again, brushing whatever pebbles or glass that could've stuck into his skin off. He's really curious about where the owner got matte plating for it, or if it's just a wrap. The silhouette's definitely sixties or seventies; too angular for the eighties and fifties.

...There's no one here, Danny looks around again just to make sure, cranes his ears to catch anything. Nope, just the typical quiet rumbling of Gotham's underbelly. It kinda reminds him of Amity, or-- no. No, it reminds him of the quiet groan of the Zone.

That's far more comforting, he thinks. Danny's never really liked Amity all that much.

Back to the car: there's no one around, so Danny folds his arms against the side of the door and sticks his head inside the window. No keys in the ignition, should've figured.

Not like Danny was planning on stealing the car anyways -- anyone capable of modifying a car into this kinda beast -- or paying someone to modify -- was not someone he wanted to piss off. Danny's an orphan, not stupid.

Ignore the fact that he's got his head stuck through the window. The interior isn't anything interesting, but the seats are made of leather, which is nice. Must be a pain in the summer or winter, but leather is cool, and gets stains out better than cloth.

No stick shift though, he's a little disappointed.

Danny presses his mouth into a line and then slants it, humming in the back of his throat. Honestly, he's kinda tempted to crawl in and go to sleep. The leather seats look really inviting, and he's been sleeping on the ground or on park benches for weeks, and the car is really well hidden. No need to worry about being kidnapped.

But, it still belongs to someone. And they're probably using it for something shady. They'll come back for it eventually, so he should get this gawking over with anyways.

And, and-- and. He wants to get a look at that fucking engine. 'Cause holy shit!

Danny pulls his head out of the window and half-dances over to the back, his hand curling around one of the bars as a grin spreads across his face. Now, Danny hates Christmas, but this, this is like it came early and good for once.

"You could smuggle moonshine with this thing," Danny says to himself, grinning ear to ear and running his hands over the edge of the metal. The car is too conspicuous for backroads driving, but the engine, wow. What a thing of beauty.

One of Auntie's friends would probably know what engine it is -- or what type of engine it's based off of, it could very well be a bunch of different engines frankenstein'd together. Danny doesn't recognize it.

Which means it could be illegal. Again, what a shocker. In Gotham? He's clutching his pearls.

Fully satisfied with himself, Danny dances around to the front again and holds his hands out. He makes an 'L' with both hands and shuts one eye, getting the car within the frame of his fingers like he's about to take a picture.

"I rate you," Danny makes a camera shutter sound and mimics taking a photo, "one cool fuckin' car."

"Thank you."

Danny doesn't scream. He does not. He's taught himself better since ghosts started popping up in Amity, and honestly he deserves some credit for that considering they only started popping up over half a year ago.

He does, however, gasp. And he gasps hard, the type that has a high chance of giving you the hiccups afterwards; the painful, chest-thumping kind. Danny slams both hands over his mouth and stumbles backwards, eyes wide and his heart kicking into the fifth gear in his ears.

Bleeding out from the shadows is a man entirely drenched in black, Danny can hardly make out his silhouette and barely catches the white glints of his eyes. Fear like a prey animal burns in his lungs, wild and rabid, Danny has half a mind to bolt.

His ghost sense didn't go off, which might just be the most terrifying thing.

The man doesn't move any more than a step, just enough that Danny can barely see him, but he can feel him watching him. Shit. Shit. He should've never stuck around.

His hands are still over his mouth, Danny, shaking, flutters them open, "How-- h-- how--" he wheezes, "how long have you been standing there?"

[sweetstrawberryys]

“She’s in Labor?!?”

Summary: Your water breaks, and the strongest, deadliest men on Earth suddenly forget how to function.

Rating: Hilarious chaos with heartwarming panic and big brother energy (plus one very protective husband)

---

Soap (Johnny McTavish)

He’s the first one to scream.

You were just standing in the kitchen, eating frozen grapes, when your face suddenly scrunched. Then came the sentence that would send him into orbit:

“Um… I think my water just broke.”

Johnny blinked. “Broke what?”

You stared at him. “My. Water.”

“…OH BLOODY HELL.”

He spun in three full circles before grabbing his phone, keys, your hospital bag, and accidentally—his tactical vest.

“Johnny!” you shouted. “You don’t need your combat knife!”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW!”

Ends up driving you to the hospital with one hand on the wheel and the other clenched around yours like you’re defusing a bomb. Tears in his eyes. Keeps whispering, “You’ve got this, love. You’re so damn strong. I’m right here.”

He does not leave your side. Not for water. Not to pee. Not for God himself.

---

Price (Captain John Price)

If he’s the dad, he’s prepared. Had your hospital bag packed two months ago. Knew the signs. Has a backup plan. A spreadsheet.

But the moment you say, “It’s time,” that man goes dead silent.

You: “John, did you hear me?”

Price: Nods slowly, blinks once.

You: “…Are you okay?”

Price: Already lifting you like a damn princess. “Yeah. Yeah, just—f**king hell, it’s happening.”

He becomes hyperfocused. He’s the one timing contractions, double-checking your breathing, adjusting your seatbelt, coaching you the whole way with that deep, calming voice:

“You’re doin’ perfect, love. Deep breaths. Almost there. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

And when it’s finally time? He kisses your forehead and whispers, “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

---

Gaz (Kyle Garrick)

Gaz is a mess. Like, heart pounding, phone upside down, nearly calls 911 when you say, “My water just broke.”

“Wait—wait, like, now? Now now???”

“Yes, Kyle.”

“Okay—okay! Don’t panic. Don’t panic. One of us has to stay calm, and you’re kinda busy!”

He accidentally forgets the hospital bag, then comes sprinting back five minutes later with four bags, unsure which one’s the real one.

At the hospital, he’s pacing like he’s awaiting a mission briefing. Texting 141 updates every 30 seconds. Even crying a little.

But the moment the baby’s out and he hears that first cry?

He breaks. In the softest, happiest way. “That’s our baby, love. You did that. I can’t believe it. You’re f***ing incredible.”

---

Ghost (Simon Riley)

Says absolutely nothing for the first thirty seconds. You tell him you’re in labor, and he just stares.

Then, suddenly, moves with terrifying speed.

Throws on his hoodie. Grabs your bag. Guides you to the car like he’s in a tactical op. Voice low, calm, deadly precise.

“You alright? Breathing okay? You’re safe. We’re good. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t think he could be gentle, but he holds your hand like it’s fragile. Sits behind the curtain with his head against yours, murmuring quiet things between contractions:

“You’re not alone. I’m here, yeah? Not goin’ anywhere.”

And when the baby’s born? He chokes on a breath and whispers, “Bloody hell... they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Then he holds them with big, calloused hands and rocks like he was born to do it. Doesn’t say much, but you catch the tear slipping down his cheek.

Bonus: The Rest of the Team

They show up at the hospital like a squad of worried uncles.

• Soap brings a giant stuffed bear and immediately cries.

• Gaz holds the baby like it’s made of glass and won’t stop taking photos.

• Price stands in the corner with arms crossed, eyes watery, whispering, “Takes after their mum.”

• Ghost stays quiet... then sneaks in a baby hat he knitted himself and pretends he didn’t.

[carlsangel]

CARE TO KNOCK?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get caught. twice.)

tags: SMUT!! oral sex, f!receiving, getting caught! fun!

masterlist here!

You tried your hardest to be discreet about how…active you and Carl were. It wasn’t the easiest considering Carl was the leaders’ son and it seemed like eyes were always on him, whether it was his dad’s or Michonne’s. Sometimes people in the community.

You’d try to sneak off and do what you could but with your guys’ luck, you almost always got interrupted. One time something possessed the both of you to try it in the church house when there was a community event. That went as well as you’d imagine.

“Holy mother of-” Gabriel had walked in on the both of you on one of the pews. God was it embarrassing. (see what i did there) The scene he’d walked in on consisted of you without a shirt and Carl’s hand practically groping your tits over your bra. Also you were attached at the mouth so you could see why he’d be terrified.

Obviously you scrambled to put your clothes on while Carl tried to explain for the both of you, begging to not tell Rick or Michonne. “Look man, we’re really sorry we just- please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you he can’t know about this.” He explains worriedly. Gabriel stood there still shocked. You had to make it up to him somehow, considering you were doing an unholy act in a holy place but, there wasn’t really any real repercussions because Carl had gotten him to keep it a secret. Something about making it up to him for something Gabriel had done when they first arrived at Alexandria.

Anyway, a large reason you didn’t want Rick to know, was because you two shared a room. You were happy to almost always get away with things at night (you tried not to be too loud) and not have anyone know. It was nice. Until one particular day.

Rick and Michonne go out on Wednesday mornings to scavenge, so you two took advantage of the time you had..and got to it. It wasn’t really anything crazy, your morning sex was usually romantic and sweet. It’s not like you were going at it like animals.

One week, they’d left a bit earlier so in your mind, you were able to get some extra time.

“Oh fuck-” You spoke breathlessly, he was under the blanket eating you out. Something about the way he was ruthlessly lapping at your clit made you realize that today’s morning sex wouldn’t be so romantic. He began to move upwards and start kissing up your body hungrily. He started to place harsh kisses all around your neck, leaving small bruises around as well. “You’re so perfect.” He mumbled against your neck.

The next thing you know, he’s sitting up with your legs between his knees. He flips you over on your stomach and lifts your hips up so you’re arched for him how he wants. You giggle at his sudden movements and you’re surprised by him literally shoving himself inside of you.

“Oh-” You moan loudly, surprising yourself and immediately slapping your hand over your mouth. He began thrusting himself in and out of you with no plan on stopping. That was until the door beside your guys’ bed suddenly opened. It opened just enough so Rick could see you and your back, Carl’s arms and his face.

Your eyes go wide and once he realizes what was happening, Rick quickly shuts the door, catching Carl’s attention which causes him to stop. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his hands still resting at your hips. “Your fucking dad.” You pull away from him and Carl sits there sort of astonished. “W-wait he saw?” He covers himself with the blanket and you move to find your underwear and shorts.

“Not everything, just me I hope. He didn’t open the door open too much.” You pull up your underwear and scramble around for your shorts which Carl pulled from under the blanket he was using to cover himself. “What’s scary is that you didn’t stop.”

You throw him his own clothes which were on the floor and he feels somewhat upset he didn’t realize the door had opened. He was too busy fucking you. “Well it’s kinda hard to focus on stopping when I’m in the middle of something.” He says defensively, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. You plop on the bed, dropping your head to your hands while he found a shirt to wear. After seeing how worried you were, he walked over and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t stress out okay? It’ll be fine, worst comes to worst he’ll take the room away but we’ll work our way around it.” He reassured. Maybe he’s right. This didn’t have to be such a big deal. If Carl didn’t make it one, you wouldn’t either.

“Care to knock? What the hell?” You both were now in the kitchen, Carl was scolding Rick who was standing with Michonne and Maggie at the island. You were standing behind him quietly. “Well I thought we were way past knockin. Plus we got home early.” Rick sort of laughs, seeming unfazed. Your eyebrows furrow at this and he notices. “What, you thought we didn’t know about what goes on in there at night?”

You look to Michonne and Maggie who were both sort of smiling at you. “What?” You asked peeved. “I mean…you’re not exactly the quietest.” Michonne reasons. Your face is flushed and you’re super embarrassed, it doesn’t help that when you turn you realize both Glenn and Daryl had been in the room as well, you just hadn’t noticed. Glenn sort of giggles at you, Daryl just…is Daryl. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself, hiding your face in your hands and Carl just stands there annoyed as hell.

“They’re not wrong though you are quite loud.” He says quietly, slightly teasing you over a conversation you’d had many times before, he always made fun of you for being so vocal, even though he loved it. You look up from your hands just to give him a pissed off glare. You give him a shove to the shoulder and make your way back upstairs.

“Fuck off.”

a/n: sorry guys for this HAHAHA idk how smutty anon wanted this request but they got smut..sorry pookie :| ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed, currently deciding on closing my requests cause im gettin a shit ton but we’ll figure that out later!!! love you bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[i-love-ptv]

Please Don’t Think I’m Insecure ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

You navigate your relationship with Rafe, but you can never escape that green-eyed monster.

Wc: 2,100

Angst, bit of comfort at the end?

An: First, sorry to the brunette girls, but im kinda projecting rn. BUT YAYYYY I WROTE ABOUT RAFE FOR THE FIRST TIME! I randomly got a burst of writing energy while listening to ethel cain (this has nothing to do w any of her songs, at least not purposefully if it somehow relates idk)

Feedback ALWAYS appreciated my loves!! xxx

You couldn’t help but feel envious of the brunette girls of the Outer Banks.

You found that they carry a different type of beauty, one that you couldn’t compare to.

Every time you glance and see your darling boyfriend, Rafe, being hounded by these girls, you swear you feel a piece of your soul being ripped from your body.

You and Rafe’s relationship wasn’t always smooth sailing. In fact, the two of you had broken up before, when he chose his drugs over you.

Every party, you’d see him snort lines, roll his blunts, and nearly drown himself in all sorts of liquor.

It killed you to leave him, but you remembered exactly why you decided to put the ultimatum on the table when he called you a “controlling, insecure bitch.”

You had never packed your bags faster.

You would stalk Topper and Kelce on instagram for months, just so you could search every background of every photo for the boy you were in love with.

You occasionally saw Rafe around the island, sometimes you’d stare a second too long, and he’d catch your wandering eyes. You never held eye contact, so you never saw how he’d frown at you. He wished he could read your mind, just to see if you think about him, like how he thinks about you.

You briefly remembered looking at your bedside table clock, after being abruptly awoken by thunks, on your window.

It was 2:33 in the morning.

At first, you ignored it, thinking it was just the rain picking up. But the thunk, thunk, thunk only continued, getting harder each time.

You slowly approached your window, knowing that if needed, you could easily run to your dad, and have him pull out his gun to deal with whatever was plaguing your slumber.

You quickly yanked your curtains open and slid the creaky window open. You really needed to have your parents deal with that.

You immediately looked down and saw none other than Rafe Cameron himself.

He was soaked to the bone, crouching in the grass, you assumed he was looking for more things to throw.

“Rafe..?” You whisper-shouted down at him.

He looked up at you like a deer in headlights, this allowed you to notice his blistering red face, and his semi-glossy eyes.

This was the first time that you saw his freshly buzzed hair in person, rather than from a distance.

You would’ve been lying if you said he didn’t look devilishly handsome.

“Jeez peach….You really are a heavy sleeper.” Rafe said with a watery chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

He hoped you didn’t notice the sadness in his voice, and if you did he at least hoped you wouldn’t mention it.

“God, Rafe, why didn’t you just come to the front door like a normal person.” You sighed, and with that, you closed the window and curtains.

Rafe’s eyes widened, his breath picked up, and he felt his stomach drop.

He rubbed at his eyes angrily, wiping away his salty tears.

He was too busy in his head, going over how ‘stupid and idiotic’ he felt for thinking you’d even consider taking him back after what he put you through a year prior, to notice you walking up to him.

“Rafe…Hun, please come inside…You’re going to get sick at this rate.” You muttered, rubbing your hand on his shoulder to provide an ounce of comfort.

You heard him gasp softly, but he refused to look into your eyes, that makes you frown.

You were outside in the pouring rain, in a robe and slippers, coaxing him into your house, and he couldn't even look you in the eyes?

You knew it wasn't right to feel this way, you thought it was that grudge that you held for what he did to you deep down.

Your mind was reeling, thoughts flying around like a flock of birds in the wind.

You didn’t know how to feel, seeing your ex-boyfriend, who hurt you so badly, outside of your house with tears in his eyes.

His tears.

His tears make you think of all the times he’d come over to your house, after seeking solace away from his father, who’d decided to pick another argument with the boy.

He would lay his head in your lap as you played with his long, silky brown strands of hair.

You would wipe his tears every single time he needed you.

It was always you who was there for him.

It was always you who’d understood him the most out of anyone on the damn island, hell, out of anyone on the entire planet.

You couldn’t help but think about all the times he’d lash out on you, while you’re going to retrieve a towel for him, and a fresh pair of his old clothes from your drawer. You had never given them back, you wanted a piece of your old, sweet Rafe, since it felt like that part of him had vanished.

You came back and saw him standing idly near the front door, lingering, you could tell he was too nervous to sit without permission, not wanting to overstep.

You hand him the clothes, he immediately recognizes his old ‘Kildare Athletics’ shirt, but of course, he decides not to mention it.

He had begun to strip in front of you, you quickly turned around, muttering a “Jesus Christ…” to yourself.

You heard rustling, then eventually heard a soft, “Done” escape from Rafe’s cracked lips.

You sat him on the couch, while you put his wet clothes in the bathroom; that was a task to deal with another day.

You couldn’t bring yourself to sit next to him, not trusting your sleepy judgment to keep you from babying him like you want to, like you used to.

You broke the silence by whispering, “Why are you here, Rafe? It’s so late…”

“God, it’s so weird to hear you call me by my name, normally it was always “baby,” or “puddin’.”

“Please Rafe, I’m not in the mood.” You exclaimed softly, your resolve slowly breaking down.

Rafe toyed with the gold signet ring on his finger, deciding what to say.

“I miss you peach…nothing’s the same without you. And I know..Before you say anything, I know I fucked up. I think about that everyday. I have since that day…” He paused, trying to find his words.

You looked at him, your eyes beckoning him to continue.

He noticed a glint in your eye, almost looking like hope, and it made him break down.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far..Uhm, give me a second please..” He was embarrassed, you could tell.

“I don’t get it Rafe, I thought you loved me…How could you do that to us..?” You choked on your words, feeling the tears start to build.

Rafe shot up at this, “I do!” He exclaimed, immediately regretting it when he remembered that your parents were just upstairs.

Your cat, Daphne, crawled into his lap, being startled awake by his yell.

He scratched behind her ears and continued, “Of course I do. I always did. I know I didn’t make it obvious, and I barely showed it, but I promise I did. Seeing you walk out that door made me realize just how much I love you.”

“I still don’t understand…” You murmur as you pick at the sleeve of your fluffy, cloud-like robe.

“I….I got scared, baby. Things between us were getting so..Real, I guess. I found myself thinking about you every second of the day, wondering where you were, thinking about who you were with, if that idiot JJ was still flirting with you like he used to..” Rafe gulps.

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone, so when it kept growing, I panicked, and ran. I turned to coke, and booze to try and gather myself. I felt pathetic, knowing that my day revolved on how yours went.”

Rafe’s shoulders shook, and you grabbed his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his, gripping him tightly.

That night, you told Rafe how you felt, then, and when the two of you were together. The conversation was hard on both of you, but by the time the sun was about to rise, you decided to give him another chance. Telling him how you wanted to take it slow at first, to make sure that you wouldn’t get hurt again.

Rafe flinched at this, feeling disgusted, knowing that he had made you build your walls up again.

Which brings you to today, you had gone off to find a water bottle somewhere in the crowded house.

When you finally were able to locate a few, and you walked back outside.

That’s when you saw it.

Rafe was talking to her.

Sofia.

It was no surprise to everyone that the two had dated months prior to you and Rafe getting back together.

They were the talk of the island, of course you had heard.

But they weren’t together anymore, Rafe came back to you.

So why do you still feel those anxious butterflies in your stomach? They feel like moths, flying around recklessly inside you.

You feel like you’re on the brink of vomiting.

A part of you wondered if he still wanted her,

If he got back together with you, then there was a possibility of him wanting to get back together with another one of his exes.

You want to confront the problem head-on, really! But the thought of doing so makes your legs feel like jelly in your flip-flops.

You turn around, quickly walking back inside the crowded house, searching every corner for a place to find a moment of quiet.

After hearing three different couples doing things they probably shouldn’t in a bedroom that wasn’t theirs, you found a small hall closet.

It felt weird, sitting in a somewhat cramped closet, begging for everyone and everything to just go away.

You’re sitting in the dark when you see a flash that lights up the closet: it’s your phone.

You look at it, the blaring sight of a text from ‘My Baby! 💞’.

You ponder for a moment, then decide to ignore it.

You hate feeling like this, feeling like you can be so easily replaced by someone you know is prettier than you.

Sofia was perfect; she was loved by all of the older folk at the country club. She carried herself with nothing but confidence. You wish you could feel the same.

Suddenly, your shorts start to feel like they’re two sizes too small, and your shirt shrinks by the second.

You wanted to be perfect.

Why couldn’t you be perfect?

Did you want it for yourself? Or do you want it for Rafe.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear shouts throughout the hallway.

You glance at your phone and notice that over half an hour has gone by.

“Peach?! Peach, baby, where are you?!” You hear, and you feel yourself cower deeper into the closet.

The last thing you want is for Rafe to find you in here, crying like a little girl, wishing to be perfect for just a moment.

You hear the string of curses getting closer and closer to you.

You try to conceal your hiccups, by holding your hand over your mouth.

This makes it worse, you can’t catch your breath, but you don’t remove your hand.

Your head is pounding. Your chest hurts.

You quickly start sobbing, just wanting to disappear.

Without warning, the closet door is yanked open.

There you see your boyfriend Rafe, looking slightly out of breath, almost as if he was urgently trying to find you.

Light fills the room, and his arms quickly wrap around your frame.

You grip onto him harshly, trying to focus on the smell of his rich cologne against his skin.

Rafe pulls away slightly, looking at you with worried eyes that scan your frame.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, peach! Where have you been?! What’s going on?!” Rafe babbled.

You try to answer him, but only a pathetic squeak leaves your throat. You sob harder at this.

Rafe knows that it’ll be impossible to try and get anything out of you while you’re in this state.

So he continues to hold you, rubbing circles up and down your back. Soft hushes leave his lips as he tries to help you regain your breath.

Rafe knows he wasn’t a good boyfriend in the past, and it was always you who’d be there for him.

Now it was his turn to be here, for you.

sorry if the ending is rushed cuties, I couldn’t think of anything else and i wanted to get smth out for y’all😭

[whirlybirbs]

It’s been so long since our hyperfixations overlapped >:)))

Ok after the last lil bit you did I’m just kinda imagining him watching Moth interact with Johnny and being jealous of both of them (cause Johnny is HIS friend back off Moth but also bc Johnny made Moth smile so brightly, how?? Please tell him how???) pretty please with cherries on top ♥️🍒

2. handler's manual — ghost / reader

desc: moth & johnny spar. ghost is in a bad mood. moth's theories grow. pairing: lt. simon "ghost" riley / f!reader ; callsign: moth a/n: honestly moth & johnny sharing their spotify wrapped is like air to me — you just know soap's was, like, Nu Divorced Dad Strut Rock or something. also, ghost works out in complete total silence like the apex predator he is, you cannot change my mind on this. ⇽ prev / next ⇾

"Woah, easy up, Pilates Princess—"

You punch the pad a little harder for that — but the smirk on your face tells Johnny know you're not really mad. If you were, you woulda gone for his nuts.

"I told you that in confidence," you pant, landing a well timed pattern of strikes in a loop of three, "And you're using it against me?"

"It's yer Spotify Wrapped," Johnny chirps back, lowering himself in a sturdier stance as you strike — left, left, right, left. Left, left, right, left, "An' tha' makes it yer problem, lass."

"Don't you lass me—"

You nail an easy transition into a different flow — right, left, right, left, left, right.

"Pure dead brilliant, Moth!" Johnny grins as your gloves connect with the pads in rhythm. He's quick to drop them, smack your arm, and throw an arm around your shoulder, "Pilates Princess is gettin' good, ae?"

You snort, shoving the sweaty Scotsman off of you with a smile; Johnny's a good man. A bit of a bastard, but patient enough to agree to spar with you on an off-day. "Shut up—"

Across the gym, the heavy pummel of a punching bag ratchets up and the blaring ring of the chain is loud enough to make you flinch. You wet your lips, turn your head towards the sound, and Johnny immediately whistles at the sight of a certain Lieutenant raining holy fire on the bag in the corner.

Heavy hoodie, heavy sweats, beat-to-shit trainers. He's dripping sweat, that much is clear from the darkened stains along the back of the SAS 22ND REG P.T. gear. It's Lieutenant Riley. And he's not stopping.

Because, aye, come th' fuck on. You're makin' 'im feel fuckin' mental. Since when are you an' Johnny friendly enough t' chinwag to th' moon and back, huh? John MacTavish is his only fuckin' friend. An' 'ere you come, all sunshine an' daisies —

Th' fuck is even a Spotify Wrapped anyway...?

You pop your hands on your waist as you try to catch your breath.

Must be a bad day for the Lieutenant. What's on the menu for lunch? You wonder what sort of phase the moon is in and if Phillip Graves is even on base. Additional factors could include: lack of caffeine (his usual shaker bottle is absent?), mismatched socks (indicative of missed laundry day?), balaclava preference (this one he rarely wears — uncomfortable?).

You slide Johnny a look.

Johnny slides it right back.

Then:

"Don't look a' me like tha', m' not fuckin' talkin' t' 'im."

[amethystarachnid]

Tony stark on his full dad/husband mode protecting his family??? This is too much for me, my ovaries are gone... part 2, I'm begging

PAPARAZZI - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance and angst

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Tony decide it's time to try for another kid, but your two kids get in the way, and as if they are not enough, no matter how much you two try, having the third kid isn't as easy as you thought

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes, nothing too explicit, reader and Tony have troubles conceiving the third kid, so fertility issues

ᯓ★ not related to paparazzi stuff but wanted to write something soft, but I'm not me if I dont add some angst so here we are

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Three Years later

The house is silent. Too silent.

For the first time in years, there are no tiny feet pattering across the floor, no shrieks of laughter (or mischief), no whining or demands for snacks. Just silence. And it’s driving you insane.

Howard started kindergarten a week ago, and while his words aren’t always clear, he’s enthusiastic about telling you everything that happens—whether you understand him or not. Luna, now in her first year of elementary school, has already made a bunch of friends and adjusted well to her routine. She loves school, loves learning, and comes home every day excited to tell you about her day.

It’s great. It’s exactly what you wanted for them. And yet…

You’re pacing the kitchen, sipping on coffee that’s actually hot for once, but it doesn’t feel as satisfying as you expected.

The silence is making you restless.

You used to long for moments of peace, just one second to breathe, but now that you have it, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You miss the chaos, the background noise of little voices filling every corner of your life.

And then it hits you.

You want another baby.

The realization makes your breath catch. You set your coffee down and blink at the empty house as if it just spoke to you.

Another baby.

Not just a vague, one day thought. Not an if we feel like it later idea. A now thought. A right now, I need this thought.

Tony strolls into the kitchen, yawning, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He stretches, groaning as he scratches his stomach, clearly enjoying the rare quiet morning.

“Y’know,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee, “I used to dream of a peaceful morning where no one was screaming or throwing things at my head. Now? I hate it.”

You smile, watching him take a slow sip, his face scrunching up slightly like he’s trying to savor the moment but failing miserably.

“Too quiet?” you ask.

He huffs. “Way too quiet. Kinda eerie. Like, where’s the background soundtrack of my life? Where’s Howard yelling I do it! while struggling to put his shoes on the wrong feet? Where’s Luna demanding my presence for a very important tea party with her stuffed animals?”

You smirk. “Missing the chaos already?”

Tony sighs dramatically, setting his mug down. “I hate to admit it, but yeah.”

You chew your bottom lip, heart pounding slightly as you look at him. You don’t know why you’re suddenly nervous. It’s Tony. He’s been the most loving and devoted father, always ready to go to war for his kids. You know he wants this life just as much as you do.

Still, you take a breath before saying, “So… what if we made it a little less quiet?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What, you wanna get a dog?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not a dog.”

He squints, confused, before realization dawns. His expression shifts from sleepy confusion to wide-eyed surprise, then something softer, something thrilled.

“Wait… you mean—”

You nod, swallowing a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

His face breaks into a slow, almost mischievous grin. “Are you serious? You want another one?”

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling warm all over. “I miss it. The baby phase, the cuddles, the tiny fingers, and the giggles. I miss—”

Tony doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against him. His lips crash onto yours, and you giggle into the kiss as he lifts you slightly off the ground, his excitement radiating through his touch.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw. “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

You laugh against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell yes,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes gleaming. “I’ve been dying to bring it up, but I didn’t want to pressure you. Figured I’d let you enjoy the peace before suggesting we destroy it all over again.”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Guess we’re on the same page.”

Tony smirks. “Oh, absolutely.”

Then he lifts you up completely, setting you on the kitchen counter and stepping between your legs. His hands trail down your sides, his voice dropping into that teasing, irresistible tone. “So… when do we start working on this ‘less quiet’ house of ours?”

You bite your lip, pretending to think. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe we should—”

Tony groans dramatically, tossing his head back. “No ‘maybe,’ woman! Now.”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head as he leans in, kissing you again, his hands warm against your waist.

And just like that, the Stark household is about to get a whole lot louder again.

The first attempt is a disaster.

Tony, of course, is convinced that nighttime is the perfect time to make another Stark baby. "It's classic, it's romantic, it's tradition," he argues as he trails kisses down your neck, his hands already sliding beneath your shirt.

You hum, pretending to consider. "Mm, yes, except for one small issue."

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"Howard wakes up every two hours. And Luna has developed a special skill of sneaking into our room like a tiny, jealous ninja."

Tony pulls back, frowning like you've just personally offended him. "So, what, we schedule baby-making now? That’s, like, the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard."

You pat his chest. "Welcome to parenthood."

And sure enough, just as Tony’s lips return to your skin, a loud thud echoes from the hallway.

Both of you freeze.

Then, in a tiny, sleepy voice: “Mommy?”

Tony groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “I swear she’s got a sixth sense. We didn’t even start yet.”

You sigh, pulling your shirt back down before heading toward the door. Sure enough, Luna stands there, rubbing her eyes, her messy curls covering half her face. "Bad dweam," she mumbles, reaching up for you.

Tony collapses onto the bed dramatically. "Of course."

You scoop Luna into your arms, kissing her forehead. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you back to bed."

Behind you, Tony mutters, "Cockblocked by a three-year-old."

The second attempt is somehow worse.

It's midday, the house is empty, and for once, Tony actually agrees that daytime might be the safer bet. He practically throws you onto the bed, grinning. "Finally. No tiny humans, no distractions, just us—"

The sound of the front door slamming open interrupts him.

Both of you jolt up in panic.

Then, from downstairs: "HELLO? I’M HOME EARLY!"

Tony's head drops onto your stomach with a loud groan. "Are you kidding me?!"

Luna. Home. Early.

You scramble to grab clothes, shoving Tony off as he sits up, looking personally offended by the universe. “How the hell is she back already? School just started.”

You barely manage to pull a sweatshirt over your head before Luna barges in, holding up a piece of paper. “Mommy! Daddy! Look! My dwawing!”

Tony flops backward onto the bed, defeated. You try to smile as you take Luna’s paper—some vague scribbles that may or may not be your family. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

Luna beams. "I gots a gold staw!"

Tony lifts his head slightly. "Kid, that's amazing. Now, uh, what are you doing home?"

Luna shrugs. "Miss Thompson sick. No school."

Tony groans, throwing a pillow over his face. "Of course."

The third attempt? Let’s just say, never underestimate Howard.

After a few more failed nighttime attempts, you and Tony decide that lunchtime might be the safest bet. You put Howard down for his nap, double-check that Luna is actually at school this time, and rush to the bedroom.

Tony grins. "You realize we’re literally scheduling this?"

You push him onto the bed, smirking. "Do you want another baby or not?"

He holds up his hands in surrender. "I love this plan. Proceed."

And for a moment, everything is perfect.

Until Howard wakes up.

And by wakes up, you mean screams bloody murder through the baby monitor.

Tony groans so loudly you’re afraid the neighbors will hear. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

You scramble off the bed, throwing on Tony’s shirt while he yells, “He was asleep five minutes! Five! What kind of scam is this?!”

By the time you get to the nursery, Howard is standing in his crib, arms up, sniffling dramatically like he’s been personally betrayed.

You sigh, picking him up. "What's wrong, baby?"

Howard sniffles again. "Hun’gy."

Tony appears in the doorway, hair still messy, eyes dead inside. "Howard. My guy. My favorite tiny human." He sighs. "You just ate."

Howard wipes his nose on your shoulder and claps his chubby hands. "Pasta."

Tony stares at him. Then at you. Then back at him.

"Unbelievable," Tony mutters, turning around. "I give up."

By the time Howard is fed and back down for his nap, Tony flops onto the couch, arms over his face. “This is impossible. We should just give up.”

You lean over him, smirking. "So you don’t want another baby anymore?"

He glares at you. "That is not what I said."

You press a kiss to his jaw. "Then stop whining and try harder, Stark."

Tony’s eyes glint with a challenge. "Oh, sweetheart, you know I don’t back down from a challenge."

It takes a full week before the planets finally align.

Luna is at school. Howard is deeply asleep. And, miraculously, no one decides to come home early.

Tony smirks as he pushes you against the bedroom door. "Quick. Before the universe screws us over again."

You laugh, tugging him toward the bed. "You’re ridiculous."

But just as you pull him onto you—

BANG.

"GUESS WHO FINISHED SCHOOL EARLY AGAIN?!"

Tony screams into the pillow.

---

A sleepover at Uncle Steve’s.

It’s the perfect plan.

Luna and Howard adore Steve. He’s one of the only people they listen to, and unlike Tony, Steve somehow has the patience of a saint when it comes to dealing with two energetic Stark children. So when you and Tony realize that the only way to get some uninterrupted time together is to physically remove the kids from the house, Steve is the obvious choice.

At first, Tony hesitates. "Barnes lives there, too. I don’t trust that guy."

You roll your eyes. "Bucky is great with them, and you know it. Besides, you just don’t like that Howard calls him ‘Unca Bucky’ like he’s some kind of rockstar."

Tony scoffs. "I am the rockstar of this family, thank you very much."

Still, the second you ask, Steve is more than happy to help. “Of course,” he says, sounding amused. “Not getting enough alone time, Stark?”

Tony glares. "Mind your business, Rogers."

Luna and Howard are thrilled when they find out they’re having a sleepover. Luna packs four different bags, including one filled with toys that she insists are "essentials." Howard claps his hands and yells, “PIZZA PARTY!” as if he’s already planned the entire evening.

Tony kneels in front of them as Steve waits by the door. "Okay, listen up, rugrats. I don’t want any funny business while you’re gone. No giving Uncle Steve a hard time, no stealing Bucky’s metal arm—Luna, I’m looking at you—and for the love of God, do not trick Howard into eating peanut butter again."

Luna giggles. "Unca Bucky say it make Howard stwonger."

Tony groans, rubbing his temples. "I hate that guy."

Howard clings to Steve’s leg. "Unca Steve big. Like teddy bear."

Steve smiles, picking him up easily. "And you’re as heavy as one, buddy."

Once the kids are finally out the door, Tony turns to you with a mischievous grin. "Wife. Bedroom. Now."

You laugh as he lifts you over his shoulder and all but sprints toward the bedroom.

For the first time in years, you and Tony actually get some uninterrupted time together. No tiny footsteps running down the hallway, no baby monitor crackling to life, no sudden knocks on the door. Just the two of you, finally lost in each other.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Tony kisses your shoulder. "I still got it."

You snort. "Did you ever lose it?"

"Never, sweetheart." He grins against your skin. "We should’ve done this months ago."

You smirk. "I told you we needed a sleepover."

Eventually, you both make your way to the shower, because Tony Stark does not sleep in post-sex sweat. His words, not yours.

Wrapped in warm steam, you press against him, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in forever. "This was a great idea."

Tony hums in agreement, running soapy hands down your back. "We should do this every week."

Your bliss lasts exactly three minutes before Tony’s phone rings.

You both freeze.

Then, again.

Tony groans, leaning his head against the tile. "No. Nope. Not answering."

You sigh, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. "It might be important."

Tony grumbles something about not caring unless the world is ending, but when he sees the caller ID, he winces. "It’s Rogers."

Your stomach sinks. "Oh God. What if something happened?"

Tony swipes to answer. "This better be good, Cap."

Steve’s voice comes through, apologetic. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but—Howard won’t stop crying. He’s been asking for you guys for the past hour."

You press a hand to your forehead. "Oh, buddy…"

Tony exhales slowly. "So let me get this straight. You’re Captain Freaking America. You took down HYDRA, stopped an alien invasion, and yet one tiny Stark has you waving the white flag?"

"Tony."

Tony grins. "Just saying. Didn’t take you for a quitter, Rogers."

Steve sighs. "Can you guys just come pick him up? I think he just misses you."

You don’t even hesitate. "We’re on our way."

Tony, meanwhile, groans like a man facing his own execution. "Are you kidding me? We just got the house to ourselves! I was gonna make you pancakes naked, babe!"

You laugh, tossing him his clothes. "Come on, genius. Time to get our kid."

When you arrive at Steve’s place, Howard is curled up on the couch, still sniffling, while Luna is completely unbothered, munching on popcorn and watching cartoons.

"Mommy! Daddy!" Howard’s face lights up when he sees you, reaching out instantly.

You pick him up, kissing his chubby cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart, did you miss us that much?"

Howard nods, clutching your shirt. "No like sweepovew. Wanna be home."

Steve gives you an apologetic smile. "He tried, I promise. But after a while, he just kept asking for you guys."

Tony runs a hand through his hair. "Well, there goes that plan."

Luna, still chewing popcorn, looks up. "I stay."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Oh, so you’re fine abandoning us, but your brother—"

Luna shrugs. "Me big giwl."

Steve chuckles. "She’s been having a great time."

Howard snuggles closer to you. "Wanna go home."

Tony sighs, finally reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair. "Alright, kiddo. Let’s get you home."

On the drive back, Howard falls asleep in his car seat almost immediately.

Tony looks over at you, sighing dramatically. "Welp. Back to square one."

You smirk. "Don’t worry, Stark. I have other ideas."

Tony grins. "See, this is why I married you."

---

You and Tony try. And try. And try.

It starts out fun, full of teasing and laughter, sneaking around while the kids are at school, whispering about how finallyyou can do this without fear of tiny footsteps interrupting. But as the months pass and every test comes back negative, the excitement slowly fades into frustration.

You try to stay optimistic. Tony does too. Every time you take a test, he kisses your forehead and tells you, “No rush, sweetheart. We’ll get there.” But each single pink line feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

At first, you tell yourself it’s fine. You already have two beautiful, chaotic kids. But this time, it feels different. You want this. You know Tony does too, even if he pretends to be nonchalant about it.

The first few negatives don’t hurt too much. It’s still early. But as months pass with no sign of a second line, it starts to get to you.

One night, you sit in the bathroom, staring at yet another negative test, feeling the sting behind your eyes. You don’t want to be this upset about it, but you can’t help it.

Tony knocks on the door. “Sweetheart?”

You sniffle, quickly wiping your eyes. “Yeah?”

There’s a pause. Then, his voice softens. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate, but eventually open the door. Tony takes one look at your face, then at the test in your hand, and sighs. He pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

You clutch onto his shirt. “I just don’t get it. It happened so fast with Luna and Howard…”

Tony rubs your back, letting out a deep breath. “I know, baby. But we’re gonna be okay. No matter what.”

He always says the right things. But as the days pass, it becomes harder to keep up the act—especially around the kids.

Luna notices first. One morning, while eating her cereal, she frowns at you. “Mommy sad.”

Tony, sitting across from her with his coffee, freezes. He looks at you, waiting for your reaction.

You force a smile. “No, baby, I’m okay.”

Luna shakes her head, poking her cereal with her spoon. “No. Mommy sad.” She turns to Tony. “Daddy fix.”

Tony sets his mug down and leans in. “Oh, honey. Mommy’s okay, promise.”

Luna isn’t convinced. She looks at you with those big Stark eyes—sharp, observant, just like her father’s. “You cry.”

Your heart clenches.

Tony clears his throat. “Mommy’s just a little tired, bug. Maybe she needs extra cuddles.”

Luna gasps. “Cuddles make eveything better!” She slides off her chair, hurrying over to wrap her tiny arms around you.

You hug her tightly, pressing a kiss to her soft curls. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Howard, who has been silently chewing his toast, tilts his head. “Mommy need huggies?”

Luna nods very seriously. “Yes, Howie. Mommy need big, big huggies.”

Howard carefully slides off his chair and waddles over, joining the hug. He pats your face with his chubby hands. “Mommy no be sad. I gib kisses.”

Your eyes water as he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Tony watches from his seat, and when you glance at him, he’s already softening. He gets up, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re pretty lucky, sweetheart. Got the best support team right here.”

You nod, hugging your kids tighter. “Yeah. I really do.”

That night, as you and Tony lie in bed, he turns to you. “So, how are we feeling? Still up for trying?”

You hesitate before sighing. “I don’t know, Tony. Maybe we should go see a doctor.”

He nods, thinking for a moment. “Okay.”

You exhale, relieved. “Thank you.”

Tony pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Anytime, baby.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep feeling just a little lighter.

---

You and Tony sit in the doctor’s office, your fingers tangled together as you wait for answers.

It had taken a while to get to this point. After months of trying, after so many negative tests, you finally admitted to Tony that maybe—just maybe—it was time to see if something was wrong. He hadn’t pushed you, hadn’t made any snarky comments (well, not many), and had instead simply said, “Whatever you need, sweetheart. We’ll figure this out.”

So here you are.

Tony taps his foot impatiently, glancing around the room. “You know, for a place that’s supposed to deal with reproductive health, they could at least try to make it less terrifying.”

You nudge him. “You’re not even the one getting examined.”

“Yeah, but I am the one sitting next to my very anxious, very hormonal wife, so technically, I’m suffering too.”

You roll your eyes, but his dramatics do make you feel slightly better.

The door opens, and Dr. Matthews, a kind-looking woman in her fifties, steps in with a warm smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Stark,” she greets, sitting across from you. “I have your test results.”

Tony grips your hand a little tighter.

Dr. Matthews looks between the two of you. “First, I want to assure you that there’s nothing wrong with either of you. Your bloodwork, hormone levels, and general reproductive health are all perfectly normal.”

You feel a rush of relief, but also confusion. “Then… why isn’t it happening?”

She smiles gently. “Secondary infertility isn’t uncommon, especially after multiple pregnancies. The body changes, and sometimes conception takes longer than before.”

Tony frowns. “So what’s the plan? We just keep playing the world’s most frustrating waiting game?”

Dr. Matthews chuckles. “Not necessarily. There are steps we can take to improve your chances. Adjusting diet, reducing stress, tracking ovulation—”

Tony groans. “Ugh. Science takes all the fun out of it.”

You pinch his arm. “Tony.”

“What? I don’t want to be told when I have to perform. Takes away the spontaneity, the romance.”

Dr. Matthews raises an amused eyebrow. “I doubt romance will be an issue, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smirks. “You flatter me, doc.”

You groan. “Can we focus?”

Dr. Matthews laughs, then hands you a few papers. “Here’s some information on what you can do to increase your chances. If, after a few more months, there’s still no progress, we can discuss fertility treatments.”

You nod, trying to absorb all of this. Tony, however, just leans back in his chair. “So, basically, we get to keep trying and eat more spinach?”

“Essentially.”

Tony shrugs. “Sweetheart, I see no downside here.”

You sigh, but despite everything, you can’t help but smile at his optimism.

On the way home, you sit in the car, reading through the pamphlets. Tony glances over. “You’re not gonna turn into one of those people, are you?”

“What people?”

“The ones who turn baby-making into a military operation.” He deepens his voice in mock seriousness. “'Tony, we must mate now. The charts have spoken.'”

You snort. “No, I am not going to be that person.” You pause. “But I will be tracking my cycle.”

Tony groans. “So no spontaneous closet quickies?”

You smirk. “Only on fertile days.”

Tony mutters something about how unfair life is, but he’s smiling.

The next few weeks are filled with subtle changes—healthy food, stress reduction, and, of course, timing things properly.

At first, it’s fine. Fun, even. Tony makes a whole thing out of it, setting the mood like you’re in some old Hollywood romance film. He even dims the lights one night and dramatically throws rose petals on the bed.

“What are you doing?” you ask, holding back a laugh.

Tony sprawls across the bed, smirking. “Creating an atmosphere. You’re looking at prime, vintage Tony Stark seduction, sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me.”

Unfortunately, the fun starts to fade when, once again, month after month passes with no results.

One morning, you sit on the bathroom floor, yet another negative test clutched in your hands. You bite your lip, trying so hard not to cry, but the frustration and disappointment build inside you.

Tony finds you there minutes later. He sighs, kneeling in front of you and gently taking the test from your hands.

“No luck, huh?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get it, Tony. Why is this so hard this time?”

He cups your face, tilting it up so you meet his gaze. “Sweetheart, we will get there. We’ve got two perfect little Stark monsters running around already. This is just life throwing another challenge at us.”

You sigh. “I just… I just thought it would’ve happened by now.”

Tony presses a kiss to your forehead. “Me too. But hey, in the meantime, we still get to have a lot of fun trying, right?”

You huff a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

The kids start to notice your change in mood.

Luna watches you carefully one afternoon while coloring at the kitchen table. She tilts her head. “Mommy sad ‘gain?”

Howard, sitting next to her, nods very seriously. “Mommy need huggies?”

Your heart squeezes. “No, baby, Mommy’s okay.”

Luna narrows her eyes. “No. You sad.”

Howard frowns. “Mommy no sad. Mommy happy.” He holds up a crayon drawing—a messy scribble of what is probably supposed to be your family. “See? We happy.”

You smile, hugging both of them. “I love you two so much.”

Luna pats your arm. “It be okay, Mommy.”

Tony, watching from the doorway, clears his throat. “You got the best cheerleaders in the world, sweetheart.”

That night, when you and Tony lie in bed, you exhale deeply. “I think we need to stop stressing.”

Tony nods. “Agreed. Let’s just… let it happen when it happens.”

You turn to him. “You sure?”

He grins. “Oh, I still plan on having lots of sex. I’m just saying we won’t need an Excel spreadsheet to do it.”

You burst out laughing. “God, I love you.”

Tony smirks, pulling you close. “And that, my dear wife, is why I’m irresistible.”

You roll your eyes, but for the first time in a while, you feel hopeful. Maybe—just maybe—it will happen when the time is right.

---

A whole year.

Twelve months of trying, of disappointment, of heartbreak, of reminding yourself not to get your hopes too high. Twelve months of keeping a smile on your face for the sake of Tony and the kids, even when every negative test chipped away at your hope.

And now, here you are.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, hands trembling, staring at a test that—finally, finally—shows two pink lines.

You're pregnant.

For a moment, you just sit there, stunned. Your heart is racing, your breath caught in your throat. You feel like if you move too fast, the moment might disappear, like it's some kind of dream you don't want to wake up from.

Then the reality of it slams into you all at once.

A choked laugh bubbles out of you, followed by a sob, and before you know it, you’re crying—big, happy, relievedtears.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to contain the sheer wave of emotions crashing over you. You did it. You did it.

The moment passes, and then excitement takes over. Tony. You have to tell Tony. But not just tell him—you have to make it special. After all the months of heartache, he deserves a moment to remember.

You wipe your tears, compose yourself, and practically sprint out of the bathroom to find your two little helpers.

Luna is sitting in the living room, coloring, while Howard is on the floor with his toy cars, making little vroom vroomnoises.

You crouch beside them, still buzzing with excitement. “Kids, Mommy has a very special mission for you.”

Luna immediately perks up. “What mission?”

Howard gasps dramatically. “Like superheroes?”

“Even better,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’re going to surprise Daddy.”

Luna’s eyes widen. “Ooooh! I love surprises!”

Howard claps his little hands. “Me too!” Then he pauses, frowning. “Wait… what’s the surprise?”

You grin, placing a hand over your stomach. “Mommy has a baby in her belly.”

Luna gasps so loudly it could break glass. “Another baby?!”

Howard’s little face scrunches up in confusion. “But… where baby? I don’t see it.”

You chuckle. “It’s still very, very tiny. But it’s growing in Mommy’s belly, just like you and Luna did before you were born.”

Howard stares at your stomach with deep suspicion, as if he expects a baby to pop out at any second. “Hmm… I dunno ‘bout that.”

Luna, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with excitement. “We gotta tell Daddy right now!”

You laugh. “That’s the plan. But we have to do it in a fun way, okay?”

Luna nods eagerly. “Okay! What do we do?”

By the time Tony gets home from work, the three of you are ready.

The living room is decorated with balloons—pink and blue, just to keep things interesting. You even managed to find the old baby clothes from when Luna and Howard were newborns, and they’re hanging on a tiny clothesline across the room.

But the best part? Luna and Howard are both wearing custom t-shirts.

Luna’s says, “Big Sister Again!” in glittery letters.

Howard’s says, “I’m Gonna Be a Big Brother (I Think?)” because you couldn’t resist the urge to capture his skepticism.

You hear the front door open, and Tony’s voice carries through the house. “Honey, I’m hoooome! Did you miss me?”

You quickly shush the kids, and they scramble to their positions. Luna practically bounces in place, while Howard looks down at his shirt like it still doesn’t make sense to him.

Tony walks into the living room, looking exhausted but still as effortlessly charming as ever. “Okay, I know it’s bad when I say this, but I think I need more coffee—”

He stops mid-sentence. Blinks. Looks around the room.

Then his eyes land on the kids.

And their shirts.

For a moment, he just stands there, processing. You can see the exact second it clicks. His entire face shifts—his mouth drops open slightly, his eyes widen, and then he looks at you.

You smile, holding up the pregnancy test. “Surprise.”

Tony doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stares.

Luna giggles. “Daddy, you okay?”

That seems to snap him out of it. He blinks rapidly, looking between you, the kids, and the test in your hand. “Is this—? Are you—? Really?”

You nod, tears already welling in your eyes again. “Really.”

For a split second, you think he might actually pass out. Then, suddenly, he’s moving.

He crosses the room in record time, scooping you into his arms and lifting you right off your feet. You laugh as he spins you around, his face buried in your neck.

When he finally puts you down, his eyes are shining—actually shining.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers, like he still can’t believe it.

You nod. “We did it.”

Tony lets out a shaky breath—and then, to your complete shock, he cries.

Real, genuine, happy tears roll down his cheeks.

Luna gasps. “Daddy’s crying!”

Howard’s jaw drops. “Daddy no cry! Daddy Tony Stark!”

Tony laughs through his tears, wiping his face. “Hey, even superheroes cry sometimes.” He looks back at you, cupping your face in his hands. “Sweetheart, this is—this is amazing.”

You grin. “I know.”

He looks down at your stomach and gently places his hand there. “Hey there, little Stark. Took you long enough.”

Luna giggles, hugging his leg. “I’m so excited, Daddy!”

Tony scoops her up with his free arm. “Me too, kiddo.” Then he turns to Howard, who is still studying his shirt suspiciously. “And what about you, Howie? You ready to be a big brother?”

Howard shrugs. “Mmm… maybe.”

Tony snorts. “That’s fair.”

Then he pulls all three of you into a big bear hug, wrapping you in warmth, love, and the undeniable feeling that this—this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

----

The day of the doctor’s appointment arrives, and for once, Tony is not cracking jokes.

He’s been in full-on “concerned husband” mode since you told him about the pregnancy, which—don’t get you wrong—is sweet. But considering this is Tony Stark, the man who once said “relax” while piloting an explosive missile into space, it’s a little intense.

It starts the moment you wake up.

“You should eat first,” Tony says, hovering near the bed as you stretch. “Gotta keep your blood sugar stable.”

You rub your eyes. “Tony, it’s six in the morning.”

“Yeah, and?” He gestures dramatically. “Our baby needs nutrients. I read somewhere that morning sickness is worse if you don’t eat early.”

You squint at him. “Since when do you read pregnancy articles?”

He scoffs. “Please, I’ve read all of them. I could write one myself. ‘How to Not Let Your Pregnant Wife Lift a Finger: A Guide by Tony Stark.’”

You sigh, realizing this is your life now.

By the time the kids are dropped off at school and you’re sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, Tony has already triple-checked that you’re comfortable, that you’re hydrated, and that the chair isn’t too firm for your back.

When the nurse finally calls you in, Tony jumps up like you’re about to receive life-altering surgery.

The doctor—thankfully—has known you both for a while and isn’t fazed by Tony’s theatrics. “Alright, let’s take a look,” she says warmly as you settle on the examination table.

Tony does not blink during the ultrasound. He’s staring at the screen with the intensity of a man watching a bomb countdown.

And then—there it is.

A tiny, flickering heartbeat.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Tony makes a choked sound, gripping your hand tightly. “Holy shit.”

You laugh through your tears. “Yeah.”

The doctor smiles. “Everything looks good so far. Given how long it took to conceive, I’d recommend taking it easy, just as a precaution.”

Tony nods so fast you think he might get whiplash. “Absolutely. No stress, no heavy lifting, no unnecessary movement—”

The doctor chuckles. “I wouldn’t go that far. But yes, let’s just be careful.”

Tony nods solemnly, like he’s been given a sacred mission.

You should’ve known he’d take it too seriously.

That night, Luna and Howard are sitting at the dinner table, eating their food happily, when Tony clears his throat dramatically.

“Alright, kids. We need to have a talk.”

Luna perks up. “About what?”

Tony clasps his hands together. “About how we’re not going to stress out Mommy.”

You roll your eyes. “Tony—”

“No, no,” he says, holding up a hand. “Doctor’s orders. We gotta protect you, sweetheart.” He turns to the kids. “That means no making Mommy carry anything heavy, no jumping on her, no waking her up in the middle of the night unless it’s a real emergency—”

Howard gasps. “Like if I see a monster?”

Tony nods. “Only if the monster is confirmed dangerous. Otherwise, report it to me first.”

Luna frowns. “But what if I need help with something?”

Tony gives her a serious look. “Then you come to me.”

Howard scratches his head. “What if I need Mommy?”

Tony hesitates, then sighs. “Okay, fine. But if it’s something I can handle, let me handle it first.”

Luna and Howard nod solemnly, as if accepting a royal decree.

You stare at Tony. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he says.

It doesn’t take long for you to hate this arrangement.

At first, it’s sweet. The kids are careful, trying to be helpful. Luna picks up things for you, Howard doesn’t climb all over you as much.

But then—then—it starts to get ridiculous.

Luna hesitates before asking you to braid her hair, looking guilty as she asks, “Is that too much work, Mommy?”

Howard frowns whenever he wants you to pick him up, even though he loves cuddling with you.

And worst of all?

Tony intercepts everything.

One morning, you go to reach for a cereal box, and suddenly, Tony swoops in. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I got it.”

You glare at him. “Tony. It’s a cereal box.”

“Yeah, and it’s above your head. That’s risky.”

You groan. “Tony, I am pregnant, not fragile.”

He smirks. “Same thing.”

That night, Howard almost wakes you up because of a nightmare, but you hear Tony whispering outside the bedroom door.

“Shhh, buddy. Remember the plan. No waking up Mommy unless it’s a real emergency.”

Howard sniffles. “But I had a bad dream.”

“I got you, little dude. I’m the dream-fighting champion.”

There’s a pause, then a tiny whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Now let’s get you back to bed—”

You swing the door open, glaring at Tony. “Give me my son.”

Howard immediately runs to you, snuggling into your arms.

Tony sighs. “Fine. But if you wake up tired tomorrow, I will say ‘I told you so.’”

The breaking point comes a few days later.

Luna walks into the kitchen, shifting nervously on her feet. “Mommy?”

You smile. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

She hesitates. “I… I have a question.”

“Of course, what is it?”

She looks at you, then at Tony, then back at you. “Can I ask you… or should I ask Daddy?”

Your heart drops.

You immediately crouch down. “Luna, sweetie. You can always ask me anything.”

She fidgets. “But Daddy said not to stress you…”

You take her little hands in yours. “Baby, talking to you is never stressful. I love when you come to me.”

She bites her lip. “Really?”

“Really,” you say firmly. “You, Howard, and Daddy are my favorite people in the whole world. Nothing makes me happier than helping you.”

She finally smiles. “Okay… then can you help me with my homework?”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Then you shoot a glare at Tony over her shoulder. Fix this.

Tony sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine. Maybe I slightly overdid it.”

“Slightly?” you deadpan.

Luna giggles. “Daddy’s funny.”

Tony winks. “That’s why she married me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile.

At least now, things will go back to normal—well, as normal as life can be in the Stark household.

---

The rest of the pregnancy is a rollercoaster.

Once the kids realize they don’t have to tiptoe around you anymore, they immediately return to their usual selves.

Luna comes running to you whenever she has a question—about school, about her friends, and most importantly, about the baby.

Howard, on the other hand, just assumes you have all the answers.

“Mommy,” he asks one morning, “how does the baby eat?”

You glance at Tony, who is casually reading something on his tablet. He doesn’t even look up before saying, “Go ahead, sweetheart. Explain placental nutrient transfer to our very curious four-year-old.”

You give him a look before turning to Howard. “Well, I eat food, and then my body sends the baby the good stuff from it.”

Howard gasps. “So when you eat ice cream, the baby eats ice cream too?”

You hesitate. “Um… sort of.”

His eyes go wide. “But what if they don’t like ice cream?”

Tony snorts. “Then they’re not my kid.”

Luna giggles. “That’s silly, Daddy. Everyone likes ice cream.”

Howard, looking very concerned, puts a little hand on your belly. “Baby, if you don’t like ice cream, that’s okay. I’ll eat it for you.”

Tony leans over, whispering, “I love this kid.”

The pregnancy flies by with moments like this—questions, excitement, and a lot of cuddles from the kids.

And then, at the five-month mark, it’s finally time for the gender reveal.

The baby shower is a big deal.

Pepper insists on throwing it, so you know it’s going to be perfect. The decorations are neutral, since you still don’t know the gender yet, but there’s an insane amount of food, presents, and—of course—Tony being Tony.

“So, how do you wanna do the big reveal?” Tony asks, draping an arm around your shoulder. “Explosion? Giant Iron Man hologram? Maybe a—”

“No explosions,” Pepper cuts in.

You sigh. “I just want something simple, Tony.”

He grins. “Alright, alright. Simple. Got it.”

Simple turns out to be a cake.

A normal, completely non-explosive cake.

Inside, the color of the filling will reveal the gender.

When you cut into it, the inside is pink.

“A girl!” Luna shrieks, practically jumping up and down. “I knew it! I knew it!”

Howard blinks at the cake. “So… it’s a sister?”

“Yep, buddy,” Tony says, ruffling his hair. “You’re gonna have a little sister.”

Howard takes a moment to process this. “Can I still call them ‘baby’?”

You laugh. “Of course.”

He beams. “Okay.”

Luna, meanwhile, is beyond excited. She grabs your hand. “We have to pick the best name for her.”

Which leads to the next challenge:

Picking a name.

The four of you sit down together that night, brainstorming names.

Luna, determined to take charge, starts listing all the princess names she can think of.

Howard, on the other hand, throws in suggestions like “Captain,” “Rocket,” and “Pancake.”

Tony smirks. “Pancake Stark. That’s a power move.”

You roll your eyes. “We are not naming our daughter Pancake.”

Eventually, you all settle on a shortlist, and one name stands out—Aurora.

Luna loves it because of the princess.

Howard shrugs and says, “It’s okay.”

Tony, who is surprisingly sentimental, points out that Aurora means “dawn” and represents a fresh, new beginning.

And just like that—your daughter has a name.

The final months of pregnancy are rough.

Everything is harder this time—walking, sleeping, even breathing.

And when labor finally starts, it’s way more intense than the last two times.

Something feels different.

The contractions are stronger, and as soon as you get to the hospital, the doctors confirm what you already suspected—this labor isn’t progressing the way it should.

After hours of pain, the doctor finally says what you’ve been dreading:

“We need to do a C-section.”

Your heart plummets.

Tony grips your hand. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod, swallowing hard.

Everything moves fast after that.

Tony stays by your side the entire time, whispering reassurances.

And then—finally—finally—you hear it.

A loud, strong cry.

Your baby girl is here.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tony presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice thick with emotion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

And then they bring her to you—tiny, pink, and absolutely beautiful.

Aurora Stark.

By the time the kids arrive to meet her, you’re feeling exhausted but so full of love.

Luna is practically vibrating with excitement. “Where is she? Where’s my sister?!”

Howard climbs onto Tony’s lap, eyes wide as he looks at the tiny bundle in your arms.

“Is that her?” he whispers.

You nod, smiling. “Come say hi.”

Luna carefully climbs onto the bed next to you, peering down at Aurora.

“She’s so small,” she says in awe.

Howard frowns. “She’s not talking.”

Tony chuckles. “Give her a minute, buddy.”

Howard hesitates, then leans in and pats Aurora’s tiny hand. “Hi, baby. I’m Howard.”

Aurora squirms slightly, making a little noise.

Luna gasps. “She likes him!”

Tony grins. “Of course she does. He’s her big brother.”

Luna presses a gentle kiss to Aurora’s forehead. “I’m gonna teach you everything,” she promises.

Howard nods. “Me too.”

Tony looks at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “I think she’s got the best siblings in the world.”

You smile, feeling completely and utterly whole.

Aurora is finally here.

And your family is perfect.

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

meeting ghost-maker pt 2

Jason

Jason sits on his bed whilst Dick paces back and forth. He stops, points at a whiteboard he’d rolled into Jason’s room with a crude drawing of…something that looks like a bug? Jason’s not really sure.

“And that’s why, if we ever see this man, we cannot let him near Bruce!”

If Jason’s being honest, he was kind of zoning out through most of this…presentation?

“Why?”

Dick glares at him.

“I just spent the last 30 minutes telling you why!”

“TLDR. Listen, Dick, it’s been a long day.” Jason’s exhausted and he’s on the verge of falling asleep any moment.

Before Dick can complain any more, there’s a knock on Jason’s door. It’s a familiar rhythm, recognizable. Jason and Dick both know it’s Bruce, and Jason calls out to let him in before Dick can convince him to wait.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys. I was just-“ Bruce stops and looks at Dick’s white board presentation. “Is that Ghost?”

Jason isn’t expecting Bruce to laugh, although he’s not mad about it. His dad doesn’t laugh often, but when he does, it’s always a bright and pretty sound.

“Don’t laugh!” Dick had clearly not been expecting that reaction either, and unlike Jason, he’s a lot less pleased. “I’m warning Jason!”

“About what?”

“The bas- the weirdo who flirts with you whenever he’s in Gotham!” It’s a little funny, heading Dick try and censor himself when Jason’s said and says much worse things than his older brother. But Jason’s less focused on that. Instead, he’s finally actually listening to Dick, and his eyes widen.

“What?”

Bruce covers his face and sighs. “It’s not like that. Dick just had a bad experience w Ghost-Maker and he’s made it his mission in life to make sure he never steps foot in Gotham again.”

Dick makes an error noise. “Nope! Wrong! My life’s mission is to make sure he never gets close to you again. I mean, come on, Bruce. You could do so much better!”

Jason silently contemplates this conversation. And then he asks, “What kinda fuckin name is Ghost-Maker?”

While Bruce sighs again, Dick lectures his brother about how that’s the least of their concerns.

—

When Jason meets Ghost-Maker himself…yup. Dick was right (he’ll never admit that to his face). The man fucking sucks.

“Oh. A new one?”

Ghost-Maker’s got his arm over Bruce’s shoulder, touching him so casually, and it makes Jason want to kick him in the groin. That’s his fucking dad, thank you very much. No one’s allowed to be that touchy w him.

“Ghost, this is-“

“Robin.”

“None of your fucking business.”

Ghost-Maker laughs, and the desire to kick him grows.

“Feisty. He’s more angry than the other one.”

Bruce frowns. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Robin is Robin.”

“Tough shit trying to sell that lie to me, B. And besides, you were introducing him as if we’d never met before, which means we haven’t. Plus, he’s…small. So unless you’re not feeding your underage crime fighting partner, he’s a different kid.”

Jason’s mouth hangs open. He just…he called Bruce B! He can’t do that! Only Dick and him can! That’s their nickname for him!

Bruce catches Jason before he can throw himself at Ghost-Maker. Doesn’t stop the little Robin from trying to claw at the man. Bruce is unfortunately very hard to escape from. Fuck it, Jason will get him one day.

Dick Tim Red Hood Damian Epilogue

[restinslices]

LKBS W/ A Quiet Kid

Finally getting back to requests :D. I put more focus on certain parts so it's not a copy and paste for each brother. Reread The Hunger Games recently so I imagined the kid being similar to Rue in behavior. Here you go @notbojack

He so fucking fine, omfg-

Back to the topic at hand, Tomas wasn’t the only kid his father took in

Shortly before his death, his father brought you home - a 12 year old kid who clung to him like wet tar

How did this come to be? Um, I’m imagining a situation where you were sent to kill his dad but he was like “naur, join us” and you did. Idk gang. It’s 11/6, I’m discombobulated

As we know, his father died. Now, Bi-Han is an asshole but he has limits. He wasn’t just gonna throw you out on the streets

Honestly I think he doesn’t mind how quiet you are

He’s not much of a talker either, so ya’ll just sit by each other

It’s kinda hard for him to understand your situation at first. After all, he’s a trained assassin. He’s been training since the day he could walk. To him, an assassin’s life is normal

Once his father is dead, taking care of you becomes his responsibility. This means that now he really has to be face to face with you during your worst moments

He’s woken up one day to the most awful screaming he’s ever heard. He can hear the strain on the vocal cords. It leads him to your room and he sees you screaming your head off in your sleep

He immediately wakes you up, expecting you to relax. Instead, you try to fight him off and claw yourself away from him. Only after reminding you who he is and a lot of convincing you that you’re safe and at home, you finally relax

You tremble next to him while apologizing profusely and that’s when he realizes something

This is the first time he’s ever heard your voice

I think this is when it'll really hit him how fucked your situation was. He was trained to be an assassin, yeah, but he still had free will

He's not the best at emotions, but I think he'd try for you

I wouldn't expect some long and deep talk about your past, but he'd watch over you more. He becomes very observant and takes note of your triggers

He's still strict, but he doesn't yell at you

I can see you jumping after he accidentally yells at you and he's like "ykw? I just might be the problem-"

Doesn't do it again

You have random spasms because of electrocutions. I can see him trying to find a way to help

He lets you trail behind him like you're his shadow

He absolutely will NOT say your trigger words

He thinks having your skills is something you should keep and improve on, even if they came about in an unpleasant way

You gotta fight for the Lin Kuei but I don't think he's ever like "go kill for me soldier!"

It's more like a... A uhhh "hey! We're going on a field trip! :D"

Idk if he'd ever ask if you'd like to sleep in his bed (he likes his space. "I GOTTA PUT ME FIRST LUCIOUS!") but I can see him being fine sleeping in the same room

Bi-Han and Sektor are your new parents

Overall, I think Bi-Han would be the best when it comes to handling triggers. You don't have to be a 10/10 social person to be helpful. He's just really observant and contrary to popular belief, isn't a complete evil dick head.

Y'all that's literally me next to him

"Aren't you black?" mind your business

Speaking of marriage, Kuai Liang meets you because you're a kid Harumi took in

I can see Harumi trying to introduce the two of you and you are NOT having a good time

He tries to introduce himself to you, but the second he steps close, you take off

He knows some kids are shy but this catches his attention. This ain't just shyness

"WHO THE FUCK FUCKED UP THIS HOUSE LIKE THIS? GOOD GOD!”

Harumi gives him the scoop thankfully

He's glad Harumi found you but damn, he wishes that never happened to you

He continues to try and be nice to you, but you either don’t say anything or take off

He isn’t really sure what to do at this point. Ya’ll are making no progress

This changes when one day he sees you sitting somewhere, scribbling in a book

You jump when you see him, dropping your book. He goes to grab it for you and that’s when he sees the amazing sketches inside

He’s not the type to flip through without permission. He looks at the open page and compliments that

“You like drawing?” *Nods* “These are really good!” *Shakes head* “Hey, I mean it. These are great”

He hands you your book back and you actually smile at him

*Hacker voice* I’m in-

You still stand behind Harumi, but you don’t look as scared of him as you did before

He notices you staring at him a lot, but he doesn’t say anything

Then one day you come up to him, book in hand

Which really surprises him because you never approach him

His mouth drops when you show him the drawings you’ve done of him

Your relationship continues to grow from this. He’s not sure how complimenting you on your artistic skills made you less afraid of him, but he’ll take it

He’s constantly encouraging you to keep being creative

He won’t look through your sketchbook without permission. He likes when you both look at your drawings together

Best believe he’s putting your drawings up like a proud father (if you let him)

I can see him learning basic sign language for you. Otherwise he speaks and you write things down

Ya’ll know that TikTok trend where two people paint portraits of each other? That but with Kuai Liang

His is awful but you put it up in your room anyway. This really squeezes at his heart

If you have other creative hobbies, such as writing, he encourages that too

Reads anything you’ll give him

I don’t think Kuai Liang is an artistic person in the sense that I don’t think he draws or writes in his spare time, but I think he still appreciates art

The father that stepped up

I don’t think he’d ask about your past much either. He doesn’t wanna push you. Whenever you’re ready to share, he’ll be there to listen

The little pieces you do share, he definitely remembers

Overall, I think Kuai Liang would handle the quiet and artistic aspect really well. He’s patient enough to continue trying to make an effort with you. Once you’ve opened up, he doesn’t take it for granted

My favorite white man

Pls make more gifs of him. Omg

I can see Tomas meeting you through a mission

It was supposed to be a simple “kill bad guys” mission but oh shit, there’s a child here

Now how he gets you outta there? Um… he beats your ass :D

Just a lil beating, then he takes you to Liu Kang in hopes that he can fix whatever is going on in your brain

Liu Kang is able to free your mind because god shit, but he says you gotta stay at the academy so he can keep an eye on you

Tomas should’ve been able to let you go, but for some reason he just couldn’t

He asks Liu Kang for updates on you, then eventually he just decides to visit in person

Now, considering Tomas is the one that saved you, and the academy isn’t a torture dungeon, I don’t think you’d be super alarmed when you see him

You just kinda stand there

He introduces himself, then tries to start small conversation and let you know that you’re safe now. You write you responses down on a notepad, which is odd but he’ll take it

“Do you have any family?” [No] “There’s gotta be someone out there missing you right now. You sure you can’t remember where they are?” [They’re dead. All of them]

Do I smell twinsies?!

Tomas knows the pain of losing loved ones and feels sad for you. He shares his story about how he lost his family. He doesn’t expect you to share what happened to yours, but he wants you to know that you’re not alone

This is where your bond starts. Maybe feeling safe in someone because of shared trauma is a bit wonky, but who cares?

He continues visiting you and chats with you. He tells you more about his family when you ask him to

Then comes the reveal

[I’m a bad person] “What? Why would you say that?” [I’ve killed people] “So have I” [I killed my family]

You write this long explanation, explaining that your first mission was to kill your immediate family

He’s shocked for sure, but he doesn’t blame you

He reminds you that you were just a child. Hell, you still are a child! You were also tortured and mind controlled. You didn’t want to do any of the stuff you were forced to do

[I miss them but I don’t think I’m allowed to] “Yes you are”

He couldn’t imagine carrying that much guilt around. Sure, he feels guilty about his family, but he didn’t kill them. He couldn’t imagine having memories of him killing the people he loves, and being forced to live with it

Tomas is very open with you about his own guilt and how he works to move on

It won’t be an easy journey, but he’s never giving up on you

Tomas becomes a friend, a mentor, an older brother (or father) all wrapped in one

When I tell you he’s never going to abandon you, I mean that shit. He’ll be by your side in everything and refuses to leave

He shares tips on grieving and guilt

Once you’re ready, he even takes you to your family’s gravesite

He lets you take all the time you need because he knows how badly you need this

Recovery is never an easy road. Tomas knows this from first hand experience. Doesn’t matter though because Tomas is always gonna be there to lift you up when you fall

Overall, Tomas would handle the guilt aspect the best. He has his own experience when it comes to losing family and guilt, so he’d understand how you feel

I feel like I keep giving Tomas the least amount of words, and that is not on purpose. I just be tired by the time I get to him😭. I still love you pookie

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

(Pull results and link to the original with the kings!)

So this is the main three angels

Intro:

When Gabriel had first attacked you, he didn’t check his surroundings, he regrets having attacked you in the first place…but his nativity kept you alive and for that he was grateful.

If he’d noticed Minhyeok, Satan….you wouldn’t have survived, that scares Gabriel. But what he didn’t expect was…

He missed you had a child.

Satan had already basically had your kid safe the second Gabriel made himself known, and being a child, when Satan threw blankets over them, they’d stayed under them scared.

But when the angels tried to get you…you had a child. A human child. They know your roommate wasn’t the dad so…

These idiots further believe their delusions believing you had a ‘virgin’ birth!

So naturally they take you AND your child to Heaven!

Every angel takes turns watching and caring for your child.

You don’t exactly like it but at least no angel really has more than 20 minutes with your kid and only 2 of those minutes (unless you’re sleeping) they are unsupervised by you.

The angels treat your child just as well as you. Hell, they’d even go to the human world to get toys/supplies for the kid!

-

Gabriel

He’s a little upset that he’s kinda…like a villain to your child. He understands you and your child have a damn good reason to hate him…but that doesn’t make it hurt any less!

He really wants to be a part of your kids life to try and warm up to you, but he has no idea how to treat a child, there’s been no children in Heaven for a while, well at least not children they care for…

He helps your kid with anything they get stressed over, homework? He’ll do it for them! Your kid is hungry but you don’t have enough time to cook? Hes getting anything he thinks your kid will like

He practically worships the ground you walk on, so given you love your child, he treats your child like a tiny God, he is protective of them but backs off from ‘raising’ the child as he knows you’re more skillful with that

Michael

Your kid 100% calls him a crybaby, both to his face and behind his back. He finds it a little funny, he’s stopped crying since you came to Heaven but…your kid still removers him as the ‘crybaby angel’

He tells your kid stories, about God, Heaven, Adam and Eve, he’s like the Uncle that reads your kid to sleep/watches over them while you rest/do literally anything else

He uses his wings as blankets if your kid falls asleep near him, he will stay there to keep your child safe while they sleep, even if he loses sleep over it

He is just smart enough to figure having your kid like him will make you dislike him less, he feels better when you don’t glare at him, even if you’re only smiling because your child is looking to you

Raphael

He’s terrible with kids. He shouldn’t be left alone with your kid, ever. He literally throws your kid into the air and catches him thinking that’s how you play with kids

Your kid likes him, he’s almost like a sibling, he makes bad decisions that makes them both smile and have fun, but gets them in trouble

He also tries to take you two flying with him, thinking it’ll be fun, but he’s a reckless flyer. You three aren’t in danger but everyone else is

He teaches your kid curse words. He thinks it’s funny hearing them shout them in the wrong context like when you tell your kid to go to bed and they shout back ‘That’s fucked.’

[rubiehart]

Always cooking and baking for jj and john b bc aint no way you’re abt to eat anything they make

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗

like john b is definitely better than jj though, considering he had to basically provide for himself for the year or so his dad was gone so maybe he can make simple stuff but when it comes to baking n stuff, maybe his dad had some kind of cookie recipe that he taught john b and it’s kinda muscle memory to him to make them?? they’re nothin’ special just some ordinary chocolate chip cookies but when you try them for the first time you’re actin’ like they’re the best things in the world and he’s trying to hide how happy he is about you loving them, awwww!! lookin’ at you with a lil smirk watching you lick your fingers, reaching for another piece immediately.

jj’s got nothin’. no knowledge at all so if you’re baking together he’s skipping over important steps and messing up the measurements because he thinks he knows better than you. (spoiler: he doesn’t) so after you finished fighting over who would mix the batter,the kitchens a mess, but the brownies are finally in the oven. feel like you’d both end up setting the smoke alarm off because jj set the timer for too long, he’s reaching in for the baking tray without any gloves on and you’re dragging him back like what are you doing!! you’re gonna burn yourself!! and you try one and try not to literally gag, actual tears welling in your eyes cuz they’re burnt to a literal crisp. “mhm- yeah, so good jayj.” and spitting it out when he looks away to grab one for himself, wiggling his fingers towards the tray before taking a bite and immediately gagging and spitting it out. “yeah. you lied to me, babe. these taste like dog shit.” like that one scene in season one where he spits out the mouldy bread!!

but when you’re all together it’s such a mess, jj and john b are constantly arguing about the measurements and who get to pour and mix what. “jj pass me the chocolate chips.” john b says fully immersed in whatever he’s doing, looking up to see you and jj throwing and catching the chocolate chips in your mouth, ripping the bag out of jj’s hand and sprinkling them into the batter. “always doin’ everythin’ myself around here, jheez.” he mutters to himself as you bump jj’s shoulder to stop his giggling.

[alchemistc]

(dys)functional | bucktommy 1/1

an: the hockey au keeps growing, have some tommy whump in the meantime

read on ao3

"Hey," Tommy says, rolling the word over his tongue, letting the door close behind him and leaning his head back against it as it goes. Evan glances up, and immediately sets the knife in his hands down, expression going concerned the moment he sees the look on Tommy's face.

"Uh wha - what's wrong?"

The concern in his voice is ratcheted up in a way Tommy doesn't quite understand - he knows the look on his face is a little resigned but Evan looks stressed. "I'm gonna have to reschedule our weekend," he tells him, already shifting away from the door, moving in, chasing after the distressed little tilt of Evan's head, completely incapable of not trying to fix it even though his mind is going in about fifty different directions, right now.

Around the corner of the island, into Evan's space, and Evan melts just enough for Tommy to get his hands around Evan's hips. "Is everything okay?"

Tommy grimaces. "Not - not really, no. I've got to catch a flight in about six hours."

Evan goes stiff under his hands. "O-okay."

There's an art to fully grasping his tone, in these moments. He's - not an easy read, exactly, because his default seems to always be doing a terrible job of hiding whatever it is he's feeling, but that doesn't actually mean he's not masking the actual issue. It's confusion, mostly, maybe a little bit of hurt, a quiet sense of foreboding in his expression as he leans back to get a good look at Tommy's face, like he's searching for an answer for a question he doesn't know if he's allowed to ask.

Evan shifts impatiently, stormy expression clearing up. "Can - do you need to -" He makes a face Tommy knows is aimed at himself, a little recrimination for not being able to gather up the proper words in the proper order. He pulls in a deep breath. "Okay, so this is maybe too much to throw at you right now but those are kinda famous last words for me and I'm - will you tell me why so I'm not thinking up worst case scenarios here?"

Tommy slides in, fingers curling into the hem of Evan's shirt, gripping, tugging just enough that they both drift into one another. "It's my father." Brow furrowed, Evan nods, and waits, still rigid in the circle of Tommy's arms. And Tommy really does have to leave, soon, pack an overnight bag and try to get a couple hours of sleep before the slog to John Wayne, but he's a little concerned that leaving right now is going to send Evan into a tailspin. Thank God he'd decided to drive over first, tell him in person - he's missing a heap of context here but clearly a phone call would have been the wrong move. "He's - I have to..."

Evan knows the basics, bare minimum shit because Tommy hates acknowledging how much his father had fucked him up, how many years of therapy have been required to untangle the dad shaped knots in his brain.

"I don't really have all the details, yet, but my uncle called and I - I'm needed, apparently. I don't." Tommy has felt wrong-footed since the moment the name flashed across his phone screen, he doesn't talk to them, to any of them, and now his uncle has given him a vague 'Tom you need to come home, it's your pop' and his sister isn't answering her messages. Tommy takes a breath, realizes his hands have tightened into fists in the seams of Evan's shirt. "What do you mean famous last words?"

Evan is studying him carefully, elbows bowed behind him because he's got his palms curled around Tommy's fists, eyes shifting over Tommy's face, and Tommy knows he's seeing the shit Tommy likes to keep under lock and key. "It - it can wait. Tommy, do you need me to come with you?" Head tilted, gaze assessing, fingers shifting, soothing over the stretched tight skin of Tommy's knuckles.

It's too soon for that. He doesn't want Evan to see that part of him, the piece of the puzzle that Tommy has had to chip at, and shave and sand down to make fit, that ugly little part of his life he'd shed the day he'd set his house key on the dining room table and left for boot camp.

It's not too soon - he doesn't want Evan to ever see that.

He's also suddenly incredibly aware of how nice it would be to finally, finally have someone he knows is in his corner for whatever bullshit he's ten hours away from walking into. His grip loosens and Evan seizes the opportunity, awkwardly lacing his fingers through Tommy's. It's a weird angle, uncomfortable with the current positioning of their arms, but it feels a bit like a lifeline. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not. I'm offering."

There's a stubborn part of him that doesn't want to accept. He's kept his life out here so separate; even Sal, who'd kept all his other secrets for going on a decade, barely knows shit about his family. He has a good life, rich and fulfilling. Out here. He's got Evan, who'd do practically anything for his friends, his family. Tommy can't justify subjecting him to whatever garbage the Kinard's have going on three thousand miles across the country.

Evan tugs at his hands, shifting his weight enough to send Tommy stumbling half a step into him. Toe to toe, gazes catching again, because Evan is seeking him out, Tommy feels some of the weight lift off his shoulders.

"Okay."

It gives him the excuse of leaving as soon as possible, once he gets there, at the very least.

Evan nods. Whatever weird tension he'd been carrying ebbs from his shoulders and Tommy puts a pin in that - he's spiraling and upset but for a second Evan had been, too, and he needs to circle back to that when he can think straight.

He's got his phone out, free hand digging into Tommy's front pocket, and Tommy blinks, tries to think of something clever to say, something flirty and wry. They were supposed to go out tonight: dinner, maybe dancing, after, if Tommy could convince him. Then a three day stretch of matching days off - a drive up the coast, a little rental within walking distance of a beach, a seafood place that made a lobster roll almost as good as the ones up in Maine. He'd been contemplating whether or not it was too early to bring up Evan's lease.

Evan fishes Tommy's phone out and presses in his passcode without a second thought, and something eases in Tommy's chest. He trusts Evan. Has trusted him, consistently, unquestioningly - he'd given him his passcode on a whim when the screen went dark on it halfway through Evan adding his food to whatever they'd been in the middle of ordering in before Evan got derailed by a story about the anatomy of seahorses.

"Did you already book a flight?"

Tommy nods. Points out the Southwest icon he'd moved to his home screen for easy access.

He doesn't argue when Evan guides him around the island to one of the stools, there, fight and flight both losing out to freeze as Evan takes charge.

It's not their usual dynamic. Evan has been happy to set the pace, but once he takes his cues from him, Tommy's typically the one taking point. But Tommy feels unmoored, and it's nice, actually, to have Evan press a kiss to his temple, to pull up his flight information, to squeeze Tommy's shoulder as he books a second ticket on the credit card Tommy's really only let him use once or twice, happy to be seeing someone who will actually let him pay more than his fair share, who seems flattered that Tommy's always got his wallet out before Evan even thinks to reach for his.

Everything's a bit jumbled. He's halfway to Jersey already, maybe, pulled into the riptide and dashed against the rocks of Richard Kinard's bullshit, he doesn't even know why he's going, just that his uncle had told him he needed to come. He comes up for air feeling battered and bruised when Evan rubs a hand down his shoulder, over his arm, up again with harder pressure as his palm shifts down and over his spine.

Evan's face hovers close to his. "I'm just gonna call Bobby, and then we can pick up something to eat on the way over to your place." The upside to having something already planned is that Evan's already got a bag packed with everything he'll need to travel.

It sounds so simple, so effortless, and Tommy's throat feels tight when he swallows. He gets two fingers into Evan's belt loop before he can pull away, and Evan comes easily, stepping into the spread of Tommy's legs, forehead coming down the few inches to meet Tommy's. "You - thank you."

"Of course," Evan says, a little wry, an echo of Tommy's own favorite phrase whenever Evan gets a little caught up in the way Tommy keeps showing up for him. He gets it, now. It's been instinct, really, to be there when Evan asked, to try his damnedest to make it to the things he's promised to be there for - nothing particularly remarkable about it, in Tommy's mind, but Tommy's starting to see the larger picture. It's grounding, it's comforting, it is actually a little remarkable to be on the receiving end of it. It feels like devotion.

Tommy rolls his forehead, curls a hand up over Evan's shoulder, his neck, fingers catching in his hair, along the curl of his ear. When he blinks and meets Evan's gaze, there's something in his eyes that Tommy isn't sure either one of them is actually ready for, but then, they haven't really stumbled on their way through those things up to this point anyway. Blazed past them, maybe, but always with an understanding of what they mean while they waved at the mile marker blurring past them.

Evan squeezes at Tommy's knee. "I'm not going anywhere," he assures, and Tommy snorts.

"You're literally going to Jersey in, like, five and a half hours."

Evan huffs. "With you. I'm - you're ruining my moment, Tommy," he pouts, and if the both of them dissolve into a fit of giggles, no one has to know but them.

-----

Tommy hasn't been back here in eight years. It's been longer since he's talked to his family - he'd shown up fifteen minutes into his grandmother's funeral, slipped in to a pew at the back during mass and and skipped the wake before he found a bar and made a few bad decisions with a man who'd sat next to him four drinks in and smiled at him like the sun peeking through a billowing stormcap.

Evan presses a tentative hand to the small of Tommy's back and Tommy melts into it, pleased when the hand shifts to curl around his waist. He's apparently already rented a car, and Tommy can't quite hide the heavy sigh of gratitude at the admission - the getaway will be a lot smoother if they don't have to stand outside waiting for a ride.

He's seen Clipboard Buck in action before. The last time, he'd barely managed to get them somewhere private before he was on his knees to express his appreciation of Clipboard Buck. This is - not better, but different in a good way. It makes him feel tethered, reminds him that as crazy as it had been to accept an invitation to a wedding after a spectacular explosion of a first date, he'd been right to follow that spark he'd first felt on the tarmac while Evan Buckley shook his hand for about thirty seconds too long.

"I can help whoever's next," says a voice as Evan shuffles him along the rental line, and Tommy's gaze darts up, his posture sharpening.

Evelyn.

Christ, it's a day for reunions, Tommy guesses. They're next, actually, and Evan tilts his chin with narrowed eyes when Tommy sighs and moves to the counter.

For a second, Tommy's convinced she doesn't recognize him. She pops the gum in her mouth, bored gaze bouncing between them as Evan scrolls through his email for the confirmation number on his booking, and then her eyes go wide.

"Tom? Tom Kinard?"

Evan's eyes shift up. It's a lot more subtle than Tommy'd expected. So is the hand that squeezes at Tommy's hip in question.

Tommy curls his fingers around the hand, squeezes back. He's spent too many years on the other side of the closet door to go crawling back into the dark now.

"Hi Evie."

Tommy hasn't told this story, but he doubts Evan will be particularly surprised by it. He's heard about plenty of Tommy's other beards.

Her gaze shifts. From her spot behind the counter he doubts she's seeing much, but the anchor of Evan's arm around his waist has them sharing space, Tommy's shoulder pressed to Evan's chest, the two of them breathing the same air. Her brow ticks up behind her glasses. She's got a streak of grey along her temple, and the start of crows feet around her eyes.

Evelyn snaps her gum. "You missed the reunion," she notes, and then smiles. "Although I can't blame you if this is what you've got back at home. A large improvement on Jason Ledecky." She leans in. "He's got five kids and a truly tragic bald spot."

Evan's eyes gleam. Tommy realizes he's actually looking forward to telling this story, in the sanctuary of a rented car on the way to his uncles. Evelyn Carinni had been a godsend for a Tommy who'd shot up four inches and slimmed down over the summer after junior year -- she'd scooped him right up that first day of school when it became clear that a suddenly sharp jawline was all it took to garner the attention of the female population of Cliffside Park High, and the first time she'd whipped out her tits and seen the disinterested look on his face she'd made it her mission to make sure he made it through senior year undetected.

"You here about the will?"

Tommy pauses. "What will?"

Her eyeroll is exactly as disparaging as he remembers. "Christ, your family is a piece of work. According to Tina, who heard it from Daryl, Old Man Gio apparently had an updated will your dad tried to hide. There's been a whole lawsuit about getting it recognized."

"What the hell does that have to do with me?"

"Well, I imagine dear old granddad had a nice little end-of-life realization that the only descendant he had who didn't want any of his money was you, so as a last fuck you to all his ungrateful kids he left it all to you."

"There's no way any of that money hasn't been spent already." Not to mention he has no interest in some long drawn out court case where all his extended family has to admit they have no way to pay it back.

Evelyn hums. "A lot of it's been tied up for years. Plus there's the royalties his estate is still getting."

Tommy sighs. "My uncle made it seem like it was more serious than that."

"Is there anything more serious to them than who gets the lions share of daddy's money?" At Tommy's raised brow, she shakes her head. "Anyway, your pop might be looking at jail time, so there's always a possibility they're looking for preemptive bail money."

If he lets them, he'll tie up Evelyn for hours, standing here gossiping like teenagers. "We should have a reservation," Tommy tells her, before things get really off the rails, and they go through the motions of pulling up Evan's information. Evelyn pops her gum again.

"What a shame," she says, brow raised and eyes focused on Evan. "We promised you we had plenty of inventory in basic economy but it looks like those are all off the lot." Tommy watches Evan frown, eyes darting to the prices detailed behind her. Neither one of them is overly concerned about their savings account, at the moment, but Evan isn't fond of surprise price increases. He'd complained for a week the last time avocados had gone up thirty cents. "Looks like I'll just have to upgrade you free of charge, Mr. Buckley."

The clerk to her left shoots her an exasperated look and leaves it at that, but something happens in Evan's expression, the realization rolling over him that he's been included in some subterfuge. "Oh, well, if you have to," he says, but he's leaning his free arm against the counter now, posture open, happy to be included in this little bubble with someone who has loved and cared for Tommy. He knows the feeling -- knows how he'd had to take a deep breath at Chimney's bachelor party, when Eddie had glanced between them and implied that Evan inviting him to the karaoke bar was a date, remembers the way he'd had to dig his fingers into his thigh in the pocket of his pants to keep from being weird about how nice it was to laugh with Maddie Buckley-Han.

Evelyn chuckles, and smacks her gum, and the keys under her fingers clack away for a moment before she spins in her chair and marches off to grab something from the printer, and Evan hip checks Tommy with just enough force that Tommy sways, maybe a little overcome in the same way Tommy always is when Evan's friends, his family make it clear they like having Tommy around. He grins, and Tommy returns it, the edges of his smile bleeding into his cheeks.

Evelyn returns with contract for a sports car. "I waived the deposit fee," she intones. "For the inconvenience, sir."

Evan looks delighted as he signs off and Evelyn splits their copies. The sticky note affixed to Evan's copy has a phone number with a Jersey area code written on it, and she taps it.

"When you find out you're insanely rich and finally cut off the rest of your family completely, you two should take me out for coffee."

Evan isn't so caught up that he doesn't check in with Tommy first. It's not entirely necessary --he likes Evelyn, and Evan can clearly tell that -- but it's nice, all the same.

"How about a steak dinner," Tommy negotiates, and Evelyn's grin goes wide.

-----

As it turns out, Grandpa Gio was a petty little bastard with a penchant for dramatics, and according to a court of law his aunts and uncles (and father) owe him close to two million dollars, between them.

"I don't want it," Tommy confesses, laid out on the hotel bed that night, still too loose-limbed to move as Evan putters around in the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and brushing his teeth.

Evan looms over him a moment later, warm towel running over the ridges of Tommy's stomach, the rise of his pectorals. Christ, he'd shot off like a goddamn missile. Evan bites his lip to hide a grin when the towel catches on the underside of Tommy's chin.

"I'm assuming you're talking about the money," Evan says, folding the towel over itself to give him one last rubdown. "It seemed like you liked the sex."

Tommy shifts, tugging at Evan's wrist until he settles in beside Tommy. With the remains of his energy, he slings a leg over Evan's and rolls himself into the cradle of Evan's embrace. "That was never a question."

Evan maintains the silence for a grand total of thirty-seven seconds. It's longer than Tommy had expected. "So your family." Tommy hums, already tracing the edges of the tattoo on Evan's forearm. "Kind of dicks."

The snort of laughter settles into Evan's still-sweaty temples, and Tommy shifts to press his nose into the damp curls there. He'd been so hesitant to share this part of himself with Evan, but as always, Evan had forged on ahead like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than provide the landing spot for Tommy to settle down his gear once the storm passed.

"Took me twenty years and a boatload of therapy to train that out of me. I'm still --." Tommy pauses, the usual self-deprecating comment stuck on the tip of his tongue, because for once, it doesn't feel like an effort to be nothing like them. He'd spent so long hiding in the shadow of the asshole his family had taught him how to be, and dragging himself out into the sunlight always felt like a struggle.

But it hadn't felt like an effort, really -- to hold Evan's hand under the judgemental gaze of ten cousins and four aunts and uncles, to stand tall and stick to the barest edges of polite while the room erupted into chaos the moment his father opened his mouth to defend himself, to excuse himself and tuck his arm over Evan's shoulder on the way out the door.

He can still remember the dazed way Evan had responded to that first kiss, while Tommy busied himself tugging the hem of his shirt back down, too nervous to look at him while he asked him out. The way he'd looked, when Tommy'd been brave enough to glance up, eyes a little glazed, mouth still open, and told him he was free.

At the time, Tommy'd been furiously convincing himself not to lean in for another kiss, fully aware he'd make himself late to work if he allowed himself another taste, but the memory had lingered the rest of the shift. In the days after, once he'd had a clearer picture of exactly how wide he'd just blown open Evan's world, he'd thought of it often.

I am free.

Tommy turns his face to meet Evan's gaze, nose dragging across his cheek, lips aching to find a home against Evan's again, but he catches his eyes first, slides a hand up over Evan's arm, shoulder, neck, until he can curl his fingers over his jaw, thumb tucking in to the little dimple as Evan grins at him. "Thank you for coming."

Evan sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, tongue darting out to wet the top one, a mischievous gleam in his eye, but he lets the dumb joke go, gaze shifting into something more serious as he drums his fingers along Tommy's bare hip. "Thanks for letting me," Evan murmurs back, and Tommy knows they need to talk about that sentiment in more detail, but for now he'd rather roll Evan on top of him and slide his tongue past the seam of Evan's lips.

Evan doesn't seem to have any complaints.

[lyn31]

I seriously can't get enough of your story 😍 so can i request one where zayne went on a boys trip with the twins? Maybe when the twins are older and they went camping to spend boys time while MC and Serena spends their girls day too, going shopping and spa day 😂

Thank youu! I'm glad you like them! 🥹☺️ I try my best and honestly you guys give such a great prompt, how can I not? 🫶🏻

And uhh I might've going ham with this prompt... Hopefully you don't mind! It's still capture the bonding vibes! Let me know what you think! 👀💕

P.S. This is quite late but I hope you enjoy them!

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Girls vs Boys 🏆💖

Summary

During a chaotic but heartfelt trips split between parents and kids, a playful competition brings a family closer together, culminating in a quiet, tender night where distance can't dim their love.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Parenthood AU, family competition, silly, banter, chaos, family fluff, split trips!

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The living room is wrapped in soft, sleepy light, the only real glow coming from holographic screen. The popcorn bowl sits abandoned on the coffee table, half-empty and a little stale, but no one seems to mind. Serena is curled on the floor against the couch, absently scrolling on her phone between glances at the movie.

You’re half-watching, half-dozing, tucked under a blanket and pressed against Zayne's side, his arm loosely around you, a mug of tea in his other hand. Callum and Lucas, meanwhile, are sitting on the edge of the couch cushions, completely locked into the movie like it's the greatest event of the year.

Onscreen, the boys in the film are in the middle of some ridiculous river-jumping stunt, whooping and splashing, while the girls sit primly on a blanket, reading magazines and complaining about getting their shoes wet. It's meant to be funny, but the second the scene plays out, Callum wrinkles his nose, arms crossed tight against his chest.

"Why are the girls just sitting there?" he asks flatly, like he's personally offended.

You snort a quiet laugh. "Maybe they don't want to get wet."

Callum doesn't even look away from the screen, eyebrows drawn. "They're at a river. That's the whole point."

Lucas grins, kicking his feet against the coffee table. "Maybe they're scared they'd lose their fake eyelashes," he throws out, a little too gleefully.

Zayne hums, setting his mug down with a muted clink. "A tragic loss, no doubt," he says dryly.

Serena snorts softly but doesn't bother looking up from her phone.

Callum leans forward, elbows on his knees, taking it way too seriously. "It’s not even about the river," he mutters, almost to himself. "It's about having fun. How can they have no fun? Just sitting there?"

You nudge him with your foot under the blanket. "Not everyone thinks jumping into a freezing river is fun, Cal."

He shrugs like you’ve just proven his point. "Then do something else. It's weird if you can't have fun at all."

Lucas starts laughing, pointing an accusatory finger. "You’re saying that, but you stayed inside for like three hours playing chess with Dad last weekend."

Callum barely blinks. "Chess is fun."

He says it so matter-of-factly that even Zayne huffs a low laugh, lifting his cup to hide his smile.

You catch Zayne's glance over the rim of his tea, that subtle, traitorous spark in his eyes. He lets the silence stretch before murmuring, "Perhaps they are simply displaying a refined sense of leisure."

You squint at him, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Are you implying I'm boring?"

Zayne doesn’t even pretend to deny it. He sets his tea down and leans back, looking perfectly relaxed as he says, "Merely drawing comparisons, my love."

Lucas, sensing blood in the water, jumps right in. "Well... it’s kinda true, Mom. You don’t really go out anymore unless someone makes you. Mostly me. Any of you, actually, I’m the only one that go out in this household."

Callum perks up immediately, ignoring the indirect jab at himself. "Yeah! Even sis only goes out if her friends ask her. Otherwise, she just stays home all weekend."

Serena lifts her head at that, slow and cold like a cat eyeing a particularly stupid bird. Her face is blank, but her stare is sharp.

You press a hand dramatically over your heart. "Wow. My own children. Mutiny."

Serena shifts just enough to tilt her chin up, voice smooth and unimpressed. "I choose not to waste my energy on unnecessary outings."

Lucas howls with laughter, clapping his hands once. "She makes it sound like survival training!"

Before you can retaliate, Zayne’s voice cuts through, low and deliberate. "Perhaps we should determine which side is truly more adept at enjoying themselves."

Callum, naturally, sits up even straighter. "Boys versus girls."

You toss the blanket off your shoulders and lean forward, grinning like you're ready to start a war. "You really think you can out-fun us?"

Serena doesn't even hesitate, her phone finally forgotten as she lifts her eyes, bright with the spark of a challenge. "Challenge accepted."

Lucas looks between you and Serena, then between Zayne and Callum, the conflict clear on his face. His loyalty is visibly tearing him apart.

Zayne reaches over and ruffles his hair, calm and merciless. "Choose wisely."

Lucas lets out a high-pitched squeak of betrayal. "I—I'm with the boys," he blurts, and instantly looks like he regrets it when you fix him with your best betrayed glare. Which only last for so long.

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

The house feels lighter the next morning, charged with that strange, chaotic energy only kids on a mission can create. Sunlight spills through the windows in wide stripes, the smell of coffee curling through the air as you shuffle into the kitchen, still in your pajamas.

Zayne is already there, dressed and terrifyingly awake, sipping from his mug like he didn’t just spend the night plotting with your sons. You eye him suspiciously over the rim of your own coffee cup.

He offers you a mild look, like he's completely innocent.

You’re not fooled for a second.

From the living room comes the sound of shuffling papers and the unmistakable screech of markers against a whiteboard.

You blink. "Please tell me they’re not—"

Zayne sets his mug down with a soft clink. "Organizing strategic operations? I would never interfere in such noble pursuits."

You narrow your eyes and march into the living room, mug in hand.

Serena’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through her phone with a long-suffering look. Lucas is on his stomach, legs kicking idly in the air, while Callum stands at the whiteboard — where did they even get that — furiously sketching out some kind of insane tournament bracket.

When he sees you, Callum gestures dramatically toward the board with the marker, accidentally smudging part of his carefully drawn grid. "Mom, we’re making it official. We’re keeping score."

You sip your coffee slowly, watching this madness unfold.

Lucas pushes himself up on his elbows. "We need to plan what we’re doing too, Mom. Girls versus boys. We can't just... wing it."

Serena glances up. "I vote a spa day."

You point your coffee mug at her approvingly. "Excellent start."

Callum immediately frowns. "You can't just... relax. That's not showing you’re better at having fun."

Serena tilts her head, unbothered. "Maybe the fact that we know how to relax is proof enough."

Lucas leans over and stage-whispers to Callum, loud enough that you definitely hear him. "I don’t think they get it."

You set your coffee down on the table and crack your knuckles, grinning wide. "Alright, gentlemen. You want competition? You’re gonna get it."

Zayne appears behind you, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder, voice perfectly composed. "I do hope you're prepared for the inevitable."

You glance back at him. "When we win, you’re buying me new shoes."

He just smiles, slow and inscrutable, the kind of smile that makes you want to simultaneously kiss him and throw something at him.

Callum uncaps another marker — different color, obviously for official documentation purposes — and writes in big, messy letters across the top of the board.

THE ULTIMATE FUN-OFF.

Lucas helpfully adds, underneath in smaller writing.

(boys win)

You reach over with your free hand and flick his ear gently. "We'll see about that."

The day spirals from there. Lists start appearing — scribbled on the backs of receipts, napkins, the margins of old homework sheets. The boys argue about whether camping counts as more "fun" than golfing.

Serena starts Googling luxury hotel day spas with an intensity that makes you proud. Zayne, the traitor, is calmly suggesting "team-building activities" to the twins like he’s coaching a corporate retreat.

It’s official. For the next two days, it’s all-out war.

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

Saturday morning hits like a starting gun.

The house buzzes with a kind of frantic excitement — duffel bags by the door, packed lunches crammed into backpacks, Serena calmly adjusting her sunglasses like she’s already won, and Lucas bouncing from foot to foot like an overcaffeinated rabbit.

You’re triple-checking your tote bag while Zayne leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching the chaos with that irritatingly serene little smile. Like a man who's already accepted his fate.

The twins are a hurricane.

Callum slings a sleeping bag over his shoulder like a knight ready for battle. Lucas tries — and fails — to zip his jacket one-handed while waving a list in the other.

Serena, cool as ever, tucks a printed reservation confirmation into her bag. "Spa, then shopping, then dinner," she says, ticking the points off on her fingers. "No room for failure."

You smirk, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "We’ll be the picture of elegance."

Callum, overhearing, scoffs loudly. "You can’t win at elegance."

Serena’s lips curve into a dangerous little smile. "Can and will."

Zayne pushes off the wall, plucking the keys off the hook by the door. "Let’s not keep the competition waiting."

At the threshold, there’s a brief, chaotic tangle of goodbyes and last-minute sabotage.

Callum boldly holds out his hand for a shake — official-like, serious — and you grasp it with the solemnity of a general meeting a worthy opponent.

"We'll try not to have too much fun without you," you say, voice syrup-sweet.

Lucas, already halfway out the door, yells over his shoulder, "You’re gonna lose so bad!"

You call after him, cupping your hands around your mouth dramatically, "Tell the river we said hi when you chicken out of jumping in!"

Zayne chuckles, shaking his head, guiding the twins toward the car. He casts one last glance back at you, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"You'll surrender by nightfall," he says smoothly.

You grin. "Dream bigger, darling."

And with that, the doors slam — two cars peeling out in opposite directions like it’s some kind of ridiculous family action movie.

Operation Fun-Off has officially begun.

And no matter who wins, you already know it’s going to be one hell of a weekend.

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

The drive out to the campground is full of loud arguing over which songs to play, Lucas singing badly on purpose, and Zayne calmly regretting every life decision that led him to this moment.

By the time they pull into the dirt parking lot at the edge of the forest, the twins are practically vibrating with excitement.

Callum unbuckles before the car even stops moving, ready for war.

Lucas is plastered against the window, gasping dramatically. "There's a real lake! Dad, there’s a lake! We’re gonna swim, right?"

Zayne, shutting off the engine and sipping the last of his coffee with resigned grace, says, "Assuming you survive tent construction."

Callum’s already yanking the trunk open, barking orders like a miniature general.

"Lucas, get the poles! Dad, we need the tarp first! We have to make camp before anything else!"

Lucas immediately drops his duffel on the ground with a thud and salutes.

"Aye-aye, Captain Nerd."

Zayne lifts an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. "How fortunate that neither of you are in charge of a real expedition."

They tromp down the wooded path to their reserved spot — a sunny clearing ringed with towering pines, with the lake glittering just through the trees.

It’s… actually perfect.

Zayne sets down the cooler and stretches, surveying the site like he’s mentally already assigning survival odds.

Callum gets to work immediately, unfolding the tents with surgical precision.

Lucas, meanwhile, gets distracted within thirty seconds — chasing a grasshopper, inspecting weird mushrooms, dramatically gasping every time he finds a pinecone.

Zayne handles it like a professional.

He helps Callum hammer in the stakes, corrects Lucas’s lopsided sleeping bag setup without comment, and listens patiently as Callum lectures on "optimal wind resistance" like he’s applying for a PhD.

When one of the tent poles smacks Lucas in the forehead — his own fault — naturally, Zayne wordlessly uses his Evol and presses it against the kid’s head with a soft, "Cause and effect."

Ten minutes later, the camp is up. Two tents, a firepit prepped, and the lake calling like a siren in the distance.

Callum beams proudly at their work, hands on his hips.

Lucas is already shirtless, halfway to the water, yelling back,

"C'mon, old man! Last one in is a rotten pinecone!"

Zayne sighs like a man bearing the weight of the world… then calmly toes off his shoes and follows them down to the lake, a small smile in his face.

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

Meanwhile, somewhere far from dirt and bugs, the girls arrive at their hotel in style.

The valet practically jogs over when you pull up — the car not even fully stopped before he's offering to unload your bags with a polished smile.

You stretch your arms overhead, stepping out into the warm afternoon sun, already feeling like you made the correct life choice.

Serena steps out after you, giving the hotel a once-over — her gaze sweeping from the sparkling glass windows to the neatly pruned hedges.

She hums thoughtfully, like she’s reviewing a case file.

You nudge her lightly with your elbow. "Approval rating?"

She shrugs, acting unimpressed, but still grins anyway. "It'll do."

You laugh, pulling your bag over your shoulder as you text Zayne.

Hope you remembered how to make fire, caveman🔥

No response yet. Probably busy setting up... or rescuing Lucas from a rogue squirrel.

Inside, the lobby smells faintly of lavender and fresh linen, the air conditioning hitting just right after the drive.

You check in, grab your key cards, and head toward the elevator, already dreaming of the spa package you booked.

Serena walks beside you, scrolling her phone idly.

Then, she glances over and says, "We should send them a picture."

You blink. "Now?"

She lifts one brow. "Tactical psychological advantage."

You snort, already pulling out your phone. "You're evil. I love it."

You drag Serena into a quick selfie — both of you smirking like you own the place, hotel chandeliers glinting dramatically behind you.

You slap a filter on it because you’re not above being a little petty and caption it.

[Girls: 1 | Boys: 0]

Hit send.

You tuck your phone away like it’s a done deal.

You're just stepping into the elevator when your phone buzzes back.

New message from Zayne.

You open it — and immediately laugh.

It’s a photo of Callum and Lucas midair, frozen in time as they cannonball into a glittering lake — arms flailing, faces pure chaos.

Zayne’s caption underneath, dry as ever.

Progress report: unbroken spirits. Minor casualties probable.

You grin so wide it makes your cheeks hurt.

Serena leans over to see and simply says, deadpan.

"They're going to get pneumonia."

You sling an arm around her shoulders as the elevator doors close.

"Let them live a little."

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

The moment Zayne hits send, a loud splash erupts from the lake.

Two bodies crash into the water in near perfect unison, a wave of ripples spreading outward like a small explosion.

Callum surfaces first, shaking the water from his hair like a golden retriever, eyes gleaming.

Lucas pops up a second later, coughing and laughing, wiping water from his face.

"You got water up your nose?" Callum grins, swimming lazily toward him.

"Obviously," Lucas sputters, flailing one arm to send a splash right at Callum’s head.

From where he stands on the dock, Zayne watches the chaos with a patient kind of amusement — one hand in his jacket pocket, the other holding his phone.

A few droplets hit his boots. He doesn’t even flinch.

"Do try not to drown before dinner," he calls, voice even.

Callum yells back, "We're fine!"

Lucas just floats on his back, giving a clumsy thumbs-up to the sky.

Zayne’s mouth lifts. He steps back slightly from the water’s edge, tucking his phone away, glancing toward their campsite.

Their tents are already up — two neat domes nestled between the trees, with the campfire spot cleared and ready.

Supplies are stacked in organized piles: cooler, lanterns, folded chairs. He’d let the boys “help,” of course. Supervising their lopsided tent-tying with the quiet patience of a man pretending not to correct everything afterward.

Now, with the sun lowering and the lake catching streaks of gold, it feels almost... perfect.

Zayne crouches down by the dock, waiting for them to swim closer.

Callum reaches first, grabbing the wood slats and pulling himself up, dripping and grinning.

Lucas follows, panting and flushed from the cold.

"We win, right?" Lucas asks breathlessly, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead.

Zayne raises an eyebrow, dry as the desert.

"You’ve succeeded in getting wet and mildly hypothermic. Congratulations."

Callum snorts, shaking out his hair like a dog again.

"We’re gonna win this whole weekend," he says, completely confident.

Lucas nods eagerly, shivering but proud.

Zayne stands, brushing nonexistent dust from his jeans.

"Then perhaps you should begin by changing into something less likely to freeze you alive."

Callum salutes like a little soldier.

Lucas almost slips on the wet dock trying to copy him.

Zayne catches him by the back of the collar before he can faceplant. A rescue done so smoothly, Lucas doesn’t even realize it happened until he's upright again.

"Come on," Zayne says, ushering them toward camp. "Dinner awaits. And your inevitable descent into exhaustion."

"Never!" Lucas crows, fist-pumping.

Zayne says nothing, but the slight curve to his mouth is answer enough.

As they trek back up toward camp, shoes squelching and hair dripping trails behind them, Zayne feels the soft buzz of his phone in his pocket.

He lets the boys charge ahead — Lucas challenging Callum to a race that neither of them actually wins because they keep shoving each other — and pulls the device out with a smooth motion.

A new photo lights up the screen.

It’s you and Serena at the spa already —

You’re lounging in plush white robes, feet soaking in steaming water, faces aglow with the kind of smug peace only a good massage and overpriced herbal tea can buy. Serena, true to form, has a smirk on her face, holding up a tiny "V" sign with her fingers.

You, meanwhile, have your chin tilted high like a queen on her throne, one brow lifted as if daring him to say you weren’t winning this challenge already.

The caption underneath reads.

Real winners know how to relax properly. 💋

Zayne huffs a soft, almost inaudible laugh through his nose. He types back with one hand, thumb moving lazily.

Enjoy your fleeting lead, darling. The boys have already bathed in the sacred waters of victory.

A second buzz — you reply almost immediately.

Sacred waters? Is that what you're calling a mossy lake now? 😂

His mouth twitches. He tucks the phone away before Lucas or Callum can come running back to spy over his shoulder.

He catches up to the boys easily, long strides closing the distance.

Callum’s already digging through the cooler, pulling out hot dogs and marshmallows with the manic energy only a half-drowned ten-year-old can summon.

Lucas is hopping from foot to foot, hyping himself up for s'mores like he's preparing for battle.

Zayne calmly rolls up his sleeves.

It’s going to be a long — and very amusing — night.

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

You tuck your phone into the pocket of the ridiculously soft spa robe, the memory of Zayne’s reply still making you smirk to yourself.

The warm air wraps around you like a second blanket. Somewhere nearby, a small waterfall installation murmurs quietly, and the low music thrums against the floor.

Serena slides into the chair next to yours, her hair twisted up in a neat coil, already looking like she belongs in one of those "treat yourself" commercials.

"You know," you murmur, swirling the edge of your water glass, "we are absolutely destroying them in style points."

Serena lifts an eyebrow, "But we still need more.” Then as serious as she can manage, she adds. “Style does not equate to fun. Victory requires substance."

You laugh, reaching for one of the spa menus.

"Since when did you start quoting philosophical battle tactics during a girls’ weekend?"

She hums, plucking a grape from the fruit platter between you. "We need to win after all."

Fair enough.

The attendant approaches with a gentle smile, offering the next scheduled treat: deep tissue massages. Serena stands gracefully. You, a little less so — grinning and bumping her shoulder as you pass.

"Last one to fall asleep during the massage owes the other ice cream," you declare.

"No need," she says without missing a beat. "You'll definitely lose, mom."

You gasp in mock betrayal, letting the warmth and lightness of the moment sink into your bones.

No worries about house chores, no nagging thoughts about whether Callum and Lucas packed enough socks — just now, just this.

And the quiet, perfect knowledge that tomorrow, you'd win this competition with your head held high.

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

The massage ends in a blissful, floaty haze.

You barely remember changing out of your spa robe into your comfy dress, barely remembering tugging Serena along by the hand with you through the hotel's grand hallway, giggling under your breath like teenagers sneaking out past curfew.

Serena walks beside you, arms crossed loosely, a faint pink flush still on her cheeks from the massage.

It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her in weeks — her steps a little lighter, her usual guarded look softened into something almost dreamy.

You nudge her lightly with your elbow.

"Good idea, huh?"

Serena hums, almost smug. "I don't make poor plans."

You snort, shaking your head. Of course she’s enjoying herself — she orchestrated half of this weekend like a tactician preparing for battle.

The restaurant smells like heaven — garlic butter, fresh bread, sizzling meat — and by the time you're seated by the window, your stomach is practically singing.

You tug your phone out, expecting maybe another picture from Zayne — but this time it's Callum taking the picture.

A blurry shot of Lucas roasting a marshmallow that's already half on fire, with Callum's laughing face poking into the corner.

You grin and turn the screen toward Serena.

She leans in, studying it for a second — and then just shakes her head with a small laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Of course they're already burning things."

You snicker. "It's a rite of passage. They're doing it right."

Serena leans back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead lazily, looking more relaxed than she has in months.

"Yeah, but we're still winning," she says easily. "No offense to charred marshmallows, but I'm about to demolish an entire steak."

You tap back a quick reply.

Meanwhile, we’re about to eat real food like civilized people.

Serena steals a breadstick off the table, twirling it between her fingers.

"Should we really give them hope this early?" she teases.

You narrow your eyes playfully. "You're right. We should crush their spirits after dessert."

That earns a real laugh from her — quick, warm, and completely genuine.

It feels... good. Like you're not just ticking off a "girls' day" list — you're living it.

Dinner comes fast — steaks for both of you, because obviously, you had to match your teenage daughter’s pride-fueled order.

You even toast with your fancy sparkling waters like you're on some diplomatic mission to showcase how much fun you're having without them.

And then — when the plates are cleared, when the waiter brings out a molten lava cake the size of your head — you and Serena exchange a look.

No words needed.

This was the moment.

You swipe your phone out and snap a picture.

The two of you sitting side-by-side, forks plunged dramatically into the gooey cake, Serena flashing a rare, real smile at the camera, you throwing up a peace sign like a proud tourist.

You send it straight to Zayne with one caption.

Living our best lives. 🍰💅

A few seconds later, the little "read" symbol appears next to all their names.

You can practically feel the boys fuming across the map.

Serena leans over to peek at your phone, then lifts her hand for a fist bump.

You bump it without hesitation, laughing.

"Think we broke them?" you ask.

Serena smirks, light and easy.

"Not yet," she says. "But give it an hour."

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

“They’re having cakes?!” Lucas says, peering at the picture over Zayne’s shoulder, the marshmallow still burning on the stick he’s holding.

“We have marshmallows, it’s just as sweet.” Callum says calmly.

“That’s not the same!” Lucas replies, throwing his hands up dramatically and Zayne could not help but agreeing in silent about cake being different.

Truth be told, Zayne had planned to bring some cake. They couldn't eat it tomorrow, but at least they could have it tonight.

But when Callum caught him sneaking it into the supplies, he'd immediately vetoed it — said it didn't fit the camping vibe.

So with a heavy heart, the cake is left behind.

Zayne reaches for another marshmallow, skewering it slowly as he watches Callum and Lucas grumble around the fire.

"Clearly," Zayne says, "we are on the verge of a morale crisis."

Lucas slumps dramatically onto the ground beside him. "We're gonna lose because we don't have cake."

"We can still win. We just have to... have more fun." Callum says mildly, tilting his head. He inspects his own half-burnt marshmallow like he's judging it in a culinary contest.

Zayne suppresses a smile, watching them both spiral.

"Alright," he says, setting down his mug of tea. "New plan."

Lucas perks up immediately, always ready for chaos. Callum narrows his eyes suspiciously.

Zayne leans in slightly, the firelight catching in the dark strands of his hair — with a few glints of silver — making him look almost conspiratorial.

"I hereby declare," he says solemnly, "the First Annual Great Nighttime Campfire Challenge."

Lucas sits up straighter. "What's that?"

"Simple," Zayne says. "A series of highly sophisticated, extremely scientific tests to determine who is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the ultimate campfire champion."

"What's the prize?" Callum asks immediately, practical as always.

Zayne lifts a brow. "The knowledge that you salvaged the honor of this camp," he continues. "Also, I'll let the winner pick breakfast tomorrow."

Lucas slaps his knee. "I'm in."

Callum gives a rare grin. "You're on."

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

Challenge One: Marshmallow Artistry

Last event. Decorating their marshmallows with "faces" using sticks, charcoal smudges, and pure creativity.

Lucas painstakingly crafts a little charcoal face on his marshmallow — complete with angry eyebrows.

Callum leans into his scientist instincts, carefully shaping his into what looks suspiciously like a marshmallow knight.

Zayne doesn't even bother — he just stabs two tiny holes for "eyes" and calls it minimalist horror.

Lucas insists Zayne's is "way creepier" and demands bonus points.

Zayne records the whole chaotic scene on his phone — shaky footage of Lucas posing his marshmallow "soldiers" dramatically,

Callum critiquing everyone's technique like a food judge, the firelight flickering wildly behind them.

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

Challenge Two: One-Sentence Scary Story

Zayne pokes the fire with a stick, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

"Next," he says. "One-sentence horror stories. Quickfire."

Callum clears his throat first, serious as always.

"The tent zipper moved... but no one was outside."

Lucas shudders dramatically.

"Okay, okay, my turn," Lucas says, bouncing.

He lowers his voice for effect. "I opened my backpack... and it whispered, 'Finally.'"

Zayne huffs a soft laugh through his nose. "Creative," he says.

Lucas pumps his fist like he just won an Oscar.

"Dad's turn!" Lucas says, pointing.

Zayne pretends to think, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Then, dead serious. "The marshmallows burned themselves... and came for revenge."

Callum actually snorts.

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

Challenge Three: Shadow Puppet Showdown

Zayne flicks on the camp lantern, aiming it against the side of the tent to cast a wide sheet of light.

"Last test," he says. "Best shadow creature wins."

Lucas immediately tries to form a dragon with his hands, but it ends up looking more like a melted turtle.

Callum, cool and methodical, crafts a surprisingly good-looking wolf howling at an invisible moon.

Lucas whines in outrage. "That’s not fair! You’ve got long fingers! It’s an advantage!"

"You have the same hands," Callum points out, trying not to hit his brother on the head.

Zayne captures the moment on his phone, angling the lens just right to get Lucas’s indignant face and Callum’s smugly perfect wolf in the same frame.

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

At the end, Lucas dramatically falls backward onto the grass, arms spread wide.

"I hereby proclaim," he says, starry-eyed, "that we are living our best lives."

Callum just hums in agreement, roasting another marshmallow with calm efficiency.

Zayne finishes the video with a slow pan across the scene — burnt marshmallows, bad shadow puppets, and two boys laughing like idiots under the stars — before pocketing his phone with a rare, soft smile, wondering if they were smiling just as brightly wherever they were.

And later that night, while the boys are winding down in their tents, Zayne quietly sends the video to you.

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

The sun creeps lazily through the curtains, painting soft lines across the bed. You’re sprawled on your stomach, one arm dangling off the edge.

You blink blearily, half-buried under the covers, and grope for your phone.

And you see it first.

A video.

You squint at the thumbnail — firelight, figures moving — and swipe it open.

Immediately, laughter crackles from the speaker.

The scene wobbles a little — Zayne’s steady hand holding the phone while Lucas and Callum race around the campfire like idiots, waving burnt marshmallows like they’re staging a medieval battle.

It switches to a different scene where they tell one-sentence horror stories — so bad they make you snort — and then it ended with them doing shadow puppet.

The fire casts everything in golden orange and deep blue shadows, and there’s this hum to it — a warm, simple kind of joy that tugs at your heart.

You grin, feeling your chest squeeze unexpectedly.

“Awww,” you whisper, completely forgetting your whole “crush their spirits” plan.

You replay the video, noticing this time how Zayne stays just behind the camera, his voice dry and amused when he occasionally comments.

You wish — selfishly — he’d turned the lens just a little.

Captured himself there too, caught in that easy, unguarded happiness.

You sigh dramatically, rolling onto your back, cradling the phone to your chest like you’re in some cheesy drama.

"I miss them already, my idiot boys," you mutter.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Serena steps out in a cloud of fresh soap and steam, towel slung around her neck.

"What's that?" she asks, rubbing at her damp hair.

You hold up the phone. "They sent a video," you say, grinning. "It's adorable. Like, actually adorable. Lucas almost set Callum on fire, they did a bunch of things before going to bed. Your dad recorded the whole thing."

Serena wanders over, curious. You hit play again.

This time, Serena watches without a word — just standing there, towel in hand, taking it in.

Her mouth twitches, something small and fond flickering across her face.

That same warm ache stirs in your chest again. Even though she doesn’t say it, you can read it clear as day.

But then — Serena catches herself, sharp as ever.

She claps her hands once, briskly.

"No, Mom. Focus," she says, dead serious. "We have a mission."

You blink, caught between laughing and groaning.

Serena points at you like a coach rallying her team.

"They had their night of marshmallow madness. Now it's our turn to dominate. Today's gonna be even better."

You salute weakly from your bed. "Yes, Commander."

Serena smirks. "Get dressed. Battle resumes after breakfast."

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

After breakfast — a ridiculously good spread of fresh fruit, pancakes, and dangerously strong coffee — you and Serena find yourselves standing in front of a miniature golf course that can only be described as aggressively whimsical.

There are neon-colored windmills. A pirate ship with actual cannons that fire bubbles. An enormous plastic dragon with a moving tail guarding the last hole.

Serena surveys the course like a general inspecting a battlefield, arms crossed, lips pursed.

You bump her shoulder lightly with yours.

"You ready to dominate?"

She lifts an eyebrow, deadpan. "Dominate? Mom, I'm about to revolutionize the sport."

You snort, handing her one of the fluorescent pink golf balls.

It starts off simple.

You laugh your way through the first few holes — missing easy shots because you're too busy trash-talking, or getting distracted by the random animatronic animals popping up from hidden traps.

By the fifth hole, Serena's competitive side is fully awake.

She lines up her putt like she’s on the PGA tour, adjusting her stance three times, measuring the angle, squinting at the slight incline of the plastic grass.

You’re mostly trying to not trip over the ridiculously large foam cactus next to the hole.

She sinks her shot perfectly.

You — less so.

Your ball bounces off a pirate’s foot, ricochets off a rock, and somehow ends up in a completely different hole.

Serena claps. "Impressive. Wrong, but impressive."

You throw your arms up. "I call it creative routing," you declare grandly. "You just don't understand my vision, sweetie."

Serena laughs — a real, sharp laugh that echoes across the fake river by the dragon hole.

At one point, when you both reach the castle-themed hole — complete with a mini drawbridge that goes up and down randomly — Serena gets caught mid-putt and the bridge slams shut.

You both absolutely lose it, doubled over laughing as her ball pathetically rolls back toward her feet.

"I'm being sabotaged," she cries dramatically.

"Welcome to the rebellion," you say solemnly.

By the end, neither of you are really keeping score. You're just trying to out-dramatic each other — flopping to the ground after misses, posing heroically after successful shots, fake-arguing over whose ball had more "style points."

When you finally make it through the dragon hole — Serena dramatically riding her victory by pretending to joust with her putter — you feel flushed, happy, and genuinely full in a way that has nothing to do with breakfast.

Serena holds out her hand for a high five, grinning wide and unguarded.

You slap it without hesitation.

Another point for the girls.

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

The three of them are perched on a makeshift dock Zayne had scouted earlier — fishing poles in hand, lines lazily drifting in the calm lake water.

It’s peaceful — the kind of easy silence that settles in when nobody feels like they have to fill it.

Lucas is the first to break it, squinting at the end of his pole. "Pretty sure the only thing I’ve caught is algae."

Callum shifts beside him, reeling his line in slow and steady. "You can't rush greatness."

Zayne just hums, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s suppressing a smile.

Not because of the fishing — but because, honestly, seeing them both so content is worth the trip already.

His phone buzzes on the wooden slats beside him.

He picks it up — sees the notification from you — and tilts the screen instinctively so the boys can see too.

The video auto-plays.

You're somewhere around hole fourteen — a ridiculous course where you have to bank your shot off a swinging pirate anchor — when Serena absolutely nails it.

She smacks the ball with just the right amount of force, the anchor swings perfectly out of the way, and the ball swirls dramatically around the cup before sinking in clean.

You and Serena both scream — startled, victorious, and completely unable to stop laughing.

Serena doubles over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

You grab your phone in a rush and spinning it selfie-style to capture both of you — you still cackling like a lunatic, Serena wiping tears of laughter off her cheeks, both of you absolutely riding the high of the moment.

All three boys just stare for a second.

Then Lucas snorts, cracking up. "No way. Look at Mom — she's about to pass out!"

Callum gives a slow, respectful nod. "Legend behavior."

Zayne... doesn't even bother hiding the way his mouth softens.

He watches it twice without even thinking — the easy happiness spilling out of the screen, the way you and Serena mirror each other perfectly even in your chaos.

Lucas leans back, fake wiping a tear. "They're out there living their best lives... and we're here, being patient, noble, strong men—"

His fishing pole gives a sudden jerk. Lucas yells and scrambles, trying to grab it before it shoots off into the lake.

Zayne leans back, "Noble, huh?"

Callum, completely unfazed, strolls over, stands silently at Lucas’s side, offering absolutely no help. "Pull harder." He adds, which make Lucas shoot him a dead glare for a few second before he goes back to pull his pole.

Cue chaos as Lucas tries to "fight" whatever tiny fish is on the line — swearing vengeance, calling it a “sea monster,” nearly falling off the dock.

Zayne gets it all on video. He sends it back to you with the caption.

Some of us are thriving too. 🐟🏆

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

Serena leans over your shoulder, snorts loudly. You both are eating your lunch when Zayne's send you the video.

"Men," she says, exasperated. "So noble. So dignified."

You cackle, hitting replay.

She taps the screen thoughtfully. "You know what, Mom? We should bring back souvenirs."

You raise an eyebrow. "Weapons of psychological warfare?"

She grins wickedly. "Exactly. Battle supplies."

You laugh, finish the last of your fries, trading glances over the greasy paper tray like you’re reading each other’s minds.

And then you both move.

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

You end up roaming a ridiculous little boardwalk store that sells everything from novelty sunglasses to neon hats shaped like fish.

Serena grabs a set of matching pirate bandanas, waggling her eyebrows. "Intimidation factor: ten out of ten."

You find a T-shirt that says I'd rather be fishing — in glitter font — and hold it up dramatically. "We send this to Lucas. He'll combust."

You pile up a few other stupid prizes — gag gifts, candy shaped like fish, rubber ducks in pirate hats — barely able to carry it all to the counter because you're laughing so hard.

Once the "battle supplies" are secured, you barely pause to catch your breath before heading off to the mani-pedi place — a tiny but ridiculously charming spot with seashell wallpaper and sparkly floors.

Serena picks a bright ocean blue for her nails. You go full chaos: hot pink with tiny glittery fish decals.

When you're finished, you sit side-by-side in the drying chairs, hands outstretched like royalty.

Serena flashes you a grin, holding up her nails. "Best battle armor ever."

You hold yours up to match, snapping a picture of your ridiculous, colorful hands together.

You send it straight to the Zayne —

I think our water theme is much better. 💅🏻💅🏻

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

Callum leans over, lets out a low whistle. "That’s... actually kind of terrifying."

Zayne tilts the screen to get a better look.

Hot pink glitter fish and ocean blue — bright, messy, unapologetic.

Exactly like them.

Lucas bolts upright. "No. No, no, no. We need to do something. We need to make history."

Callum tilts his head thoughtfully. "We could build a raft," he offers. "Like in those survival shows."

Lucas lights up immediately. "YES. Brilliant. I love it. Let's show them real skills."

Zayne raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

"You’re aware," he says mildly, "that building it is only half the battle."

Lucas stands, hands on hips, surveying the lake like he’s about to conquer it. "We build, we conquer. Simple math."

Callum look like he want to argue but then again the conquer part he agree with so he let his brother be.

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

Gathering materials takes longer than expected — sticks, thicker branches, anything that looks like it might survive ten minutes in water.

Zayne oversees it calmly, sometimes pointing out which wood is too rotten or too thin without killing their momentum.

Callum ties knots with the single-minded focus of someone trying to impress fate itself.

Lucas insists on testing every piece by swinging it like a sword first.

"You know," Zayne says at one point, as Lucas dramatically jousts a tree, "the raft won't fight back."

Lucas waves him off. "Durability is important, dad."

Somehow — somehow — after an hour of arguing, hauling, and nearly capsizing the project before it even hits the water, the raft is complete.

A lopsided miracle of rope, logs, and chaotic teamwork.

They drag it to the water's edge, breathless and proud.

"You first," Callum tells Lucas, smirking.

Lucas squints suspiciously. "Why me?"

"You have better balance," Callum lies smoothly.

Lucas beams — and steps onto the raft like a true hero.

For about three seconds.

Then the whole thing tilts, dumps him into the lake with a spectacular splash, and rocks right back into place like nothing happened.

Callum actually claps. Zayne just pulls his phone out and films the tail-end of Lucas sputtering up from the water, grinning.

"Send that to Mom!" Lucas yells from the shallows, wiping lake water from his face. "We’re winning!"

Zayne chuckles under his breath — and hits send.

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

The sun’s barely dipped below the horizon by the time you and Serena stumble back into your hotel room, still riding the buzz of the day.

The windows are cracked open, letting in the cool evening breeze, and the two of you move in lazy tandem — trading your ridiculous shopping bags for pajamas, peeling off shoes, tossing your new "battle supplies" onto the bed like treasure after a long quest.

"No thoughts," Serena says, already digging out her skincare pouch. "Only serotonin and sheet masks."

You cackle and throw yourself onto the bed, arms splayed. "I second that motion."

But before you dive into the sheet masks and your usual post-adventure routine, you both hear the familiar ping of a new message from your phone.

You grab your phone, swiping it open to reveal the latest video from the boys — the raft disaster. You can’t help but snicker as it auto-plays.

Lucas is sputtering in the lake, the raft tipping over in a ridiculously cinematic fashion. Callum’s standing by, looking mildly entertained, and Zayne is filming the whole thing with a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips. The video ends with Lucas shouting that they’re “winning” while dripping wet.

You laugh loudly, and Serena deadpans, “If we didn’t already have enough reasons to roast them…”

Within minutes, you’re both in your pajamas, faces plastered with cooling sheet masks — Serena’s a shimmering silver one that makes her look like a futuristic warrior; yours has bright pink flamingos on it, because of course it does.

You snap a photo together — masks on, thumbs up, peace signs — and fire it to Zayne without even thinking.

Relaxing with style and less cleaning needed. ✨

You try not to laugh because of your mask but it slips anyway.

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

Dinner happens more or less the same way the raft did — messy, chaotic, and somehow perfect.

The sun’s low now, the lake gleaming like molten glass in the background as the boys sit around a crackling firepit with paper plates full of food balanced precariously on their knees.

Lucas is still damp from the raft incident, his hair sticking up every which way, but that doesn’t stop him from eagerly roasting a marshmallow over the fire.

Zayne sits beside him, infinitely calmer, holding his own marshmallow with the detached focus of a man who’s been through worse.

Callum, somehow, looks personally offended at the sight of them.

"You’re eating sugar again," he says, voice tight with judgment.

Lucas shrugs. "We earned it."

Zayne just gives a mild nod of agreement and takes a slow, deliberate bite of the toasted marshmallow, locking eyes with Callum like he’s issuing a challenge.

Callum glares, arms crossed. "Traitors."

Lucas snickers and shoves another marshmallow on the stick.

Zayne's phone buzzes with a new message. He wipes his hands absently and checks it — and a laugh huffs out of him before he can help it.

He angles the screen so the boys can see.

You and Serena, victorious, covered in ridiculous sheet masks and looking completely unbothered by the day’s events.

Lucas sputters a marshmallow out of his mouth. "WHAT. How do they still look cooler than us?!"

Callum just buries his head in his arms, groaning dramatically.

Zayne chuckles low under his breath and taps a reply.

That’s a fair strategy. Less cleaning, more lounging. I approve.

Lucas looking over at Zayne’s reply, groans, throwing a half-eaten marshmallow in the air, then catching it like he’s on some kind of mission. “Less cleaning, more lounging. Real smooth, Dad.”

Callum eyes the screen with exaggerated judgment, shaking his head slowly. “You know, I think Dad’s trying to start a new trend… Just gotta add a little more action to it.” He taps his marshmallow stick against the table like a pointer.

Zayne, still holding his phone, smirks. “I’ll leave the trendsetting to you guys. You’ve got that covered.”

Both boys give a simultaneous dramatic sigh, but then Lucas leans toward the screen again.

“You’re just jealous of our raft, Dad. Admit it.”

Callum shrugs. “I don’t know, man. It looked a little... unstable.”

With a tired groan, Lucas falls into his sleeping bag. “Alright, what else can we do tonight?” he asks, but his eyes are already half-closed, his words slower and drowsier than usual.

Zayne watches them, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He feels the shift in their energy, the evening winding down as the last of the sugar high fades.

Lucas kicks off his shoes with a grunt, making a half-hearted attempt to get more comfortable, and in the tent but clearly ready to drift off. Callum, too, settles into his own sleeping bag, pulling the blanket over himself like he's claiming his personal fortress for the night.

“You two need to get some sleep,” Zayne says, voice gentle but firm. He steps into the tent, glancing over at the mess from their raft-building session outside near their campfire. "We’ve got an early morning tomorrow."

Callum doesn’t even look up as he lazily mutters, “You’re no fun, Dad.”

Lucas, his voice muffled by the pillow, lets out a long yawn. “No one can beat our raft,” he says, but it’s more of a tired murmur than a boast.

Zayne chuckles quietly. “I’m sure it’ll be a great story for tomorrow. But right now, I think you need to get some sleep before I have to tell you both a bedtime story.”

Lucas groans but doesn’t fight it. Zayne watches the boys for a moment longer, his phone still in hand as he types back a quick reply, the flicker of the screen a small glow in the dim room.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Callum mumbles sleepily.

“Yeah, goodnight, old man,” Lucas adds, though his voice is already fading into the quiet hum of sleep.

Zayne’s gaze softens as he tucks the blanket in around them with silent care. His movements are practiced, familiar, but there’s something tender about the way he settles them in, ensuring they’re both comfortable, before he steps back and settle at his own sleeping bag with one last glance at his kids.

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

The evening air has cooled just enough for the room to feel cozy, the soft hum of the air conditioning in the background as you and Serena finish peeling off the last remnants of your face masks. You toss yours into the trash with a dramatic sigh, running your hands over your face, feeling the smoothness left behind by the skincare routine.

Serena does the same, her eyes still sparkling with that mischievous energy she always carries. "You know," she says, stretching and flopping back onto the bed, "I think we could be skincare influencers, mom."

You laugh softly, pulling the blanket up around you both as you sit cross-legged on the bed, the glow from your bedside lamp casting a warm, peaceful light on the room. "I don't think anyone’s ready for our level of relaxation."

She snorts, then exhales a contented breath, clearly relaxing more into the space. "Fair. It’s just nice, though. A little pampering after a crazy day."

You smile, glancing at the clock—late enough for both of you to be winding down, but still early enough to enjoy the calm. "We really should do this more often. I forgot how much I missed having this quiet time with you."

Serena, clearly already starting to drift, nods softly. "Yeah. It’s... nice. Good to reset after all the craziness."

Her eyes flutter closed, a lazy smile still on her lips. "Night, Mom," she murmurs, pulling the blanket up just under her chin.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," you reply, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she drifts off into sleep. You stay for a moment, watching the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, then quietly slip off the bed, picking up your phone.

As you pull it from the side table, a sudden vibration makes you glance down: a message from Zayne.

You quickly tap the screen to open the message but don’t have time to read it before another notification pops up, this one from Zayne—his name lighting up in a video call request.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you swipe to answer.

As soon as the call connects, Zayne’s face fills the screen, his expression warm but with that playful edge you know so well. His eyes flick down to his phone, then back to you, and you can see the tiny curve tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Hey, husband,” you greet, voice warm as the screen brightens with his face. “How’s the lake?”

“As you can see,” he says, tilting his head just enough to make his damp hair shift messily across his forehead, “still very wet.”

You snort. “That’s what happens when you agree to their idea of camping.”

“We camp sometimes too,” he points out, mild.

“Yeah, but no one warming you up if I'm not there,” you tease, winking.

He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, and though he doesn’t say anything, the way he looks at you — fond, amused, utterly in agreement — says it all.

“But anyway,” you continue, shifting slightly to get more comfortable without waking Serena, “I see the twins are absolutely having the time of their lives.”

“They really are.” His voice softens a little, and a quick glance down shows you a mess of sleepy dark curls against his chest. “And… I did too.”

“Oh?” You smile, pleased. “That’s good. We might’ve gotten a tiny bit carried away with the competition part, but honestly? I think it worked out, yeah?”

Zayne’s mouth tugs into a half-smile. “It did. How about you two?”

“A blast,” you whisper, glancing down at her sleeping face and feeling your heart squeeze. “We should do this more often, switching it up, or all together, if we can find the time… although, your patients might riot if their favorite doctor keeps disappearing.”

“And Jenna might just ask you to retire,” he says dryly.

You gasp, slapping a hand dramatically to your chest. “She wouldn’t dare!”

He simply raises a brow at you, unimpressed, and you can’t help but laugh under your breath.

“Oh!” you whisper, remembering, excitement sparking. “I almost forgot — can’t wait to give my boys their gift!”

Zayne’s eyes narrow slightly, playful suspicion all over his face. “You bought us something?”

“Oh yes,” you croon, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Serena even picked it very carefully. Very seriously, mind you.”

He gives you a suspicious look, but you just laugh low, not wanting to wake Serena sleeping beside you.

“What? Not trusting your dear wife and daughter?” you whisper, smiling wide.

Zayne hums, the sound low and amused. He shifts his phone a little, like he’s settling back somewhere more comfortable. In the dim light, you can see a hint of the cabin behind him — rough wood, soft shadows — and the mess of dark curls you recognize immediately as one of the twins sleeping against his chest.

“Just preparing myself for whatever you and Serena consider a carefully picked gift,” he murmurs, voice softer now, edged with something undeniably fond.

You nudge the camera down, showing Serena — all tangled hair and soft breaths — tucked against you. When you tilt it back up, Zayne’s gaze is lingering, his expression gentler.

“They’re getting bigger,” he says quietly.

You nod, a lump catching in your throat, the exhaustion of the day making everything hit a little harder. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Too fast.”

For a beat, neither of you say anything, just listening to the faint sounds of the night from each other’s calls — the twins' even breathing, the cicadas outside the lake house, the rustle of Serena’s tiny hands against your shirt.

“You did good today,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

Zayne blinks, his eyes lazy with tiredness but still so present, so there with you even from miles away. “You did better.”

You chuckle under your breath, the kind of sound you only make when you’re too tired to argue but too full of love not to respond. “Always competing, even now,” you whisper.

“Only because I like losing to you,” he says, the words coming out slower, softer, like the weight of the day is finally pulling at him.

You shift the phone a little, propping it against a pillow. “Dear,” you say quietly, reaching out like you could touch him through the screen. “Sleep here with me.”

He smiles, small and lopsided, like he’s too tired to fight it — like he doesn’t even want to. “I’m already here.”

You both fall silent again, breathing each other in across the distance. His eyes close first, lashes brushing against his cheeks. You watch him, heart aching with a kind of sweet, helpless love.

Your own eyes slip shut not long after, Serena’s warmth against your side, Zayne’s quiet breaths filling your ear.

Miles apart, but still together, you fall asleep with the call still connected, the screen glowing soft between you — a fragile thread of light that never breaks.

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

Notes

Don't mind me tearing up a bit.... This is a trip! Pun intended ofc, but man thinking about what would they do is rough ahahaha I did a lot of stuff indoor but not outdoor 🥹🤣 But I think I'm satisfied with this, hope y'all enjoy the Li family shenanigans!

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨

Although if you missed the Newlyweds series! Here How it all happen And also the Pregnancy series, starting with Try For Baby

[sinsandsweetness]

I’m thinking of any of the boys, how would they react to being teased with? And I don’t mean oh that’s cute- I mean hardcore teasing. I’m thinking wearing cute outfits or saying things in the vicinity of the boys, where they can’t do anything about it. I might have asked this before so if I did, oops. but I’m never without a backup! I love the scene Aaron meets Rick and Michonne, them jumping out of bed. But what if it was the reader and Rick or the reader with Daryl or Rickyl or….? “tell your mom and dad…”

“huh?” Carl rolls his eyes at who it is and calls them gross and lame. Lol (idk; that’s what my teen would have done)

Hehe ok I’m using this as a little bonus blurb for poison… I promise part 4 is coming soon but here’s something to tie us all off in the meantime <3

“You gotta tell her to cut it out. I can’t believe I’m bricked up at a children's birthday party, right now.” Shane slumps down next to Rick. Visibly irritated, grabbing the throw pillow from beside him, and placing it in his lap to conceal the tent in his blue jeans.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Rick asks.

They both look over at you from their spot on the deck. Watching you throw neon rings into the water from the side of the pool. Entertaining the half a dozen 10 year olds whose parents are all too busy getting drunk in your parents house, to look after their own children.

“You’re the only one she actually listens to.”

Rick just shakes his head with a little huff, “She’s a fuckin’ brat. Doesn’t listen to anyone.”

You know they're watching you. They have been all day. From the second you asked Rick to help tighten the strings of your bikini top, you had them in a damn trance. Unable to control their constant wandering gaze.

“What kinda swimsuit is that? Barely even covers her nipples.” Shane whines.

“She’s doin’ it on purpose. Tryna get a reaction out of you. And it’s workin’, so just… quit starin’. She’ll give it up soon enough.”

“I need her to put a shirt on before I cream my frickin’ jeans, Ricky. Go on and tell her that.”

“Tell her what?” Daryl interjects the conversation with gifts from the garage. He hands the two men a beer, plopping down on the love seat across them.

“Tell her to quit teasin us’. It ain’t funny and she ain’t bein’ very subtle about it either.” Shane nods over at you. Unfortunately for him, you catch his stare and wave back at him. A sweet, innocent little wave that sends butterflies swarming around in his gut.

“Shit.” Shane shifts his gaze to the floor.

“What?”

“Made eye contact. She’s coming over.”

They all share a look before you reach the couch. Dripping wet and wringing out your hair with a towel.

“Hey,” You plop down next to Daryl, the only open seat available.

“You’re soaking.” He complains, moving further into the armrest.

“What? You afraid of a little water?” You tease, over aware of the clenched jaws staring you down from the couch.

He lets out a little grunt, sipping his beer to distract himself from your practically naked legs, brushing up against his jeans.

“Shoot, I think I’m starting to burn,” you act all concerned, looking down at your decolletage and running delicate fingers over your sun kissed skin, “think one of you could reapply for me?” You ask, reaching for the coffee table where your sunscreen so conveniently happens to be sitting right in front of the three men.

You see Shane’s fist tighten around the beer as he struggles to avoid your gaze.

“Shane?” You ask, knowing he’s always the first to break for you.

“Me..?” he looks over at Rick and sighs, tipping his head back. Asking god why the hell he was testing him so hard today.

Rick lets out an involuntary groan at his friend’s attitude.

“Alright, get over here.” He waves you over, snatching the bottle from your hands.

You stifle your laugh by biting your lip. Practically crawling over Daryl to reach Rick’s lap. Sitting down, bikini bottoms dampening his denim clad thigh, though he doesn’t complain. He just takes the sunscreen and squeezes a generous amount on his hands. Handing you the bottle back and rubbing the cream together before starting on your shoulders.

You sigh at his touch, leaning your head to the side and pulling your hair out of the way to give him better access to your back.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is low in your ear. Lips dangerously close to your neck. “Ain’t foolin anybody. Acting like a damn brat. Teasin’ us right in front of your daddy…” he chuckles. His breath sends goosebumps down your spine as his hands rub the muscles on your back.

“I- don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you play dumb. Lids fluttering closed at the wonderful sensation of Rick's fingers working at the knots between your shoulder blades. Gliding back and forth and then slipping down to your lower back. Where his touch starts feeling less like a massage and more like a tickle. Threatening to send a shiver through your body.

“Sure you do,” he slides his hands down to your hips, grabbing on to you and pulling you even further into his lap, the sudden movement makes your breath hitch in your throat. “You know exactly what you’re doin’. Know exactly what game you’re trying to play. Guess you didn't realize that we might know how to play too, hm?” He uses his grip on your hips to grind you down on his lap, and the huge bulge that’s making the front of his jeans so tight.

Your eyes go wide at his boldness. Knowing that any of your fathers friends could see from their various spots all over the yard. Hell your father could see if he just turned away from his conversation with Deanna. Fortunate for you, they’re all too focused on their own conversations to pay attention to the borderline filth happening on the patio furniture.

“I- I wasn't-“

“See boys? She sure loves to dish it out but the second you start dishin’ it back,” he huffs a laugh before continuing, “she turns into a needy, little mess.”

-

pick your poison taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @imyourbratzdoll @olive3oil @taylormarieee @spidermonkey2423 @fanngirl19

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons part 3

<33

a/n: heyyyyyy I had so much fun writting these. I am literally shaking as we speak cuz i'm still kinda shy abt this even tho yall showed me sm love and gave so much positive feedback on the first 2 parts I was giggling, blushing, and twirling my invisible phone cord. Thank you all so much for everything and enjoy my shitty thoughts 🫶💞 + tagging a lovely person who gave me the idea of writting one of these @yinorathedragontamer

Summary/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Sam Winchester x gn!reader , Sam being the biggest boyfriend of all boyfriends (im quoting one of my moots), the first headcanon isn't sam x reader it's Jess x Sam (rip to the hottest couple) the headcanon came to me in a prophetic vision and i just had to leave it here, mention of Sam's childhood + I couldn't help myself but make a few headcanons about Dean too.

- I have a deep feeling (i'm an empath) that around college when he was with Jess and he wouldn't leave her side, Sam accidentally got adopted by her girl group of friends - hear me out - he would cling to Jess for his dear life shaking and not wanting to intrude or make him look nosy and Jess's girlfriends wouldn't bat an eye, welcoming Sam with open arms and treating him the same - they are the reason his guilty pleasure is gossiping. One of Jess's (girl)friends coming hurriedly towards the group with a shocked expression and a hand covering her mouth and Sam already knows the tea is scrumptious - he probably got called "girl" so many times - he didn't mind it btw, actually kinda liked it because that means they included him - spreading my "Sam Winchester enjoys the company of female friends more than male ones agenda" like wildfire ‼️ - "wyd when me and my gang pull up" and it's five y2k girls + a preppy blonde girl whose boyfriend is some 6'4 emo kid with a Green Day tee who follows her around with heart eyes

- "Dean, move your leg or I'm throwing your fucking mixtapes out of the window" you threaten annoyed at the audacity of the long ass older Winchester to just stretch out as if you're not both (tired af) in the back seat of baby, you try to find a comfortable position for what feels like the 50th time to stay for a few hours untill all of you make it in one piece to Washington (Dean might not since he is acting like that). "You touch my mixtapes and I might throw you out of the window, runt." Dean barks (lovingly), lifting his sunglasses on his head and pointing a defensive finger at you. You are too tired to think and to retort something snarky back but still settle on rolling your eyes and giving his foot a kick.

Sam is driving like a princess in the front, his legs are streched out with his back comfortably resting against his seat with an arm lazily holding the steering wheel as the wind coming from the rolled window brushes some of his hair on his forhead, all while looking effortlessly handsome. "Don't make me come back there" Sam laughs breaking the character he wanted to play along as (hint: dads on road trips). Sam's pants would catch on fire if he said he was annoyed at your childish bickering with his brother, he found it endearing. It just added to the list of things he liked about you. You gasp a little bit too dramatically and gesture towards Dean "He started it" you grumble. Dean gives you a kick of his own pulling his sunglasses back down and crossing his arms, atleast he retreats his legs giving you enough space to rest yours.

- uses every excuse to touch you (his hands are literally twitching in anticipation to hold yours, or hug you)

- Dean is a classic rock etillist (he learned that from J*hn) but his guilty pleasure is nu metal especially limp bizkit. - he only listens when Sam isn't around. - says he's getting himself a little treat (fancy headphones) with his hard-earned money (poker/credit card fraud) - J*hn introduced him to led zeppelin and Dean feels like he's dissapointing him by not being a carbon copy of him hence his secrecy - So the "guilty pleasure" has deeper roots

- Sam told you he doesn't remember owning a childhood plushie, you fix that

- you open the door and close it with your foot, hands clinging to the bag you're holding to your chest after almost stumbling over. Sam's expression changes into a smile upon your arrival, kinda like a golden reriever. He gets up from the reasearch papers scatterred around the table no longer the center of his attention to greet you.

"Hey" the word 'sweetheart' almost sneaks out of his mouth but he contained himself with grace, god forbid he makes you uncomfortable (he's alot like you y'know? ). "Hi" you reply breathlessly due to your almost stunt and the fact that Dean took Baby out so you had to walk back to the motel in the humid weather of Washington. You take off your shoes and set the bag on the table, Sam's nosy self is itching to see what's inside. Before you open anything you make sure to peel off the hoodie you have on and rest it on a chair. "I got something but i need you to close your eyes and lay out your hands please." You start already bitting back a smile with a tinge of nervousness at what his reaction could be.

Yes, you got Sam a plushie. You got matching ones, the one for Sam is a brown moose with dark brown glass eyes that kept reminding you of him. The one you got for yourself is a same-zise moose plushie in your favourite color. What's even more cuter is that both of the plushies came as a package and they can stick their hands together with the magic of little pieces of square shaped tape on each their hands (hooves?). Sam is scared and excited at the same time. He will thank you for whatever you got him, he raised himself to be gratefull, it's just that growing up he learned and was usually met with dissapointment. John not showing up for his soccer game and neither Dean because he is hunting with him? Yeah he knows. Not even a call from his dad on his 21st birthday? Yeah he expected that. But he knows you, and the amount of times you have dissapointed him. (hint: zero)

So he does as you told him to. He extends his hand and turns it over, his other arm resting by his side. He closes his eyes and does not open them once. Sam was that kinda kid at the playground, so fair and by the rules it's almost suspicious. He can hear the noise of the brown paper bag crinkling and somehow imagine the sight of you smilling brightly, a sight that almost bribes him to open his eyes and see for himself. He focuses on the sound untill he feels the soft velvet material of the plushie in his hands. He doesn't even open his eyes yet he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion as his fingers pet the fabric of the stuffed animal.

You stand there, the biggest most nervous smile planted on your face as you wait for his verdict. "Sam, you can open your eyes now." you speak loud enough for him to hear, and he does open them, they glisten wet under the crappy motel room light. He has this mix of sadness and joy on his face at the same time as he cranes his neck to look down at the stuffed animal in his hands, he can envelope it entirely if he tried. You wish you could read thoughts right now, to make Sam open up his brain to you and show you how he feels about this, whether the reaction is negative or positive, you just want (need) to hear him speak, fuck, he can even yell at you if that is what he chooses to do (he wouldn't in a million years). Regret hits you like a hurricane after a few seconds of silence, that's the last thing you wanted to do, make Sam remember what a shitty childhood he had with just a stuffed animal, a fucking toy. The thought that this could come off as a reminder for him that's like 'Hey buddy, your childhood is so fucked up I felt sorry for you, here' didn't even occur you. All you wanted to do is give him something normal, to make him feel normal, a feeling he has been chasing all of his life. You bought two matching moose plushies with the thought that you're gonna match with your bestfriend, you're going to share some normalacy with your bestfriend in your world, your monsters are real world.

You wanted to build a time machine and rescue little Sam and Dean from the fucking monster John Winchester was. Yes, John Winchester loved his boys, but neglect and love don't mix. Leaving a 10 year old to look out for a 6 year old isn't love, taking your children with you to fucking hunt and kill fairy tale monsters isn't love. "Sam?" You call out quietly, nervousness already visible in your body language. Sam shots his head up at the mention of his name and most importantly the tone of your voice. He gives you a weak tight lipped smile (as if the sight would spare you having to worry about him, as if you don't feel the need to bang your head against a wall whenever you see Sam in any kind of pain) and wipes a tear that runs down his cheek with the cuff of his hoodie. "Sam- I'm sorry- I thought-" You justify yourself and attempt at swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you rub your sweaty palms on your jeans and feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You awkwardly take a step closer untill you take in consideration the idea that getting closer might be the last thing he needs right now so you step right back. Sam's tears taste sweet, he can confirm it himself. The way you spent time and money going to provide him with something he was wrongfully stolen off of having when he was only a kid made him tear up in the spam of a few seconds. You asked, he answered, you felt sorry, he desperately wants you to comfort him, then you do something to make him feel appreciated/cherished. He glances at you and sees the state you're in. His legs instinctively take three long strides towards you and envelopes you in the most comforting embrace anyone has ever gave you. You don't need to be psychic or practice insane voodoo/hoodoo to know exactly how this made him feel, it's all in this hug. You hug him back and Sam starts rubbing circles with his index finger on your back, he is crying his eyes out and he's still comforting anyone but himself. You hear his sniffles as he agressively wipes his nose with his cuff. "Thank you" he croaks out, his tone hoarse and raspy. He rests his head on top of yours and you can feel him finally relax. You can also tell he has no intention of breaking the hug anytime soon but that is your last worry. You made Sam happy tonight and that's all it matters.

- you and Sam are the golden retriever + black cat duo the world needs. - grocery trips with him (he doesn't need anything, just wanted to go with you) that are fun and weirdly domestic. - it's all making jokes and finding eachother the snacks you usually eat untill someone bumps into him and HE apologizes. "Sorry" he says giving the dude that's shorter than him a tight lipped smile. The dude presses "Almost dropped my shit 'cause of you assh-" You cut him off by clearing your throat and making him turn around his face dropping as he notices your glare at him. "He said he was sorry." You chide (threaten) with a scarily blunt tone, you have no idea how someone can even dare to look the wrong way at Sam, he's too tall for his own good and he's built like a brick wall. "Whatever" the dude leaves scoffing , your expression softening as soon as your eyes settle on Sam. He has a stupid dorky look on his face and adoration in his eyes, his hands shoved in his jean pockets towering over you almost awkwardly. "Ugh. What is it today asshole day?" You joke breaking the silence, (yes, you're quoting kat stratford) Sam just laughs and nods, you could say it's Christmas and he would believe you. "Looks like it." He agrees, not even caring for that asshole that he could've handled himself just fine, he hunts monsters for a goddamn career. He just adores the way you jumped to take his side.

- expressing your wish to find or atleast thrift a brown carhartt jacket similar to Sam's, only for him to offer giving it to you whenever you wanna wear it.

- "S'okay you can wear it i don't mind, you just have to ask me before, yeah?" - he also can't stop blushing at the sight of you in his already baggy jacket appearing more larger on you.

- the jacket engulfs you in this sense of security and an addictive smell of Sam (his fav earthy cologne) - the way you're looking good, happy, and warm in his jacket makes Sam's heart skip a few beats. - Dean smirks and compliments you, having to take a double look to confirm it's infact Sammy's jacket on you "Looking good, Y/n" he smiles and sends Sam a wink you're to oblivious to notice but you do notice the tone he uses, replying back skeptically "Thanks?" but you shrug it off asking Sam if he wants to come with you to this fast food place to bring back dinner.

- When Dean's brain cells put 2 and 2 togheter and realizes you and Sam are absolutely pining for eachother he purposefully does alot of stuff so you're stuck spending time with Sam and vice versa. It's either an easy move to make you two go out/stay in or it's a geniusly absolutely malefically strategically thinked and mastered 50 step plan that has atleast 20 plan B's in case anything goes wrong but we all know he doesn't need them, the mission goes smoothly each time. if Winchesters are anything, it's stubborn, incredibly and stupidly stubborn so Dean is not giving up on making one of you confess to eachother and if you don't he might take matters in his own hands and scream it out loud enough for You and Sammy to hear.

- he is so eager, the first time you kissed him he automatically assumed he's your boyfriend. - "Is that any way to speak with your boyfriend?" With a jokingly hurt face and a dramatically placed hand on his chest when you're being too mean. - "As your boyfriend and your lore boy.." - "I'm Sam, their boyfriend.." when he's introducing himself to person he knows has certain intentions with you or somebody making you uncomfortable.

- you pulled a muscle in your shoulder while on a hunt and stubbornly denied anything ever hurted even when Sam asked. - you keep rolling your shoulder when Sam says "Looks like you pulled something alright. You probably shouldn't move too much, you'll just make it worse." You scoffed at that, no way Sam for real? I had no idea I had to do that, thank god a smart boy like yourself is right beside me. "Are you mansplaining to me how to let a pulled muscle heal?" You retort, mainly because of the pain partially cause mansplaining is unnecessary and ignorant. And when Sam thought he couldn't like you any more than he already does you proved him wrong. He only chuckled, amused by your snarky reply, even going as far as to apreciate your attitude. "I'm not mansplaining anything, I'm just stating facts. Even a five year old could tell you that overusing a muscle will make the pain worse." He teased back.

- He enjoys the intimacy between the two of you when there are jokes and certain things you and him can laugh about because you're both huge nerds.

- Bobby let's you borrow whatever books you want from his huge ass library (mans probably got illegal books there)

- Bobby and Dean give eachother knowing looks whenever you and Sam literally do anything togheter, you and him pretend not to notice, not even mentioning it.

- guys i wanna cuddle with Sam Winchester so bad it's not even funny anymore *sobbing while my eyeliner mixed with tears is running down my face*

- he's a big cuddlebug I am willing to bet all my life savings and my first born he is. - the way you feel so safe and comforted when his light pole build wraps two arms around you, holding you close, trying to get you impossibly closer. - his hugs are the same, tender yet firm reflecting on his gentle nature. - just spoons you when he finds you on the couch sleeping with a bunch of research papers scattered and dusty old books around you which he tosses aside, because he is too proud to ask for cuddles.

- you wake up in the middle of the night you have no idea what time is it, you have one missing sock, your throat is dry, and you feel an arm draped over your waist getting tighter around you the more you twist around. And that's when you hear it, it's right next to your ear, Sam's low sleepy hum as he stirrs behind you, nudging his face deeper into your neck. You have no choice but to lay there untill he wakes up 'cause there is no escaping.

a/n: again i'm posting this shaking, this took so long I was scared I wasn't gonna finish it. They are so long they might not classify as headcanons but i couldn't care less. The plushie one made me feel like hamilton while writting it lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed!! 💞 feedback would be very much appreciated<33

[darkh3ro]

Blooming Lotus

Roman Reigns x reader (Oneshot)

Word count: IDK! :3

NSFW: no plot tbh

Kinda bad grammar but it’s pretty cool

Roman always thought you were beautiful, since he met you he knew he wanted to leave his mark on you and in you.

It’s been 5 years since you & Roman have been together, every second has been the absolute best for you and Roman.

One night after he comes home from work you greet him at the door in a beautiful dress; you knew how weak Roman would become over your short skirts and dresses. He would always try to catch a peek under to see if you had underwear on.

He comes in and immediately drops all of his things on the floor. “You teasing tonight?” You grin and greet him with a hug, as you wrap your arms around his muscular body you smell his musk, he even smelt like a man.

Roman is a wrestler, he’s strong as fuck. He picks you up by the hips and carries you on his waist straight back into the bedroom where you were before he came home. As he throws you on the bed you admire his dad body as he undresses, as he rips his shirt off his tattoos are glowing on his beautiful skin.

He looks you dead in the eye and says “I’m gonna fuck you like I haven’t been inside you in years.”

As soon as Roman said this, your river started flowing harder than ever. Roman gets on top of you and starts with your mouth. Not even requesting for his tongue to enter. He just went straight into your mouth; he was hungry for you. As he kissed you he gabbed every curve and part of your body. You felt so at peace whenever he would lay his hands on you, they were so soft and huge and you could never resist him ever.

As you both start to slowly grind into each other, he undresses the both of you. Seeing that you have no underwear on he knew exactly what you wanted to do when he walked into the door.

“I don’t even have to rip them off tonight” he went straight for your pussy. He didn’t hesitate, he took his mouth that has been attached to you for 30 minutes straight and went between your thighs. His mouth touched every part of your clit and you felt like you were in heaven. There was nothing else you could possibly want right now.

You fill his mouth with all your precum and he just eats it like it’s nothing. He can’t stop and he doesn’t intend to. Even after 30 minutes passed and you are forming sweat on your head he just grabs your thighs to make you stay in places and continues to groan into your sappy cunt. You didn’t even know how to get out of the strong grip that he kept on your thighs.

When he did let up his beard and fingers were soaked. He licked all of you off his fingers and positioned himself directly at your entrance. He loved that you could take him, every inch, in any position he wanted.

“I can do so much with you and this pussy, I wanna stay here all night with you”

He picked you up off your back and brought you into his lap and kissed you to make sure you were still okay and functioning after he obliterated your pussy.

He took his dick and places it right inside of you, slowing pushing you down into his lap deeper and deeper. He took a grip on your hair so he could have something to stabilize you since he knew you didn’t have any strength to hold yourself up.

You immediately started moaning into his ear, you couldn’t even form the words you wanted to say. Yet he kept pumping in and out of you. He knew this position always made you scream. Your moans and whimpers didn’t stop him. You liked it anyways.

Roman groans into your ear “fuckk, you almost make me not want to pull out”

“Don’t” that was the only word you could form, you knew how much Simon wanted to knock you up anyways. You wanted him to do just that. You didn’t care, plan b is everywhere these days.

Simon tightens his grip on your ass. As he keeps ramming into your cunt the both of you start to form the nastiest words mixed with moans, groans, and pleasure. You can tell he’s getting close. He’s getting sloppy but the way he’s hitting your g spot is making you see stars. Over the years you both have been together he got to know it better and better.

As you’re both getting close… Simon stops mid-stroke. Throwing you on the bed on your back again.

You see him stretch his huge figure over you, hair dripping sweat. He goes into the nightstand and pulls out the rose.

A very small part of you knew this was the night Roman was giving you more than a good pounding. 9 months & a baby is popping out.

He positions himself again “This time we’re not stopping. Or pulling out”

He turns the vibrator onto your favorite setting,which he knows by heart and places it on your clit. Then he goes to town, your back was arched so much he pushed you by your lower stomach right back down into the bed.

The vibrations of the rose & Roman feeding you his dick through your pussy send you completely over the edge.

“Look at that pretty face” Roman groans, as he gets close to you to drop kisses on your cheeks stained with tears.

You clench your walls around Roman, now there’s no way he’s pulling out now. As you cum around his dick your pussy goes into overload. Cumming everywhere and letting out a small waterfall that keeps him pumping in and out of you so smoothly.

Roman gets deeper and harder as he’s getting close.

“You get me there every time baby”

He groans as he pumps himself into your spot better than ever. He shoots his biggest load in you yet. His hair spilling onto you, his sweat accumulating around his forehead. He thrusts deep into you to make sure both of you are fully pleased.

Then gets off of you & pulls you up by your back since you have no strength left after that fucking. Takes you to the shower and rubs your body with gentle massages to make sure you’re not sore tomorrow.

The both of you shower together and he washes you off. Both having the biggest amount of puppy love for each other. Even after 5 years…

[aquamarinebich]

Okay so im gonna just throw randomly my thoughts on sm6 while rewatching it cuz why not, I was doing the same thing for hazbin hotel so why not spooky month too?

So yeah, SPOOKY MONTH 6 SPOILERS WARNING‼️

Ok im just gonna say: that starting scene with thieves was kinda funny. Also rewatching it, im starting to suspect that this giant spider thing in Lilas attic have her husbands soul, IDK WHY, I JUST FEEL LIKE IT, it just looks so important, it even appeared twice in the ep: in the begining n in the end.

Also ARE WE JUST GONNA IGNORE HOW JAUNE CALLED LILA "HOT STUFF"??? WHILE HAVING A HUSBAND?????? A HUSBAND THAT SITTING NEARBY HER WHEN SHE SAYING THAT???????? ARE THEY IN A POLY RELATIONSHIPS HOLY FUCKING SHIT????????????? IM EVEN MORE INTRIGED NOW

Okay so Skid does know and remember his dad, I just was thinking that his father left/died when Skid still wasnt born or when he was very little so Skid doesnt even know that he had a father, but no he does remember his dad, so that means he presented for quite long time in Skids life.

Also im really suprised how big Pumps house is, well i mean— he said that his parents work alot so ig i shouldnt be suprised-

Poor Ignacio just wants some peace– *watched the ep a lil longer* Oh hes kinda fucked up actually---

Also for some reason i find kinda interesting that Ross n Rob were kinda comforting Roy every time they were on the screen like "We're here for you, Roy" etc etc, so im thinking maybe something bad happened to Roy? I mean he looked kinda frustrated n angry, so maybe somethng between him n his parents?

Okay but can we talk about how Moloch look so much more scarier than before?

Okay so--- get ready for my rambleling bout my boy Dexter-- HE LIVED WITH HIS MOM N ALOT OF CATS😭😭😭 N HIS MOMS PURE GRIEF BOUT HER LOSS WAS GENIUNALY SO SAD TO WITNESS 😭😭😭😭

Okay so looking at Skids impression when Father Gregor asked him bout his father-- yeah i think his dad actually died---- but i can be wrong ofc

Okay- im sorry but-- why does Kevin n Radfords interactions make them look like a couple--- I AM SORRY BUT----

Also the way Father Gregor gave Kevin holy water was really funny to me, it was like: "You know these children?? Yeaahhhh i feel bad for u, kid. Here have some holy water, just in case...." ALSO the fact that ppl started coming in the store ONLY after Radford sprinkled holy water in it-- DOES THAT MEAN THAT THERE WERE DEMONS IN IT THAT WERE KEEPING PPL AWAY???

Dont mind me guys, im just a little crying :')

Okay but the way how Skid n Pump were SO exited to see Moloch again was really funny n cute at the same time

Okay... This is the part when i literally teared up. I know it was just Moloch trying to fool Father Gregor to give him kids but idk.... It still made me tear up for some reason, and i even know the reason: i just miss Dexter so much n i didnt expect him to appear so much times in this ep, I just think hes a precious boy who deserved better. I KNOW THAT HE WAS KILLING ANIMALS N I DONT APPROVE THAT AT ALL, but hes still a sweetie idfc.

Also why would Patty need a gun so immediatly?..

Also that part when Moloch were wandering around the town n Father n spooky bois were trying to catch him was so funny and entertaining

Poor Pelo got ooffed again. Press F.

AND OMG THIS PART WHEN MOLOCH POSSESED SKID N PUMPS BODIES AND THE FATHER EXORCISMS THEM WAS SOOOO COOL, I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY, I THINK I JUST HAVE A THING FOR DEMONS N EXORCISM.

And this is the part where i actually cried alot. Poor Skid doesnt know that its not his fault at all.. Also even if Father Gregors words were kinda mean, that Lila is irresponsible mother, I cant disagree with them. Yes, she is an alone mother, but it doesnt give her permission to just leave her child to himself n his friend n go drink n then spent time w her child drunk. Yeah i know, that she leaves him to mr Wonder n Susie, but lets be honest, were here even a single time when the kids didnt just leave the house n cause problem? No. So i think the Fathers words are make perfect sense, n Lila should think bout it. Also a lil thing i just thought bout, why would Lila throw away her husbands stuff? If he actually died why would she do this? Or hes not dead n he just left for some reason? Idk

Also OMFG THAT OOGA BOOGA JUMPSCARE GOT ME SO FUCKING GOOD, I WASNT READY FOR AT ALL

and so ummm i think thats it. It took me 1 hour to write this lol.