#sniffling they're his babies all grown up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months ago

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I've been dreaming of my First Friend.

In this strange new world, nothing is certain—not even one’s safety.

But through it all, you were with me. Always by my side.

Please don’t leave me behind.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

"Grrr...! This stupid thing won't close," Grim complains. He fumbles with the buttons on his robes, which refuse to be secured.

"That's because you've got two left thumbs... or, more accurately, no thumbs at all," his human companion teases. They crouch down, gesturing for him. "Here, I'll help you."

"Myahaha, that's my minion!" Grim scrambles over on all fours—definitely not like a cat. He's far more dignified than some glorified house pet or familiar.

"You're going to get your clothes dirty if you walk around like that," they scold him lightly as they cinch his robes shut, then dusts him off. They pause, going in to adjust his waistband, then the angle of his cap. "There you go." "All set for your big day."

"Our big day," Grim corrects, nudging them on the cheek with his paw. "We're a 2-for-1 deal, remember?"

"Right. Me and the almighty Grim-sama," they reply with a laugh, poking his little nose.

An ear-splitting sob disrupts the intimate scene. Three ghosts in top hats and gray cloaks sail in—one small, one plump, one scrawny—all wailing.

"I can't believe this day's finally arrived!"

"Grimmy and Prefect, all grown up... Off to tackle Twisted Wonderland head-on..."

"WAAAAH, I'm gonna miss my living roomies!!"

"Hey, hey, what's with the empty nest syndrome, guys?" The prefect huddles with the ghosts. They cannot physically touch, but the same energy is there, their arms lingering where the ghosts’ bodies float.

“B-But…!”

“Don't worry. No matter the time or place, we'll carry the spirit of Ramshackle dorm with us wherever we go.“ They smile sympathetically. “That means you’ll always be with us! This world, this life… and into the next.”

"D-Do you really think friendships can last more than a lifetime?" one ghost asks through his tears.

"For sure. So please… Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. Can you do that for us?”

“O-Okay,” the trio blubbers and sniffles.

“Geez, you’re all a buncha babies,” Grim sighs, paws on his hips. “C’mon, we’re supposed to be celebratin’ US today!! Like my minion said, let’s see some smiles, yeah?”

“We’ll come see you off at the ceremony the,” the small ghost suggests. The cheer is strained, like he is holding back a torrent of tears.

"The ceremony…” The prefect’s eyes go wide and panicked. “Oh crap, we're going to be late! The headmaster should already be starting his speech...!"

"Not a problem, leave it to this Grim-sama. A teleportation spell's easy as takin' a tuna can from a kitten!"

"Sorry, guys. Gotta run...! We'll see you there?"

Grim expertly clambers onto the prefect's neck, making himself comfortable as a boa on their shoulders. The magestone dangling from his neck lights up, and the duo are enveloped in its glow.

The last sight before they blip away are the ghosts, waving good-bye with wet eyes.

A blink later, the two are among a crowd of students in the same uniform as them. Long robes, graduation caps affixed to their heads. They're lined up behind a stage, the curtain stained the dark sapphire of a night sky and dotted with sparkling stars.

Crowley's voice drones from the other side, amplified by a microphone. A waiting crowd murmurs appreciatively as he crows on about hard work, congratulations, and new beginnings.

"See?" Grim winks at his minion. "What'd I tell ya? Anything’s a cinch with my magic~”

"Great going, archmage-in-the-making. You really saved our butts," they say, ruffling his fur. “Come to think of it, were running late for our first day too… and the sorting ceremony before that. I guess we’re destined to be tardy together, huh, Grim?”

"Heh, you got that right!" He bumped his tiny fist with his partner's. “Let’s keep at it, you ‘n me! Grim-sama and his loyal minion, together forever.”

"Oiiiii! Grim, Prefect!!"

"Oh, that’s..."

They glance up, finding a group of boys making their way toward them in the crowd. One with a heart etched onto his face, the other, a spade. A wolf beastman, another with reptilian eyes and slicked back hair, trailed by a smaller, delicate boy and an android with a head of blue flames. Old friends from the other dorms.

"There you are. We thought we'd missed you." Deuce calls out, looking relieved.

"Idiot, we wouldn’t have missed them—you worried for nothin’. They're first on the chopping block cuz they're sooo special." Ace rolls his eyes. "Lu~cky. You get to show off and hog the spotlight before anyone else does.”

"We um... wanted to come and say good luck," Epel offers. "It's a big deal to have made it this far. Starting a new life in an unfamiliar world and all, it's a lot."

"Thanks, everyone. I really couldn't have made it these past few years without your support."

"Ah-HEM!" Grim coughs.

"... And Grim," the prefect added, scratching him behind the ears.

"This is really it, then." Jack is blunt, his arms folded. "Our last chapter at Night Raven College."

"Hmph! Is that all you have to say?! Surely you can muster up more oomph than that!! Today is not just that--it is the start of the rest of our lives." Sebek straightens, looking rather proud.

"Hmm..." Ortho taps at his chin contemplatively. "You know what? When words are not enough to express ourselves, action may be the next best thing!"

"... Wait, what exactly are you suggesting?" Ace asks suspiciously, an eyebrow raised.

"A group hug! For one final sendoff."

Sebek is the first to protest, his voice cutting through loud and clear. "I refuse!! There is absolutely NO WAY I am engaging in physical intimacy with you humans!"

"Not so hot on the idea either."

Ace and Deuce warily stare at each other. "Not happening," they chorus at the same time.

"Well, if the others don't want to, then..." Epel trails off.

"Guys, shut up and group hug already," the prefect groans, throwing their arms around their friends. Reluctant grumbles round the group, but no one makes an active effort to peel away.

“GACK!!” Grim chokes out, crushed between everyone’s chests. When their bodies recede, he collapses, vision spinning, seeing stars.

“Hahah, looks like Grim got flattened like a pancake,” Ace jeers. “Still got it in ya to waltz on stage after that?”

“C-Can it!! Of course I do!” he snaps back.

The timing is opportune. Right then, Crowley’s speech reaches them, a summons.

“… We will now begin calling up our students to receive their diplomas, starting with Ramshackle Dorm.”

“Looks like that’s our cue, Grim.”

“Let’s get goin’!!”

The prefect steps back and passes one final look to their peers. People from many different places, many different backgrounds. United at last.

“Go.”

They do.

Clutching onto their graduation cap, the prefect races up the steps from the wings. Grim bounding along by their side. Every stride equal against the other’s.

Like shooting stars, they’ve come so far. They can’t go back to where they used to be.

When they emerge from the darkness, they’re hit with bright sunshine and stage lights. Spring is in full bloom, welcoming them with balmy weather and armfuls of flowers.

The headmaster beams from behind a podium, gesturing for them to approach. In his grasp, two scrolls secured with navy ribbons.

Their diplomas.

“Presenting Grim and the Prefect, our special students sharing the spot of Valedictorian.”

Grim squeals, soaked up the adoration. He waves at the audience, flashes silly poses for the cameras. The prefect laughs, prodding him along with their hands.

“Come on, let’s not stall the ceremony for everyone else.”

“One moment.”

A smallish figure blocks their path. It’s a young man with crimson hair and heart-shaped ahoge. He holds out his hand--and the prefect, stunned, takes it.

"Riddle-senpai. You've returned."

"Prefect. Grim." He politely greets them, shaking their hands in turn. "May the Queen of Hearts and her spirit of strictness guide you as you cross this threshold in life. Remain disciplined, and I know you will both achieve even greater things."

Riddle releases, and another seizes their hands. This shake is rougher, looser.

"Congrats, you survived four years at this place," Leona purrs. He wears less of a smile and more of a bemused smirk. "Persisted, like the King of Beasts did."

His duty done, he casually drops them. Azul elegantly ducks in, his grasp firm and tone professional.

"Fufu. What an honor it is to reunite like this. Your benevolence has done much to improve our dear Night Raven College. The Sea Witch would surely extol your generosity."

"Prefect, Grim!!"

Azul steps back with a bow, making space for the next person.

Kalim practically collides with them, excitedly yanking their hands up and down as he chatters. "So good to see you again!! Gahahah, you haven't changed a bit! I bet you're much wiser now though--maybe just as mindful as the Sorcerer of the Sands was!”

Behind him, someone clears their throat. Awareness hits him and Kalim gasps, letting go of the graduates.

"It takes considerable tenacity to arrive at this milestone,” Vil says, clasping the prefect and Grim’s hands in his own. Then, he smiles ever so slightly. “… Be proud, potatoes. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed by the Beautiful Queen.”

He steps aside, allowing a gloomy, hooded figure to replace him. Idia grimaces, shielding his eyes from the lights glaring down at him.

“Tch… Dragged me out here for this,” he mutters, keeping his clammy, pale hands shoved squarely into his hoodie pockets.

A pause—and Idia managed an anxious smile. “GG or whatever. I guess even an amateur can clear hard levels if they’re diligent enough. The King of the Underworld was a noob at one point too.”

(“Is that really the most encouraging thing you could muster?” Vil tuts from the sidelines.)

With that, Idia shuffles off, joining the other ex-dorm leaders.

“Nyahahah, it feels nice to be recognized~” Grim snickers.

“Well, I certainly hope you haven’t had your fill yet.”

A frigid touch comes upon the prefect and Grim’s hands. That voice, like sudden nightfall. They find themselves staring up at a colossal shadow with leering green eyes, scales studding their forehead.

"M-Myah?!” Grim’s fur stands on end.

“Even you came, Tsunotaro!!” the prefect gasps.

“I wouldn’t miss this ceremony for the world,” Malleus smoothly reassures them. “I wished to lend my support to my dear friends and send them off with my blessing.”

He raises his arms to the open sky. Bright blue, barely a cloud in it. Sunlight pouring down, framing the ceremony in a golden spotlight.

“The Thorn Fairy’s utmost value is nobility. As you of the new generation sally forth into the world, let your souls shine as noble and true as her own.“

Uproarious applause rises, cheering and clapping combining into one frantic melody. The flowers blush, swelling large and healthy with color. The sun itself seems to brighten too, the wind lifting in a joyous, effervescent song.

“Congratulations...!!”

“Waaaah, Tsunotaro made the whole world light up!” Grim cries, eyes sparkling. “Heheh, okay, that’s a pretty good one—but watch out cuz one day I’ll be one of the top 5 strongest, most charismatic mages too!”

“Fufufu. I look forward to that day.”

Malleus bends down, his lips puling back to reveal luminous teeth.

“May you never be apart,” he whispers, so quiet that no one hears. Then, more loudly, “Congratulations. I wish you all a happily ever after.”

“I dunno what you’re goin’ on about, but thanks for hypin’ us up!!” Grim grins from ear to ear. “Today’s definitely… the best day ever!”

“I’m glad of it.”

And may it remain that way, forevermore.

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starkeygirlposts · 6 months ago

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Goosebumps in my Sleeve III

Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married. Pairings: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader Trigger warnings: stepcest, drugs, pregnancy, noncon, swearing, pregnancy, no smut in this chapter, mentions of abortion, swearing, domestic violence, idk what else lol 18+ mdni water dividers by @plum98 heart dividers by

PREVIOUS PART

THREE MONTHS EARLIER (THEN)

“Swear baby, I’m gonna find a way for us to get out of here. Gonna make you my wife. Gonna buy you a house, gonna be better.” He sniffles and you smile and nod, knowing hoping he would make good on his word this time.

Not only did you put your entire life into Rafe’s hands, believing him, but you put your baby's life into his hands too.

So when he suggested you let him take you away from here on Ward’s private jet, you weren’t sure why you couldn’t. Instead, you practically begged him to stand with you while you spilled your guts to your mom. He didn’t like the idea at all, wanting to instead drag you out of the house by your hair if that was what it took, but he couldn’t do that - not in your condition. Even he knew better. So he refrained and tried to steady himself and his racing mind by cradling your face between his hands and asking you if you had any idea what would happen if you told your mother that he’d knocked you up. You shook your head at him and insisted that she’d listen - that this would change things, and that she’d understand now. She was your mom - she’d grown you inside of her so how could she not understand now that you’re doing the same?

So now, when you’re seated on the loveseat in Ward’s study next to Rafe and across from your mother, her eyes wide with shock and clear hatred, your fingers mindlessly wander in search for the safe clutch of Rafe’s hand next to yours to steady your instant regret. You don't even get to mull it over - see why his way was better - no, you realize it instantly. Because the sneer on your mother’s face tells you all you need to know, and suddenly you feel unsafe in this room��in this house - here with the woman who above anyone else, you thought would understand. Oh, how wrong you’d been. It hits you like a heavy ton of bricks, like a slap in the face that the one person on this earth who was supposed to love and protect you above all else was going to be the one who set the match to the fire of your life.

“Mommy, please.." You start, but her shrieking voice cuts you off and it triggers a wince in your body, your hand beginning to tremble under Rafe’s, and he clutches your fingers and calls your name. You’re too focused on what your mother is about to do that you’re not able to look away from her, your gaze silently pleading what your mouth can't form the words to say.

“Ward!” She shouts and suddenly your hand is vacant, Rafe shooting up from his seat next to you and spitting her name, your mom standing up to challenge him as she shouts for her husband again. This time, the doors open harshly, nearly slamming into the walls behind them, your step-father frantically searching for the reason of his wife’s pleas and his eyes flick to Rafe’s, your mom’s, until they finally land on yours. Rafe looks down at you, but before he can make his way back over to you to shield you, your moms mouth opens like flood gates and you’re crying before she even gets the words out.

Suddenly, it's chaos all around you but there’s no noise and movements are happening in slow motion, and you’re wishing you’d listened to Rafe. Wishing you’d been selfish for once instead of trying to salvage the love you thought still existed between you and your mom.

His eyes are wide as they search yours, crouched down to your level. You’re looking at him but you’re looking right through him because all you can hear is;

“She’s pregnant, Ward! He got her pregnant!” Your mom says it out loud and it’s all you hear in your head over and over again before Rafe’s hand is squeezing your cheeks in his palm, shaking your face to get you to come back to him. The ringing in your ears clear and you finally glance up to find Ward, his nostrils flared in what you know is anger and he’s just watching you. Rafe can’t be bothered to look anywhere but your face and he’s pleading with you to look at him but you can’t, because this is all your fault. Why couldn’t you have trusted that he’d provide for you, protect you, take you somewhere safe? Why did you have to try to reconcile with your mother once again?

You look back at Rafe and you can see the tears forming in his eyes, a hand…Ward’s hand clapped on his shoulder and he tries to shrug him off but with no avail as Ward grips the back of Rafe’s shirt in his fist, dragging him up to level eyes with him. You follow the movement, your step-father almost a foot smaller than your boyfriend but still somehow more menacing as he pushes his hand into his chest, Rafe unsteady on his feet as he stumbles backward, knees hitting the sofa that you’re still sitting on. You look up at your mom to see her with her hands in her hair, pacing around like she’s battling her brain and trying to make sense of all of this. But you think too highly of her, because really, she’s trying to figure out what to do with you.

You’re quickly snapped out of your trance as you hear Ward scream. “Rafe! You fucked us! All of us!” You watch your step-father slap his son across the face, fisting his shirt and slamming him into the console table, Rafe not even attempting to fight back as he hides his face from his father before Ward grabs it in his palm and brings it close to his. Your eyes are glued to the two, not able to look away yet not able to intervene. Instead, your hand goes to your stomach, void of an actual human being yet - but still, there’s something there, a clump of cells that are both you and Rafe, and you ache as you watch the father of your baby be assaulted by his own.

Your lips part, but you can’t muster any words, instead, a sob emitting from them as tears fall over your cheeks and you beg. “Please…please stop. Pl-Pleeeease!” you manage to sob, hoping that it’ll stop, the screaming will cease and you could rewind just five minutes and change your mind.

Suddenly, you feel Rafe’s body dumped next to you forcefully and Ward stands in front of both of you. You feel a hand squeeze your thigh and you look down to see the familiar comfort of that signet ring. You hand instinctively finds his, covering it protectively with your own as you pull it close to you, unintentally holding it to your abdomen with both palms.

“Look at me Y/N.” You hear Ward’s voice and it almost sounds like it’s underwater but you can’t help but tear your eyes from your entwined hands to find your step fathers glare mere inches from your face. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, you’re trying to calm your breathing and you look to his lips to read what he’s about to say because the ringing in your ears is too loud. He’s watching you, his chest rising hastily, silent for a moment before calmly telling you “Rafe will bring you to take care of it. You will terminate this immediately.” He says, lips peeled to reveal his teeth, clenched at the end of his sentence as if it’s the most final thing. And it is. Your eyes fly wide open, head shaking frantically. It’s the nail inside of your coffin and your stomach flips into your chest as you wail. “No!” You yell, but Rafe’s sudden voice stops you from continuing.

“I’ll make sure of it, Dad.” He says quietly, and you tear your hand from his, because did you just hear what you think you heard? Your head snaps to his, his gaze intent on his father, not able to look at you and you wonder if you’re invisible. You sheik “Rafe! What are you doing?" Your pupils are blown, tears cauterized by fear when he finally looks at you and nods. His eyes are soft and you don’t understand how you almost find comfort in the way he’s looking at you. “I’ll bring you. ’s okay.” He nods, as if he’s trying to convince himself and you. Your eyebrows furrow together and suddenly you realize your worst nightmare has come true.

THREE MONTHS LATER (NOW)

“You have to let her out of there, Rafe!” You plead, your hands coming up to rest on his forearms that are gripping your upper arms. His hold is tight and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was high. You might not even blame him. Your eyes roll up to meet his and you search there for any inclination that he is. You don’t find any and you’re able to breath a sigh of relief. But then you’re snapped back when Sarah’s fist slams on the door, rattling its hinges.

“We will! We will let her out, as soon as we’re out of here I’ll call Y/M/N and tell her to let her out. But we need to move baby, we have to leave.” He's pleading with you and it’s so much easier to make the wrong choice. How badly you want to throw caution to the wind and say okay. But you whimper and the acid in your throat does a lot to keep you grounded. You’re watching him and in his eyes you see the little boy who so badly wants to be accepted and loved. You wish you could go back in time and give him all of that love from the very beginning. You don’t want to let him down, but you have a conscience, something you sometimes question if he has. But where has that conscience ever gotten you? You clench your eyes tight before you say “No, Rafe we can’t leave her here.” You tell him, trying to wiggle out of his grasp but he huffs and calls your name before shaking you and pulling you close, his chest touching yours. “Don’t you know she’ll never let us leave? She isn’t on our side Y/N. I’m the one who got this for us so that we could get the fuck out of here and be together! - without her! Without them! Don’t you get that?!” If you thought he was pleading with you before, he’s absolutely begging you now.

You’re shaking your head even though your heart is dead set on running with him. To hell with Ward and your mother and yeah even Sarah…Wheezie was just collateral. But you can’t start the rest of your life off this way. “It doesn’t belong to us, Rafe! Your solution is to not only run away, but make enemies in the process? We can’t do that! How are we supposed to raise a baby together when we would have bright red targets on our backs! You want to get settled somewhere just to have to leave every 6 months?” Your voice is increasing in volume and you can tell he’s getting nervous, shushing you and calling you baby over and over, hovering his lips over yours.

“Let me talk to her.” You finally muster quietly, meeting his eyes and he’s quick to shake his head. “No. No, nuh nuh no, we’re leaving, come on.” He says, now walking away and bringing you with him by your arms. “NO!” You shout, louder than you mean to and his fiery eyes shoot to yours, and the fury you see there teeters your balance. You were tired of letting him make the rules and you only following like an obedient dog. He wasn’t thinking clearly, high on adrenaline and sure, maybe it was easier to leave right now but what kind of life would that leave for the three of you? Once you got in that truck with him there was no turning back. You hadn’t held out this long just to make a rash decision due to greed. “Let me talk to her for five minutes and then I promise that whatever happens, I will leave with you.” You tell him and you mean it. You’re praying that the one person - the one person who you think might understand actually will understand, and you’ll gain an ally. Because god knows right now, you need one.

Sarah and you were never by any means close, but your mutual understanding of her respecting you and you respecting her made your encounters tolerable. You never heard it from Rafe’s mouth but you knew he was always trying to fill her shoes, be the infallible son that she was a daughter, be accepted by their father the way he unwaveringly accepted her. But the shoes he was trying to fill were unattainable and so your heart hurt knowing that she’d never even tried to be her brothers advocate. Had she ever been Ward’s voice of reason when he’d slap Rafe around, speak up when Ward humiliated him any chance he got, maybe you could be closer. But you weren’t, and so you left it alone.

Rafe is boring his eyes deeply into yours, his jaw tensing and eyes darkening before rolling his eyes and clenching them shut, teeth gritted when he reluctantly agrees.

“Fine. You have five minutes. If I need to drag you out of this house kicking and screaming, Y/N, don’t think I won’t.” He tells you lowly, dipping his head to place an open mouthed kiss to your forehead, hands squeezing your arms tighter before releasing them all together. In any other scenario, he’s your captor, and you’ve just bargained a trip to the restroom, except he’s the father of the baby inside you and he loves you and you love him back. In this scenario, you can’t bite the hand that feeds you and he’s the only one in the world right now other than your doctor that knows your gut is still harboring a fetus that’s half you and half him. It’s a pernicious power struggle because even though he may be bigger and meaner, you hold his most precious possession inside your body and so that carries more weight than the threats he dares to make good on. You know he’d never hurt you - never hurt his baby and so you push the limits because you know that in the end, he'll let you win. Your mind drifts back to that wretched night three months ago when you thought he’d truly abandoned you, when he’d driven you to that clinic and made you walk in with him, tears dripping down your neck and pleas falling from your lips. You wonder how the stress of that alone didn’t cause a miscarriage, but the thought is too invasive and so you tuck it back to the deep, dark corner of your mind it crawled out from.

You step around him and glance next to you just to make sure he’s there - a small comfort because even when you like to be brave, you still need him there with you. Of course he is, so you reach out to palm the handle of the door and when you turn it, the lock clicks open and you slowly try to push it forward, but it’s yanked from your grip to expose a red faced Sarah, looking like she’s just swam from the Red Sea all the way here. There’s red wine splattered all over her clothes, the floor, and the walls, her hair matted to her forehead with greasy locks of wine and sweat, and her lips are parted to breathe heavily through them. Your eyes widen in a state of shock before she lunges behind you but is met with Rafe’s grip on her shoulders, pushing her back into the room. One of his hands goes to clap over her mouth before he quietly tells her that “You’re going to talk to Y/N for five minutes. And I’m going to trust that not a hair on her head will be out of place after those five minutes are up.” His tone is threatening and you know he means it when she doesn’t respond except nodding her head vigorously and meeting your eyeline.

You look up at Rafe wordlessly, not sure what to make of the exchange. He releases her and backs away, closing the door behind you. You look to her and she’s watching you with what you can only think of as anger before she tells you “You know he tried to kill me! Why are you with him?!”

You don’t respond, your voice caught in your throat, because you’re not sure you heard her correctly. “What?” you ask, positive you must have misheard her. She steps closer to you and you can’t help but back away. You’re afraid of her now. Afraid of her because you can’t possibly be afraid of him. She’s the one who’s speaking such vile things about the man you’re in love with. She’s the one threatening to blow up your life one more time.

“He tried to kill me. He lied to me to trap me and when he got me he tried to drown me. If Topper hadn’t of been there I - “ You cut her off by shaking your head and telling her to stop lying. “Stop it, Sarah. Rafe wouldn’t do that!"

“Well you better take another look at him Y/N because you obviously don’t know him as well as you think. He’s crazy and you’re just as crazy if you don’t think so! There’s something wrong with him and I -"

You cut her off by grabbing her hand mid air, asking her to stop.

“I - If what you’re saying is true, I won’t try to defend him. I can’t. I know something is - not right with Rafe…but what do you expect?” You sneer, your nose synching up in disgust. You knew something was not right with the man you loved. But weren’t you just as angry as he was? “You just thought he’d be the sweet doting brother and son after everything? You think you’ve been the same for him?” You ask, and before she can respond, you snatch her hand and pull it to your stomach. She’s resisting, calling your name questioningly until her palm lies flat under the fabric of Rafe’s tee shirt and she registers what she’s feeling. Her brow furrows and her eyes flick up to yours, a sharp gasp coming from her mouth. Her eyes go wide, full of what you recognize as fear.

“Oh my g - god, no no no…you can not be pregnant, Y/N!” You can’t help but start to cry, the overwhelming anxiety and relief in telling someone else about your baby. A flutter of a kick comes under Sarah’s hand, a new development, something you've only experienced it a handful of times before now. Another gasp comes from your step sister. “Oh my god!” She says again, looking at you and laughing incredulously. You can’t quite believe it either. You aren’t able to dwell on the miracle inside of you for long, before telling her

“Your father and my mother think I had an abortion.” You say quiet and flatly, the words burn on their way out of your mouth, the idea making you sick. You’re almost ashamed, unsure why and thats when your step sister furrows her brows in confusion or disgust - maybe both as she asks like she’s trying to comprehend what you just said “What?”, unable to believe what you’ve just told her.

You let out a shaky breath “You think your father’s going to let me keep her? That he won’t rip her away from me the second she’s out? She threatens the Cameron name and you know better than anyone that he won’t allow it.” You manage to say before Sarah stops you by asking you the silliest question you can think of. “It’s a girl?” She asks and you can’t help but roll your eyes, dropping her hand before she pulls you back, her hand taking yours. She pulls you in for a hug and you’re not sure what to do, never having experienced any kind of connection from your step sister. You shush her and tell her “Rafe doesn’t know. Please don’t be too loud.” You say with a finger over your lips and she pulls back and furrows her brow as if to ask why but she doesn’t press.

Because truth be told how were you supposed to tell her that Rafe having a daughter who could be another her was something you were terrified of telling him. Though you know he loved the baby inside you, clear how he’d sneak into your room every night to trace hearts on your belly, rubbing his hand over the expanse of skin until she’d kick his palm and his face would spread into a grin. You didn’t want to ruin his idealization of his child being different than the one person he’d tried so hard to distance himself from. The one who he was always trying to live up to. The one who he had to compete with for love and acceptance by the one person in his life who was supposed to give that to him too.

“Okay okay okay…I get it okay, I get it. You’re right. Ward would never allow it. But...what’s your plan? Run away with Rafe and steal the cross from Pope?” She asks you incredulously, and you shake your head.

“No. No the cross belongs to Pope. You know Rafe plans to run with all of it. But I - I’ll talk to him. He’ll listen to me. I know I have no right to ask Pope for any bit of his families fortune, but I will lay myself out for my little girl.” You tell her tearfully, and you can see her contemplating what you're saying before she shakes her head and tells you no.

“Do you think Rafe wouldn’t kill for this baby? Because I know better, Sarah. And that scares me because I can’t do this by myself. Please help me.” You plead, sounding more desperate than you mean to but you are desperate and as much as you may hate it, she’s the only one who can help you right now. If you left it to Rafe, he’d drag you out of here and run with the cross to god knows where. But you had an idea.

"Trust me” you tell her before turning around and gripping the door handle before opening it slowly, Rafe’s body instantly slipping between the gap and breathing heavily down onto your face as he grips your cheeks in his palms and kisses you, hard. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, a plea of a break and he gives it to you, breaking his lips from yours to look into your eyes and ask you if you’re okay. You watch his eyes dart behind you no doubt to glare at his sister and you tell him you’re fine. “Rafe, we need to talk about this…” You try, before he shakes his head and pulls his hand into yours and tells you it’s time to go. But you plant your feet firmly on the floor and pull back on his hand.

You take a deep breath before continuing “I don’t want our daughter to be collateral damage to your grudge against a pogue, Rafe. And you shouldn’t either. I know you want to be a better dad than yours. This is how you do that.” You tell him, shaking your head as his furrowed brows and confused gaze meets yours.

You don’t understand how Rafe isn’t thinking of how this is going to impact your family. Why he doesn’t realize that you’re going to bring an innocent life into the world in a few months and her well being is above all else important. But what you didn’t know was that was exactly what he thought he was thinking about. Setting her up for life, being able to provide everything and anything her little heart desired. So maybe his way of thinking was a little warped. But in his own however sick or twisted way, his thoughts were the same as yours.

He tilts his head, getting close to you now, his nose brushing yours as you brace for what you think is going to be anything but brutal. But to your surprise, he tilts your head up to his level, your chin in his grasp and you can’t help but try to blink the tears away. How sick you were of crying.

“Did you just…” He starts, eyes closing in concentration, "- A girl?” His voice is low but you don’t sense anger there, instead the tone of a shy boy who’s searching for his purpose. You look up to meet his sight, eyes opened again and tilted up in what you hope think is…happiness, and you nod just slightly. “Yeah. A girl, Rafe.” You manage to whisper, and he juts your chin forward to crash his lips on yours. Your eyes close for the briefest of moments to breathe the largest sigh of relief, and so now you actually do cry. But not because you’re sad. No, you’re so overestimated at the moment and now that this secret you’ve been hiding, afraid of the wrath that may follow its unveiling, is told, you can finally breathe again.

While you’d been terrified to tell Rafe that he was going to have a daughter, he’d been battling with his own thoughts regarding your babies gender. It didn’t cross Rafe’s mind to compare his unborn child to his sister, to think that if it was a girl that it’d be another Sarah, but instead he was busy wrestling his mind over the idea of having a boy who was just like him, because he was terrified of becoming his father. He’d never voice the idealization (especially to you) of him turning out to be the kind of father his own is, his son always trying to seek and gain his approval and love to no avail. That he’d get too engrossed in his legacy and fortune that the happiness of his boy would become the least of his concerns. Worries consumed him that he’d someday have a girl who would steal his heart and become everything his son wasn’t. Just like Sarah was. So he didn’t worry about having a girl who would be just like his sister, no. Instead he worried about having a son who was just like himself.

NEXT PART

Please interact! It’s pretty much the sole reason we as writers continue to write. I’d love to hear from you guys what you’d like to see in this story via ask box/requests. I will answer any and all submissions! NOTE that I will NOT add you to the tag list if you are only commenting to add to the list.

Please repost, and leave a comment so I know you like the story!

See y’all soon!

TAGLIST:

@kiiyomei @carrerascameron @mariaenchanted @slumnit @lillell467 @ijustwanttoreadlols @droppedyourhnd @maybankslover @a-library-ofmy-own @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @namelesslosers @ILOVETOSLAYSLAYSLAY @vodkababy @juniebugg

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron pregnant #dark!rafe cameron #obx rafe #drew starkey x reader #toxic!rafe cameron #dad!rafe #mom!reader x rafe

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 2 years ago

Note

Hiiiii, keep up the good work you feeding us so well mama<3

i was thinking about Bill or Tom (you choose) x a motherly reader ? Not in a weird way but in a mom friend way ? Like reader cooks/bakes for their bf, they're good medics, always have anything anyone could need at any moment in their bag (chapstick, water, snack, brush, etc..), they just love their bf sm and loves taking care of them and sometimes likes to baby them<3

(hi! Sorry this took so long and they may suck but I just decided to go with bill for now, hope that's okay! Enjoy!)

Bill Kaulitz x Motherly Reader

He would feel so safe man

You're just so comforting somehow

He'd be happy to see that you made him food

Especially if you baked for him

He'd be so happy

He'd refuse to eat if you didn't eat with him though

He'd cook or bake you something in return

He's not the best cook but he tries to bake

Even if it's not the best he tried

And you're such a good caretaker oml

He once cut himself pretty bad, I don't know how, during a set on stage and started bleeding

It was probably on his outfit

Yk the one he performed in with spikes all over it?

That one

Didn't even notice it until between songs your ass came running with a fucking bandaid and hydrogen peroxide

Was forced to sit as you patched it up all quick

Gave him a kiss and kissed his cut before you hauled ass off stage

You did it in under two minutes before the next song and he was so confused on how you did that so quickly

It's just the motherly instinct in you somehow he doesn't know

He is constantly missing stuff

Forgetful sometimes

But you somehow have EVERYTHING

Anything.

Whatever the hell he needs you pull it out of your never ending backpack of heaven

Will just watch as you pull possibly anything from your bag

"I forgot my-"

Somehow it is already in his hand before he can finish the sentence

It's like magic

He just stares between you and the item before smiling

Damn, he did find the one for his dumbass!

He probably gets sick easily I feel like at times

And when you care for him?

Oh my god he feels like he's already better even if he could be dying

Just wants to be cared for man

And sometimes he's tired and overwhelmed

From everything and just wants to be comfortable and happy for a bit

And you baby him sometimes, and your hugs are so comforting

He acts like a child once you hug him and he just feels overwhelmed

May sniffle a bit but bro he is hugging onto you for dear life

Especially if it was after a hard day

Will probably be held by you like a baby for a little bit

His arms around your neck and his legs around your waist as you're forced to carry him around

He is a full on child in a grown body

He can't help it man! You just are so welcoming to him and he just wants to be held

The motherly friend to the group but most of all to Bill

Sometimes he just wants to be held or have someone run their hands through his hair and to be comfortable

And you're the whole package!

Is not letting go.

#tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill

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karlachismylife · 4 days ago

Text

Five times Karlach and Soap didn’t celebrate Christmas together and one time they did

Through alternative universes and unfortunate fates. Brought to you by Modern Warfare OST I've been listening to instead of Christmas songs and this bloody perfect comission by @veeegaaas. I am deeply in love with their art style, the soft, often powdery or pastel colours and lines making it feel so touchable and comforting. My Christmas miracle this year is me being able to comission this piece, I gave them full artistic freedom and I am so happy I did. This is my heart here.

The way they're looking at each other makes me want to die a bit less.

CW: MCD (a lot), but happy ending, mentions and brief desciptions of self-sacrificing, coma, torture.

Frozen ground

Even the lower city of Baldur’s Gate feels like a shiny jewel when it’s covered in silver frost of approaching winter. Days closing in for the Solstice, early morning still feels like night, killed off and buried under the starless skies, thick smudge of fog and clouds painted over all celestial bodies. Karlach sniffles, cold air cutting into her nose like an icicle spell, and pats herself on her shoulders that are just starting to widen in a promise for her future massive build, once she’s all grown big and adult. Gortash noticed too, recently, told her he’s proud of her and is sure he made the right call picking her up from the dirt.

She sure as hell isn’t planning on proving him wrong, even if he sounds like a right prick when he gets all patronizing over her, as if they’re not friends.

SAS training is exhausting. There’s a part of Johnny that feels like turning into a mad rabid dog and falling on all fours to the ground to chew into the frozen soil, dirt mixed with ice crunching on bleeding teeth, last bits of sense escaping him due to sleep deprivation and bone-stinging cold. There are mere days before Christmas left, yet instead of warm lights and angels singing he’s only seen training ground’s cool floodlights and heard orders barked into the night, degrading words coming at the recruits in mist clouds from their CO’s mouth.

It's worth it, though. All worth it when he feels eyes blue as fine aged ice following his every move on the obstacle course – all worth being finally acknowledged as outstanding.

Her boots are cheap. Gortash promised her a new pair for the Winterday, probably already bought them and wrapped with a pretty bow on top – Karlach knows she’s already got a present for him, carefully chosen and clumsily packaged with a heartfelt postcard. The message inside is written by someone actually literate, but she dictated every word and put her signature underneath.

Who’s gonna tell him, thinks Karlach in the two seconds as she falls on the ice-covered cobbled floor, too slippery under her old worn boots with soles ground into nothingness by miles and miles of walking.

Who’s gonna tell Gortash there’s a present for him hidden under her pillow once she slips and doesn’t reach him in time to push them both out of the attacker’s way.

Who’s gonna tell him she tied a bow on it as red as the blood pouring from her cracked open skull.

Johnny doesn’t blame the poor lad who had probably frozen his fingers off long before they even reached this part of the drill. It’s cold, it’s so painfully cold that his own eyelashes crumble like hoarfrost on a wild pine tree that’s still waiting for someone to decorate it and put a blessed star on top, shining bright and pointing to the baby Jesus’s crib. It’s so cold that Johnny would’ve probably dropped the grenade himself if he wasn’t just so damn good with them.

Instead, Johnny drops himself, broad chest pushing against the threat and shielding others from a ticking death.

It’s so cold that his frozen, stale mind only has time to start regretting never finding a way to buy a Christmas gift for his Mam. As long as he remembers himself, he had always gotten her at least something.

His ID discs survive the explosion to hang at he very top of his Mam’s tree, right under the angel’s wings.

In the making

Soap has proved himself. Months of grueling training, years of hard focus on the task, unmatched persistence and constant pushing of his limits have lead up to this moment. Johnny passes the selection, having already earned his reputation, and even several seconds behind that Garrick prodigy can’t taint his triumph.

He’s the youngest candidate to pass it in British Army history, and this is his first mission under Captain Price’s command, a bright start of even brightest future. Johnny’s sun shines octilions of lumens, more than any light that came before him.

Like a hot-blooded dog freed from its leash, Soap pounces and returns with the cargo manifest countless lives depend on. Steel birds of prey tail him, deadly song of guns rattling behind his back, but he won’t let his grip on the prize slip.

A good hound doesn’t part its jaws clutched on the prey’s throat even in death.

Karlach’s heart is bleeding. Hell’s whips cut deep into flesh, drawing blood that boils immediately in the heat of war-soaked air of Avernus, flakes of sulfur ash clinging to the wounds to prolong her agony, but the pain Zariel’s minions can inflict cannot measure up to the one that’s tearing her up from inside.

Nothing hurts as bad as the shards of broken trust stuck in her chest, despair and betrayal spreading through her system like inflammation. Deep inside the young tiefling something precious is dead and rotting, poison and puss oozing out with blood and tears, throat too sore to cry out more. She’s akin to a wild animal butchered alive, dislocated shoulders screaming each time Karlach struggles against the restraints, mind set solely on freeing from this nightmare.

Zariel studies her acquisition and deems it ready. A red hot iron rod reflects in Karlach’s painfully wide open eyes.

It’s always several seconds. Precious moments dragging before the time strikes and he hears a beautiful melody of holy bells calling for the midnight mass. Old clocks ticking a few times while he waits for his turn to open the rustling packaging paper on a present. Four seconds setting him behind Gaz on the record list.

He’s only one second late to secure a grip on his Captain’s hand and avoid the destiny of a falling Christmas star.

Bering Strait is perfectly clear blue. Johnny’s eyes amalgamate with its cold, indifferent waves. Northern lights are his Christmas bells and Christmas lights now.

If John Price could, he would bring his body back home, but he can’t.

Pain has a way to make you confuse hot with cold, Karlach knows it well by now, countless burns in her throbbing skin feeling like there’s ice permanently etched into it. There should be a point when everything turns numb, that’s what they always said, but she’s been through so much and still feels a lot. Feels more than she would want to at this point.

Horrifyingly huge shears cutting into her sternum with a crunch of a festive caramel apple come as a relief.

Karlach’s heart aches even when it’s removed. She sees it, drugged on Devil’s spells and black opium of anguish, going still in a clawed hand, and then everything turns white.

Somewhere up there, on another plane of existence, it might be already winter. Fluffy blizzards throwing soft snowflakes into laughing children’s eyes, blinding them on a small hill they roll down from, clothes covered in snow and soaked, skin growing progressively numb from the cold – but not their hearts. Somewhere up there burning wheels roll down that same hill, celebrating Winter Solstice, and the druids keep children warm around huge campfires, pine and clove mingling with breathy smoke in the air.

There’s a fire burning in her chest, so tall than no one would be able to jump over it and cleanse for the new turn of the Year Wheel, and it still feels cold. Karlach’s fingers grow numb with no snowballs to throw.

She is nothing but a pile of ash, same as the Winterday campfire after a long night, after her body rejects Zariel’s engine.

We did it, soldier

If it wasn’t for the obvious matte colour showing under the timid sunrise of their victory, Karlach would believe that the ash carried by the breeze is a gently first snowfall, harbringer of upcoming winter and the festive joy it brings despite dark, unfit for survival nights. It’s been a long time since she’s seen snow, thin coats of crystal white on the rooftops and pavements seeming like a distant dream more than reality.

She does remember snow is supposed to feel cold, though. Nothing like the fever that makes the air around her quiver and ripple, mocking the uncalm sea waves bothered by fallen enemies and crashing into the dock that’s slowly starting to sizzle under her feet.

Engine’s finally cooked.

Karlach feels guilty for wanting just a little more time to pretend ash is, in fact, snow.

London is a big city, packed with money and even more – with a constant desire to earn more. Still, there’s something calming about seeing Christmas shopwindows in November. A very human hope to live long enough to see the day itself.

Task force 141 is there to ensure it happens for these people. Soap is there to protect Christmas from going out in a blazing hot fire of a terrorist attack.

The wire he’s supposed to cut is accordingly red; collect all red wires Johnny’s cut on duty – and you can weave a little Christmas garland, naked glint of copper insides mingling with the gold of ornaments and sparkly star topper. There is no cinematographic timer with a countdown, otherwise Soap could pretend the bomb is just about to douse them in confetti as the numbers hit all zeroes.

There are gunshots approaching from behind his back.

Friends are there to see Karlach’s radiant smile as she falls to her knees, succumbing to the flames. Shining brighter than the sun over this newly saved world, feeling warmer than a home’s hearth when the family lights a new fire for the new year and lets the old one burn out into a black spot, smouldering long into the new dawn.

Friends are there to watch Johnny spread Christmas red too early into the calendar, eyes full of wonder, devoid of anger and threat, staring up like a kid in a church. Trickle of blood frames his face like an expensive silk ribbon, only the best for the greatest gift people of London could receive so far in advance of the holiday season.

The city’s going to be alright.

Mind flaying

Karlach feels like her engine is still somewhere there, in her chest, now uncharacteristically narrow and devoid of all the muscle gain she worked for. Gone are the scars, testaments to her will to live; old steel grommets flayed off with the hot red skin; both horns fell off like that of a young deer before the upcoming winter.

But the fire that kept her blood hot and spicy like mulled wine is still dying its slow, drawn out, dishonourable death. Instead of a passionate flame, Karlach is just a fiery orange rim of a slightly warm coal now, breathing last breaths under the ashy skin of her new body.

That is, if she’s even still Karlach somewhere deep inside.

Johnny still looks like himself. His cheeks are undeniably chiseled now, jawline starvingly sharp instead of the adorable roundness everyone who knows him is used to; his mohawk is long gone, too hard to keep up in these circumstances; baby blue eyes stay closed and have lost memory of the happy crow’s feet that used to be permanently etched into their corners. But it’s still Johnny.

It's still his Mam’s wee lad lying there in the hospital bed, brain scans scarce with good news after a miracle – God himself standing between Johnny and the bullet as an early Christmas gift – allowed him to keep breathing even after getting shot straight to the temple.

Everyone in the family can see him silently withering away on that bed, but there aren’t many things as stubborn as Scottish hope.

Many things have already stopped worrying Karlach. Past passion, anger, fear, joy – seem less than distant memories now. She knows what they are, but her knowledge is as dry and flat as a library page, odorless ink burning up with no smoke, ashes so thin they barely leave a residue on fingers that smear them around.

When the campfire is already that weak, you just fall asleep, waiting for the brimming red somewhere in the centre to die down, and wake up in the morning to a completely cold pile of coal covered with untouched, senseless snow.

Karlach never notices when she slips away.

Johnny’s body responds less and less to things happening outside. At first his fingers twitched, stoking the fire of hope, at the sound of familiar voices. His heartrate responded to a loving touch, electricity in his system seeking a way to communicate through the barrier of his coma. The longer he stayed, the rarer became these answers.

They know he’s locking himself inside, disappointed in his inability to push through, like a stubborn kid throwing the towel after a particularly hard task doesn’t bend no matter the effort – Johnny’s never been one to give up.

His Mam knows he’s still fighting when they finally pull the plug.

Skullface

Karlach thinks of him, pulling the skull bandana further up her face in the cold November streets of London. She’s doing this for Johnny too – even if Soap would never approve, she’s doing it for the lad that’s been like a brother to her all the way, up until the day they split, deep ravine of incompatible views lodged between them by corrupt hands of those they both believed in. Molotov lights up nice and easy in her hand, liquid flame hitting a policeman kitted out into anti-demonstration gear.

It's for Johnny and all the other lads they send out to die not for regular people, but for the rich, powerful and utterly uninterested in what their profitable game of politics and war does to everyone else.

Johnny thinks of her, listening to the skull-faced voice in his ear in the cold November streets of Las Almas. He’s doing this for Karlach too – even though she went her own way, betraying what they both dreamed of and deemed righteous for the sake of her new worldview, the one that put them on the opposite sides without ever actually becoming enemies. C4 trap falls under the Shadows’ feet nice and easy, expensive PMC gear shattering into black shards with a splatter of a soldier’s blood.

It's for Karlach and all the other people whose lives will be ruined if Soap doesn’t get to the church and stop the goddamn missiles from starting something dangerously close to another world war.

Karlach knows they’re going to torture her, like they did to her other comrades, now rotting in prison, some with lesser time than others, health irreversibly damaged by the hands of so-called protectors. When they punch her till she barfs, she feels sorry for the brothers that were broken like this, ratting out her and her allies, signing empty protocols that would be filled with whatever the police needs. When they bag her horned head, she expects to be waterboarded like they did to others.

It's too late to cry out once she hears a dry chatter of a teaser. Karlach’s body only jolts twice before the pacemaker she earned in the military malfunctions and stops.

Johnny knows Ghost isn’t joking about what Narcos will do to them if they catch up faster than Shadows – videos or not, he’s seen the bodies first day he arrived here, and he doesn’t fancy looking like one of them when he leaves this rain-soaked place. Wouldn’t be the worst place to die, though, he thinks – at least he’ll come back on the Day of the Dead, sugar skull to match LT’s and all, right?

His one little selfish regret is that he doesn’t get a chance to see what’s under that skull before a lucky Shadow snipes Ghost from the top of the fence around the church. There is another bullet to guarantee they’ll stay in limbo that is the city of souls.

Together

Snow is falling in picture perfect, windless, snow globe manner, landing on their hair and immediately turning into little water droplets from the shared heat. Wherever eyes fall, there’s brilliant white, blue undertones of the tinies snowflakes neither of them is able to catch and hold.

Only makes more sense to hold each other instead.

Karlach’s tiger eyes burn brighter, reflecting warm yellow glow of the generously strung up lights on the giant Christmas tree they’re standing next to. At home, they unanimously agreed on a multi-coloured one, but the outside world is, as usually, much tamer than the artistic chaos that follows their shared life.

Was a hard enough task for Johnny to find a teddy bear extraordinary enough to suit Karlach – Clive has been getting lonely on the nightstand he’s permanently banished to in order to avoid getting kicked off the bed.

Karlach got him oil paint expensive enough to exchange for a wedding ring – her priorities as straight as their hair, both their outgrown hawks curling and shrinking the more they stand under the wet, warm weather snowfall.

They’re drinking each other as if it’s the only day of magical winter holidays they will ever get to spend together.

An invisible hand pushes them both at the same time, warm, slightly damp from the wet breath, lips locking in a sweet kiss, cinnamon and wine-soaked pear finding way to their tastebuds and forcing them to deepen the touch. Johnny breaks a second faster, strong arms wrapping tighter around her broad shoulders and waist and pulling Karlach in for a taste of festive desperation. An angelic chorus rings in his ears with the holy bells as he feels her toothy grin blooming into the kiss, giddy and unapologetically in love.

“We did it, soldier,” she whispers, opening her feline eyes just a little to admire the never-freezing waves of his gaze, shining against the sturdy dock of her flaming heart.

“Didnae even need tae steel mistletoe for that, aye,” Soap agrees, brushing his nose against Karlach’s. She’s trying to keep her cool so hard – her pulse is thrumming like crazy under his rough fingers splayed against her feverishly exposed back. “Let’s go home, lass. Ah’m fucking freezing mah arse even with ye in mah arms.”

“Wasn’t my idea to walk around in kilt when it’s bloody snowing, mate!”

“Aye, maybe ye’re gonnae say ye dinnae enjoy the view, too?”

People try to walk around them, rightfully scared to get pushed over on the slippery pavement as their fake argument gets heated and turns into hip nudging war. Loud laughter hangs in the air long after they pass, woven with mist into the twilight of upcoming wonder.

No matter the universe, no matter their fate, there is at least one world they’re together on Christmas.

#karlach x soap #soap cod #john soap mactavish #karlach #bg3 karlach #call of duty #cod #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #christmas fic #angst #cw mcd #tw mcd #mcd

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mossyivy · 8 months ago

Note

I just finished seeing this tik tok, and an idea popped into my mind…☹️

One day you’re looking through your closet, just organizing and throwing out old things you and Leon don’t really need anymore. There’s a pretty large box tucked under a pile of dust, reluctantly opening it hoping to not find some dead spider or something.

Opening the box, you find so many recordings, cameras, photos, photo books, Polaroids, just filled of you, Leon, and your kiddos. You couldn’t help but get a bit emotional, remembering the time when Violet could barely even walk…Her adorable little baby cheeks, cute and silly poses she’d do.

Now she was all grown up, barely even wanting to take pictures because it was ‘embarrassing’. You’d find a couple of Cecilia as well, not many for Scottie thanks to modern technology and everything being on phone now. It hurt your heart a little bit seeing everything. Videos on old dusty cameras of them running around in the yard while Leon chased them, picking little Violet up in his arms and smothering her with kisses as she erupted into her sweet giggles.

You’d look through all of those for hours, getting a bit teary eyed as you found old pictures of you and Leon together. When the two of you were still young and could do anything without kids, pictures of when he took you to the paramore concerts.

You were grateful for being able to watch your kids grow up; you really were. But sometimes you wished you could just turn back the clock, hold them one last time before they ultimately decided they didn’t wanna be held by mommy anymore.

Let’s just say, Leon found you sniffling in the closet and you rambled to him for what felt like hours. But he just held you and listened, pressing kissed to the top of your head. Like a good husband does.

- Anon! 🎀

(Live reaction of me tearing up over these fake children growing up... 🎀Anon it's your fault!!!!)

Leon would rub your back, sitting on the floor of the closet as he held you close. You stare down at the old picture from the day Cecilia was born. You remember it so vividly...

Leon coming back into the hospital room with Violet as she excitedly ran over to you holding baby Cecilia, barely an even hour old yet. Leon picked her up and sat her up next to you in bed so she could see her baby sister closer.

"She's got your eyes mommy, just like me!" She squeals, kicking her feet as she moved in closer to your side, cuddling up to you nicely. The flash hit your eyes as you look up, watching Leon take a picture of the moment, wiping his eyes as he sniffed and joined you to greet your baby girl into the world...

"I just want our babies to be babies again..." You take in a shaky breath as you put the picture back and slide the lid back on.

"Sweetheart, they're still our babies. Just bigger."

"I know..." You look up at him, blinking the tears down your cheeks, you can even see he's starting to get a little choked up.

"Violet doesn't even like being seen with us half the time... She's almost 14. Lia's going into middle school in a few months and Scott... He's gonna be talking soon... Why can't they just stay small?" Leon chuckles, smiling affectionately as he kisses your head and helps you up.

"I know. They grew up too fast. But we gotta let it happen."

"Says the man that sobbed when his oldest stopped calling him daddy."

"I know I'm a hypocrite, you don't have to rub it in." He leans in kissing your forehead and rubbing your arms. "C'mon, come spend time with the kids at the dinner table while I finish cooking dinner."

You nod following him out of your room and downstairs, rubbing your eyes as you walk into the kitchen. Violet sitting at the table blasting music over her bright pink headphones while staring at her phone as Lia finishing up a project from her girl scout meeting. Scott makes grabby hands at you from his highchair. You walk over, scooping him up as you look at your two girls, years older now.

Violet with her hair under a black beanie and no longer in pigtails or ribbons and Lia not carrying around her stuffed animals around. Just a cute little bunny bag across herself. You walk over pulling Lia into your side as you lean into Violet giving them both repeated kisses on their heads. Lia squeals as Violet pushes her headphones around her neck. Trying to pull away.

"I love you both, remember that. You'll always be my babies even after you grow up and move out. Even if you're 80 you'll still be babies... Okay?" Violet looks over as Lia just nods squirming out of your hold. You start tearing up again.

"Oh God...." Violet looks over at Leon noticing his own red eyes and nose as he lowers the temperature on the stove.

"Is someone dying? Are you getting a divorce!?" She looks panicked as Leon turns almost snapping his neck in the process.

"No! Violetta, why would you even assume that!?"

"I- I don't know you're both crying!" You chuckle, putting Scott back in his highchair as you hug your oldest.

"No sweetheart everythings fine, mommy's just emotional and you know how your father is."

"A big baby." Lia giggles, smiling as Leon gives her the stink eye from the stove.

"I'll remember that after dinner. No dessert for you."

"Nooo! Daddy please!" Lia shoots out of her chair as Leon turns away pretending not to hear her as she pulls at his shirt. You look at Violet, sniffing again. You cup her face, squeezing her cheeks like you use to when she was little.

"You're just as adorable as when you were 4..."

"That's not creepy at all." Her usual sarcasm, even that's cute at times...

"Can I hold you... Just for a minute please?" Violet looks at her mother, seeing the red in her glassy eyes.

"Yeah... Sure."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months ago

Text

Angel Heart: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: The one person who knows where your children are is Castiel. The one person who matters to him is Claire. You get to find out the answer to the question: who does Castiel love more? Your kids or Claire?

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

You and Cas split up from Sam to take the barn. You're not afraid of what could be in there, not when you're very powerful so you walk on in without so much as a care. You walk to the back and see Amelia lying on a dirty old mattress. There are at least a dozen other people lying on different cots in the back room. All of them asleep in their own beds.

"Is that your wife?" you ask.

"Amelia!" Cas runs over to her while you stay where you are. She moans in pain but she doesn't open her eyes. "Oh, Amelia."

She finally opens her eyes and she becomes rageful and emotional because she thinks Cas is her husband. She tries hitting him but Cas holds her down easily.

"I looked everywhere for you!"

"It's okay."

"I tried to find you! You took my husband!"

Cas pulls her in and she loses the fight against him. She slumps against his chest and starts crying.

"Shh. Shh. It's okay. It's okay." Once Amelia has calmed down, Cas puts two fingers on her head to heal her but it doesn't work. He hovers his hand over her arms that's littered with cuts but they don't heal either. He doesn't bother asking you to heal her because he knows you won't. "Sorry. I'm usually able to heal any wound."

"I was dreaming. This whole time, I was dreaming of finding Jimmy, of putting my family back together. You're not him anymore. I can tell," she sighs.

"No."

"Where's Jimmy?"

"Your husband is in Heaven. Amelia, I promised to protect your family, and I failed."

"Not if Claire's alive. She's all that matters."

"Claire is alive. She's grown up to be a very strong-willed young woman."

"Oh, that's my girl," she smiles. "I just ... I shouldn't have ever left her. I thought if I could find Jimmy, I would make everything right. I should've never left her."

You walk to the window and peer out of it, spotting Dean and Claire with guns drawn. This is perfect, actually. Cas checks on the other women inside the room while Amelia stares at her bed with tears.

"How long have I been like this?"

"Two years."

You hear footsteps and walk out into the main room, and Dean aims his gun at you. He relaxes once he sees it's you and you look at Claire. You don't say a word when she goes inside the room, and she stops when she sees her mom.

"Claire? I'm so sorry." Claire runs to her mother and they embrace emotionally. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"You and Sam didn't answer your phones. Where is he?"

"The house."

"Let's go find him. Claire." She turns to him. "Stay here, okay? Do not move."

"Okay," she sniffles. "Thank you. Thank you, both."

You leave with the two men and enter the house. Dean has his gun drawn, Cas has his angel blade and you don't have a care in the world. You're not afraid of some angels. While they want to be quiet, you walk right into the kitchen and see a chair overturned with handcuffs. Looks like Sam was trapped and now he's not. A board creaks from behind you and you turn to see Sam swinging something at you. You grab it before it can hit you and toss it on the ground.

"Careful where you swing that thing."

"What the hell happened?" Dean asks.

"Listen, Holloway is a Grigori."

"Yeah, we know."

"Grigori? No, they were some of the first angels on Earth. It was an elite unit that went bad, but they're extinct. They were destroyed," Cas says.

"Some survived, and they've been hunting humans, making them create Heavens in their minds and feeding off them."

"Where is this abomination?"

"I don't know. I looked everywhere. He must've left."

"You sure leaving Claire all by her lonesome was a good idea?" you grin.

All three men immediately run out of the room and you follow behind them leisurely. By the time you enter the barn, Claire and Amelia are on the ground with Amelia bleeding from a stab wound in her gut. Holloway goes to stab her again but Cas interferes and tackles him to the ground. They fight but Cas doesn't exactly win this one. Sam pulls Holloway off Cas and turns him so that Dean can deliver a punch to his face. Holloway kicks Dean in the chest and headbutts Sam from behind. It's clear none of these men are going to win this fight so you casually walk over to him, and he turns with a glare on his face. He brings the sword down on you but you grab the blade before it can penetrate you. Red magic pours from your body and your eyes shine red.

"I don't think so."

"No, you can't be real. The Scarlet Witch is just a rumor."

"I'm flattered you've been talking about me," you grin. "Too bad you won't live to tell anyone else." You yank the blade away from him and toss it to the ground before grabbing his throat. You force him to his knees and he stares at you with such fear that it gives you joy. "You are no match for me but it sure was cute to watch you try."

You put your fingers on his forehead before touching yours and immediately, his power begins seeping out of him. You breathe it in until there is nothing left, and you crush his throat in your hands. He falls to the ground, dead, and you look at the brothers with hooded eyes and a smirk.

"You're welcome."

"Mom?" Claire gasps. Amelia is lying on the ground with blood coming out of her mouth but she isn't moving. "Mommy, please stay with me. Mom? Mom! Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Mom, please."

Now my patience has run out.

"Okay, I'm going to ask one more time." Everyone but Claire looks at you. "Cas, where are my kids? I know you know where they are." Sam and Dean look at each other with fear but Cas won't back down so easily. Still, no one answers you. "No one wants to answer me? Fine." You grab Claire by her hair and yank her up to her feet. You pin her to your front and wrap your hand around her throat. The other arm is wrapped over her chest and gripping the opposite shoulder. All three men immediately move toward you but you flash your eyes red. "Take one more step and I'll snap her neck."

"Castiel," she whimpers but you tighten your grip on her throat.

"Where. Are. My. Kids."

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you. I have been looking for them for the past two weeks, and they have not shown up on any camera across the country. They are children. They go outside and play. Tell me how they are able to do that and not get picked up by a single camera. I know you had something to do with that."

"Please, just let her go and we'll talk," Cas begs.

"I gave you the chance to tell me and you lied. Now I'm forcing your hand. Tell me who is more important to you. Your wannabe fake daughter or my kids?"

"Don't tell her," Dean says. "I don't care what she does but don't tell her where they are."

"It's kind of hard to talk without a mouth, Dean, isn't it?" Immediately, Dean's mouth is gone and he panics as he touches his face. Sam watches with wide eyes, too scared to say anything. "Tick-tock, Castiel. I'm waiting."

"Please, don't do this."

"Please don't do this? That doesn't sound like a location to me."

"Castiel, please," Claire whimpers.

You pull her in tighter and put your mouth next to her ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Mommy and Daddy are waiting for you in Heaven. Or is it Hell? I'm not sure where they ended up." You look at Cas. "You have three seconds to tell me or she's dead. Three."

"Please, Y/N, don't do this. Let her go and we'll talk."

"That's not a location. Two."

Castiel looks at Sam and Dean with sad and guilty eyes. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out of it. He doesn't know what to do. Guess I'll have to make the decision for him.

"One." You immediately snap Claire's neck and she falls to the ground, dead. Castiel yells out in anger and lunges for you but you blast him and the brothers backward. "I told you what would happen. Consider this a lesson learned."

You walk out of the barn and Cas crawls over to Claire with tears in his eyes. Dean sucks in a breath and realizes his mouth is back. Cas holds Claire's body in his and rocks her, sobbing loudly. Suddenly, she gasps awake and jerks in his arms, and all three men look at her with wide eyes. You killed her. She was dead.

"How is she alive?" Sam asks.

"I don't know."

Cas doesn't question it. Claire is back and that's all that matters. He sobs and pulls her into a hug while she looks around with frantic eyes.

"She killed me. She fucking killed me."

Claire has to get far away from all of this and there is only one person who will take her in without question. Jody Mills might have her hands full with Joanna, Maryann, Noah, Zeus, Colonel, and Alex but she is eager for another kid to come to her in time of need. Plus, it'll be nice to have another girl Alex's age for her to hang with. She'll know your kids are with Jody but as already talked to Jody about keeping it a secret from everyone else.

"Someone has to do something about Y/N. She killed me," Claire says to Sam.

"We're working on it," Sam sighs.

"So, what? Are you sending me to some sort of halfway house for wayward girls?"

"No. Not at all. Jody Mills is good people, and she'll give you a place to crash until you get back on your feet. It's not forever, right?"

Sam looks over his shoulder at Dean and Cas who is talking off to the side.

"What are you gonna do about Claire?" Dean asks.

"It's not up to me."

Sam walks away from her and Dean walks away from Cas, switching places with his brother. Dean takes a present out of his car and hands it to her.

"I felt bad about taking the gun back."

She opens it to see a DVD of Caddy Shack and a book titled 'The Enochian Myth'.

"Thanks but I don't think I'm interested in any more homework."

Dean takes the book but kneels in front of her bag. He opens it and lifts the sword the Grigori was using out of her bag.

"Do you honestly think I didn't see you take this?" He puts the sword back and lifts the plush cat Cas got her. "Really?" He puts the cat down and shoves the book inside along with the DVD. "I'll just put these in here." He stands up. "You know, Claire, you already got your revenge. If you go down this path... our path... It's not a long life."

"I don't know. You seem pretty old." Dean scoffs playfully and shakes his head. "Listen, what I did, setting you up, I'm sorry. I just... I shouldn't..."

"Forget it. It's in the past."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Me? I don't know, but I will keep fighting. I'll keep swinging until I have nothing left."

"Will you keep an eye on him?" Both of them look at Cas. "He's been through enough."

"So have you. Claire, do your homework before you do anything stupid, okay? We're here if you need us, any time." A cab pulls up to the parking lot of the motel that will take her to Jody's place. "I'll get you loaded up."

"Um, Claire." She turns to him. "If you, um, if you... need anything, ever, I'm ... I'm ... I just wanted you to know that..."

Claire cuts him off by hugging him. That's as much as an apology that he's ever going to get from her. They part and Dean opens the back door of the cab for her.

"Dean?" she says through the open window.

"Yeah?"

"Y/N's going to get better, right?"

"I hope so."

"Don't give up on her."

"I won't."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago

Note

I definitely wasn't binging through Krulu's tag like a horny depraved soul with no life (which i am) when i found this:

Pinnie I need to know how Krulu responds/reacts to Admin's existential crisis and crippling anxiety telling them that they're useless to him now that he has no need to hide and he can just dispose of them if he wants to.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Slight angst; Religious mindsets.

It's wonderful seeing your lord in such high spirits.

You never made note of it before, mostly to avoid being insulting, but it bothered you that Krulu felt unsafe all the time, resigned himself to the darkness of his sacred floor, didn't look beyond the walls of The Clergy's Eye or set foot onto his own garden.

It was disheartening.

He's a god! He's your god! He should face the world with nothing but pride and elegance, his might is to be witnessed and revered by all- Hiding is unbecoming of his perfect nature.

You suppose you have to thank Miara for all of this. For the safety and confidence Krulu now exudes, for the push she gave him to finally finally impregnate you- For your beautiful baby boys who have now grown up to take Earth's main annexes by storm! Life is good.

Life is wonderful.

But it's so, so scary...

Ever since your higher stopped using you as a vessel -There's no need for such anymore, after all- A depressing distance has been cast between you two. Something stifling.

You're so very happy for him, for Adelo and Adrul who can now communicate with their second father openly, see him in the flesh so much more often than they once did, for the two of you even -Because you do like witnessing Krulu's glory- But... Things just aren't the same.

You no longer feel Krulu in the back of your mind, caressing your thoughts and murmuring to you. His presence on your body is so diminished you feel naked. Unsafe. Out of sorts. You feel useless as his servant. This isn't right. It's something you're ashamed to admit, but you wish he'd return to your form.

What's wrong with you? To be wishing misery upon your lord...

You're his chosen, you're the mother of the rulers of Eden and Perdition, you're loved dearly by your lord and your angel- So... So why is it that you feel small? Like an ant? Without Krulu... You're just a human. Just a girl.

Tears prick at your eyes.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You should be happy. This is a day of celebration! Your sons have come to The Clergy to partake in celebration with their parents and the core team after their impressive feats. And instead of spending quality time with the people closest to you...

You're sobbing on a faraway bench.

Pathetic.

You don't even hear the footfalls approaching steadily.

" Chosen. "

To say you sprung up like a startled feline is to put it flatteringly lightly. Your lord stares at you from a great height, gaze ever hardened, though you've been his servant long enough to spot the creases of worry in the corners of his eyes.

" M- My lord, excuse me- I'll be joining the festivities in no time. " You stammer, wiping the tear trails on your face and hoping your makeup isn't smudged to absolute shit. But it probably is.

Krulu makes a chuff, then takes a seat beside your figure, not looking directly at you. One set of arms rests on their hips, another steeples its fingers, the remaining one adjusts some of his jewelry.

" Speak. What troubles you? "

To the point. You've come to love that about him.

" Nothing serious, my worship. " You sigh. " You know how fragile the human mind is, I'm just being silly. "

The siadar's tail rattles across the floor.

" Our minds may no longer be interwoven, but make no mistake, I know when you dare lie to me. " He warns, eyes narrowed. " Your pain is still my pain, however. And to hurt me is not wise. "

You curl further into yourself on the bench, sniffling. " My deepest apologies- "

" I will not ask twice. What ails you? "

Slowly, you crane your neck back, meeting only the charred side of Krulu's face. With perhaps the most shaky and futile of inhales, your lips let loose.

" I'm scared. "

The siadar straightens slightly.

" My lord, I would never doubt your words- But I doubt myself. We aren't as close as we once were, and that's amazing! That's good! But... I feel so hollow without you in my body. What duty do I have now? I know it's stupid of me -I know I'm foolish- But ever since you've ceased to use me as a vessel, I've been so... Miserable. "

The shame coating your cheeks burns brighter than a thousand dawns, so you opt to bore holes into the stone of the garden's pathway.

There's a deep rumble from beside you, and soon, your small frame is lifted, deposited in the crevice where your lord's long legs cross, facing forward to the garden's expanse just as he does.

" You are going through withdrawal. "

Krulu begins, giving all your thoughts pause.

" Have been, for quite some time. "

Four hands touch your body, two loop around your neck in a familiar hold that has you sighing in comfort. The other pair rubs your sides up and down.

" I never did think it had reached this state, but then, you have a most insufferable habit of hiding your distress from me. "

" I... I don't want to disappoint. "

The implication is loud, even without being verbalized. A pause passes.

" Pray tell, what bred the idea into your mind that the mother of my heirs is expendable? " He challenges, met with silence for a few moments.

" Was it something I imparted onto you? "

And, when you think about it deeper, there was never a moment where Krulu made you feel as if you were nothing but a body. Or that you would someday outlive your use. Your sentiments are strange and you can't place their source aptly.

" Never! I don't recall a single thing you've said or done to me that could cause this- I think I'm just... Having some type of episode? " What a wonderful thing to say, you snort inwardly to yourself. Yes, you're going mental.

" Episode, hm? " Krulu chuckles above you. " Close enough. You got there on your own, songbird. "

" I- Lord Master, I beg your pardon? " Did he actually confirm you're going insane?

The siadar shudders at the title bestowed upon him, a squeeze of powerful claws reminding you not to rile him up now. It slipped.

" Just as when I took hold of your form your organism experienced many changes, you are now going through several more as well. " He explains simply. " My departure is intense, I would be alerted if you did not react to it. "

You blink, staring into his blazing orange hues. " ... But it has been years, lordship. "

Krulu's grin turns slightly mocking. " Indeed it has. "

You can only blink vapidly again, prompting him to laugh loudly and pet you almost condescendingly.

" How many years did you live as my vessel, lesser? "

Oh. Oh.

No fucking wonder you've been feeling this way for so long. Oh boy, this is going to take a long while... Who knew a hormonal imbalance could last this long, and be this devastating. Maybe to a doctor, it would be extremely common knowledge, but you often forget said information, because it hardly ever holds relevance these days.

You feel even dumber now. Dumb as a door. May the ground grow a hole and consume you immediately.

The berating inner-monologue about to kickstart in your mind is halted entirely by the sensation of Krulu's thin lips against the top of your head as the massive entity curls to shield you from the world at large.

" You are hereby ordered to seek me as soon as these flares of inadequacy show themselves, understood? " Even if his words hold supreme authority, you feel the insurmountable care behind them.

" My chosen is my adored and my adored is the light of this decrepit world. You hold more value than the universe could ever hope to achieve to me, yet you do not even realize it. " He whispers.

And you cry.

You sob like a fucking baby.

You wail into your lord's arms, full of relief, of love, passion and reverence and complete fanaticism- Enough euphoria to blind you for seconds of total bliss. It's almost like an orgasm, in a peculiar way.

He holds you throughout the entire catharsis, silent, stable like a stone wall. Only when your quiet sniffling has petered out does he speak again.

" Come to us, Adrul did say he has many tales of his time in Wrath. His mother should listen. "

You stand with Krulu's help, a smile as bright as the sun on your face.

Everything is okay.

You'll get through this.

For him.

Always for him.

Everything for him.

#Krulu oc #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monsterwhorre #minors dni #terato #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #terat0philliac #terato tag #monsterfucker

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rmgold-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Wolfstar Microfic - Day 4

@wolfstarmicrofic

Tw: mentions of death

645 words

Future

Remus woke up to the sound of a baby crying.

He didn't question it at first. In the past year Remus had gone from place to place. He'd never grown very comfortable in one place before he was forced to move to the next. His new neighbors must have been parents, the walls just thin enough for the infant's cries to cut through.

But then he felt the body next to him - he only just registered there was a body next to him - shift, getting up and out of bed, leaving a cold space behind Remus's bare back.

Then it all came back to him.

It didn't feel real, but he remembered it. The empty gaze of James's eyes, his glasses shattered on the steps. Lily's hair spilling like blood over the floorboards. The sound of a baby crying.

The sound of a baby crying, which sounded eerily similar to what he was hearing now.

Oh.

Harry.

Sirius had showed up to Remus's flat - lord only knows how he was able to track him down - drenched in rainwater, gasping and sobbing, begging Remus to listen.

"Please, Remus, I've made a terrible mistake - we have to save them!"

They'd left Godric's Hollow with two fewer friends, and a new responsibility.

Remus wasn't laying in his own bed this morning. These weren't the thin walls of any flat he'd managed to secure. This was Sirius's place, a nice London townhouse he'd bought with his late uncle's money. His bones and muscles didn't ache from a bad night's sleep, and he was warm under thick covers rather than under threadbare old quilts.

The crying had stopped.

When Remus finally made his way down stairs, he was greeted by the sight of Sirius curled up in an arm chair that was definitely never intended to rock the way it had recently been enchanted to. The baby laying on his chest was fast asleep - Harry's black curls plastered to his forehead by sweat, or maybe tears, framing his new scar, which had grown angry and red overnight.

He snuck into the kitchen, preparing two cups of tea, trying to busy his hands, not ready to confront the fact that yesterday had been real.

Sirius didn't look up at Remus as he sat down on the couch across from him, placing the cups on the coffee table between them. Sirius held his head in his hand, the palm of his pressed against his lips. He gazed out the window with dark eyes at the streets below them.

"They're celebrating," Sirius's voice croaked.

Remus felt his heart in his throat, blinking back tears as they sprung to his eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to reason - "Voldemort is dead."

"At what cost?"

Remus didn't have a reasonable response for that, and if he were being completely honest, he didn't want one.

He sniffled, tears pooling in his eyes as he could no longer hold them back. Sirius looked over at him, finally meeting his gaze as the first, salty tear fell.

They sat in silence for awhile, their drinks on the table going cold, untouched by either of them.

"What are we going to do, Moony?" Sirius asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper that seemed to echo off the walls of the quiet room. "We can't stay here, it's - it's not safe, for Harry. They're out there singing his bloody praises when his parents just -"

His voice broke, and Sirius sobbed, pressing his cheek against Harry's head and holding him tighter.

"I don't know," Remus admitted, wanting nothing more than to take Sirius in his arms and hold them both as close as he could, for as long as possible.

The future was an uncertain thing. Even more hazy and unknowable than it had ever been. But they had to brave it.

For Harry's sake.

For James. And for Lily.

#wolfstar #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar microfic #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #tw: death

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callsignspark · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I'd like to submit "standing on your tip toes to reach your partner's lips" for Marry Me!

hi anon! I love this one so much!!

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

Romeo, oh Romeo

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussions of body image issues/insecurities, mentions of pregnancy/giving birth, mentions of smut but nothing explicit, this is set once they're already together, so many goddamn pet names, also you don't need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this, but you should anyway

word count: 1.7k (will I ever write something short? the world may never know)

Mariella Vertucci has never been the smallest girl around. Growing up, she was always bigger than her classmates. The ones that got asked on Saturday night movie dates or who got to wear a cute boy’s jersey to class on Friday before a big game. The girls that got asked to prom by guys who wanted to go with them. Not by their mother’s best friend’s neighbor’s son, who got rejected by the cheerleader of his dreams and had to settle for some girl whose family owned a bakery.

But with age, maturity, a good therapist, and distance from her mother, she had grown to accept her body. It kept her alive and healthy. It allowed her to play with her nieces and nephews. It allowed her to excel at a job she loved. It allowed her to make food for the people she loved. It allowed her to love Bradley in every way he deserved to be loved. She accepted that she had always been bigger and probably always would be.

Then she found out she was pregnant.

With twins.

That she created with her gorgeous, hulking 6’3” husband.

And now, at six months pregnant, she looked like a VW bug turned upright. Large and in charge was the joke one of her technicians had made last week. At the time, she had laughed with everyone else. It was true; even with three months to go until birth, she was comically large and round.

But when she got home that night, the sweatpants she usually wore to make Friday night dinner no longer fit over her bump. Bradley had come home to her sitting on the bathroom floor in tears. He was two seconds from calling an ambulance when she explained what happened.

“I’m fat, Bradley. I can’t even wear my sweatpants anymore! They don’t fit over my stomach! I just feel so big and gross. I can’t stand this.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulls her up, nudging her from the bathroom towards the bed sans pants. “I know it’s hard that your body is changing so much so quickly, but you are the furthest thing from gross. You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen, and you are so sexy. Baby belly or not. But believe me, the baby belly is doing things for me.”

She sniffles from her perch on the edge of their bed, watching him peel himself out of his khakis. “Really?”

“Baby doll, I can’t even begin to explain how sexy you look carrying our girls. It makes me want to get you pregnant all over again, even if that’s biologically impossible.” He gestures towards himself, and she glances down, finding him half-hard already. “See, just looking at you sitting there in your cute little panties and my t-shirt has got me going.”

“Bradley!” She squeaks when he tips her back, bending over her and pressing himself into her, hooking her legs over his hips. “What are you doi-”

He cuts her off with a deep kiss. “Gonna show you exactly how sexy you are, and then I’m gonna order you whatever you want for dinner. Gonna give you whatever you want, mama.”

An orgasm or two later, Bradley ordered pizza from their favorite shop, and the two of them enjoyed it in their underwear on the couch. The next day, he came home with three bags full of maternity clothes. After asking for recommendations from the mothers in their friend group, he had spent the morning scouring the town for clothes he knew his wife would like. He was thoroughly thanked, and Mary felt like herself again after doing a fashion show for him. Her wonderful husband oohing and ahhing over every new piece, even though he insisted it would be better if she just walked around without clothes on.

Bradley had been giving her extra compliments and love since then, helping her restore her confidence and remember the joy that she was growing inside her.

But all the confidence and reminders in the world couldn’t stop situations like this.

“M&M, please, this is for your safety. Pregnant people aren’t allowed to climb on ladders after the first trimester. If you want to look at the progress on the engine repair, we’ll pull the platform out.” Mika, her second in command, had been trying to bargain with her since their 9:30 meeting. It was now 11:45.

“That’s a stupid rule. I want to talk to whoever made that rule!” Mary’s frustration is severely undercut by her inability to fully cross her arms over her stomach.

“I believe that’s your rule, ma’am.” Lieutenant Johnson meekly interjects. Just a few months at NAS North Island, and he’s sufficiently afraid and in awe of the repair shop senior director, even if she’s a civilian. The stories of her standing up to admirals who questioned her knowledge and reaming out pilots who disrespected her authority were known through the entire aviator community. The rumor that she had at least three admirals who would take her side without a second thought was shared every time a new top gun class came through.

She whips around and stares at the younger man, who is barely making eye contact. “Fuck! Damn my past self for being so reasonable and smart about safety. Alright, pull out the platform; I want to get a look at the frame welds and see what’s going on there.”

Her technicians snap into action, and within a few minutes, the rolling platform is in place with the wheels locked. She’s just about to instruct her techs to climb up their ladders while she raises the platform when the lunch bell rings.

“Okay, everyone. That’s lunch, we’ll pick up right here in an hour, and then you guys are out on the tarmac with the Dagger Squad for the rest of the afternoon. So please make sure to apply sunscreen and fill your water bottles, I don’t need anyone passing out on me while I’m in meetings.”

“You want help down?”

“Nah, you head to lunch, Mika. I’m gonna pop up here real quick so I can get a good look before I meet with Cyclone this afternoon, maybe take some photos.”

“Okay, but please call me or someone if you need help.”

“I will, I will.” She presses the button to start lifting. “Oh, by the way! Marty definitely has a crush on you! You should unzip your coveralls some and see if he finally asks you out!”

The other woman rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, boss! Have a good lunch!”

Mary snickers as she pokes around the FA-18 engine, using her flashlight to look at the welds that everyone is concerned about. Jack had done a good job, and she was confident in his techniques, but she wasn’t sure this was the best route for the repair. Her mental list of people to reach out to for advice is interrupted by a familiar voice.

“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Mary is the sun.”

She looks over the side to find her husband grinning up at her like a fool, his nose a bit red from morning training in the sun, and immediately hits the button to lower her down.

“O Bradley, Bradley, wherefore art thou Bradley? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. And I’ll no longer be a Vertucci.”

“You’re already not a Vertucci, baby doll.” He wiggles his eyebrows and flashes his ring at her, making her giggle and swoon at his ability to be equally romantic and ridiculous.

She rubs a hand over her bump. “Yeah, and you made sure that I’ll never want to change my name back, huh?”

“Never getting rid of me now, honey.” He moves up to the platform once it locks in position at the bottom, rubbing his hands over her thighs when she sits down to climb off. “Hi.”

“Hi, handsome. How was training?” She runs her hand through his curls, smiling at how quickly his eyes close to enjoy her nails scratching the back of his neck.

“It was hot, I got a little burnt.” He pouts, making puppy dog eyes at her. “A kiss would make it better.”

“Yeah? Does my big strong man need a little kiss to feel better?” She teases even as she leans down.

He’s just an inch too far, her belly hindering her ability to fully bend down, and he raises up to collect his healing kiss. He hums, pulling back as he feels her tongue brush his lips. “Baby, I would love to make out with you right now, but I don’t think I can take the trauma of Mav finding us again.”

Her face burns, remembering when her godfather-in-law found the two of them a few months ago. It was before they had announced the pregnancy and her hormones were going crazy, making her want to jump Bradley as often as possible. Including during their lunch break in her office. She’s still not sure whose face was redder during family dinner that weekend.

“I hate when you’re the logical one. Help me down.”

He helps her climb down the small step ladder and once she’s back on solid ground he pulls her in for another kiss. “That’s better. Having to go on my tiptoes to kiss you was kinda weird, never had to do that before.”

“What you’ve never kissed a tall, Amazon woman before?”

“No, the only goddess I’ve kissed is 5’5” according to her license.”

“Bradshaw! Stop flirting with your wife when I need to talk to her and go eat lunch.”

“Sorry, sir.” He grins at Cyclone, whose exasperated expression lets him he’s not in trouble, yet. “I’ll catch up with you later, honey. Let me know what you want for dinner.”

He takes a chance and presses a kiss to his favorite pair of lips before scurrying out of the repair shop, smiling when a roar of “Bradshaw!” follows him out.

His smile turns to laughter when he hears a faint, “Yes, Admiral? What can I do for you?” from his girl.

God, I love that woman.

only tagging a few friends since this isn’t an actual update. have a great week!

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #ask game #asks answered #anon <3 #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

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btsqualityy · 1 year ago

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okay then! i'll send another for the ksj: can we please see mama kim's reaction to her empty nest? i feel like Jin would be the best at reassuring her when she's a bit sad about her boys leaving home :((((

"Hey jagi, look what I found in the attic," Jin said as he paced into the living room and when you looked at him from your spot on the couch, your eyes widened at the sight of a newborn onesie in your husband's hands.

"Oh my gosh," you whispered, your hands reaching out and Jin handed it to you before he sat down next to you. "This is the first piece of baby clothing I ever bought, back when I was pregnant with Kade."

"I remember you came home so excited to show it to me," he smiled at the memory.

"I was excited because once I was finally far along enough in my pregnancy that I wasn't terrified of something happening to Kade, I was able to enjoy it more," you explained. "You remember when Car wore this too?"

"Yep, it was his going home from the hospital outfit," Jin nodded. "That picture we all took together still pops up on my social media from time to time."

"That all seems like yesterday and now look at us," you sniffled softly. "Kade's married and about to become a father himself, and Car is fresh out of university and traveling a lot."

"And we're empty nesters," he added and when you didn't say anything, Jin looked over and wasn't at all surprised to see tears slipping down your cheeks. "Oh, jagi."

"I know, I shouldn't be crying," you huffed with a laugh. "Our boys have grown up so well and they're amazing men now so I should be happy."

"But you miss the old days," Jin deduced correctly. "And that's ok. The ability to be a parent doesn't just turn off because they don't live with us anymore, and it's more than ok to miss them and how things used to be."

"I guess," you muttered sadly.

"Hey, look at it this way," he said. "Now that we live alone, we can walk around naked again."

"Jinnie, we've never done that, even before the boys were born," you giggled.

"No time like the present then," Jin joked, making you laugh loudly. "I can't wait to grow old with you, you know that?"

"Me either," you whispered before kissing him firmly.

#drabble day 3 #btsqualityy drabbles 2

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polyhexian · 1 year ago

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Darius frantically googling childcare tips in the runaway au, hoping to god that the Emperor's Coven isn't monitoring his scroll. how do you take care of a child? how do you reassure a child? how do you feed a - okay actually that one's easy, Hunter has his father's painfully simple taste in food, if his looks didn't make it obvious that he's Jasper's son the fact that he considers salt a spice would be proof enough.

Eberwolf is like, I can give you some tips but they're all gonna be based on raising ratworm litters and Darius is like STOP.

Hunter is probably kind of an easy kid to take care of in most respects, tho. like you said, he's had to become independent. self-sufficient. I feel like a lot of his childhood he was kinda like a fawn - like, a mother deer will leave her baby in a place she deems safe and hidden, and the fawn will lay there completely still for HOURS until mom gets back. Jasper's definitely had to do that with Hunter, except as Hunter has grown older Jasper has likely left him alone for longer periods of time, so Hunter gets to wander around a bit while waiting for his dad to get back. Swipe some food, maybe work some odd jobs for some snails, visit the library and see if he can finish a book before they have to move on again.

so he doesn't complain easily, and he doesn't really get bored the way a regular kid might, he's used to either sitting perfectly still or going off to find something to take up his time. he probably also gets more mileage out of entertainment items Darius gets for him. Darius is like "uhhhh I found some crappy crayons and some paper, sorry, best I can do on short notice" and Hunter is just like, oh, cool! cuz he's rarely had time/space/resources to sit down and color on paper.

Darius is still fumbling his way through this tho. one night he wakes up to find a sniffling Hunter climbing into bed with him and he starts to panic like OH GOD IS HE SICK I DON'T WANNA DO GERMS BUT I WILL IF I HAVE TO except no, the kid just misses his dad. Darius surreptitiously grabs his phone to type in "what to do when a kid crawls into bed with you crying" except to his everlasting horror he did NOT type that into Ghoul-gle, he typed it into a text message and now Eberwolf is responding like DARIUS ARE YOU SERIOUS and Darius is like I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO and Eber is like JUST HUG HIM THE WAY YOU'D NEVER HUG A BABY RATWORM.

Rjjsjsjd Darius trying to figure out how to care for this kid via eberwolf describing how to care for various baby animals

Yeah yeah yeah. Hunter is a baby faun. He's very good at hiding and he's very good at following instructions. Jasper has to weigh a lot of risks. Is it riskier to steal what he needs, or is it riskier to earn it by bounty hunting or selling something or what have you? And things just get riskier as Hunter gets older. Another timeline where jasper can't give hunter the childhood he wants him to have, but he's going to make sure he has one that he makes it out of, at least. He would rather have an unhappy adult than a dead child.

Hunter is a little fuckin monkey. He's always stealing shit. Just to prove he can. I love this little goblin version of hunter, a highly skilled little artful dodger.

When I was a teenager and my dad left it was pretty hard on my family. My brother has down's syndrome and autism; he's nonverbal, low-functioning, legally dead/blind. So he has a lot of trouble communicating effectively. He was like nine around this time and yeah, normal stuff was no problem. He knew how to let me know he was hungry or he needed me to come hit play on his DVD or something- assistive communication devices were and I think still are thousands of dollars lol and my folks and I were eating out of the food bank so. Yeah. Not happening.

In any case, the point is that one night my brother started crying. Like. Really crying. Crying in a way id never heard before. And obviously my mom came but I drove him to the hospital and we spent all night in the ER while he screamed and sobbed and they did test after test after test trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong.

Nothing was wrong. He was completely fine, physically. The end "diagnosis" was... Our dad had been gone three months and it was finally hitting him that he might not be coming back.

Just thinking about poor little hunter trying to cope with the idea his dad might not be coming back because he doesn't know where he is or what happened to him; he's just gone and it hurts! Reminded me of that night (can you believe I had to go to school the next day lol)

All Darius can do is hold this sobbing little guy and tell him that at least HE isn't going anywhere because... What else can he say? It's going to be okay? Jasper is going to be okay? Jasper will come back? He doesn't know that. He doesn't know any of that. All he can do is his own best. And hunter just :(

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toomuchracket · 1 year ago

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We’ve had a lot of dad d word matty whilst they’re still a baby, I feel like we need to discuss d word matty with a toddler/primary school age!!! Would be so cute🥲

the night before lyla's first day of school, she makes you hang her little school uniform on the outside of her wardrobe so she can see it because she's so excited to wear it the next day, bless her. because she's so excited, it takes her longer to fall asleep - after he reads her a bedtime story, matty stays with her until she nods off, just sitting on the edge of her bed stroking her hair like he's done since she was a baby. once you've got alex to sleep in his room, you wander back to see your daughter and husband, and see matty staring at lyla's uniform hanging on the wardrobe, his lip quivering like he's about to cry. after pressing a soft kiss to lyla's head, you take matty's hand and lead him out of the room; as soon as he's over the threshold and the door closes behind him, he just grabs you and burrows his head into your neck and starts sobbing like "i feel like i need to go and listen to landslide now". and you can't help but smile at that, in a kinda sad way, like "oh, baby", and matty's like "how is she starting SCHOOL?! our baby girl! christ, i can't cope" - you're like "i know, babe, i can't wrap my head around it either. but she's ready for it, smart little cookie that she is", and matty's like "yeah. that's all from you, definitely", and you're like "i know" and wink, which makes him laugh and feel a bit better.

he cries the next morning, though, when he sees her all ready, eagerly standing at the door with her little satchel on; you clock him welling up and you're like "come on, munchkins, let's go and take some pictures of the two of you in the garden to send to nana", ushering the kids outside, and matty mouths "thank you" and pretends to catch the little kiss you blow him before you gently close the front door. once matty's got some tears out of his system, he joins you all for a couple of pictures, and then alex takes his hand as the four of you walk to the school/nursery. despite being younger and generally a bit more shy than his sister, alex happily heads into nursery with no problems at all - it's his second year there, in fairness - but lyla is a bit more hesitant; she clings to matty's leg as you all start to head in with her classmates and their parents, and the two of you have to crouch to her level and give her a little pep talk. it's actually kinda funny - matty's mid-monologue about how she's so smart and brave and ready for big school, and lyla literally shouts "oh! it's gracie!" and runs away to see her friend, totally cured of any worries or fears about starting school, and matty's like "i feel like i should be offended. but that was a very Me move of her lol". in fairness to lyla, she does run back over before she goes into her classroom to give you both a massive hug and say "see you at 3!", then she bolts in to find her seat. you peek through the door to see her sitting listening to the teacher very conscientiously, and that sets YOU off - matty hurries you outside like "we really cannot embarrass her by crying in the cloakroom lol", and then in the playground he just holds you and lets you cry it out like "she just looked so grown-up! and it only feels like yesterday that we found out i was pregnant with her. time is moving too quickly i hate it", before he kisses your head and says "shall we go home and cry to landslide? i think it would help us", and you sniffle like "yeah" lmao. but you're a lot happier when you pick the kids up later; they're both happy, so so excited to talk about their days with you and matty, and that's all you could ask for, really <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty #literal d word

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enam3l · 2 years ago

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love, lola / chapter eight / it's happening again (4.6k)

Eddie has some news and amidst all the drama, you're starting to get a sense of deja vu...

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie!

this is a two parter! once you've read this, go here!

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

Anything being said is drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Piercing and shrill, as if an internal alarm was triggered by the words that left Eddie's mouth.

'I'd have to leave for California next week.'

Simultaneously your prayers had been answered and your worst nightmare had come true. Eddie was being granted a shot at his dream to become a professional musician; a chance to get the hell out of Hawkins. Yet, the cost of it was leaving you behind. A successful rockstar life beyond the containment of this small town offered more than you ever could.

Eddie paces anxiously in front of your bed where you have sat unmoving for the last five minutes. With each lap of the room a new thought intrudes. He hasn't slept since Taylor asked him to join Kraven last night.

Does she hate me? Does she think I betrayed her? Is she actually relieved I'll be gone? Is she happy she doesn't have to follow through on letting me go back to New York?

His fingers brush over anything in his reach. Over the objects he's seen nearly everyday of his life. Fragments of everything he's ever know, that now feel like they're slipping away. A jewellery stand that is weighed down by handmade beaded necklaces from your childhood and priceless heirlooms; all equally precious. A silver frame filled with an array photostrips of you with himself, some with Steve, one with you as a baby with Gran. A collection of figurines Eddie had hand painted custom for your birthday one year. One a powerful elven queen radiating a bright light, tailored to your likeness. The other a dark knight resembling Eddie, in service of the queen as he is to you in life.

'You have to go, Teddy,' you finally muster a croak. Eddie freezes in his spot and your eyes meet. Both red from resisting the tears that beg to erupt.

'Are you su-'

You refuse to even let him ask the question, shaking your head profusely. Reaching a hand out to him to come closer, he climbs onto your bed. In the centre you both sit cross legged facing the other, like two kids again sharing secrets.

'You have to,' you repeat.

He inhaled and takes your hands in his, they feel so small and cold. Like he had when you were little in the winter, he rubs his thumbs over your fingers and knuckles to warm them. Focusing on the touching of your skin so he doesn't have to see your reaction, Eddie admits his biggest concern.

'But California doesn't have you...'

No it doesn't. At this moment in your life it feels like you aren't anywhere. Floating around lost without a tether, not to New York, not to Hawkins, not to Eddie.

'But it has your future.'

The words were like a punch to gut for the both of you. An admittance that your futures don't evolve around the other. Especially not in the ways either of you want but won't admit.

'This is a once in a life time offer, Ted,' you sigh, you've got to be the grown up. 'The chance to be a rockstar? It's something you've been dreaming of since you were a kid sat in this very room.'

Sniffles can be heard from behind the wall of curls before you.

'What if it doesn't work out?' he admits, letting his self-doubt show.

Shuffling closer, you brush away his wild curls to reveal the soft face you've always adored. Thumbs stroking over the smattering of summer freckles, smoothing the tired bags under his big brown eyes. It's a face the world deserves to know.

'Then you were close and will still have done something spectacular. Regardless, I'll always be here. But you have to, for once, be selfish. Do this for yourself... what would your Mom say if you were here?'

The tears in Eddie's eyes now fall. Coaxed out by your love and faith in him, the strength of which only ever matched by his Mom. His hands sit on top of yours.

'She'd...' he pauses to chuckle, 'oh man, she'd have threatened to shave the hair whilst I was sleeping. Would make me repeat what she'd tell me everyday, that I'm everything and anything I wanna be if I believe in myself like she does... did.'

As he recounts his Mom's words, it truly dawns on Eddie what the answer is. What he must do. Just like that, the cord that has tied you and Eddie together for over a decade is severed. You're setting him free. Tears trickle down your cheeks. Now, he mirrors your previous actions. Rough thumbs stroking over your cheeks that feel like velvet to the touch. He touches your features that he knows by heart more so than any song or movie. For a while you both sit there, hands bracing the other's face. Holding on before they flitter away into memory only.

When Eddie finally leaves your bedroom it feels all too symbolic, as if he has left your life. Once you hear the front door shut, you hurl yourself into the bathroom and throw up but this time, morning sickness isn't your excuse. The sob the racks through you vibrates off every bone. As if your body is responding to this feeling of grief. It's the first you've ever felt true loneliness. A jolt hits your again but it's not a sob or a heave. It's another first. The baby kicks you.

Exactly a week later, The Hideout was buzzing with people wanting to say goodbye to one of their own. Eddie Munson was getting the hell out of Hawkins. With the help of Carl the manager, you, Steve and Dustin planned a bon voyage party. The bar crammed full with the gang, Corroded Coffin, Wayne, Gran, Hopper, Joyce and friends from the Hideout amongst the usual regulars. Everyone's pride over their friend's news combined with the free flowing booze, managed to overshadow the lingering sadness at his impending departure. With some coercion, everyone was treated to an impromptu Corroded Coffin reunion.

Up on the stage and under the lights, Eddie glowed. It was where he belonged, this was always his destiny. Despite the clear intoxication, seeing the four up there you saw how they were still the silly boys you'd grown up with. Still all goofy grins and dimpled cheeks. After a couple of Corroded Coffin classics, Eddie's fingers strummed the beginnings of a song that halted the breath of a few in the crowd. Before you all, they performed Master Of Puppets. Playing from start to finish, uninterrupted, unharmed. Behind the raucous cheers were dewy eyes from those that knew. Knew this was so nearly Eddie's final song. But he had survived and stood in all his glory, stronger than ever. A fighter. A hero. He played like he had something to prove to the universe - that he was a survivor.

After the cheers subsided, Eddie took the mic from Jeff, taking centre stage instead.

'What can I say? You've been a wonderful audience. We're going to do one final song. It's for a very special lady. Y/N, sweetheart, I wouldn't be here without you. Kept me sane since were eight, when I first heard this song.'

Everyone turns, looking at you expectantly. Those that knew you wondering where he was going with this. Those that didn't wondering what exactly was your relationship. Hell if I know, you think. With that, his fingers kick started the song and he begins to croon with a wicked grin.

'I met her in a club down in old Soho

Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like coca cola

C-O-L-A, Cola

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance

I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola

L-O-L-A, Lola

La-la-la-la Lola'

As soon as the first words slide off his tongue your grin matches his. Dizzy with sentiment. Out the corner of your eye, you see Gran smirking to herself. Everyone else is clueless but eventually learn to go with it, dancing and understand there's a tale they're not privy to.

When a small and afraid Eddie had shown up in your house twelve years ago, you were stuck on what to do. Gran sent you off to make him feel comfortable as she and Eva spoke. The curly headed boy was so timid, a far cry away from the one before you now rolling his hips with his guitar. To break the crippling silence that lingers between two strangers, you brought him to your living room where the record machine lived. Fumbling through to stacks of your Gran's aged records you picked one carefully.

'I... I think this will make you laugh. It makes me laugh when I'm sad,' you admitted nervously, unsure why you felt so determined to make this strange boy smile. The needle drops at the song Eddie is playing for you now, begins to echo out the speakers. Lola by The Kinks.

Shyly you sit back on the plush rug beside the rigid boy. It's not long before the sadness begins to crack. Eddie's fingers tapping. Then, it's clear he finally listens to the lyrics and his head whips around to you. It's the first time you truly get a look at him. Oh he's so pretty, the little voice in your head gasped. His eyes are wide in shock, white rimming giant chocolate buttons.

'Why she walked like a woman but talked like a man.'

The meaning dawns on him and he laughs. The best sound you've ever heard. An expression that causes dimples to pop and his eyes to shine. It's that moment you decide to need to make this boy, this Eddie, smile and laugh for as long as you know him. By the time your Gran and Eva come and find you, you're both sprawled out on the rug. Barely any distance between you and the song still on repeat.

Now Eddie is singing it for you. It's sinful the way his tongue flicks on the 'la-la's. His voice gritty during the rest of the song. It should be enough to tip you over the edge, drive you insane but it's too good not to indulge in. You spin around, laughing, joining in with the rest of your friends. Robin dipping you and Steve twirling you round. In Eddie's over watching eyes, the celebrations of others are nothing but white noise and a blur. To him it's only you stood in the centre of the crowd, red lights illuminating your hair billowing as you sway. You're in slow motion and everything else is an irrelevant blur. Even under the boozy fog, he channels everything he has into this serenade. It's all for you, every feeling runs through his veins, out his finger tips and pours out through the amps. It's for you, he chants internally, it's always all for you.

Once Eddie exits the stage, he's winded as you hurl yourself at him, arms wrapping tightly round his neck. He's quick to respond, his own arms round your waste to swing you round and round. The song, it was too much, forcing you to break your self imposed boundaries. The two of you remain the same most of the night, joined at the hip. Eddie's inhibitions growing looser with every shot and beer that passes his lips; raw from biting them to stop himself from impulsively kissing yours. Easily, you both clear out the dance floor. Between reckless spinning and Eddie dipping you dramatically, the space had began to thin out. People retiring to booths or back home as the night wore on. It felt like you and him were the only two people in the world again.

Suddenly, the energy shifts between the two of you when the track changes. The soft tones of Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths begin to hum through the room. Eddie freezes in his movements for a moment, you look up at him confused and expectant; waiting for his next move. Then, with more tenderness than any of his previous moves, he sweeps you into a slow dance. Two of your hands clutched together whilst he brings your other to his shoulder and then settles his own on your waist. Despite his intoxicated state, he glides surprisingly effortlessly and you can't help but take him in. His face surprisingly somber, blue lights soft on his features as he looks down at you. A mixture of melancholy and sweetness thick in the air. For an unknown reason, the moment feels so familiar as if deja vu but this has never happened before. You don't remember ever dancing with Eddie like this and god knows the boy won't ever let you play The Smiths. But you manage to push the eery feeling down, resting your head on his shoulder to let the moment embrace you and forget that tomorrow he'll be gone.

From the corner of the room, the adults congregate. There, Gran watches adoringly. Her eyes threatening tears at the sight. The two kids she's raised still together and oblivious to what was always obvious to Eddie's mom - they were soulmates. Hopper follows her gaze to the embracing young adults.

'Think they'd make a nice couple one day, y'know,' he remarks offhandedly from behind his bottle of beer. A hidden smile as he thinks of himself and Joyce at that age. Maybe they'll find their way back to each other one day, he muses to himself. Gran clears her throat, straightening herself up and withdrawing from the wistful place she'd found herself in.

'Maybe... I think there might be something to that,' she smiles sadly.

Before long the bar is near deserted. The remaining members are the survivors, the ones who know too much, who've been through too much for such an age. Round a booth, you, Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Argyle, Dustin, Lucas, Will, Mike, El and Max gather. All of you with a shot, in the case of the kids it's a shot of cordial. Unknowing to everyone but Steve, you join them in the cordial.

Steve chimes his class to raise a toast.

'I think, I speak for everyone here when I say we're proud of you, Eddie. You did it, most people would've never left the house again, man. But you're getting the hell outta this hell hole. Let's make this the start of the end, of us all moving on. The Upside Down is gone forever and now we can finally live normal lives. Here's to Eddie and to all of us, for surviving!'

Everyone cheers in agreement and downs their shot. You quicker than the rest before anyone, especially Eddie who hovers beside you, can notice its content. But he's too far gone to have ever spotted it, which he proves as he brashly clatters his rings against a class to get everyone's attention.

'Hey! Hey, Stevie s'not the only one who can make speech!' He slurs.

'Debatable,' Max smirks earning a prod from Steve and a snicker from Robin.

'Tsch be nice to your father, Red. He s'on his own now,' Eddie scolds.

The group chuckles and Steve shakes his head, face buried into his palms.

'How much have you drank, Eddie?' Dustin gawps and his swaying idol.

'Shhh secret, Dustybuns! S'okay, sweetheart lookin after me,' he grins goofily as he wraps an arm around your shoulder affectionately but also to keep himself upright.

'Anyway! Stop int... interruptin me. You lil dinguses gotta take in my wisdom whilst 'm still here! So I just wanna say... love you guys. Even when I'm up there accepting my awards, I'll still remember you. 'Specially sweetheart here. Keepin' me alive, huh? What am I gonna do without ya?'

The group look between each other, baffled as they watch Eddie paw at your face like a cat. Steve scowls, anxious as to what this is doing for you.

'Aaand on that note, let's call it a night,' Nancy claps, ready to rally the troops.

'Steve, we going half and half on the kids?'

Steve nods half heartedly, eyes still watching you and Eddie carefully.

'Okay, now Y/N, what about you? And Eddie? Need a lift?' She asks as she divvies up the kids between them.

'Noooo, she s'comin home with me,' Eddie whines before pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

Nancy and Robin raise an eyebrow.

'Are you sure?' Robin presses you. You laugh it off.

'Yes, honestly guys it's fine. We live in the same place anyway and I've not really drank anything. I can drive. It'll just take everyone out of their way!'

The answer satisfies the girls and everyone begins their goodbyes. Before they all file out the door, Steve pulls you aside. That hand of support clutching yours once again.

'You'll be okay?' He whispers, 'be careful. If anything is wrong, just call me okay? Don't just lie their being sad-'

Steve is cut off as Eddie drags you out of his touch. Flapping his hand in Steve's face to shoo him.

'Get off my lady, Harrington!' Eddie garbles, making you blush and your stomach swirl. Drunk Eddie is not good for your already aching heart. Steve sighs, giving up and waving goodbye. It's just you and Eddie now.

Instantly, Eddie is draping himself over you. His eyes focused on a strand your hair he twirls round his fingers.

'Finally!! Thought they'd never leave us alone, sweets.'

'Think it's time we got you home, huh, Teddy?' You chuckle, cheeks red at the implication.

'S'cute when you call me that...'

You just smile and nod, trying to drag him to the car. Buckling him in as if he were a child, unable to himself as he continues to fidget with any part of you he can get touch.

The journey home was surprisingly quiet. Eddie's head resting against the window, watching the dark blur of what will now become his former hometown. It's only the sound of your voice that stirs him once you pull up outside the pool house.

'Okay, here we are, Eds! Home sweet home,' you pat his knee. He looks between out the window then back at you with a big scowl on his face.

'S'not home.'

Your heart sinks. You suppose it's not home anymore, California will be. Or maybe he means the trailer?

'Urm, well where else are you going to sleep then, hey?' You try to mask your sadness.

Eddie groans. Inside he's frustrated by your cluelessness and his inability to spit out his true feelings. Why is she being so silly, he thinks, this is not his home, you are his home.

'Your room! Sleepover,' he bats his long lashes at you and paws at you pleadingly. It makes your insides jelly. It's our final night together, you sigh internally, what harm could it do?

The second your bedroom door is open, Eddie is stumbling through and flopping back onto the bed. Tight tee riding up revealing his belly button, tattooed hip and a trail of hair that is so cruelly tempting. You idiot, you scold yourself. Leaving Eddie to lie there you go and change into the pyjamas then sit at your vanity to remove your make up. You're oblivious to how Eddie has sat bolt upright to watch you, entirely enchanted at the sight of your mid-routine.

'You looked real pretty tonight,' he whispers but it's loud enough for you to catch. Your cheeks redden, helpfully disguised by the swipes of cotton wool.

'You look pretty too, Teddy,' you chuckle. He blinks, baffled.

'Really?' He almost gasps.

'Of course,' you laugh, ruffling his curls as you get up and walk past. He leans into the touch and huffs quietly when it ends all too soon. You come back and stand before him at the edge of the bed,

'You always look pretty.'

Eddie wants to swoon but stops when he notices what you're wearing. You're stood before him in a t-shirt he always wondered if you still had. One he sent you home him on that night. He can't help himself as he reaches out, fingers skimming over them hem and accidentally making contact with the exposed thigh. Goosebumps instantly prickle up his arm and across your thighs but neither of you notice the others reaction.

'You always look pretty too, Y/N. 'Specially in that shirt...' his voice is the quietest it's been all night.

'O-oh yeah, I'm sorry. You can have it back! It's just really comfortable! I've no idea where it came from bu-'

Eddie cuts your rambling off by tugging you forward, causing you to fall on top of him. Faces hovering over each other, your hair acting as a curtain, hiding the rest of the world. Both of your breathing slows. The drunken hormones raging through Eddie are screaming. Before he can stop himself, his fingers are reaching out. Calloused tip gliding down the slope of your nose, over your cupids bow, hesitating over your lips. Both of you stare at each other wide eyed, unsure as to where this is going. Quickly, Eddie catches himself. He retracts his fingers from your plush lips and brings them back to boop the tip of your nose. The absurdity breaking the tension.

'Honk!' He grins.

You can't tell if you're disappointed or relieved.

'S'not a problem sweetheart, won't make ya take it off. 'Nless you wanna,' he teases, brows wiggling.

You give him a shove as you pull yourself back onto your feet and out of the compromising position.

'Edward Munson, you are wasted.'

He looks back up at you with hazy puppy dog eyes.

'I know. Can't move. You'll have t'undress me for bedtime,' he sighs with a smirk. Raising his arms up as a hint for you to get started. You gulp. Countless time you've seen him shirtless but you've never literally undressed him. Plus, you know him too well and know you just have to go with it when he's in these kind of moods. Trying desperately not to turn beet red, you attempt the task at hand. Tugging the hem of his shirt up carefully, gradually revealing his soft stomach, then chest, then shoulders. Perfect porcelain, dotted with ink and shiny healed scars and then of course, that god forsaken trail of hair. Your eyes linger far too long, trying to memorise this moment before it disappears.

'Trousers too,' Eddie chirps. Reclining back and thrusting his hips up. It's like the universe is trying to torture you.

'Eddie...' you murmur, mortified, 'you can do them yourself.'

'Can't, sweets,' he shakes his head defiantly, 'hands not working, see!'

He dramatically attempts and fails to use his hands to undo his belt; flopping them around as if they were jello.

'Sure you're meant to be a rockstar? I think you'd make a better clown...'

He prods you with his socked toes then but his smile is beaming. Sighing you begin to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's eyes are wide, throat tight and brain malfunctioning as he watches something he'd only fantasised about. Why did I talk her into this, he yells at himself, this is dangerous. He watches as your fingers nimbly undo his button, then the zip, then you take the top of them and begin to slide the denim away. Your soft touch brushing against his hip bones, then his thighs, exposing his boxers, exposing himself. Thank fuck they don't have holes in, he thanks his earlier sober self.

Your heart is in your throat seeing Eddie there reclined on your bed in nothing but underwear. You've seen him like this before but usually in glimpses as he walks between the bathroom and bedroom. Now he's entirely on display and it's torturous. You're barely allowed to look never mind touch. Praying he's too wasted to realise how your eyes flicker too the outline of his...

'Okay!' You clap, 'it's bedtime for you, Mr! Big day tomorrow!'

Eddie groans like a petulant child, 'don't wanna!'

You scoff as you tug at the duvet for him to move so you can get under.

'Don't wanna what? Go and live it up in California? Go and be a superstar?'

With his back turned to you as he swings to get off the bed, you can't see the empty look in his eyes. The sadness that sweeps the earlier joking off his face.

'No, s'just... don't wanna leave you.'

You fix your gaze at the ceiling as you lie there, not daring to look him although he's doing the same. Looking anywhere but at you as he climbs into bed.

'Oh... well... Eds, you ha-'

Your forget what you were going to say as Eddie turns over and drapes himself over your lying frame. Arm slung over you and his face buried into your abdomen. You're frozen, praying that now isn't the moment the baby decides to move or somehow he hears it inside you.

'I only just got you back,' he mumbles into the worn fabric of your shirt.

Any potential of him hearing the baby, the baby was now drowned out by the hammering of your heart. You're unsure of what to say or do other than stroke his tangled curls soothingly.

'You'll always have me,' you whisper back. It pains you how true the sentiment is, you would always be there. Waiting for him like the moon to his earth, functionless without him, permanently in his orbit.

The warmth radiating from you envelopes Eddie. The softness of the skin on your arm that he strokes and of the warn t-shirt of his you wear. No one has brought him comfort like this since his Mom. Nothing can touch him when he's in your embrace. If being in your arms was all he ever did, it was a life well lived. But that can't happen, you aren't his.

'S'not enough...' he croaks groggily.

Having you always but just as a friend isn't enough, is what he means. But he's too scared to ever admit that fully and too heavy with booze and sleep to explain anyway.

'What do you mean?' Your heart sinks.

What's not enough? Am I not enough? I already know, it's why I have to let you leave. Yet you realise your questions will remain unanswered as soft snores begin to drift from Eddie's lips. Snuggled into you, he falls into rhythmic breathing, his hand having moved from your arm, now resting on your stomach. It's the closest you'll ever get to having him feel your bump, you realise. You stay there, eyes fluttering shut as you stroke his hair in time with his breathing. It feels natural, regardless of the heartbreak, you feel at peace with him like this.

And maybe the baby feels that, feels how truly comfortable you are. Or, maybe, it's the sensation of being enveloped by Eddie; his warmth covering your bump. But as you drift asleep, the baby wiggles and kicks under his touch as if they too feel connected to Eddie.

Sometime later, at an ungodly hour, Gran wakes up. Making her way across the landing to your room to make sure you were safe and home. A quiet gasp escapes her once she opens the door ajar. There you lie on your bed, Eddie curled round you, as if guarding the bump he's oblivious too. It looks picture perfect, like a scene that was meant to be. As if her best friend, Eva Munson, was still alive and standing beside her, Gran can hear her smug laugh.

'I told you so,' Eva would be gloating, 'I said we'll really be family one day, Ruby.'

If only it had worked out so simple, Gran thinks with a woeful smile, maybe one day.

What was that deja vu? Is there something you don't remember... read the new prequel to find out

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