#are we going to see some sneaking around under her dad's nose?

[startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs]

I know I just finished reading Part 1, but I absolutely needed to know what came next! He goes from suave playboy, to flustered aviator, to whiney baby so fast! It made me giggle just seeing it. You can really feel their chemistry in each word they exchange.

He turned down the offer but then was reconsidering because of one night with reader? I'm melting, Lena! He's so cute! Protect this man! Then how he's trying to do the right thing because he slept with his superior's daughter?

You stare at him in shock as the familiar weakness in your knees – a recurring ailment where Maverick is concerned – threatens to compromise your balance.

I'd be more than a little weak at the knees too, faced with him!

He's trouble from head-to-toe, alright. But somehow I get the feeling he's the kind of trouble you're willing to deal with.

I can't wait to see if there is more coming for this story! I loved every word of it!

Best of the Bad Boys | Part II

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: You've fallen for the best of the best. Unfortunately, he also happens to be the worst of the worst.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: ~1900

Part I | Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell me Viper was your father?” Maverick calls, following you out into the lot.

You’re walking briskly ahead of him because you were hoping to postpone this very conversation. You slow your pace a touch and glance back at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t ask.”

Maverick gives you a disgruntled look and slides a pair of aviators over his eyes. “Cute,” he replies curtly, walking past you toward his bike.

“Did you tell my father what you’re giving me a ride in?” you ask, eyeing the motorcycle skeptically.

Maverick pauses briefly as he grabs the handlebar and lowers his head to peek up at you over the rims of his sunglasses. “Your father trusts me to fly jets. I think he’d be okay with the Ninja.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “It’s your ass on the line.”

Maverick exhales sharply and takes a step toward you. “Exactly,” he says moodily. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” you exclaim in a forceful whisper, very conscious of how close he’s gotten. “I never come here.” You look around anxiously, ensuring that no one is around. “Today was an exception – obviously,” you finish, rubbing the back of your head where your clip had broken against it.

Maverick watches you intently. “Are you okay?” he finally says.

“You already asked me that,” you retort grumpily, lowering your gaze.

“I’m asking again.”

“I’m fine.”

Maverick lets out another sigh and then mounts his bike. He glances over at you. “You coming?”

You hesitate for a moment before climbing onto the back of the seat. Tentatively, you take a hold of his jacket, being careful not to actually touch his body.

But Maverick takes your hand in his and brings it around his torso, pressing it into his abdomen. You hold your breath nervously, trying not to think about the ripple of abs you can feel underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m not going to be flooring it,” he says, starting the engine. “But I’d still prefer it if you held on.”

You bring your other hand around to his stomach, wondering if riding around on a motorcycle is really the best pastime for someone whose limbs are still feeling like jelly after an – albeit minor – collision. You know that your father would certainly not approve. And yet, you somehow feel like you could trust Maverick to deliver you home safe and sound.

As Maverick pulls out of the lot, he yells to you over the roar of the engine, “You thought you’d never see me again?”

You stare at the back of his neck, wondering how the heck you’re going to reply. Thankfully, the motor is loud enough that you have some time to think about it.

When Maverick slows to a stop at a red light, he turns his head to the side so that you’re graced with the contours of his side profile for several moments. He doesn’t strain to look at you over his shoulder but the pause as he lowers his gaze to the asphalt is enough to confirm that he’s awaiting a response.

“I didn’t know you were planning on staying,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence despite your discomfort.

Maverick revs his engine just before the light turns green and starts rolling through the intersection the moment it changes. He doesn’t say anything else until he parks outside your house and kills the engine. “I wasn’t,” he says evenly and then climbs off the bike. He turns to look at you coolly and offers a hand to help you down.

You ignore his outstretched hand and dismount without his help. “You weren’t going to stay?” you ask casually, pretending that the impending answer is entirely insignificant to you.

Maverick shakes his head. “I turned down the offer last week.”

You gulp anxiously, suddenly severely distraught at the thought of Maverick leaving – even though you apparently ‘never thought you’d see him again.’  “But my dad said – does he know that you turned down the offer?”

Maverick watches you in silence for a second and then nods. He drops his gaze then and mutters, “I called him this morning, told him I was reconsidering my decision.” His eyes meet yours again with a stoic expression.

You blink to break the eye contact and look away uneasily. “How come?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Just felt like sticking around for a bit,” he says.

You glance up at him and, while he’s still not exactly smiling, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows has softened a touch. You realize that his change of heart must have had – at least in part – something to do with you, considering it happened immediately after your encounter. But you’re too afraid of being wrong to voice this theory so, instead, you say, “Even so, I’m hardly ever on base and I don’t exactly hang out at the officer’s club very often. The chances of us running into each other again were pretty slim.”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “You gave me your number.”

“Would you have called?”

Maverick stares at you. “I wouldn’t have asked for it if I wasn’t going to call.”

You shrug. “It was a fake number.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you around then.” He turns back to his bike and swings his leg over to mount it. “Or I guess I won’t,” he adds, turning the key in the ignition.

You panic and take a step toward him, placing your hand over the handlebar and grasping it firmly. “Can you image if I had given you my real number?” you ask. “You would’ve called – maybe” – you add with an eyeroll – “But, if you had and my father picked up? Then what?”

Maverick holds your gaze as your words sink in. Of course, your logic is sound. You couldn’t give him your real number. “You could’ve told me he was your father,” he says levelly, clearly still abundantly vexed. “What else did you lie about?”

You tighten your grip around the handlebar until your knuckles turn white. “Don’t act like you had any intention of seeing me again. And, if you did, how would I know? It’s not like you have a history of committed relationships.”

“What do you know about my history?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow as though you’ve piqued his interest.

You freeze for a moment and press your lips together crossly, annoyed that he’s caught onto the fact that you know more about him than you’d originally let on. “Are you going to take the position?” you ask irritably, completely ignoring his question.

“How can I?” he asks, raising his voice. Then, in a desperate whisper, he adds, “I slept with my superior officer’s daughter!”

You stare at him guiltily. “He doesn’t have to know,” you say.

“I know,” Maverick responds, his eyes boring into yours.

You sigh. “Pretend you don’t.” After a few moments of silence, you let go of the bike and give him a tight smile and a small wave as you start to back away.

Maverick doesn’t wave back. He watches you grimly as you retreat until you finally turn your back to him and ascend the steps of your porch.

You pause at your front door, wondering if you're ever going to see him again. But as you start to dig in your pocket for your house key, you feel a hand graze your upper back, and you whip your head around in surprise. How Maverick managed to scale your porch in under five seconds is beyond you, but you’re far too swept away to ruminate on the details.

Maverick waits a beat, his fingers sliding down your arm as you rotate to face him. His gaze slips momentarily to your lips before he says, “I’m not good at pretending.”

You stare at him in shock as the familiar weakness in your knees – a recurring ailment where Maverick is concerned – threatens to compromise your balance. Standing there, admiring the angles of his face, you suddenly can't think of anything more awe-inspiring. “You should take the job,” you say feebly as he draws ever closer.

Maverick sets his jaw and breathes forcefully out through his nose as though he’s combatting a sentiment he’d rather not express. “Okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. This move destabilizes you further.

You glance up at him and his lips brush softly over the tip of your nose. Your heart springs violently into your throat and then proceeds to bounce around your ribcage like a pinball. He smells like leather and cologne and his light eyes hold your gaze like a magnet. “I’ll stay away from the base,” you say quietly, not daring to believe your own words.

His hands slide up your shoulders and then your neck and then he cradles your head in his palms. “Okay,” he repeats, his face so close to yours that you can almost taste the citrus in his aftershave.

You try to control your breathing, closing your eyes as his thumbs sweep gently over your cheeks. “We can forget all about this,” you whisper very faintly, as though you don’t want to be heard.

Maverick nudges your face with the tip of his nose and mutters, “Okay,” in a warm, humid whisper. His lips move slowly over yours and, languidly, he wraps an entire arm around the back of your neck to bring your closer. He takes a few steps toward you but, since you’re already flush against his body, you’re forced to take a few steps back.

“Thank you for the ride,” you mumble against his lips and you feel him grin at your words.

“My pleasure,” he responds without taking his mouth off yours. He guides you backward until you’re against the front door of your house and suddenly you realize that you’re making out with a Top Gun aviator under your father’s roof.

This thought startles you awake and you brace your hands against Maverick’s chest, giving him a slight push.

Maverick withdraws instantly and drops his head with a heavy sigh before glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, despite the unapologetic grin.

You scoff with an eye roll and shake your head. Not only is this turn of events the complete opposite of your earlier proposition but it’s also very much something you swore you’d never do. Maverick is just about the worst decision you could make and yet, here you are continuing to make it. “My friend told me you’re trouble,” you say, straightening your posture because you’re now addressing something of utmost importance.

Maverick’s mouth tightens slightly as he attempts to keep a straight face. “Susan?”

“Yes, Susan,” you retort mockingly, surprised that he remembers her name.

Maverick purses his lips, shifting his jaw in thought as he squints his eyes at you. “What sort of trouble?”

You give him a flat look. “She wasn’t specific.”

He nods. “How convenient.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re denying this?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nah, she’s probably right.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Good to know.”

He meets your gaze with a more genuine expression. “Come on,” he says. “It’s not like you haven’t already made up your mind about me.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, ignoring the way his eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun. You’d love to just be straightforward and ask what his true intentions are, but that seems lame and boring and awkward. And you’re none of those things. So, you say, “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

Maverick gives you a small smile and nods. “Okay,” He responds.

Maverick Tag List:

The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[myjealouseyes]

Christmas Eve Wake Up Call.

HJP x wolfstar!daughter

A/N- if you saw me post this last week, no you did not!

No content warnings. Fluff, slight teasing and flirting, cuddling.

“…Harry. Harry, wake up. Wake up!”

He wakes with a start, his hand clutching his chest as he puts his glasses on. He looks over to see you, standing next to his now open window. This isn’t exactly new. Every Christmas Eve after you’ve just spent the day finishing up last-minute Christmas shopping and doing all your baking, you’ve usually overexcited yourself about the upcoming holiday.

That meant no matter how hard you tried or how tired you were you just couldn’t sleep. Your mind was in overdrive thinking about how people would like the presents you gifted, or if they’d like your baked goods (which they always did,) and you were slightly curious about all the gifts under the tree. You’d waited ages to see what was in each box and just thinking about how you only had to wait a few more hours sent you into a frenzy. So after an hour and a half of tossing and turning, you decided to sneak out of your bedroom and into Harry’s to make him suffer with you because what else are best friends for?

You close the window and skip over his bed, throwing yourself in the spot next to him. Harry takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes sluggishly before lying down next to you. You grin, turning his head toward yours. You caress his face gently, making a small flush form against his cheeks.

“It’s just after eleven y’know,” Harry mumbles while his eyes are fluttering shut. Your touch has calmed him down from his semi-panicked state. “You usually come a little closer to twelve.” You hum quietly and give his cheek a light pinch. “So I came early. You kicking me out?” His lips turn up into a teasing smirk as his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. Butterflies form in your stomach at the feeling. “That depends. Are we going to sleep?” You wrinkle your nose playfully and poke at his chest. “It’s Christmas Eve. Have I ever slept on Christmas Eve?”

Harry gives you a playful sigh and it squeezes your hip. “Fair. What do you suppose we do then?” You trail your fingers over his chest, silently mauling over your options. Eventually, you shrug and smile up at him. “Wanna hear about what happened with my dad and the dogs earlier?”

Before he could answer you launch into a very amusing story about how Sirius had turned into Padfoot and gathered your three German Shepherds to devise a plan to sneak some of your Christmas baked goods out of the kitchen. You’d caught all of them with a basket of cookies in their mouths and demanded they put them back. But of course, Sirius had a plan for that too. As if on que they gave you the saddest puppy eyes you’d ever seen. You caved and ended up giving Padfoot three cookies and the dogs two dog biscuits each.

Harry chuckles at your misfortune. “You couldn’t resist puppy-dog eyes?” He teases as his fingers trace zig zags on your hip. You roll your eyes playfully and tug his hair. Harry laughs a bit louder, and soon both talking turns telling stories about your chaotic Christmas Eve days. Harry tells you about how James accidentally spoiled Lily’s Christmas gift, got really embarrassed, and then told her to just act surprised. You follow him up with one about how Remus had accidentally discovered his own gift in the basement, but didn’t realize it was his. He just shut the door and went to feed the birds waiting at the window.

As you two laugh, time passes and the sun sneaks out. You should sneak back into your room, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You end up falling asleep against Harry’s chest just like you do every year.

[goofygecko]

Dbf!William and Stalker!William imagines to get me back in the writing mood. ❤️

Reader is of age! (19-20)

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Masterlist

Dbf!William who makes you sit on his thigh when he comes over for dinner with your family.

Dbf!William who loves to watch you gag on his tie to keep you quiet while he fingers you, making sure your parents can't hear you from the next room.

Dbf!William who will sneak you into his garage and fuck you on his tool desk, sticking his fingers into your mouth so the neighborhood won't hear your pathetic moans and cries.

"Now, now, princess, don't want our neighbors finding out how much of a little cockslut you are now do we?" You shake your head, "Good girl, that's what I thought. Be quiet now."

Dbf!William who will fake a look of concern to your Dad whenever he asks if he has seen you knowing he has your mouth wrapped around his hard girth.

"No, now that you mention it, I haven't seen her at all today. Maybe she snuck out with a friend, you know how kids are sometimes!" He chuckles at the last bit as he grips onto your hair, pushing your face further into his lap and squishing your nose into his dark happy trail.

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Stalker!William who keeps close tabs on you through the various cameras he has placed into your room, making sure you don't have some disgusting boy trying to get a bite.

Stalker!William who was thrilled once you applied to work at Freddy's. Even going out of his way to immediately promote you to his little assistant.

When you ask about it he'll act offended and accuse you of being ungrateful.

"Oh, are we complaining? I could give you janitor duty if this isn't good enough for you."

Stalker!William who makes sure your uniform is as tight and short as possible, snapping a picture under your skirt with his camera and saving them for later.

He'll turn around enough for you to feel comfortable but enough to where he can still see you in the corner of his eye.

Stalker!William who insists you change your shirt in his office if anything spills on it and when you ask him to leave the room he tells you; "Well, I've got to make sure nothing is stolen, darling," and "Why should I trust you alone? Don't want you to get hurt while goofing around, bunny, now do we?"

He'll turn around enough for you to be comfortable but just enough that he can watch you change from the corner of his eye.

[unknowntoyou2205]

1960's love

Info: Y/n and Steve meet when they were teenagers before he became Captain America, now in the 21st Century the two say their long awaited vows after overcoming it all.

Relationship: Steve Rogers x reader

Y/n smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the white dress she had on. This was the moment she was waiting for, her and Steve's wedding day. She had dreamed of this from the moment they had met back in 1963. The two were at a gathering when they bumped into each other. Y/n had fallen for the blue eyes that she made eye contact with from the moment they left, and she couldn't believe the life she now lived.

Why can't we go back to '63? To sit in those old drive-in seats And listen to Elvis sing While we kiss in the backseat When we'd both make it home past dark From watching the moon hug the stars You'd hold my hand tight As we part for the night

Young y/n giggled as she allowed Steve to lead her back to his dads car that he had borrowed for the night. She waved goodbye to her mother who stood at the front door, watching her youngest enter the car of her new lover, apparently ‘the one’. There was a love hate relationship between Steve and her parents since they started courting, and y/n could only smile watching the awkward silences between her family and boyfriend. It didn’t take much for Steve to be awkward, hell he was awkward for weeks after they begun hanging out. It had taken Bucky to get him to ask her out in the first place.

“Where are we going tonight?” Y/n asked, smiling at Steve as he started up the car. “I thought we might go for a outdoor cinema tonight. Hang out in the car.” Steve stated, glancing at his girlfriend before watching the road. “How romantic.” Y/n joked, causing Steve to smile slightly. “What’s on.” “Elvis performance.” Steve spoke with a grin, knowing how much y/n loved Elvis’s songs. “You’ve won me there.” Y/n stated, grinning from ear. “I thought as much.” Steve mocked her causing her to giggle.

Steve parked near the back of the cars parked and turned off the ignition. Y/n smiled as they moved to the back of the car. Steve grabbed some drinks for them before the movie started, and y/n cuddled into his side, feeling his hand on her back. But neither were them were paying attention to the movie, for all they could hear was the breathing between them. Wanting to be closer, Steve brought his hand up to y/n’s cheek, and caressed it gently before moving her chin up to face him. Y/n smiled up at him before moving closer to bring her lips to his. Both smiled into the kiss as they forgot about the movie, melting into each others embrace.

It's when you pull me close Scrunch your nose Whisper in my ear Nice and slow You'd say you're my 1960s, baby Never leave my side We can fall asleep Under the stars or sneak out tonight

Steve drove y/n home after the film was over. Their night had been filled with love and laughter, yet both wouldn’t allow themselves to get carried away, instead opting to enjoy being together instead. Y/n was half asleep as they neared her house, and Steve could only admire her, with her head leaning against the car window, eyes half shut. Bringing the car to a stop, Steve opened his door and got out as y/n pulled her head up, looking around in confusion.

Y/n allowed Steve to open her door and take her hand, helping her out of the car. Kissing his cheek in thanks, y/n moved towards the pathway up to her house as Steve closed the car door. It was late by now, and all the lights in her house was off, but y/n knew that her father was no doubt up in the back kitchen, nursing his nightly brandy.

“Look.” Steve whispered in her ear, pointing up to the sky. Y/n looked up to see the night stars and half moon up above them. “It’s beautiful.” Y/n whispered in awe. “Come on.”

Steve tugged at y/n’s hand and moved towards the steps of y/n’s house. Sitting on them, Steve pulled y/n to sit beside him before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. Y/n sighed in content and curled into her boyfriend, enjoying each others company.

“I want my life to be with you y/n. Everything I do will be for you.” Steve whispered, placing his head on her shoulder, kissing it gently. “I believe you are the one for me, never let me go.” Y/n stated, looking at him through her lashes.

Steve scrunched his nose a little and y/n giggled as he peppered kisses along her face.

Our parents may worry But we both know that we're fine They say teenage love don't last but I got hope for you and I

Y/n came home crying after her night out with Steve. They had spent the night with Bucky who had joined the army, and Steve had announced that he had applied to possibly join the army. Steve came to her door, and stepped in but didn’t dare enter the house as y/n’s parents came to see what was going on. Seeing his daughters state, y/n’s father glared at Steve and stalked towards him.

“Dad no.” Y/n stated, glancing at her father. “Y/n..” Steve started to say but y/n put her hand up. “I don’t want to talk to you right now Steve. Please leave.” Y/n stated.

Steve glanced at y/n’s mother who nodded at him to leave before moving to comfort her daughter. Looking at his girlfriends father who still stood with a hard look on his face, Steve sighed and hung his head as he left for the night. Y/n allowed her mother to guide her to the living room, sitting down on the couch before her mother left to the kitchen. Soon there was a warm cup of coco in her hand and her mother sat beside her, rubbing her back as her father sat opposite them, brandishing his brandy.

“I told you he was no good for you.” Y/n’s father started. “y/f/n” Your mother scolded him with a harsh look. “Well he is. Young timid guy like him is no good for her.” “He’s joining the army.” Y/n sniffed, causing her father to get an outburst of laughter. “Maybe it’s best that you guys ended it then, hmm.” Y/n’s mother stated, tucking some hair behind her ear. “End it?” Y/n asked, scrunching her eyes in confusion, “We haven’t ended anything mum.” “Young love doesn’t last love, it’s okay for it to end. There’ll be others.” “I still love him mum, and he loves me. I just , don’t know what I’ll do if he gets in. I worry about him mum.” “Tsk, love. What do you know about love at this age.” Her father commented.Y/n glanced at her father and could only cry more at the remark that she would normally laugh at. Y/n’s mother sighed and wrapped her arms around her daughter, not wanting to listen to her cries.

Why can't we go back to '63? To seat on those old diner seats And you'll make fun of me but I don't mind it When the roads are bare You speed to make me scared But then you'll stop 'Cause you know I'm a good girl at heart

Y/n and Steve sat together opposite Bucky as they chatted about how life had been back home. It had been 2 years since Steve had joined the army and y/n couldn’t of been more proud of him. While at first she had been hesitant about her boyfriend joining the army, she managed to oversee her worries, and despite nothing but fear being present when Steve told her that he was going to take part in a new super soldier serum experiment with Mister Stark, her fears became nothing but bubbles that evaporated in the air. Steve had grown great success from his time in the army. Besides, she wouldn’t lie that the serum lead to certain eye excitement.

“So what have you been up to y/n? Any fellas we need to watch out for?” Bucky winked at y/n as Steve shifted in his seat, his arm around her shoulders tightening. “Now Bucky you know I only have eyes on one man, even if I rarely see him.” Y/n joked back, placing a hand on Steves thigh. Steve looked down at y/n with a smile and kissed her cheek . “But to answer your question, nothing much. Still working away, nothing special.” Y/n shook her head, leaning it on her lovers shoulder. “Little bookwork here, never away from them.” Bucky joked causing Steve to laugh. “Well at least the worst thing she could get is a papercut.” Steve joked back and y/n fake laughed at the soldiers humour. “Very funny guys.” Y/n smiled, allowing a yawn to slip out. “Someone’s getting tired.” Steve stated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No I’m not.” y/ denied, not wanting the night to end. “Why don’t we call it a night. We’ve early call tomorrow anyway.” Steve stated, looking at Bucky to avoid seeing y/ns look at sadness.

Bucky smiled back at y/n softly before reaching over and squeezing her arm as the group of three stood up from their booth. Y/n and Steve greeted Bucky goodnight before leaving in different directions. Steve still drove his fathers car, not wanting to spend money on something he would rarely be driving. Y/n often kidded with  him calling hi a cheap skate, but Steve also knew that he would need his money for other things, particularly something for a certain someone.

Driving back to y/n’s , Steve looked over at his girl wit ha childish grin on his face. Knowing what was about to happen, y/n gripped her chair as Steve began to press his foot onto the gas pedal. The road way to y/n’s was straight and quiet, and Steve had gotten into the habit of racing down it, knowing how y/n would react. As usual, y/n pressed herself into her seat before gripping Steve’s arm, a signal that she had enough. A small part of y/n loved his antics since he would never push it too far, but the adrenaline was enough to make her body grow with fright. And as they reached y/n’s house, Steve would move towards his girls car door, and open if for her. In return, y/n would give him a brief kiss before pecking his check and running to her door, waving Steve off as he drove down the road.

It's when you pull me close Scrunch your nose Whisper in my ear Nice and slow

Steve had collected y/n from work and was now heading towards her home. Y/n could tell he was nervous, but refused to ask as she knew it was most likely to do with the mission he was starting this evening. Every mission regarding flying left him uneasy, as he knew the risks that came with it. So did y/n, but she refused to acknowledge them, for being a soldiers girlfriend had risks. If they were married than she could live on army grounds, but neither of them were in a rush, being only 22 to them meant they had years.

Goodbyes before a mission were always emotional. Y/n could never stop the tears that fell, and Steve was always left with a sinking feeling in his chest, knowing he was going to be away from his love for a while. The two had a strong relationship so he knew she would never stray, but leaving her was always something that left the two of them in a bubble of loneliness. So stepping out of the car, Steve patted his pocket before walking over to y/n’s side, opening the door for her.

“How are you gone this time?” Y/n asked as he helped her out, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist. “A week, I’ll be back before you know it.” Steve stated, pecking her nose, causing her to smile a little. “But I have something for you.” “For me?” She asked, watching in confusion as he stepped back slightly with nerves visible.

Steve hands shook slightly as he dug into his pockets, grabbing the box he had been carrying for the past week while he tried to find the right moment to ask. Eyeing his movement, y/n’s eyes widened when she seen the small box.

“Steve…” Y/n started, knowing it was something expensive. “Y/n, please let me talk before I stop myself, again.” Steve spoke with a slight laugh. “Sorry.” Y/n giggled. “Y/n y/l/n, these past few years with you have been nothing short of amazing. I have enjoyed every moment with you. I won’t drag this on in fear of choking up so I will just say it. Y/n my life will not be complete without you, would you do me the honour, of becoming my wife.” Steve asked, opening the box in front of him. “You know your supposed to get down on one knee.” y/N JOKED to try stop the tears, and Steve looked down before starting to move. “No, no Steve, it’s okay.” Y/n laughed again, grabbing his arms to prevent him from moving. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Steve couldn’t help the grin that came to him as y/n threw her arms around him, hugging him as the tears of happiness fell down her cheeks. Kissing her head, Steve pulled back and laughed, taking y/n’s hand before sliding the ring on her finger. Y/n looked at it in awe before looking at Steve. Bringing her hand behind his head, she pulled him into a kiss, and Steve melted into her, bringing her towards him.

“I love you Steve Rogers.” Y/n stated, bringing her hand through his hair. “I love you too, so much.” Steve smiled, kissing her cheek and burying his head in her shoulder.

'Cause you're my 1960s, baby Promise me, you'll never leave my side Stay with me forever 'Cause I can't live without you tonight

Y/n sat at the dinner table admiring her ring. Her mum was telling her the story of how Steve had asked her father for her hand in marriage, and it was a funny story to say the least. It nearly with Steve having bruises and her father having a sore hand had her mother not walked in. But her mother knew Steve made her daughter happy and that was all that mattered to her.

"I think a small wedding would be best. Have family we love and friends we care about. No need to over complicate things." Y/n said to her mum as she finished making the dinner. "I couldn't agree more." Her mother replied, straining the water from the veg. "Or maybe even just Y/n stopped talking as she heard a knock on the door. “Get that love will you?” y/n’s mother asked her daughter as she placed plates on the table.

Y/n sighed but got up, moving towards the door. She scrunched her eyes as she opened it, seeing a woman dressed in military style suit and a man in a suit beside her.

“Hello?” She asked, eyeing the two in front of her. “Hi, y/n l/n?” The woman spoke. “Yes?” “I’m Peggy Carter, this is Mr Stark. We work with Steve within the army. I’m afraid we have some bad news.” “No.” Y/n begged, her mind turning to the worst. “Unfortunately Steve Rogers aircraft took a hit, we lost contact with him about 3 hrs ago.” Mr Stark spoke, clearing his throat. “Steve has been lost on mission. He died during impact.” Peggy stated, watching as the woman in front of her froze in shock. “No, please no.” Y/n begged, her legs growing weak. “He asked me to tell you that he loved you, and he’s sorry that he couldn’t be your forever.” Peggy spoke, placing a hand on y/n’s shoulder.

Time stopped as y/n could only scream as she feel to the floor. Hearing her daughters cries, y/n’s mother came to the door to see what the commotion was about. Seeing her daughter on the ground she took one look at the man and woman at her door before putting the pieces together. She heard a car pull up as she bent down to comfort her daughter.

Mr l/n looked at his front door in confusion as he got out of his car. He could only see the back of the two guests as he walked up, but as they turned to look at him he seen his wife comforting their inconsolable daughter. He greeted the two with a nod before they turned back to the two women.

“Again, I am so sorry.” Peggy stated, before the two left. “He’s gone, he’s gone.” Y/n cried out, gripping her mothers arm as she weeped.

Her mother could only shush her as her father watched on.

You're my 1960s, baby Never leave my side Stay with me forever 'Til we die

Y/n smiled as she felt arms wrap around her waist, Steve coming into the mirrors picture as she hummed, leaning her  body back to rest against his chest. The two never spoke about how y/n had come to be in this generation, but that never mattered to Steve. Steve never knew fully what had had happened to y/n, and y/n didn’t see a reason to tell him. All he knew was that y/n’s family had witches in the past, and somehow it had remained dormant for many years before y/n was born. But none of that mattered to them, all they cared about was that they had found each other, and now they could spend forever, just as they had promised.

“Hey you.” Steve smiled, nuzzling into y/n’s neck. “Hey.” Y/n breathed, giggling as Steve pecked her collar. “I was wondering where you got to.” Steve said, looking at her through the mirror. “Just came for a quiet moment, remembering everything.” Y/n sighed, looking down as she started playing with Steve’s hands. “Y/n, love.” Steve sighed, he always hated the thought of the pain y/n could have had after Peggy came with the news of his loss. “Hey, it’s okay. I wouldn’t change a thing when I got you back in the end.” Y/n comforted him, placing a hand on his check as she looked at him through the mirror.

Y/n sighed in content as he melted under y/n’s touch. There was always something about y/n that made him feel at ease. Every mission forgotten once they were in each other’s arms. The worry of  each other’s lives left in the back of their minds. Y/n could only smile as she moved her head to kiss his cheek, and Steve shifted his head to catch her lips.

“They’re waiting on us for the first dance.” Steve spoke, deciding to part their heated kiss. “We’ve waited nearly 100 years for it, they can wait a little longer.” Y/n joked as Steve spinned her around to face him fully. “Yes well, I think Tony is lacking patience.” Steve joked, and y/n giggled, knowing how impatient their friend was. “Well than let’s not keep them waiting any longer, my husband.” Y/n stated, grinning at the new title. “My wife.” Steve joked back, offering his elbow as he moved away from her.

They say young love never lasts But we'll prove 'em wrong tonight 'Cause you're my 1960s, baby Tonight

Their first dance song was one that y/n had fallen in love with when she first heard it. It told their story perfectly, even if very few knew it. Their young love lasted beyond many years, far more than people expect. Y/n couldn’t get rid of the smile on her face as Steve led her across the dance floor. Her eyes caught an old woman who sat in a wheelchair in the corner. The woman who had once told y/n that her love was taken from her now sat watching them get married. It became a full circle, and y/n couldn’t be happier.

“Your my 1960’s baby, tonight.” Steve murmered under his breath as he twirled y/n one more time before dipping her. “I love you Rogers.” Y/n spoke, running a hand through his hair. “I love you too, Rogers.” Steve grinned as he brought her back up, pulling her in for a kiss.

[veeluvss]

SURVIVOR

Chapter six (tw for mentions of SA, childhood SA and openign up about it)

JJ was silent as she entered the house once again. She was covered in blood, head to toe this time. This kill had been the angriest yet. She’d found two men and took them down together. They were big men and they fought back, some of the blood was JJ’s. Her nose was gushing, she had her hand under it trying to hold the blood but the sticky liquid seeped through her fingers. She slid her shoes off, which had blood on and sneaked into the kitchen. However, standing over the sink, unable to sleep, was Elle, her girlfriend.

Elle turned and saw JJ, covered. She gasped and her hand shot to her face, almost to hide from the haunting sight but then JJ began to cry. It was soft tears at first, and then it turned to sobs. Her shoulders shook, her knees were weak and she curled into herself on the floor. 

“JJ,” Elle said, dropping to her side. “JJ, what happened?” JJ couldn’t find the words, she couldn’t explain it. She just grabbed Elle’s hand and held it against her, wanting her girl, needing comfort. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” Elle whispered and grabbed JJ under the arms. She helped the girl into her arms before beginning to stroke her hair, although sticky with blood. “It hurts,” JJ cried, moving her head away. “Is it your blood?” “Some of it,” JJ said. “What happened, JJ?” Elle asked, holding her girl closer, also assessing her for injuries. She grabbed JJ’s chin and lifted her face. Her face was bruising rapidly as if she’d been in hand-to-hand combat. JJ sighed and a new wave of tears hit her. “I can’t,” she sobbed. “Who was it?” 

“Some strangers,” she whispered, “they- Elle.” “I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” Elle whispered and held JJ. She stroked her hair and ran her hands up and down her back. “Let’s go shower. Get you cleaned up and then we can talk, okay, baby?” “Okay.”

JJ and Elle got in the shower together. JJ stood under the water with her arms wrapped around herself, hiding her body. Elle wasn’t going to argue, she could see the bruises all over her - faded and new. She reassured her she was safe, reassured her she was beautiful and made sure she knew she wasn’t going to be hurt anymore. Not if she was in charge. JJ sat on the floor of the shower as Elle gently washed the blood from her blonde hair. She shampooed and conditioned it, making sure to take extra care of her crying girl. JJ hadn’t calmed down. With all the pain and the trauma hanging over her, it was hard. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She knew she had to tell Elle everything. She knew she was a criminal and she knew this might be her last night in bed for a long time - if they even got that far before Elle turned her in.

They sat on the bed, the TV played soft music and JJ sat between Elle’s legs. She ran the brush through JJ’s clean, wet hair and sighed. “Talk to me, please, baby,” Elle said. “It’s too much for you,” JJ replied, playing with her fingers nervously. “It’s hurting you. I’m not a child, I can handle it.”

There was a moment of silence between the two then JJ took a deep breath. “I was raped,” she said. “Repeatedly.” “By Dr Tretter?” Elle asked, stunned. “Yes. But-” JJ stopped herself, struggling to get the words out. She’d never told anyone this before. “You’re safe now,” Elle reassured her. “My Uncle Tod, he did it too,” JJ whispered. “When I was younger.” 

“JJ-” Elle was too stunned to carry on. She had no idea. She let JJ go on. 

“He started when I was about four, I think,” JJ said. “He’d only do it when I stayed over alone. No one knew about it. It got worse when Ros died because I was over there nearly every day. After all, mum and dad couldn’t bear the sight of me.” “I’m so sorry,” Elle said. The brush was down now and her hands were resting on her legs, nowhere near JJ. She couldn’t believe it. There’d been signs but everyone had trauma but this- it was unexpected. “I didn’t remember a lot of it until it all started happening again with the Doctor. Every night I was having these … nightmares about what UncleTod was doing to me. It was like double the trauma at once. I guess my brain blocked it out or something, I don’t know. But it hurts and it hurts a lot and it’s making me really angry. Like really angry and I just have this drive to hurt and to kill and-” she stopped. She realized she’d been rambling and put her head in her hands. Elle was silent. She moved from behind her girlfriend to in front. Cautiously, she grabbed JJ’s hands and moved them from her face. Tears were falling down her cheeks. “And?” “I can’t tell you,” JJ whispered. Her voice was small, like a child's.  “You can, you’re safe.” “Elle, I-”

“Tell me,” Elle begged. “Tell me what you did.” “I can’t.” “You killed them,” Elle said. “I didn’t. I-” “How many?” Elle interrupted. “Four.” “Four? JJ- Four?” Elle was shocked. How had she killed four people? “Am I going to go to prison?” JJ asked. Her eyes were full of hatred for herself. “I killed

 people, I’m a monster.” she began to sob and she put her head in her hands again. Elle sighed and shook her head. “No, Jay. you’re not a monster.” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around JJ. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get through this together. Okay?” “Why don’t you hate me?” “Because I know you and I know you were only protecting people. That’s why you did it. Isn’t it?” “I only killed the men who deserved it. The predators. I only did it when they were hurting the women.” “Yeah, see. We can get through this together. I won’t leave you,” Elle said, a small smile spread across her face. “Elle,” sighed JJ. “I promise, baby.” “I love you,” JJ whispered and leaned into her girl. “And, I love you.” She planted a small kiss on the side of JJ’s head and let her lips linger there. They could do this together. Be the best duo around, and protect everyone. Together. She was going to protect her girl. 

[lixiebokie]

with him

idol: stray kids lee felix

note: i cried while making this :’) inspired by ceilings by lizzy mcalpine

the moon was pretty. but he was prettier. stary nights where felix would take you out to wander where ever the streets would take you were your favourite.

it was raining, glistening and bouncing off the concrete as your feet patted along. hand in hand. felix swinging them side to side each time getting higher and higher until his little arm started to hurt. his rain coat hood was pulled over his face but not enough that you could still see stray hairs poking out and his button nose scattered with freckles.

“we should probably head back soon i don’t want you to get ill.” it was abit to late for that. but you didn’t care, you didn’t want to part ways with him. he stopped for a moment looking at you.

“let’s dance.”

“in the rain.”

“yes in the rain.” his smile lit his face giving it a glow.

he pulled you onto the lonely street road, grabbing your hand and holding it while his other grabbed your side. respectfully resting just above your hip. it took a second for him to start. he stepped his foot trying to find a pace you were both comfortable with. eventually steps were getting bigger moving in a square motion.

you imagined you were in a ballroom, felix was the prince and you were his princess. he raised his arm taking yours with it. you ducked under his spinning around. he giggled when you turned back to face him. he stayed with his arm up this time standing on his tippy toes so you could gracefully swirl around. wet hair escaping your hood and lightly tapping his face, but he didn’t care.

a car blared a loud noise shouting at you. felix tugged you out the way as the car sped past.

———————————————————————

his car was warm. felix drove while you tried to drive your hair with some old hoodie he had lying in the back seat. you wanted to stay with him forever. just him and you forever and always.

it went so quick, wasn’t you just sneaking out your door to kiss him before he dragged you away? now you’re already back at your house already saying goodbye to the boy staring at you.

“i don’t want to leave.” you sighed squishing more into his neck as you hugged like you would never see him again.

“it’s late, and we have school tomorrow.” he chuckled out pulling away to leave a light kiss on lips. they were chapped from the rain but once again felix didn’t care. it was so light you barley felt it but so powerful that your face had bloomed with heat.

you heaved yourself out the car with all you could. felix waved watching you walking to your door. taking one last look over your shoulder before closing it.

felix waited a few seconds before he decided to finally drive off.

———————————————————————

felixs room had so much comfort. it’s white walls and fluffy bedsheet made you feel safe.

safe with him.

he was laying on his back. top up bare with you sprawled out on him like you were his t-shirt. he was warm. his bed, his room, him. you had layed her all day doing absolutely nothing in your power to move.

“youre so cute.” you spoke out loud playing dot to dot with the freckles on his chest.

he hummed. “really?”

you hummed in return. you wanted to say more. of course he was look at him. he looked like an angel. an angel with a perfect smile and an amazing heart.

he wanted to stay here forever. but he needed to move and get that burning feeling out his throat.

he sat up pushing his hair out his face. you tried to get up but he gently pushed you back down to stay as you were.

“can i talk to you?” he sat leaning on his arm so you could still reach him but weren’t at eye level.

you played with his chain humming twirling it between your fingers.

“you know that college my dad was looking at?” you nodded now looking him in the eyes. his dark shiny eyes which were usually full of love but now sleepy from the lazy day you had.

felixs dad was trying to persuade him to move to go a dance college as he wanted to pursue it as a career. felix would love to go, maybe train to an idol or something. but he didn’t want leave his friends, his home, you.

“well.. he’s forcing me to go.” you stay looking at him with a dull look.

“he’s brought a house over there in korea and he’s filled out an application for my place.”

“but it’s not certain though right?” you pushed yourself up.

“they accepted me.”

“oh.” you sighed. you wanted lix to succeed but was it necessary to move country?

“i’ve tried talking him out of him but he’s not caving in. and i mean this college is.. amazing! but id give that up to stay here with you.”

“you can’t decline just because you want to stay here. if that’s what you dream of, why should we be stopping you?”

felix leant over pulling his lips to yours. “i love you.” it was sudden. of course you loved him. but you had never said it to yourself out loud.

“i love you too lix.” you squeezed him as hard as you could. like you would never feel his skin again. “im so proud of you.”

———————————————————————

the car was switched on. taking off any second. he had just said his last goodbyes. hugging his friends bye and clinging onto you for the last time. he was in the passenger seat staring at the road ahead.

the car was slowly moving away. time felt slow. slow but not slow enough for you to have felix for one last time. it didn’t feel real. was felix real? the past months of your life where spent surrounded by him. being with him, thinking of him every moment belong to him.

and this was your last moment with him.

“don’t miss me, think of yourself.” that’s what he said rubbing your eyes and walking off.

the car was down the street, still in view. this didn’t seem right. he shouldn’t be going, he should be here, with you.

you took off run after the moving vehicle in hopes of getting one last glimpse of felix even maybe a smile. it was going faster and so were you. you were so close yet so far away.

your friend ran after you grabbing you as the race came to an end and the car was no long in sight.

“let him go, he’s alright.” she patted your shoulder.

———————————————————————

you felt a tap on your shoulder. lifting you out your day dream. the boy across you giggled looking at your lost state.

“sorry what did you say hyunjin?” you asked the pink haired.

he took his hand back resting it on his lap.

“i love you?”

“oh sorry, i just-“

hyunjin reached over grabbing the steer stick putting the car into park.

“if your not ready it’s okay.”

you shook your head leaning to press a kiss on his lips as reassurance.

“it’s not that, i just thought of someone.”

hyunjins head titled showing his small smile.

“like?”

“it’s nothing.” you push your thought away.

“your first love?”

“i guess so. i’m sorry.”

hyunjin was open about talking about past relationships but what you just did was not okay. bringing up your ex while your boyfriend just said i love you for the first time. are you okay?

“it’s fine, he must of been a great person if you still think of him.”

“yeah he was.” felix was a good person, he was your person. your love, the love you couldn’t forget but somehow persuaded yourself it was all made up. you hoped he was dancing his heart out in seoul, some times you hoped he was thinking of you. and he wanted the same. there wasn’t a day you didn’t.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

[gastergrooberfan]

The Sisters Strong Part 1

Strong Bad was on his computer typing to check up on his emails as he hummed a little tune about it.

“Checking the email, checking it tonight!!!!” Strong Bad sang out loud.

When the email popped up, he saw a message that would change his life forever.

“Dear, Strong Bad,

This was the only way we could reach out to you. Please tell Strong Mad and Strong Sad we're coming over?!

Love, Strong Clad and Strong Fad?!”

“What?! First you threaten to break in, then you steal the family name?! You're about to endure the full wrath of Strong Bad! You're about to-” Suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Strong Sad! Go answer the door! I was busy monologuing!”

“Sure thing, “Man of the House”.” Strong Sad groaned sarcastically. When he opened the door he saw two ladies, one looked like a pink giraffe, the other looked like a blue cross between a sloth and a panda with a pointy nose. “It… It can't be…”

“So anyway… Man, now I can't remember! Whoever interrupted my sacred train of thought will also get the “the wrath of Strong Bad”.” Strong Bad grumbled.

“Strong Bad.” Strong Sad suddenly appeared right next to Strong Bad.

“Ah! Gee, everyone needs to stop sneaking up on me!” Strong Bad huffed. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“Oh, nothing important, just some long lost family members coming to visit.” Strong Sad put his hands on his hips.

“You don't mean…” Strong Bad smiled and almost teared up. “Yes! After so long!”

“Hey there!” The two girls from the door appeared.

“You're not mom and dad!” Strong Bad shouted.

“Sorry about that.” The pink giraffe grinned sheepishly. 

“We miss them too.” The blue girl put her clawed hand on Strong Bad's shoulder.

“How could you possibly know my parents?” Strong Bad frowned. “Are you one of those characters who try to seem sympathetic by hiding in the shadows and watching over the main characters, but are actually creepier than you can imagine?”

“Strong Bad, you don't recognize them?” Strong Sad questioned his older brother.

“Are they those characters that fans make up just to have some kind of complicated romance with the main characters?” Strong Bad titled his head confusedly and squinted, trying to remember those two ladies.

 “You're half right.” The pink lady smiled. “It's me, your sister, Strong Clad and sister Strong Fad.”

Strong Bad gasped, he looked at them in the eyes, his eyes sparkled a little as he smiled, they looked at him back and then he laughed out loud.

“Oh, man!” Strong Bad pointed his boxing glove hand at the three. “I can't believe it, you're running out of ideas to get back at me! That's so pathetic!”

“I'm afraid we're serious.” Strong Fad told. him. “You may not remember, little brother, but we lived with you for a long time, until we went to college and stuff.”

“By the way, where's big brother Strong Mad?” Strong Clad looked around with a smile.

“Over here!” Strong Mad stomped to the room with The Cheat in his arms, then his mouth hung open, then he smiled widely. “SISTERS!!”

He rushed over to the two ladies and hugged them tightly, they both giggled.

“We're glad to see you too.” Strong Clad smiled as she hugged her only older brother back.

“Not you too, Strong Mad!” Strong Bad huffed and clenched his fists even tighter. “Well, suppose you are our sisters. Why did it take you this freaking long to come back?!”

“Well, it's a long, sad tale.” Strong Fad sighed.

“Ooh!” Strong Sad smiled. “Do tell!”

“How about another time.” Strong Bad tried to push the two out the door. “How about you stay at some kind of hotel, or maybe Homestar Runner's house, sometimes he either lives with Marzipan, or unfortunately, us, so it should be vacant enough.”

“Okay, thanks Strong Bad, we'll see you tomorrow.” Strong Clad replied, still smiling.

“We'll keep visiting every day.” Strong Fad added. Strong Bad scowled and then shut the door after he pushed them out.

“Not that I'm surprised but that was rude.” Strong Sad chided.

“You're falling under their spell!” Strong Bad scolded him. “But you believe me, right, The Cheat?”

“Meh.” The Cheat shrugged while still in Strong Mad's arms.

“Fine, I know some loser in this town will believe me!” Strong Bad vowed. “And then I will go back to only having TWO annoying siblings!”

“ANNOYING?!” Strong Mad growled as he glared heavily at Strong Bad, The Cheat didn't look pleased either since his beady eyes were also narrowed.

“I meant one annoying sibling! And it's Strong Sad who’s the annoying one!” Strong Bad corrected himself, holding his fists in front of his face to protect it.

“Oh, okay.” Strong Mad immediately calmed down with a smile and then walked away with The Cheat still in his arms. Strong Bad sighed from relief.

“I better go now too, I guess.” Strong Sad then slowly walked out of the room as well, but the usual downer chuckled a little. “Gee, I wonder how this will play out.”

“So this is where we are, jumping the bear holding the shark and not in an awesome way…” Strong Bad muttered, then he went back to his computer to type a message that his “new sisters”, like he didn't just kick them out. “Welp, I hope you're happy, Strong Clad and Strong Fad. What kind of names are those anyway? You sound like those fashion icons who only get into what's popular and modern, so they can have attention. But there's only room for one Strong around here… Maybe three. Definitely not five. I hope you leave soon. Love… I mean Crapfully… I mean, Sincerely Strong Bad!”

[faintblueivy]

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER. 

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be. 

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home. 

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself. 

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy. 

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again. 

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing. 

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

 ...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets. 

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne. 

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.  

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares. 

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically. 

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.    

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal. 

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy. 

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.” 

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.” 

Martha has been told what she needs to know. 

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation. 

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim. 

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs. 

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim. 

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention. 

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed. 

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side. 

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl. 

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that. 

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’. 

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham. 

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he     had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears. 

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own? 

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm. 

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for. 

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place. 

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny. 

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.   

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.” 

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother. 

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return. 

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest. 

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself. 

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s  speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation. 

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life. 

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren. 

Would he accept them? As family? 

Would he love them? As family? 

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

[erodasfishtacos]

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast. 

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula. 

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money). 

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess. 

“Kissy?” 

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed. 

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal. 

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs. 

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest. 

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it. 

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly. 

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little. 

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy?  I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder. 

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now. 

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

— 

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room. 

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters. 

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor. 

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out. 

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

 When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws. 

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier. 

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you. 

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern. 

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together. 

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency. 

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark. 

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years. 

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations. 

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?” 

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist. 

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

[metalbuckaroo]

Hi! Could you do a dbf!bucky where Steve finds out about Bucky and Y/N with the prompt’s

‘I forgot to lock the door’

And

“if you cared about me, you wouldn’t do this.” - (preferably talking to Steve) Thanks

Summary: Forgetting to lock the door turns into a pretty sticky situation when Steve shows up unannounced

Warnings: little smutty, little angsty, cursing, age gap (reader 25, bucky 38)

AU: DadsBestFriend!Bucky x F!Reader

AN: I was sooo excited to get this one, thank you sooo much for your request.

Request from these lists, requests and asks are always open, the mini sleepover is currently still going and linked below!

MASTERLIST JOIN THE FUN

"Bucky, wake up. I'm bored."

You had been awake for thirty minutes, peppering kisses to his face and neck in attempts to stir him awake; but it had failed.

"What kind of bored?" A sleepy smirk tugged at his lips, eyes still closed. "Ya know- bored." You said softly, fingertips trailing along the lowest part of his abdomen, goosebumps prickling his skin.

A small squeak left your lips when your back was suddenly pressed to the mattress, body trapped under Bucky's larger one and head caged between metal and flesh forearms. "I think I can help with that." He chuckled, dipping his head down to attach his lips to the skin under your jaw.

Your eyes closed, letting your senses be engulfed in everything Bucky as his right hand moved between your bodies. "Still sore from last night?" He muttered against you skin, waiting for your answer before going any farther. "Yeah, but I'm fine." You exhaled, hands finding their way into the back of his hair.

He nodded and you lifted your legs higher on his hips, ankles hooking around the backs of his thighs as he slid into you; soft moans being shared at the feeling. "Just let me take care of you, then. Alright, sweet girl?" He hummed, lips brushing against your ear.

Bucky's hands tangled in the sides of your hair, swallowing your breathy moans with a deep kiss as his hips bumped yours in long, slow thrusts that had you craving more.

Everything seemed perfect, Friday nights being spent with take out and mind blowing sex; Saturday mornings with lazy, slow sex that still had your head spinning before breakfast was even started.

You were both snapped out of your dazed state by the sound of Bucky's front door being shut downstairs, Steve's voice echoing through the quiet house.

"Shit-" You both cursed quietly, pushing from under Bucky's heavy body as he pulled out of you; scrambling from the bed to gather clothes in attempts to quickly throw them on.

"I thought you said no one had a key?" You whispered as you pulled a shirt and underwear on. "I forgot to lock the door." He muttered, slipping his boxers on.

He had gotten too carried away by the thought of your body in his hands to remember to do so, completely forgetting to lock it before going to sleep.

Steve's broad frame blocked most of the light from the hallway, making the two of you snap your heads in his direction. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" He boomed, shock etched into his features.

"Steve, I- listen-" Bucky stumbled over his words, not knowing what to say to his blonde friend that stood in the doorway, catching him half naked with his other best friend's daughter. "Put some clothes on. We need to talk."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you found a pair of Bucky's sweatpants, looking over at him as he finished dressing; his jaw clenched but still an apologetic look on his face when his eyes met yours.

He tried to think of every excuse and explanation he possibly could as he followed behind you down the stairs. Steve stood in the kitchen, running a hand over his face.

"How long have you been sleeping with her?" Was the first thing he said. Bucky swallowed thickly and looked at the hardwood floors. "Four months." He said, leaning his back against the counter as you sat on one of the stools.

"She's 25, Buck! That's a 13 year difference! Are you crazy?! When her dad finds out-"

"Steve, please don't tell him. Please, do not tell him." You pleaded, clasping your hands together in front of your face. "Don't tell- I have to tell him! This is ridiculous!" He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bucky, you're screwing his daughter. If I don't tell him them I'm no better of a friend. I care about you, I can't let you get in too deep."

Your thoughts churned with all of the ways your dad would react to finding out that the man he calls his best friend, had been sneaking around with his daughter for months. How furious he would be and everything he would do to keep you apart.

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't do this." Bucky's voice was shaky, but not from fear of the consequences; from fear of you being taken away from him. Never being able to see or touch you again.

"I'm the one who started this, not Bucky." You said, shaking your head. "Oh, no. He just went along with it because he obviously didn't try to tell you no." Stebe scoffed. "She may have started it but we both want it. This is what I want, Steve. That's why you can't tell her dad. She's an adult, she can make her own decisions." Bucky said with a pointed look.

"You think you're the only one don't you? That he's not still seeing other women?" Steve looked over at you, solemn expression as he folded his arms across his chest.

You chewed your lip at the thought of just being something on the side for Bucky, even though he promised that wasn't the case. "She is, Steve. I swear to you she is." Bucky said into his hands. "What about that girl you took to the restaurant out of town? Said you had sex with her in the backseat of your car before taking her home?"

Your face burned at his words, knowing that wasn't someone else as Bucky looked over at Steve, giving him a look as if it were obvious who it really was. "That was- oh, my god. Please, tell me all of the stories you've told me the past couple months aren't her." Steve buried his face in his hands, shaking his head to try to rid his mind of the thoughts.

"So, she's-" Bucky nodded and Steve let out a disgusted groan. "Why did you have to tell me all of that..."

"You're not gonna tell him, right?" You asked, hopefully. "Oh, no. I'm not telling him."

You exhaled a relieved breath, Bucky's body relaxing as Steve stared him down. "You are. You have a week."

[comeandreadawhile]

Clone Social Media : Hobbies

The phenomenon starts with the intention to show the civilians of the Republic the men behind the armor, as well as an encouragement for the men to do the things they enjoy when they have the time to in lieu of sitting around cleaning weapons for a third time that day.

Scratch that—the phenomenon starts with High General Kenobi, on a rare day of leave, teaching his Marshal Commander how to bake. Said Commander’s men were happy to taste test the flurry of experimental confections that pervaded their leave days in the following months. News spread fast of Marshal Commander Cody having a knack for baking, and so followed the spread of troopers attempting to make their own treats and/or branching off into other things the civilians called “hobbies” whenever what they could get their hands on afforded them.

The phenomenon kicked off when Padawan Commander Tano began a social media account with the intention of using it as a public diary, her first post was a picture taken of some of the 501st—with permission, her caption says—as they went about retouching paint scuffed in their most recent battle. The men are relaxed, some with paint smeared on their hands and cheeks and seemingly reacting to some joke or story told outside the threshold of the camera, and it’s an almost startling difference from the image of rigid lines of men, faceless in their full kits of white plastoid, that the civilians are used to. Tano’s second post is a video clip of one Captain Rex, with one General Skywalker sitting on his back counting reps, doing push-ups; the video was captioned “Another day in the G.A.R., restless in hyperspace.”

The digital diary continues from there, videos and pictures of specific locations posted only after reaching a safe distance to do so, never sharing anything mission critical—past, current, or hypothetical future. Eventually she shows the men under her how to make their own accounts, and other Jedi and their own troops follow suit. The 212th then takes it upon themselves to post pictures of the little cakes their Marshal Commander has gotten so proficient at making, and, when General Kenobi creates a joint account titled “command_212”, convince Cody to post pictures of things he bakes before they are distributed—even in the process of baking, if the fancy strikes him.

So Marshal Commander Cody shares pictures of his experiments, of recipes he finds that turned out well, of recipes that didn’t because of some error or other that he’s determined to give another go, with the occasional cryptid picture of General Kenobi taking his tea in the barrack’s kitchen. As time goes on those pictures shift to Obi-Wan covered in flour, or a shot taken from several feet away of Cody sneaking batter captioned “caught red-handed in the red velvet”.

As Marshal Commander of the 212th has taken to baking to relieve stress, the Commander of the 104th has turned to needlecraft and yarnwork.

The 104th retaliate the populatrity of the 212th’s command account with the domesticity of their own, despite the vaguely threatening possibilities of knitting and sewing needles. Boost and Sinker run the majority of the account, although all OG members of the 104th have access to it; they post pictures of the things Wolffe makes them, of General Plo covered in the lengths of scarves he’s received, of Comet in the ever-growing swath the gifted blankets with the current tally in the caption (his toes were off the floor by blanket burrito 6). The holonet at large loves Plo almost as much as his men, and once a week they post him saying some piece of sage wisdom—or utter nonsense, as the mood strikes—as the war goes on. After months of asking for a face reveal and requests for the patterns people are sure Wolffe uses, they make the most Force-forsaken tutorial videos as an all-in-one series.

“HOLY **** HE’S CASTING ON 12 TO START—“ “WHAT A MAD MAN!”

“So when you get to this row here you’re going to knit 3, purl 3–“ “TRANSCENDENT!” “—yes, thank you, and then keep doing that until you reach the end of the row...”

“Oh, OH MAN HE’S GONNA DO IT!” “HE’S GONNA CHANGE COLORS!” “Holy **** man he’s gonNA YOOOOOOOOOO!”

Cody is then issued a challenge by the holonet to learn to knit. He learns to crochet. Because Obi-Wan knows how to crochet. The holonet loves video snippets of them progressing on projects together. They also love the videos Ahsoka posts of Cody attempting to teach Rex, and praise the absolutely completely unrelated hat she later posts a picture of; it covers her Montrals with enough room for a few years’ growth. Anakin gets yarn stuck in his mechanical hand because he forgot to put his glove on before attempting to craft.

The real throwdown happens when the account for the Coruscant Guard posts videos of Fox aggressively tatting while venting about the lack of funding for proper security and surveillance tech.

Each posts sees a comical increase in the surfaces covered in lace doilies and runners, as well as a new topic for Fox’s venting.

A picture of an pillow embroidered with “Kriff the Seppies” is briefly posted to the 104th’s account before being taken down and replaced with a censor bar. Rumors begin to circulate when Senator Chuchi posts a picture wearing a gifted lace shawl; Senator Amidala comments on her confusion being resolved as to why Riyo kept bringing little baskets of crochet thread with her before a senate meetings.

A competition for ship nose art starts up, many votes going to the 501st, and the holonet’s heart once again melting at “Plo’s Bros”. Personal art begins popping up soon after. Fives starts posting spray paint tutorials, Rex and Hardcase become popular for clean graphic art. Bly gets his hands on metallic paint and the crowds go wild. Kix has taken his clean haircut game to the next level.

And then Colt and Shaak Ti make an account to post art the Littles make, most of them representations of their older brothers with wishes of safety and good luck, and of the only Jedi they’ve ever known, sometimes creatures they studied in their preparation for worlds outside of Kamino. Of batches passing their final tests with a congratulatory post.

Suggestions and instructions are sent out for clones who want to take and sell commissions, allowing them to finally make some money; most Jedi are more than happy to help make sure the finished work mails out properly to the buyers.

Ships of the non-nose art kind surface on the holonet. It’s generally agreed upon that command_212 is run by husbands, and Aayla is the protector of the 327th and Bly’s heart, even if she’s a clumsy menace around his artwork (caf spilled over a drying watercolor can be interesting or terrible depending on the circumstance). No one can agree whether Skywalker is married to his captain or Senator Amidala, but everyone agrees that Ahsoka is their baby. The holonet declares Plo to have Big Dad Energy. Shaak Ti’s Big Mom Energy is a friendly rival. The Jedi council has made no official statement denying or denouncing these attachments.

Public interest begins to shift from producing more soldiers to making sure the ones the Republic has stay alive, when the realization hits that within a couple of years the children posting art and losing teeth would probably be losing blood and brothers on some far away planet. Of making sure the men are eating well instead of just surviving. Well certain account-holders don’t post for a while, grieving a loss, posting again to reassure their followers they’re alright, the public questions what’s being done to keep the men emotionally and mentally well outside of the hobbies the public knows them for. “Born to handle any stress” is very much the wrong answer.

Pressure is put on the Chancellor to let the Separatists sucede, no one quite sure anymore why allowing them to would be harmful when at worst new trade agreements would need to be brokered; if they want to leave so badly, let them. And let the men have their hobbies.

(Sad thoughts ahead)

Sometimes commissioners never receive their orders, simply a refund with a letter from that clone’s Jedi after the latest battle ends. Any money they’d made would be split however their closest brothers decide.

The channel that always posts pranks and spray paint tutorials makes a post saying they’d be away to look after their sick little brother. It’s the last post they make.

The Coruscant Guard’s account stops posting a few nights later.

After Order 66 goes out, a new account goes up posting any pictures and cute videos of Aayla. Reposting old ones that the public is sure they’d seen somewhere before, posting new ones of funny faces and ridiculous videos of silly dances. The last one is the only one captioned, “she wasn’t a traitor.”

The account is deleted the same night, and the one of the 327th’s adventures never posts again.

Wolfpack_104 does not post, but is still there.

Command_212 is deleted almost immediately the night of the order.

Years go by, almost sixteen, and only after Vader already knows she’s alive does Ahsoka post again. It’s a picture of her, and Rex and Wolffe onboard the Ghost in hyperspace captioned “Was never a traitor. Always the little sister even if I’m four years older. In case you’re wondering, Rex still draws and Wolffe still knits when we can nab the string and flimsi.”

[rocorambles]

Surprise Interview

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Verbal Humiliation, Manipulation

Summary: Kenma sees if you have what it takes to be Bouncing Ball’s newest employee.

A/N: This is for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s Decadence Collab. So excited to be a part of this collab and to be able to indulge in such a delicious prompt and theme. Be sure to check out everyone else’s works! As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora ~

There’s a familiar peace and a new nervousness about coming back home for the holidays. Mostly because home isn’t quite the same home it used to be. You can feel warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of seeing your mom, telling her about everything and everyone (as if your daily phone calls aren’t enough), and just lounging around while she fills you up with her cooking. But you can also feel a certain shyness as you approach the house, a building that still feels brand new and strange to you.

Your mother had gotten remarried during your earlier college years after your father’s passing and you were elated for her. If anyone deserves all the happiness in the world, it’s her. You had met Mr. Kozume quite a few times and you have no qualms with the man. He treats your mother like a queen and even though you playfully gag as they sweet talk and kiss in front of you, you wholeheartedly approve of their relationship.

However, what you aren’t quite as prepared for is having a new step-sibling.

You don’t know much about Kenma Kozume. Well, not much more than the rest of the world does.

Professional gamer. Successful stock trader. Popular YouTuber. Founder of his own corporation.

You know exactly who your new brother is, but other than seeing him a few times in person at family gatherings and exchanging polite greetings, there’s no real connection. Which is why your heart races as you nervously ring his doorbell, anxiety already making your leg twitch as you wait for the door to open.

Your mother and step-father are on a couple’s vacation and won’t be returning for a few days.

(“We just want some romantic time together before we have a full house again for the holidays. Plus this is a great chance to get to know your older brother better!” You hadn’t even been able to get a word of protest in before she had laughed and hung up on you, leaving you speechless and on your own as you hesitantly texted Kenma, letting him know what day to expect you.)

Kenma is quiet as ever as he nods in greeting, silently leading you to your guest room before quietly telling you to make yourself at home and leaving to do his own thing. You let out a huge sigh of relief as the door closes behind him.

There’s nothing wrong with Kenma. He’s smart and successful. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, but that only adds to his down to earth charm. You know your mother and step-father adore him and you can’t blame them. Yet, you can’t help but feel scrutinized, seen so clearly in a way that terrifies you when his feline eyes gaze at you. It takes everything in you not to immediately scurry away whenever you’re in viewing distance of him, desperate to hide all the flaws you imagine he’s noticing and calculating. Your step-father had mentioned how Kenma used to be the strategist of his high school volleyball team, and has always been able to evaluate and accurately break down situations and people. And you believe it.

You’re just grateful the house is large enough to avoid each other and that Kenma tends to reside mostly in his home office and bedroom.

But even the founder of a company needs a break from time to time. Kenma shuffles towards the gaming room, only to blink in surprise when he sees you already inside of it, happily smiling as Animal Crossing visuals and sounds fill the space.

He had known you owned a Nintendo Switch, a piece of information your mom had shared to break the ice a bit. And it’s really no surprise that this is your go-to game. But knowing and seeing are two different things and he can’t help but let his own lips twitch upwards at how calm and relaxed you are tending to your garden, decorating your home, choosing your outfit.

Kenma’s never been good with people, has never been the one to initiate a friendship. He knows he should have made more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming to you as your new older brother. There’s a slight pang of regret in his chest when he sees how at ease you are while you’re unaware of his presence. His eyes are as sharp as ever and he locks in on the way your body slightly stiffens, fingers nervously fidgeting when you finally notice his figure in the doorway, words already stuttering an apology for using his game room without explicitly asking.

You look like a scared mouse about to flee from the claws of a cat. And it pisses him off.

He hasn’t made the best efforts to bridge the gap between you, but for you to fear him? That seems a tad unnecessary, and more than a tad insulting. It’s more than enough to make the sadistic streak in him want to give you something to be scared about.

But he’s never been impulsive and he just quietly sits beside you on the floor, reassuring you it’s fine to play, smirking when you sneak little side glances his way as you continue collecting fruits.

“Kozume, do you want to play-”

“Just call me Kenma.”

Entranced eyes watch as you grow flustered at his words, mouth silently testing the weight of his given name in your mouth. For once, Kenma could care less about playing video games when a shaky timid “Kenma” slips past your soft lips.

“Kenma, do you want to play something together?”

You have no idea how badly he really does want to play together, but it’s a game you’re not ready for. So he calls upon any restraint he has to pluck your device from your hands and change the game to Mario Kart.

It’s amusing how easily you soften besides him, brow furrowing in concentration, eyes intently and eagerly following the screen, any anxiousness quickly forgotten as you get into the game. He greedily watches as you pout when you make a mistake, as your eyes light up every time you pass someone.

If he had known how easy it would be to make you warm up to him, he’d have done this sooner and he genuinely laughs when you whine and fake glare at him as he wins yet another round.

He asks about school. You ask about work. He tells you about his childhood. You share your own stories.

It’s a comfortable rhythmic back and forth and he’s afraid of ruining it, but a certain question nags at his mind, a question he knows may ruin the entire flow of the conversation.

“You’ll be graduating soon. Have you decided what you want to do after college?”

“Kenma not you too!!!”

His shoulders relax at how well you react to the question, smiling at the way you flop onto your back and groan about how mom and dad are already on your case about future plans.

“I’ve been applying to places, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just work for you at Bouncing Ball.”

There’s a playful lilt in your voice when you say it, a giggle and teasing smile accompanying the words. But there’s nothing funny about it to Kenma and your smile falters a bit when you see how tightly Kenma’s gripping his controller, the way his eyes pin you down.

“Kenma? It’s just a joke. I would never take advantage of-”

You try to get up from your reclined position, only to whimper in confusion when Kenma’s hand on your shoulder forces you back down. And suddenly you’re pinned down by more than just his stare as he moves to straddle you, knees on either side of your body, hands next to your head, his whole body caging yours.

It’s a lighthearted joke in the family that if all else fails, you could always work at Bouncing Ball. A joke your step-father and mother always dish out when the arguments get too tense as the three of you talk about your future. But it’s become less in jest for Kenma, especially after Kuroo sent him a scandalous picture of his newest secretary kneeling between his long legs, lips wrapped around his cock.

It wasn’t the first picture, nor was it the last incriminating photo the older businessman had sent him. Kenma merely rolled his eyes before deleting the image from his phone, wondering when Kuroo would grow bored and find a new toy to play with. But he freezes when he sees the following text message from his long-time friend.

“You’re the CEO of a company, Kenma. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone convenient around? A pretty warm body? I bet that cute new step sister of yours would look really good under your desk. Doesn’t she graduate from college soon? If you don’t make a move, maybe I’ll snatch her up right from under your nose. I’m due for a change of secretary soon.”

There’s absolutely no reason for the hot anger that lances through him at Kuroo’s taunting words and he grimaces at playing right into his ex-captain’s hands, already hearing Kuroo’s braying laughter in his head if the older man saw just how much his words affected him.

But initial irritation aside, he lets himself really think, really imagine what a life with you at his beck and call would be like. And he likes what he sees. He doesn’t delete Kuroo’s photos as quickly as he used to, replacing the female faces with yours in his imagination as his hands slip under the hem of his boxers.

He knows it’s a longshot, knows there’s a high chance you’ll continue your lives as is, never destined to exchange more than a few polite greetings at family outings. But now...now hearing you voice the idea out loud yourself, hearing the way his first name sounds from your lips…

Maybe it’s not the silly pipe dream he had believed it to be.

“I’m in need of an assistant if you really do want to work at Bouncing Ball, but you’d need to prove why it would be worth hiring you.”

He almost laughs at how you perk up despite the precarious position you’re in, almost ready to launch into an elevator pitch of your qualifications flat on your back underneath him. You’re quite the multitasker already and he groans at the thought of having you cockwarm him while he tests out a new video game, making you answer all his calls stuffed full of him and desperately trying to hide the lustful tremble in your voice.

But he’s not here to listen to your carefully crafted speech. (Guess you really were practicing for job interviews like you said you were. What a good girl.) And he firmly presses his lips against yours to silence you, taking his time to immerse himself in the way your mouths mold against each other.

Your taste, your smell, your warmth. It’s all intoxicating and he slips his tongue inside your parted lips, subtly rutting his groin against your body. He can feel your body jostle as you lift your arms and he waits for the weight of your arms to lovingly wrap around his neck, only to be shocked when you weakly press against his shoulders until he finally relents and pulls back just enough to look down at you in irritated confusion.

“We- we shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s not the words that have him clenching his fists, not even the way your palms still timidly press against him in a laughably weak show of defense.

It’s the fear in your eyes, the way you look at him like he’s some monster. It's the way he can almost palpably feel and hear your desire to be anywhere other than here, with anyone other than him, wishing to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

It’s your rejection.

It hurts to know that he isn’t enough just as he is, that he needs to resort to less...savory and straightforward ways to entrap you. But he’s not Hinata or Kuroo. He doesn’t have an electrifying personality or roguishly handsome features and charm to woo you. He only has his cunning and sharp tongue.

And he fully intends on maximizing his gifts.

“Of course, you don’t have to. You can just keep on applying and getting rejected by every company you speak to, if they even bother meeting with you after seeing your pathetic resume. Average college. Average grades. Average major. Tell me, how many interviews have you actually been reached out to for?”

He’s going out on a bit of a limb, but his suspicions are right and he cruelly smirks at the way tears bubble in your eyes at his words, no comeback or denial rolling off the tip of your tongue. He had a feeling you were struggling from the bits and pieces he’s picked up as your parents quietly talk and fret over you actually being able to find a job after graduation.

“Our parents are too nice to say anything about it, but you know they’re disappointed in you, right? Have you noticed how they always avoid talking about how school is going or asking you about how job hunting is going? How they only ask me how work is going? It’s because they know you’re just a loser whose life is going to amount to nothing.”

“That’s not true! They love me-”

“I’m not saying they don’t love you, but doesn’t that make it even worse? Making your loving and caring parents worry and stress over you when they should be preparing for retirement, an easy life? Instead of letting them finally enjoy a carefree life, you’ll be their freeloader daughter who uses up all their remaining funds. Is that what you want?”

You really are too easy and his lips curl in satisfaction at the way you frantically shake your head side to side, fat wet drops streaming down your face, adorable sniffles filling the air.

“If you become my assistant, I’ll compensate you well. You can live here with me, have your own room, a roof over your head, all the food and clothing you need and want. Think about how relieved and happy our parents will be seeing you provided for, seeing us getting along. Isn’t that what you want? For them to be happy?”

He knows how close you are to your mom, how important this idea of a perfect family is to you. He knows how insecurity and doubt about your own capabilities torment you. And he knows you’re hooked on his claws when your hands that are still pressed against his shoulders drop limply besides you, not even a hint of resistance left in you when he leans down once more to rest his forehead on yours, one hand cupping the side of your face.

“This is all you’re good for anyway. Working underneath me.”

If you notice his pun, you don’t acknowledge it, too busy wincing and squirming as he harshly nips and bites a trail from your lips to your neck as he pushes up the hem of your shirt until your chest is on full display for him. There’s something experimental, cold, meticulous about the way he gropes and fondles your breasts.Your face heats in humiliation at how he treats you like one of the many game consoles he’s reviewed for his audience.

But you don’t do anything about it, telling yourself that this is just his version of an interview as he pinches and prods at you, meanly twisting your nipples and chuckling at your yelp of pain. You obediently let him spread your legs apart, only letting out an agonized cry as he tests your flexibility, staring at him with a trembling lower lip as he sharply tells you to shut up while scrutinizing your panty-covered sex.

“You really are made for this, aren’t you?”

You whimper as he nudges the small wet spot on the thin fabric, clenching your eyes shut in denial at how hot and wound up your body feels from his touch, unable to hide your gasp as he pulls the layer aside and rubs your aroused clit.

There’s something so different about the way his fingers slowly sink into your wet pussy, almost lazily curling against your soft walls, his thumb never stopping its careful massage on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. So different from your own fingers desperately thrusting in and out of you. So different from the drunk partners you’ve hooked up with at college and their sloppy, rapid, frantic movements.

You can feel something large, something intimidating slowly rising from deep inside of you, a volcano about to erupt compared to the bright and fast to fade shooting stars you’re used to. You’re scared. Scared of the intoxicating feeling, of how easy it is to grow accustomed to Kenma’s presence, of how his cat-like eyes are all you can see and think of.

How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

That’s the last coherent thought you have before your world goes blank, pleasure rocking through you as you soak the carpet and your step-brother’s hand with your juices. You’re moaning as Kenma continues to rock his fingers in and out of you, fingertips insistently massaging your clit and g-spot as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling and convulsing.

But even when the tremors slow, when pleasure becomes something sharper, more overwhelming, he doesn’t stop. You wail, begging him to stop, to let you rest, slumping in relief when he finally drags his hands away from you, carelessly wiping the mess you’ve made of his hand on your skin, covering you in your own essence.

Your heavy eyelids threaten to flutter shut as you let exhaustion wash over you, already dreading having to get up and wash yourself. But you’re shocked back to reality as something hard begins to nudge at your still fluttering entrance.

“Kenma! No! Too much-”

You break off into a sob as surprisingly strong hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he pushes and pushes until he’s fully settled inside of you, balls resting against your ass.

You’re still so tight, your quivering walls clamping around the intrusion, and he groans at the thought of being able to sink into this hole every day, multiple times, whenever he wants. His cock is already aching from holding off for so long, from watching your body and face contorted in pleasure. Kenma can feel his end quickly approaching as you scream and wail underneath him, eyes rolling back in your head, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. You look absolutely obscene and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this side of you.

But despite the way his balls are tightening, despite the stutter in his hips, he’s determined to watch you fall apart once more, to see you shatter to pieces yet again. He grits his teeth, fingers reaching down to furiously rub at your already oversensitized clit, reveling in how your back arches, thighs shaking in overstimulation, and then you snap.

He wonders what his parents would think of their dear dumb daughter now, looking nothing like their silly angel, looking like a wanton used whore, incoherent garbled noises slipping past your lips as you twitch uncontrollably, your pussy milking him dry as he cums inside of you.

There’s only silence mixed with your pitiful whimpers as he slides out of you, grimacing at the sticky mess you’ve made of yourself and him. But that’s what your other hole is for and he orders you to suck him clean, admiring what a quick learner you are, eager to please as you noisily slurp and lick him clean, moaning at the taste of your combined fluids...

Maybe too eager and he shoves you off of him when you become too enthusiastic, his cock beginning to twitch in interest once more.

You look so lost, still sprawled out on the ground, staring up at him with wide imploring eyes as he pulls up his pants. So vulnerable and in need of guidance.

Good thing you have such a great boss to manage you.

“Not bad. Consider these next few days your internship and if all goes well, I’ll be more than happy to hire you as Bouncing Ball’s newest employee this summer. Now clean up this room and show me that my future assistant can do more than just be a slut.”

[lonely-lost-soul]

Little Hope

(Platonic SBI Famliy x child reader)

Request 6: An imagine or Drabble about sbi family x reader where the reader is the newest adoptee to the family and it turns out they sleepwalk! They do random things like moving stuff around, talking to empty air, and can sometimes end up waking up nowhere near their bed. Just harmless shenanigans that might be spooky at first but are ultimately funny and endearing in a way. 

Requested By: @0melodydrifter0​ 

When Phil brought home a little girl wrapped in a blanket Wilbur was pissed, another child his father had adopted that Phil couldn’t take care of, another child that would end up being his and Techno’s duty to raise. However, something was different in his father’s eyes as he held the young girl close to his chest, 

     “Dad?” Wilbur murmured an eyebrow raised suspiciously high on his head, “What’s that?” He watched his father wince a little cradling the toddler closer to him, 

     “Wilbur...this is (Y/n). She’s going to be your new little sister.” Wilbur grits his teeth and felt rage flood through his veins again, not at the little one, no he couldn’t blame the child for his father’s savior complex. “An old friend of mine village was raided, he asked for my help but by the time I got there everyone was dead, everyone except her.” Phil moved some stray hair out from the kid’s eyes, “I couldn’t leave her for dead Wilbur.” Wilbur’s face softened a little bit, now wasn’t the time to argue with his father, especially since he had just lost a friend. 

      “Could I...see her?” He asked hesitantly as Phil knelt down beside one of his eldest, Wilbur noted the girl had flecks of (h/c) hair on her forehead, her face was covered in soot and ash, he noted she had the brightest (e/c) eyes he’s ever seen. She was quiet, very different from Tommy already, she reached up and touched the side of Wilbur’s cheek with a pudgy hand. The boy was done for after that, vowing up and down that he’d be the best big brother in the world to her even if it killed him. 

Much better than Tommy and Techno too. 

Speaking of the first time Tommy and Techno met you it was quite the experience. Tommy basked in the fact of no longer being the youngest member of the family and Techno was quick to remind him the being the middle child was far worse. Tommy had called him a bitch and Phil told him not to curse in front of his sister which he huffed at, swearing to Phil that her first word would be fuck. 

He got hit on the back of his head for that comment. 

Technoblade was indifferent about that situation, saying orphans were cringe and that you smelled bad, Wilbur was okay with both of these outcomes. As he stated earlier he was going to be the favorite brother whether you knew it or not.

By the time you were ten years old Wilbur’s wish had come true, you stuck by his side and were a quiet staple in his life. He also spoiled you rotten, he made you songs and snuck you cookies when Phil wasn’t looking, he’d do anything to see that smile a smile on your face. However, much to his displeasure it seemed that both Technoblade and Tommy were encroaching on his little happy bubble with his sister. 

It started with Technoblade, he noticed you following him around more often than not. At first, the hybrid was annoyed, he’d lock you out of his room and force you away by threatening to cut off your fingers if you didn’t leave him alone. However, that only made you cry and it made Techno panic if Phil heard you crying he’d be a dead man, and if Wilbur heard he’d be double dead. He began to try to hush you frantically, you didn’t calm down until he stated he would hang out with you a little longer. It shut you up immediately, oh you were a sneaky little shit, he could respect that. He decided he read to you if that was alright, you nodded eagerly, and he carried you into his room. You were a kid of few words and Technoblade could respect that, he pulled out a story about some of the ancient Greek Gods and Goddesses. Figuring the Art of War was probably too much for a ten-year-old, surprisingly he enjoyed himself. You were eager to learn and enjoyed the stories way more than he thought you would, okay maybe you bonded just a little. He had taken to calling you Moirai the greek goddess of destiny, not only that but Technoblade had started bringing you gifts from his adventures, something he never did for anyone else.

Therefore Wilbur was feeling VERY threatened and Technoblade LOVED it. 

However, while the both of them were having their little pissing contest they didn’t notice their younger brother swooping in to join the fight for your attention. As the eldest were at war with themselves, Tommy had taken to sneaking you out of the house to cause trouble by his side. After all, no sister of his was going to be boring like Wilbur and Technoblade, she was going to be as awesome as he was if he had anything to say about it. So when he snuck you out one night against their wishes when they were too busy to notice he decided to take full advantage of that opportunity. He adored hearing your enthusiastic giggles as he tore through the forest with you on his shoulders. 

You were typically a very quiet child, so to hear you laugh because of him made Tommy preen with delight. Your fingers were twisted in his blonde locks as you steered him like a horse, it hurt like hell but so long as it kept you steady he really didn’t mind. 

The joy didn’t last long because Wilbur and Technoblade had found them not soon after he escaped their clutches. Techno plucked you off his shoulders and held you in his arms, you let out a little whine of disappointment and Tommy frowned,

     “Oh come on Technoblade don’t be an asshole!” 

     “Don’t curse in front of (Y/n), Tommy.” Wilbur hissed hitting him on the back of his head, “you can’t just run off with her it’s dangerous!”

     “I can protect her just fine you bitch!” 

     “Oh please, you can barely protect yourself.” Technoblade scoffed as you began to play with his pink hair, hating the tense atmosphere. Tommy snarled at his brother and moved to punch him in the chest but Techno was quick to sidestep them, “nice one genius.” 

     “FUCK OFF!”

You let out a displeased whine and covered your ears at the volume Tommy shouted, 

      “Shut up Tommy,” Wilbur hissed “You’re way too loud and you’re upsetting her.”

     “WE WERE HAVING A LOVELY TIME UNTIL YOU FUCKERS RUINED IT!” 

     “Tom-Tom please shush,” You pressed a finger to your mouth in distress, mimicking a hushing movement. His face faltered, his voice lowering in volume as he apologized softly towards you. “Thank you,” a big smile spread across your lips, and all three brothers visibly relaxed.

     “Alright little one,” Wilbur spoke tenderly running a hand through your hair his heart-melting a little as you nuzzled against it. “Let’s get you home, it’s way past your bedtime.” You groaned in distaste falling against Techno’s shoulder with a soft thud, the man chuckled softly as all three brothers walked back home. 

It was about two months after that when your happy facade came crashing down around you, it had been a particularly rough day. Everyone seemed to be busy with one thing or another and you were left to your own devices and thoughts. They all came rushing back to you, the memories of the day your village got raided and your bio parents passed away. Wilbur was the first to notice something was wrong and had asked Phil to check up on you, so when Phil finally got around to ask what was wrong you burst into tears. That’s when they discovered you apparently remembered more of the incident than you let on. It broke their hearts to see you so upset over something you had no control over, but like everyone else in their family of misfits, you blamed yourself for simply surviving the tragedy. 

They had made sure to coddle you the rest of the day, Technoblade had made sure to make you your favorite food for dinner. Phil and Wilbur tried to keep you busy with music and potion brewing and Tommy played some discs to help you fall asleep. You did so smiling and his heart soared, point to Tommy for getting you to fall asleep with a smile. 

Your found family had gathered that night to discuss what they should do with you moving forward. Phil had declared they all do their best to keep you distracted the next few days, preferably in shifts if that was needed. Wilbur offered to spend the morning with you, he wanted to visit Niki and Sally and both of them loved you if anyone would cheer you up they would. Tommy offered the afternoon and he could bring Tubbo over and you all could play soldiers, Techno said he’d handle the nights with Phil. 

Everyone settled into bed to get a much-needed rest, out of all the brothers Technoblade was the lightest sleeper. So when he woke up in a cold sweat with you standing over his bed he almost shit himself. You had a glassy look in your (e/c) eyes, 

     “(Y/n)? What are you doing? Do you know how late it is?” Technoblade scolded reaching out to grab his glasses, you didn’t respond to him which made his nose scrunch up. “Did you have a nightmare?” His voice got quieter as he reached out to cup your cheek, still no response from you. “Kid?” He sat up as you turned away from him to wander back out the door, “what just happened?” He murmured scratching under his chin, he’d have to bring this up tomorrow. 

Wilbur was concerned and immediately wanted to seek a doctor, especially because you had no remembrance of the event. Phil ran a hand through his hair in thought, “could it be sleepwalking?” 

     “(Y/n)’s too cool to sleepwalk. What the fuck do you mean?” Tommy scoffed and you frowned eyebrows furrowing together. 

     “Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? She doesn’t remember walking around but it clearly happened. Hopefully, it was only a one-off occurrence and she’ll never do it again.”

      “Is it bad if I do?” You whispered shuffling on your feet suddenly self-conscious, “Tommy doesn’t seem to think it’s good.” They all glared at the teenager who winced and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Phil knelt down in front of you and cupped your cheeks with his hands, 

     “It’s not bad. We just have to take some extra precautions for you is all, it’s perfectly normal especially after the trauma you went through.” You bit your lip and nodded within his hands, “Tommy’s an idiot-”

      “Hey!-

      “That doesn’t make you any less of a person and it doesn’t make you any more abnormal either,” Phil assured as Techno began snickering behind him, he turned his head to shoot him a look.

     “What? It’s just funny assuring her she’s normal when no one in this house is normal.” Technoblade waved his hand, “we’re all a bunch of misfits- don’t give me that look you know it’s true. Half of us are hybrids and the other half are gremlins,” He motioned to Tommy again who made an indigent sound tired of being the butt of everyone’s teasing. “So she’s never gonna be normal, but she’s always gonna be one of us and we’ll kill anyone who even thinks about teasing her.” 

Phil smiled sheepishly sweat gathering on his brow, “Let’s not kill anyone Techno at least not now. Especially if they’re children.”

     “Now, now dad, Technoblade has a point.”

     “Wilbur.” Phil scolded as Tommy’s face lit up, 

     “Can I punch a child?” You burst into laughter at Phil’s horrified expression, 

     “No Tommy. No, you cannot!” 

     “It’s okay papa I give them explicit permission to beat anyone up who fucks with me!” You shouted and Tommy’s face once again lit up, he grabbed you out of Phil’s arms and held you close. 

     “You said Fuck! I’m so proud I’m teaching you so well!” He spun you around only causing you to laugh harder as the older members of your family glared at Tommy, “Now say it again!”

Wilbur plucked you from Tommy’s arms glaring at his brother, “No. No, she won’t say it again. That’s a bad word you can’t say it till you’re older.” A pout settled on your lips as you crossed your arms in frustration. 

     “But Tommy gets to say it all the time.” 

     “And he’s older.” Phil let out a chuckle at Wilbur's response watching you slump forward with a loud groan of absolute torment. 

You didn’t sleepwalk again until a few months later, everyone had relatively assumed it was a one-off occurrence and their watchful eye was lifted. In the meantime Tommy had started to maybe sort of sneak out; he had his bag all packed and planned to meet Tubbo in the park. They both wanted to go monster hunting on their own, it wasn’t their first rodeo but it still wasn’t something he was supposed to do without his dad's permission.

Tommy didn’t give a shit about permission though. 

Obviously. 

He grabbed his sword from its place in the living room, Tommy held it up with a wicked smile. It shone in the dim light and he could see the reflection of his face inside it, it must’ve been freshly polished. Tommy put his sword in its holster and turned around, immediately letting out a startled yelp slapping his hands over his mouth. You were standing behind him eyes glassy as you blinked blearily at him, 

     “(Y/n)?” Tommy whisper hissed glaring at you harshly, “What the fuck are you doing awake?” You didn’t respond, only walking past him reaching for a sword of your own, his eyes widened frantically and steered you away from the sharp weaponry. “Are you sleepwalking?” Tommy asked in mild concern before a smirk came across his face, “Guess I don’t have to worry about you snitching huh?” He slowly led you into Phil’s room opening the door and shoving you in before shutting the door. Tommy made quick work of grabbing everything else needed before heading out of the house to meet up with Tubbo. 

Phil woke up to you standing over him, looming, and it almost sent him into a heart attack. He knew immediately you were sleepwalking, “Oh honey...come ‘ere.” He pulled you into bed with him and watched your eyes drift close and snuggle up to him. At least you were safe with him, so long as you didn’t start unlocking doors and injuring yourself they could handle this. 

After telling the other brothers about the incident last night Wilbur was only growing more concerned about your sleep state. He offered to take you to the doctor but Phil brushed him off, saying that normally this thing sorts themself out on their own. Since he was feeling rather protective Wilbur slept in the living room the next few nights just to make sure you didn’t go wandering off. Plus, Phil seemed to not only approve of but also grateful for the idea; so long as the old man could get much-needed rest he didn’t seem to care. Another week flew by with no problems, and he decided to spend one last night in the living room just to triple-check you weren’t going to sleepwalk. 

He woke up to the sound of a hooting owl and soft banging against the wall, he tossed his hand over the back of the couch and he blinked blearily. Unlike his twin, he didn’t exactly have the razor-sharp reflexes that Technoblade was gifted with. Wilbur grabbed his glasses from the coffee table and shoved them on his face haphazardly. 

What was that noise? Did Tommy sneak out again? He turned towards the opened door and it took a few moments to process why the door was open. Wilbur scratched the top of his head in confusion before his eyes snapped open in blatant realization. He tossed the blankets off the couch and scrambled out the door. Bare footprints were made in the mud leading away from your house, tiny you sized footprints. 

Oh, he was so fucked. How long ago did you leave? Are you alright? It’s so cold and you weren’t wearing shoes.

Wilbur made sure to grab both of your jackets and shoved his feet in his boots before heading out the door. He saw his breath out in front of him and winced you must be so cold, hopefully, you weren’t dead if you were he was totally in big trouble. He followed your footprints until they stopped at the edge of the woods, he looked around frantically and anxiety prickled at his skin. If the trail went cold here there was no way he would be able to find you, what if you woke up in a completely different part of the SMP. Or worse yet what if someone kidnaps you and takes you away from them? 

He entered the woods calling out your name desperately even though you wouldn’t respond if you were still asleep. Wilbur adjusted his glasses noticing a soft trail of broken leaves, he decided it was his best bet to follow them. Eventually, he came to a bit of a clearing in the woods that led up to a large cliff, Wilbur’s heart sunk. He felt his breathing stop as he walked towards the edge of the cliff, slowly like he didn’t want to know if he thinks what happened to you, happened to you. At the very top of the cliff is when he saw it, the bracelet you always wore on your wrist it was made of gold and Technoblade had gifted it to you after an adventure he had with Phil. He pulled the jewelry close to his chest and let out a shaky breath, tears swelled in his eyes as he peeked over the edge of the cliff. The poor boy couldn’t even see the bottom, Phil would have to fly down and search it, he was going to throw up. 

     “Wilby…?” 

Oh god, he could still hear your sweet, little voice. 

     “What are you doing? Are you crying?”

Wait, that was your voice!

He whipped around to find you rubbing your tired eyes, your feet were bare and you were shivering. Wilbur tore through the bush and scooped you up in his arms, cuddling you close to him as he peppered kisses all over your face. “Ewww Wilby stop!” You said through giggles pushing his face away from your own, 

     “I’m so glad you’re alright. You were sleepwalking again, I thought…” His voice cracked a little as you tilted your head. You looked around his shoulder and eyed the cliff wearily, you nuzzled against his neck and squeezed him tightly. 

     “I’m sorry…” 

     “It’s not your fault.” He whispered against you, “let's get you home though alright? Want to have a sleepover with me?”

     “Please. I’m scared I’ll wander off if I sleep alone again.” Wilbur nodded, running his fingers through your messy hair. For a girl your age, it was important to make sure you get a good night's sleep. As he carried you back home you ended up falling back asleep in his arms, he had a lot of time to think. He couldn’t believe that a few years ago he had despised the girl in his arms, thought of you as just another stowaway Phil brought home. You had managed to melt his heart and worm your way into not just his brain but his other brother’s brains as well. You had brought so much joy and happiness into their lives. Before you entered their lives there was arguing every night. Tommy and Techno were always at each other’s throats, Wilbur wasn’t any better, to be honest, but then you were there and everything changed. They had to get along and watch their language around you, you weirdly brought them together. Made them better and he couldn’t imagine what their lives would be like without their little hope.

[mmvalentine]

Spagetti (extended edition) pt 3 | Feysand

Single dad AU. Domestic fluff and smut. Read part 1 and part 2 part 4.

Rhys and Feyre date for a year before they get married.

Rhys is nervous at first; he’s never dated with kids, but in the end, it’s easy. He had assumed that relationships would just be off the table until Az and Cass were older, could be left alone perhaps while he went out. But Feyre is so patient with them, it takes him about a month to stop wondering whether she’s just putting on an act for his sake.

“At some point,” she tells him, “you have to stop feeling guilty for your children’s existence. I don’t spend time with them as a favour to you. I happen to like children, I happen to like your children and if this is going to work you need to calm down about that.”

Feyre’s new house is actually much closer to Rhys’s, and on warm evenings he and the twins walk for twenty minutes to get to her.  He tries to carve out time for just the two of them, but they’ve scared off their share of sitters and it’s not always possible. Eventually the boys learn the way to Feyre’s and on more than one occasion they run away from home just to be with her. Rhys might have found this heart-warming it wasn’t so fucking terrifying. The first time it happens, he spends a half hour frantically tearing the house apart and then running around the suburb while talking to the police on the phone, before Feyre calls to tell him that she’s got his rascals. Rhys nearly passes out in the street.

After the second time, Feyre starts taking Cass and Az on dates without Rhys. She kneels down in front of them, once Rhys has come to get them.

“Alright monkeys,” she says, pinching their noses. “You can’t just come here without dad, okay?”

“But Fey, we like it when you’re here,” Cass says.

“And dad hogs you when you’re at our house,” Az adds. Rhys rolls his eyes, but they’ve got Feyre wrapped around their little fingers.

“Well… maybe we can have our own play dates. But we always have to ask your dad first.”

They agree to this, and when they get home, Rhys calls her.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.  “I’m this close to just putting them on those long, retractable dog leads.”

“Maybe they’ve got a point,” Feyre says. “If they have an appropriate way of seeing me, they might not need the Houdini act. It’d be worth a try.”

“I just don’t want you to have to…”

“Stop,” Feyre interrupts. “You know I love them.”

So the next weekend she comes around, and the twins open the door in tiny tuxedos. The look on Feyre’s face is well worth what Rhys paid for them, even if he had grimaced at the tags at the time. Rhys has made sure they have flowers when she arrives, because he thinks learning to be a gentleman should start early. Feyre has brought a picnic basket full of tiny sandwiches, and before she sets up in the front garden, she chivvies Rhys off to his study while she hangs out with his little sons. Surreptitiously passes him a bottle of good brandy, even, and winks before closing the door on him.

Rhys sits down in the quiet, sips at his glass, and it is finally so peaceful he could cry. And he realises that he is not one bit worried about the boys, not when Feyre is around.

And so over the months the four of them become very good friends, and sometimes, when Feyre has a twin tucked under each arm and they fall asleep snuggled into her, Rhys’s heart breaks for them. Because they did not get enough time with their mother, and they deserved more out of life than that.

x

Even though he’s the parent now, Rhys sometimes feels that his sex life is awfully similar to what is like when he was sneaking around as a teenager. They have to wait until the boys are asleep, they have to be very quiet, and they have to cover up fast if there’s even a hint of the doorknob turning. Sometimes all Rhys wants to do is fuck her against the wall and it’s driving him nuts.

One day, he’s so crazy with it that after he drops the twins off at school he doesn’t go to work. Plans to, is in the suit and on the way but finds himself missing his turn off and driving straight to Feyre’s place.

“Rhys?” She opens the door dressed in her coaching gear.

“Call in sick,” he says, and before Feyre has a chance to respond he’s got his mouth on hers. Steps her back, closes the door, pushes her against the white painted wood and exhales her breath from his lungs. Slides his fingers through her hair until it comes out of its plait, and pushes his knee between her thighs.

“Hi,” Feyre struggles, when Rhys leaves her lips free so her can get his teeth on her throat.

“Call in sick,” he says again, and puts her phone in her hand. She hadn’t noticed him pulling it from her pocket. Feyre takes the phone, but now Rhys is palming her breast in one hand and squeezing her hip with the other. She lets her head fall back against the door. “Do it now, Feyre.” There’s a roughness to Rhys’s voice that she’s never heard before, and while her mind is still catching up, she’s scrolling for her manager’s number.

“It’s ringing,” she tells Rhys, as his mouth follows the trail of her collar bone.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then gets on his knees, pushes up her shirt and starts pressing kisses down her stomach.

“Oh hi Elain,” Feyre says. She is suddenly positive that her boss can hear the sound of Rhys pulling the zipper of her shorts down. “Look I’m so sorry to do this to you…” Her shorts are now a puddle around her ankles and Rhys is taking bites from her right hip bone to her left. “But I have to call in sick.” Rhys nods his approval, even as he moves lower, and she swats his head as she tries to listen to what Elain is saying. Instead of pulling back, he moves her underwear to one side and sucks her clit into his mouth. Feyre gasps, and quickly covers it with a cough.

“Yes it came on so suddenly,” she says. “Just woke up and…” Rhys’s fingers dig into her backside as he pulls her against his lips, and then they’re sliding over her pussy from behind. “Mmmm felt really unwell,” she manages. Elain’s voice sounds so far away on the phone.

“You do sound short of breath,” her manager is saying. “Well get some rest. Do you think you’ll be back in tomorrow?”

Rhys pushes two fingers into her, and Feyre has to clear her throat three times before words come out. “Yes I think so,” she rasps, and after what seems like an hour Elain wishes her well and hangs up. Feyre drops the phone on the carpet and sinks down the door a little more with a groan.

“Oh you ass,” she says, but starts moving her hips against him anyway. Rhys just moves his tongue faster, curls his fingers a little more inside of her, and Feyre moans again, now free to do so without her boss on the line. “You are going… to fucking… pay,” she pants. She grabs a hold of his hair as her climax coils tight in her belly, and Rhys is spurred on by the sounds she’s making. “Rhys…” He doesn’t know whether the last is exasperation or praise, but she tastes so sweet when she comes on his tongue that he doesn’t care. He licks up every drop she gives him and when she finally stops shaking he stands, holds her upright, and kisses her open mouth.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, and Feyre just trails after him, still in shock at the turn her morning has taken.

x

In the end, he doesn’t actually get to propose, because the twins do it for him.

He sits them down one day, and asks how they would feel if Feyre came to live with them forever. If he were to ask her to marry him.

They are so excited they get the zooms and tear around the house until one of them smacks into a wall, falls down and starts wailing. Rhys has been father to little boys long enough that he is not alarmed, even when a bruise starts taking shape on his forehead, and just laughs and laughs. He is so happy that even Cass has to stop crying.

He plans a whole evening for the proposal. They were going to make spaghetti, just like the first time she came for dinner. The twins were going to get those tuxedos out and be perfect little waiters, and then Rhys would ask if was ready for dessert. Feyre was always ready for dessert, so Rhys would say he was going to try something a little different tonight, and instead of cake he had a question. And that’s when he’d get down on one knee.

He needn’t have bothered.

He tells the boys over and over that it’s supposed to be a surprise, but they can’t keep a secret to save their little lives.

It happens on a day when both he and Feyre are very tired and have started snapping at each other in the kitchen. It’s a Wednesday, Feyre is sleeping poorly because of cramps, and Rhys has had to fire someone at work.  Rhys has spilled honey on the counter top and gotten distracted before he can clean it up, and Feyre has just put her hand down right on top of it. Has leaned her hip where it’s dripping down the bottom cabinet.

“Oh, gross Rhys! What is this?!”

“Sorry, it’s honey. I forgot.”

“What do you mean you forgot, it’s all over my new sweater now.”

“Forgot means I forgot, what else do you want me to say?”

“Honestly you’re as bad as the twins sometimes, just clean up after yourself would you?”

“Just put it in the wash, it’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s not a big deal to you, it’s not your new sweater.”

“I said I’m sorry okay?”

They’re so wrapped up in the bickering that neither of them notice the way Cass and Az have gone silent. They’re watching the adults like they’re watching a tennis match, and when Feyre sighs and rubs her eyes with her clean hand, it’s too much for Cass. He runs up to her and grabs a hold of her skirt.

“Fey? Fey will you marry us?”

Feyre looks down at him tiredly. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Dad’s pretty annoying but if you marry us, you can live here forever and you won’t have to leave.”

At first, Feyre thinks this kid is just too cute. She gets down to his level, and strokes his hair.  

“I’m sorry for fighting with your dad,” she tells him. She glances at Rhys, who has stopped drying dishes and is holding the tea towel in his hands. “Just because we argue sometimes, that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere, okay?”

But Cass is not appeased. “Then marry us Feyre! Please? Please please please?”

Feyre isn’t sure what’s gotten into the boy. She opens her mouth to ask another question, but then Az takes off at a run as if upset too. It’s not like this is the first time she’s disagreed with Rhys, and she’s confused at the sudden distress. She looks to Rhys, but his face is strangely impassive as he tosses the towel over his shoulder.

Then Az reappears, and he’s holding a black velvet box.

“Az, what have you got?” Az doesn’t say anything, just holds the box out to Feyre.

While Feyre stares at Az, Rhys is gaping. He cannot believe this is happening, and hadn’t known that Az knew where he’d been keeping the ring. The little snoop. Should have known better, really. Az gets into everything.

Feyre takes the box but makes no move to open it, so Az climbs into her lap and opens it for her. There’s a black sapphire inside, large as a fingernail, tiny diamonds on the bottom edge with a gold band.

“Where did you get this, Az?” she breathes.

This was not part of the plan.

But then Feyre is looking up at him for answers, and she’s crouching there on the floor with his mother’s ring in her hands and his kids are staring up her like their own personal sun and her gorgeous blue-gray eyes are wide with questions and… well, he guesses this is happening now.

Rhys sighs, and gets down on the floor. Kneels opposite her, and grabs a hold of a rascal in each arm. He could squeeze them to death right now. “Feyre Archeron,” he begins. And suddenly his heart is beating so fast he thinks he might have a heart attack right there on the kitchen floor. He knows, that kneeling before her as a full-on package deal, he has never been this vulnerable, and he is asking a lot. But he loves her. So there’s only one thing left to say.

“Will you marry us?”

Feyre’s eyes fill with tears, she looks straight at Rhys and whispers, “yes.”

And then chaos erupts. Rhys lets go of the boys and kisses her, kisses her and kisses her while the boys explode around the kitchen yelling and whooping and climbing over the both of them. Feyre is laughing while she returns his kisses, and Rhys realises he’s crying, which he hasn’t done since his sister died.  Feyre gathers up the boys in her arms and they pepper her cheeks with tiny, slobbery kisses. The sight of it is a fucking arrow through Rhys’s heart, and then they’re dogpiling on him and he thinks, this is his family now. His whole world on these kitchen tiles.

***

MASTERLIST

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[gotnofucks]

Meet the Parents

Based on the request: Imagine Peter Parker trying to ask Steve and Bucky if it’s okay to take their daughter on a date. He would be shaking in his boots. 

Pairing: Stucky x Reader, Peter x Reader

Summary: You are daddies’ little girl, and Peter wants to take you out.

Words: 1.2k

Warning: incest (kinda? And only implied), daddy kink, 18+ ONLY. 

A/N: It was a Peter request, trust me to turn it into Stucky 

He had May choose him an outfit. Something that doesn’t scream trying too hard, but not something too lousy either. Peter was head over hells for you. Ever since you’d sat by him in Physics class, he knew he’d never be the same again. There was this instant connection, this electricity that cackled down his spine when you laughed with him.

You’d been best friends for a while, but now Peter wanted to be more. He wanted to take you out to coffee where you could share a dessert and hold hands. He wanted to take you dancing and put his coat over you when you got cold. He wanted to walk you to your door with a kiss of promise to pick you up in the morning. He wanted his phone’s wallpaper to be a picture of you both cuddling.

But there was this one obstacle that made his palms sweat. Peter knew you were very close to your dads, he’d seen them coming to the college campus to pick you up. You were well into your 20s and yet they doted over you like you were 5. Anytime Peter thought he’d ask you out, an image of Steve and Bucky towering over him made his heart beat faster.

After months of deliberation and waiting, he’d finally decided to do it. He was wearing his best outfit, he got flowers and had given himself a pep talk in front of the mirror. He’s going to drive to your home, ask your dads if he can take out their little girl and be a gentleman.

He may have stood outside the door for few minutes too much, but he finally rang the bell. The door opened so fast he wondered if the other person was listening in, waiting. Piercing blue eyes, like those that Zeus must have when he’s about to rain hell on someone, fixed on him.

“Parker” Bucky said, an eyebrow raised in amusement as Peter shuffled.

“Mr. Barnes” He greeted, offering him a hand that Bucky smirked at before taking in his own. Peter had to suppress a wince at the firm grip, and he resisted the urge to massage his fingers after he let go. Bucky beckoned him inside and Peter followed, marveling at the beautiful house. He smiled at your pictures on the wall, mostly smiling with your dads on either side of you.

“You are two minutes late.” Said a voice that broke Peter away from staring at your pictures. Steve was standing against the table, hands on his waist. When he stood like this, shoulder to shoulder with his husband who was just as big, Peter was reminded of how you said they’d been in army and right now, he felt like the enemy.

“Mr. Rogers, sir.” Peter said, shaking Steve’s hand which left his already bruised hand aching even worse.

“Dad, please. Stop.” You said, coming down from the stairs. You looked gorgeous, even though you’d dressed only casually for the movies. It was a bit ridiculous to be doing this at this age, but Peter knew to win you over, he needed to get on you fathers’ good side.

“A man who can’t be on time cannot be trusted.” Steve said and Peter looked down, cursing himself for lingering on the doorway too long. You huffed, smacking Steve on his chest with a grumbled ‘be nice’ that had Peter smiling. He shyly gave you the flowers he got and you took them, taking a huge whiff.

“I’m gonna put them in a vase and then we’ll leave.” You said, shooting a look at Steve and Bucky who were glaring a hole in Peter’s head.

“So, what are your intensions towards our girl?” Steve asked, looking very much the Captain he was.

“Entirely honorable sir.” Peter promised, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re going to movies and then dinner.”

Bucky chuckled sarcastically, walking around Peter as if examining him.

“We know what happens in a dark movie hall. You gonna leave a seat in the middle.” Bucky ordered and Peter opened his mouth in shock. He could hear your angry shouting from the kitchen from where you appeared with a scrunched nose.

“Dads, enough. Ease up.” You snap, glowering at their hazing. Steve rolled his eyes, sharing an exasperated look with Bucky as if you were the one being ridiculous. When you didn’t budge, they sighed, relaxing their arms.

“You gonna bring her back before 11. She doesn’t like her food too spicy and she hates drinking –”

“– Right enough, we’re going. I can tell my preferences for myself, thank you very much. Come, Peter.” You hastily said, cutting off Bucky. Peter nodded, barely having time to say goodbye to your dad as you ushered him towards the front door.

“Should I shake their hand?” Peter whispered when you were almost out.

“Do you want them to break your hand? Hurry!” You hiss back. You were right behind him, scurrying to his car when the clearing of a throat stopped you. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky and Steve with your jacket.

“You wanna catch a cold?” Steve asked, holding it out. Peter was sitting in his car, looking as you sheepishly smiled and stepped back inside, letting Steve slip the jacket over you. Bucky zipped it up for you, holding your chin with his thumb and finger gently.

“You call me the moment you think something is going wrong. He touches you anyway you don’t want him to, I’ll show up and beat his ass.” He assured you and you hugged him, burying your head in his chest and smelling his soothing scent.

“I know how to protect myself. You got nothing to worry about, I am your baby girl.” You mumbled and Bucky held you tighter.

“Damn right you are our baby girl” He said, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“Sweetie” Steve said, pulling you away from Bucky and into him. “You love your daddies, don’t you?”

You looked into his blue eyes, biting your lip at the authority and love there.

“Yes daddy, I love you both. This is a one time thing, I promise.” You said and felt them both relax. They really could deny you nothing, not even some other dick.

“He can never give you what we can.” Bucky said sulkily. He had a more difficult time coming around to this idea than Steve did, and you took his hand in yours, gently squeezing.

“I know daddy, I just wanna try something else. But I’ll always come home to you. You both are my life.” You told him and he squeezed your hand in return.

“We’ll keep the bed warm for you. It won’t feel the same.”

You almost wanted to cancel the date, but Peter was so sweet. And you needed a few hours away from both of them and their company. Every night you’d spent in their arms and under them in their bed, you have been in heaven. You just needed a night away where you could be a normal girl who wasn’t sleeping with her adopted fathers.

“A few hours, and I’ll be yours again.” You said softly and Steve stroked your cheek.

“You’ll always be ours” He corrected, and you turned your back to them and joined Peter in his car.

Peter glanced at you as you buckled your belt, nervously taking your hand in his after he started the car.

“They really love you” He commented, sneaking soft looks at you as he drove.

“Yes, they really do.” You agreed, watching the landscape pass you.          

[outerbankies]

new light part 4: underneath the moonlight — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you and rafe meet the parents (properly) and go to midsummers together, but not everyone is as smitten with your relationship as you two are.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: say hello to a few characters (tw: ward) i have had yet to feature thus far 🤗 more of y/n being besties with kelce (and topper this time—our fave obx himbo) there’s a lil drama in this part y’all... into the thick of it. thanks for all the feedback 💖not canon rafe

my writing

yeah if you give me just one night, to meet you underneath the moonlight

You’re startled awake by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You’re squished between 6 feet and 3 inches worth of boy and the pink wall your bed is pushed up against. Rafe always insisted on laying on your outer side, closest to the door of your bedroom. Which means you often woke up pressed into the wall, your neck sometimes aching from the awkward angle. Not to mention Wilbur always taking up the space at your feet, Rafe usually nudging him into your space so he could stretch out.

Rafe stirs also, making sleepy noises and stretching his legs where they hang off the end of your bed. He grumbles and smacks his lips together a few times, your hand instinctively coming to rub along his jaw. His eyes flutter open as the sun streams in through your window, illuminating the hint of golden stubble on his chin. You’d only slept over together a few times, since you were both staying with your parents for the summer, so it’s always nice to wake up with your boy in your bed.

Oh fuck. Your boy is in your bed.

Rafe's eyes widen at the same time as yours.

“Oh shit, we fell asleep?” he whispers, head whipping around your room.

“Fuck, you have to hide right now,” you whisper, stumbling through your thoughts sleepily.

Another knock sounds from the door.

You extract yourself from your spot between Rafe and the wall, his hands guiding you by your hips as you tumble over him.

“Just, fuck, just like—get under the covers or something. God, I hope it’s not my dad,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says, slinking into the gap between your bed and the wall as best he can, covering his face with a pillow.

You check that he’s concealed enough, turning to open the door just the slightest bit. Dylan stands in the crack.

“We have brunch at the Club in an hour, mom wanted me to ask if you invited Rafe,” he peers around you, gaze moving to behind your shoulder. “Or I could just ask him myself. Sup, Rafe?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dyl,” you whisper-shout. “Where are mom and dad? Can he sneak out the back? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll tell them about Hilton Head.”

“God, calm down. Dad’s in the garage and mom’s getting ready. Just have him go now.”

“Thanks,” you say, all but slamming the door in his face. You turn around and press your back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

The covers rustle, and Rafe springs out of your bed to gather his things while Wilbur watches him. He always starts pouting when he notices that Rafe is putting on his hat or shoes, signs that he’s about to leave.

“We are so dead.”

“You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? I don’t think I can sit at brunch with your dad in an hour if he knows I slept in your bed last night.”

“Not if he’s smart,” you sigh. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No, I got it. Just keep Willy in here. I’ll text you when I make it out alive. If you don’t hear from me, just assume your father murdered me,” he jokes, leaning down to give you a kiss after he slips his shoes on. “See you back here in an hour?”

“Yes, please be early. And clean shaven.”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t insult me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Nervous?”

“Not nearly as nervous as I will be if I get caught, sweetheart. Gotta go so I have time to shower—and shave. See you in a bit.”

He gives you one last kiss before he departs, and you move to the window with Wilbur to watch him slink across the backyard, arms crossed and a fond grin on your face. He turns and blows you one last kiss before he disappears around the side of your house.

—

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?”

Your dad’s voice comes from his study as you pass by, checking yourself over in the entryway mirror one more time. Rafe should be here any minute.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. You feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Your dad only invited you to talk in his study if it was something serious. The last time he did was when he told you he was going to take away your Range Rover if you didn’t pull your Bs up to As your freshman year of college. You’ve had a 4.0 ever since.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk about the new boyfriend.”

“What about him?”

“I always knew of him while the two of you were growing up. But I talked to him a bit back during Dylan’s grad week.”

As an unruly teenager and the rightful heir to his father's business, everyone in the Outer Banks knew about Rafe and his antics. Good or bad. You could even recall your mom gossiping to your dad, words passed on from Rose, about some of his more... notable incidences.

“Y-yeah, he's...” you trail off, searching for the right words to describe Rafe these days.

“Seems like a good kid,” your dad supplies.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Business, mostly. His future and whatnot.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, I just wonder... are you sure about this one? When you were kids, that boy was always causing trouble. And you know your mother and I were always so proud of how you stayed in line.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But Rafe’s not a boy anymore. Just give him a chance.”

“I will,” your dad says, slapping his knees to stand up. “But I'm also gonna give him a hard time.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s my job. Your mom gets to freak out about Dylan moving out, and I get to handle scaring every man who gets to look at you.”

The doorbell rings.

“Please. I am literally begging.”

Your dad draws a fake halo around his head, and you just roll your eyes.

The morning gets off to an even more embarrassing start as soon as Rafe crosses the threshold into your house. Wilbur jumps into his arms immediately, all ninety pounds of him, and your mom’s eyes widen.

“My goodness, he’s usually so hesitant around strangers!”

Dylan chokes on a laugh, and if you weren’t across the room you’d have elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, I’ve walked Wilbur by Tanneyhill before.”

“Yeah, I-I love Willy. Mrs. Y/l/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Rafe says, effortlessly following your lead after Wilbur scampers out of his hold. He shakes your mom’s hand politely. Your dad sidles up to her then, fixing Rafe with a stare harder than you’d prefer. “Mr. Y/l/n, you as well. Thanks again, to both of you, for inviting me.”

“Good to see you, Rafe,” your dad says, a strong hand clamping onto his shoulder. “Dylan, come say hi.”

Dylan’s grin is devilish, and you're just watching on in pure horror at this point. “How have you been, Rafe? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

—

Rafe’s grinning ear to ear, hand firm on your thigh, all of the windows in his truck rolled down. He even popped the sun roof, letting you blast your playlist all the way down the road.

“Okay—I just... did that go well?”

“You did great, Rafe.”

Despite Dylan's best efforts to embarrass you two, brunch had gone really well. Your dad took a second to let his guard down, unlike your mother who was immediately gushing over him. You could practically see the wheels in her head turning, the wedding colors she'd picked for you. And your dad came around quick enough once Rafe brought up Formula 1.

Your boyfriend looks so relieved, hand even coming to feel the air pass through his fingers as he hangs his arm out the window, hand on your thigh coming back up to steady the wheel. He taps on it excitedly.

“Lowkey, feel like I nailed it, baby.”

“Okay,” you giggle, leaning over to peck his check. You pull him in with a soft hand to the other side of his face. “Let’s not get too big for our britches.”

“Oh, I’m a parent-meeting expert now. Might go into consulting.”

“You’ve perfected the sport?” you joke.

“No, no. That’s—I’ve never actually met parents before,” he admits.

“No way?”

“Way? Have you?” he asks, slight edge seeping into his tone as he pulls up to the stoplight outside of your favorite coffee spot.

“Uh... once. We weren’t even really dating yet, but they came to visit and he like, ambushed me with them at dinner. They were kinda hippies, though.”

“Yeah?” His tone is clipped as he parks his truck.

“Yeah, some guy from my comparative literature class sophomore year,” you sigh. “But, you’re the first to meet my parents.”

“Mm,” he hums, fingers tapping on your knee. That satisfies him. He gathers one of your hands in his. “You coming in?”

“Will you just get me a latte? Kinda wanna call my mom and debrief.”

He laughs, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Oat milk?”

—

Your original plans to meet the Camerons fell through, a last minute staging emergency arising when you were all supposed to go for dinner. You’d tried not to look down while Rafe attempted in earnest to cheer you up, telling you how pretty you looked while you took out your earrings and let your hair down. He'd kissed the crown of your hair and apologized profusely, promising they would love you when they finally got to meet you.

“M’not upset.”

“Okay.” His hand stroked your back through the thick cotton of one of his old water polo sweatshirts he’d let you borrow for the night.

“I’m just really nervous about meeting them. You might’ve set the bar a little too high with my parents.”

“You just have a great family.”

“I don’t know,” you said when you finally cracked a smile. “Made it pretty far on your first try.”

“Don’t worry. They’re going to love you, sweetheart.”

You let him kiss your cheek, your forehead, your nose and chin.

“Hope so.”

“Know so.”

And Rafe had somehow convinced your father to let you go to Midsummers with his family, promising to join up for pictures and greetings later. Your dad had willingly let him, to your surprise.

The event was a big deal to Figure 8 patriarchs and matriarchs alike, always trying to outdo the other in every way, all while feigning some sense of island camaraderie. But when Rafe had set aside time at brunch to specifically ask your family for their permission to accompany you to the event, they’d been hard pressed to say no. Your family immediately accepted Rafe as your boyfriend, any lingering hesitations about his character drowned out by the equal chances of your personal happiness and the heightening of their social and business profiles.

But he’d still come to your house to pick you up, ready to greet your parents in the foyer once again.

He takes one look at you in that blush pink dress, hair, makeup and jewelry all done up this time around, daisy flower crown in place, and flicks his eyes around his surroundings. Your father and Dylan were nowhere in sight, and your mother was busy fixing her earrings in the hall. He takes to your side immediately, a kiss to the side of your head followed by his lips pressing against your ear. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

With the high from those words, you ride in his truck to Midsummers, nerves never dissipating no matter how many reassurances he speaks across the summer air streaming in through the vehicle. “Remember, they’re gonna love you.”

He helps you down from his truck so you can focus on keeping your dress off the ground, assuring you for the fiftieth time that Rose is going to like your headpiece.

“Miss Y/l/n, how lovely to see you again you at last,” Ward sighs, sounding somewhat fond. “Rafe’s been talking my ear off about this, meeting you again even though we’ve already met. Sorry we couldn’t make it work earlier.”

“No worries, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for inviting me to tag along with your family at Midsummers. You as well, Mrs. Cameron. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you! And of course,” Rose says, bringing you in for a hug, one you definitely were not expecting.“You’re out in California, aren’t you?”

“Yes, home for the summer.”

“That’s a long way from here,” Ward says. His eyes flicker to Rafe. “Long way from Georgia. Shorter, but still a long way.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Rafe cuts in, and you can feel his hand gripping the back of your dress:

“He’s just stating the obvious, Rafe,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, it is far,” you agree. Rafe’s head whips around back to you.

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. To anyone else in the vicinity, he probably sounds confident and self assured. But you know Rafe, and you can look into his eyes and see that he’s not. That if he weren’t in front of his entire family, trying earnestly to impress his father, he’d have said: ‘we’re gonna figure it out, right?’

“I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to,” Ward says after a lapse in conversation. “One way or another.”

“Let’s get some photos so we can all enter and the two of you can run off,” Rose says immediately after, giving neither of you the time to say anything else.

You do your best to shake off Ward’s comment as the four of you join up with the Cameron daughters, plus Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. After posing for what felt like hours, the photographer asks you and John B to hop out so they can take some family pictures, the two of you swiping up a couple of Old Fashioneds from the bar. You have to assure Rafe twice that you’ll be okay for ten minutes on your own.

“First time meeting Ward?” Sarah’s boyfriend asks, leaned up against the bar like he owns the place.

“Er—of course not,” you say, like it’s obvious. But of course John B knew nothing about Figure 8 social circles. “Just the first time as Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you look nervous,” he admits, chuckling when your mouth drops open. “It’s not too obvious, I just know because—been in your shoes.”

You should be insulted that the teenager compares his and Sarah’s relationship with yours and Rafe’s, but you know he isn’t being malicious. You see nothing but kindness in his eyes. And it’s nice to have somewhat of a teammate in this situation, the two of you standing by while one of the most powerful families in Kildare poses together in their finest outfits.

Rafe looks hot in his grey suit, especially with the pocket square he’d agonized over for weeks before you gifted him one that was hand sewn from the extra material where your dress had been hemmed. Monogrammed, of course.

You’d decided to go with his initials, since it was going to him after all. But your stomach gets fluttery if you think about the expression on his face when he’d received it, telling you that you should’ve put yours on it instead. “That way everyone will know I’m yours.”

Turning back to John B, you can’t imagine how he must have felt the first time he was invited into all of this. It intimidated even you, and you’re pretty sure John B was friends with the boy who delivered your family’s groceries every week.

“Any tips?”

“You’re way better off than I was, first of all,” he laughs. “But he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one. He cares too much about this appearance of a perfect family to make digs in front of an audience.”

You nod. “That’s actually really good advice, John B.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, kook.” He clinks his glass against yours, promptly throwing the entire drink back as you watch and laugh. “That’s another tip. Drink whenever you can.”

“I’m familiar with that one.”

It's intimidating entering the event, a little after everyone else has arrived. Rafe told you that was by design—the Camerons could never be earlier than fashionably late. You always assumed you and Rafe were raised with similar pedigrees, but you're barely through the doors of the event before you realize that's not entirely true. Up until the last millisecond, Rose is fussing with Sarah and Wheezie's gowns, the older daughter making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes at her step-mother's antics. And Ward brushes Rafe's shoulders off more times than you can count, straightening his bow tie for him repeatedly. Rafe just places his hand on your back, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “You ready?”

You smile up at him, but your nerves are firmly settled in at this point. What you reply isn’t completely true. “Of course.”

—

You take John B’s advice, of course, and choose Kelce as your designated drinking buddy for the night. He was hard to keep up with, but you threw your inhibitions to the wind after you got meeting the Camerons out of the way. Plus, Rafe had more business to attend to than he’d let on, and you were getting pretty bored. Not too long ago he would’ve been right beside the rest of you, causing trouble and borderline embarrassing all of your parents. It was weird to see him walking around, shaking hands and rubbing elbows. He’d invited you into a few conversations, you trying your hardest not to simply watch him in awe.

You’re engaged in some strange dance battle with Kelce when he stacks his drink into yours, both empties at this point. “Your turn to get a round.”

“Boo,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “What d’you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“Aye aye.”

You’re turning on a shaky high heel, and you have to give yourself a little mental pep talk to straighten up. Of course you can, though.

“What can I get you, miss?” the barkeep asks.

“Vodka press, Tito’s, and a Jack and coke. Double Jack. Actually—single. Thanks,” you murmur, trying to fish a ten out of your clutch.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the tip for this one,” a voice says next to you. Ward Cameron is sidling up next to you, sliding a fifty across the counter. Your eyes widen at the tip, trying not to be embarrassed as the bartender sets the drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Ah, call me Ward.” He flicks his eyes back to the bartender, who quickly pockets the tip and makes himself scarce to give the two of you some privacy. You can’t help but think of John B’s warning: ‘he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one.’ There’s no point in even trying seek out Rafe, you knowing full well you’re expected to stay rooted to the spot until Ward dismisses you. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s always fun to come back out here for this.”

“So, California to Georgia,” he whistles. “That’s probably a five hour flight, at least.”

“Yeah, um,” you take a minute to make sure your flower crown is perfectly in place. “It’s actually two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two flights. From his school to mine. Rafe checked, he said there’s nothing direct,” you clarify.

Ward let’s out an indifferent chuckle. “Of course he did.”

Your eyebrow furrows because you don’t know what to say, turning to look at where your drinks are starting to melt. Kelce would be wondering where you are by now if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. And where the hell was Rafe?

“Y/n, as far as I can tell, you are a nice girl. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page about one thing.”

Your heartbeat that hadn’t really settled since Ward approached you is picking up again, and you really wish Rafe had been the least bit more concerned about where you were at this moment.

“Um, I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I'm don’t know how serious you two are, Y/n, but I know my son. He's clearly very invested in pursuing you.”

Your resolve crumbles a little at that, your heart warming, thinking about Ward noticing something like that.

“But Rafe needs to be committed to finishing this degree so he can come home and start learning the ropes next year. And in four years, Sarah will do the same. Then Louisa after her.”

“Wow, that’s so lucky for you—that they all want to go into the family business,” you praise, not really knowing what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, because Ward just quirks an eyebrow.

“In this family, our business will always come first. Before anything and anyone else. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

You swallow, catching on to where this is going for the first time. You still go for playing dumb.

“Ward, I really don't think I understand.”

“But you do, don't you? You know Rafe. He’s a bit emotional, he’s a ‘feeler,’” Ward says sarcastically, putting it in air quotes. All of the niceties you experienced earlier when you first greeted Rafe’s family were long gone. You can only gather that it was all an act for Rafe’s benefit. But you know the only option is to sit there and take it. “He thinks with his heart, never enough with his head. Sarah, for example—when it’s time for her to cut that pogue lose, which it will be soon enough, I know she will. Whether it’s my decision or her’s. I can count on that, because she’s just like me in that respect; she knows we have to make sacrifices. But Rafe—I don’t think I can make that same assumption about him.”

“Ward, with all due respect, Rafe is really focused on the business.”

“You're correct, and I’ve worked hard to get him there. Which is why I can't have him spending his senior year of college, when he should be buckled down, traveling back and forth from California and getting distracted from his future by some girl.”

“Mr. Cameron, I would never—”

“You know that it’s true. I can tell you’re bright. You come from a great family.” It’s a compliment and an insult all at once. He likes you because of your father’s business and your mother’s social status, not because of what you do for Rafe, or what you have to show for yourself. He continues like it was nothing but the highest praise. “But right now, you are across the country from him, and I can bet he’s determined to make that work, no matter what it takes. Which I obviously can’t have,” Ward sighs. “It’s just not the right time. You can understand that, can't you?”

You nod numbly and pick up your drinks, hoping he’ll get the signal to wrap this up soon. You’re at the point where you can’t listen to this anymore, liquid courage re-flooding your veins.

“I’m not asking you to stay away from him, because you’re both adults,” Ward says, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder. “But I’m asking you to think long and hard about what’s best for the both of you. Rafe already knows what’s expected of him. He’s always known.”

You look back towards the crowd under the gazebo, able to make out John B of all people. He sees you talking to Ward, shooting you the most subtle thumbs up he can muster. He has no idea. You don’t take the chance to nod at him, turning back to the bar.

“Say the two of you let it go for the school year,” Ward bulldozes, taking a step closer to you. “And you end up back here too, great. But even then Rafe’s going to be working all the time, the longest hours he ever will in his life. For the next few years, Y/n. You’re so young—are you really going to tie yourself down to a commitment like that? What about your future?”

In a tone you hope comes across as confident, you say, “I really appreciate your concern, Ward.”

Ward's perfectly white teeth are pulling into an even more perfect grin, and the sight makes you sick.

“Great. I'm glad we had this talk.” He pats you on the back, leaving first before you get the chance to.

You just shuffle through the crowd numbly, not even reacting when someone steps on your toe, taking it all in stride as you seek the comfort of your friends once again.

You were foolish to think Ward would warm up to you immediately, or at all. You had been way too confident in yourself, especially after witnessing the wear working for his father had on Rafe. ‘He’s not an easy man to please.’ How could you be so naive, thinking you could coast by on your charm?

You’re a few feet away when you notice that Topper had joined up with Kelce again, as had your boyfriend. He’s joking with them, amused at the way Topper is clearly almost done tolerating Kelce’s drunken antics, but you stand and watch for a bit as he scans the crowd, gaze flickering toward the bar you’d just been at. You realize he’s looking for you when he finally spots you, his face relaxing as the two of you make eye contact.

“There you are.” He pulls you in close, kissing your forehead. You want to cry. “Where’d you run off to? One of those for me?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks you’re holding, reaching for the darker of the two. But Kelce is swooping in, snatching it out of your hold quickly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’ “This one’s all mine. Sorry Cameron. Thanks Y/n/n.”

Rafe just rolls his eyes at the two of you, eyes lingering on your face when he notices your fallen expression. He sets your other drink down on the high top table you’re all standing next to, pulling you in by your hips. “You okay?”

If you had a choice right now, about how to proceed with telling or not telling Rafe about what had just happened, your instincts compel you to bypass the decision process altogether; you paint a careful smile on your face, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, all good. Just zoned out for a sec.”

He isn’t convinced. “Tired?”

“Maybe a little. Kinda drunk. Are we leaving soon?” you ask, melting into him. It’s a lot easier to handle his tone of voice when you don’t have to look him directly in the eye.

“I vote yes,” Topper says, gesturing towards Kelce, who is somehow sucking down his new drink at an alarming pace while continuing to dance to the oldies tunes they play at these things. “Like, right now. Rafe, you’re hanging back right?”

You look back up at your boyfriend in confusion. “You’re not coming with us?”

He bite his lip in contemplation, looking around the party. The twinkly lights reflect off of his pupils, making him look starry-eyed as he surveys the crowd. A sea of opportunities to prove himself to his father. Rafe looks resolved when he turns back to you.

“Well... I was gonna stay, wrap up some stuff,” he explains. His eyes flicker across your face, still not pleased with your expression. “But that’s okay, I’m good to go now.”

“No, Rafe,” you say immediately. You take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and painting on a smile that comes easily with years of experience at parties like this. “Stay, I’ll go ahead. How long will you be?”

“An hour, tops. Will you take her?” Rafe looks hesitant, still taking your green light anyway, already slowly extracting himself from your hold, Topper rolling his eyes but nodding and beginning to corral Kelce toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re making me babysit two of them.”

“Don’t let her drink too much.”

“Hey,” you protest, pushing him in his chest half heartedly. The push barely does anything, only proving your impaired motor skills further. Or that you're dating a tree. “What are you, a cop?”

“I’m your boyfriend, actually.”

“Really? When did that happen?” you decide to play along, picking up your drink again.

“‘Bout a month ago, Y/l/n,” he says softly. He can see right through you, can tell you're putting on a show for all of your friends but you're still not okay. You have to break eye contact.

“Hmm, for some reason I thought you were just this guy from middle school.”

“At least this time nobody spilled on your dress,” he teases half-heartedly, and the memory only hurts you more. “Not sure I’d wanna sacrifice this one.”

“Can you—you guys are the worst. Focus. We need to go now, before Kelce gets his entire family blacklisted from the club. You coming or not, Y/n/n?” Topper begs.

You’re nodding, leaning up to give Rafe one last kiss before you leave. He holds you close to him with a firm hand on your back, voice dropping to a whisper right next to your ear. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The lump in your throat is growing, but you push through, lowering yourself back down to your feet as soon as you can. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Focus on the rest of your night.”

Rafe still looks unsure, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as he kisses your forehead. “Y/n—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” you finally admit. Rafe nods curtly, can tell you’re not going to let him leave with you right now. But he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know that if you pull him away from his responsibilities right after that talk you had with Ward, it’s going to spell disaster for the two of you.

“Just some business stuff, alright?” he assures you. “I’ll see you soon. Forty-five minutes.”

“Promise?” you murmur, fiddling with his pocket square. He smiles down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Promise. You look so pretty. Half an hour. Now go.”

Topper’s guiding you towards the parking lot with a polite hand on your back, but you have to watch Rafe as you leave. You watch him approach his dad, who gives him a smile and a pat on the back. Rafe preens under his gaze.

But Ward must have been watching you two from afar because his gaze is flickering back to you, and he fixes you with a hard stare. He raises his eyebrows, bringing his drink to his lips. Taking a leisurely sip, hint of a smirk on his face. You can practically hear his thoughts: ‘Rafe chose to stay here with me, with the business, and sent you off with his friends.’ It’s everything in you to not let the tears that have been building on your waterline spill over. But your friend isn’t easily fooled.

“Y’alright, Y/n?” Topper says from beside you, trusting Kelce enough to walk on his own as you all near the parking lot. He moves to follow your gaze but you stop him, quickening your pace towards his gray Jeep. “Did something happen?”

“Ward Cameron happened.”

———

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids