#toddler!wheezie

[princessbrunette]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

woke up thinking about big brother rafe, toddler!wheezie, and babysitter!reader again …

rafe getting jealous when he finds out you babysit other kids. he follows you about the kitchen at tannyhill as you prepare the toddlers lunch, smiling to yourself at his clear jealousy over something so trivial.

“so that’s why you can’t watch wheezie on sunday? who— who’s kid is it? like, who’s the parent?”

“thats confidential information rafe, i’m here every other day this week why does it matter?” you giggle, slicing up baby carrots to fit a toddler sized mouth.

he leans against the countertop, pressing his lips together and lets a silence fall over you for not even a minute. “wheeze is your favourite though right?”

you turn around with an amused smile, holding back your laugh at his pettiness. “what?”

“shes your favourite, right?” he stares at you, dead serious and you lean on one hip.

“of course she is. i’m here the most, aren’t i?”

“right, right… this kid you’re babysitting on sunday, they got any older brothers?”

“rafe, c’mon.” you giggle, a little flustered but you turn back to the counter to continue preparing the food to hide this.

“look, i— i’m just lookin’ out for you, alright? what if you go over there n’there’s some creep waiting for you?” he stresses and you shake your head, warmth blossoming in your chest.

later that day — the three of you head out on rafes boat, and for a little while, out on the open water, rafe drops the big bad bully act and lets his guard down. you watch as he holds his little sister on his hip, steering the boat with the other hand. you can’t hear what he’s saying, but the two of them are giggling. it’s the first time you really see rafe fill the ‘dad’ shoes, and it makes you wonder what it would be like to have your own baby with him. the idea makes your stomach warm and heart flutter.

within the next week or so, you end up at the same party as rafe on one of your free days. it’s the first time you’ve really hung out in a social setting appropriate for people your age, and it feels almost a little weird and awkward at first. as the night goes on and the drinks flow, things get more flirty. he had a super bad day, but with you here — things felt a little better.

rafe steps away to speak to topper for a few minutes, and in that time a total creep comes out of seemingly nowhere and begins to bother you. he talks too close to your face, starts to grab at you, doesn’t take no for an answer— you’re starting to think that you can’t actually escape this, until of course, rafe comes swinging out of nowhere.

but it’s not just a one punch and he’s done, no — rafe beats him bloody, the anger issues and coke and bad day piling up on him as he continuously beats on this guy. maybe he deserves it, sure — but when the guy stops responding and rafe continues to punch and yell, panic settles in your stomach. this guy might just die.

the crowd do nothing to discourage him, drunk and cheering him on as they circle round to watch, one hundred witnesses from every angle. you call his name, but you get ignored. he grips the guys collar, malicious open mouthed grin on his face as he holds him for a moment, looking at his masterpiece.

“rafe you’re gonna kill him!” you shout, trying to be heard over the cheering. he definitely hears, because he glances up at you— the look on his face reading that he just didn’t care. “its not worth it you’ll go to jail!” you feel tears in your eyes at the thought of him not being in the house with you and wheezie anymore. wheezie.

he lifts his fist to strike a final blow, and you holler out once more. “think of wheezie!”

it’s then he freezes, blinks a couple of times — and then just like that he looks around at the scene he’s caused and shoves off onto his feet, walking away. he walks away from the party, infact — he walks all the way home.

maybe he should keep his relationship with you professional, he could have been locked up for life that night. love makes you do crazy things.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[impulsivemuses]

Zak and Wheeize do you two still have the separate stones that separate you two from each other incase and if you two were having a bad day and don't want to speak to each other until both of you calm down?

"We.... kind of agreed to never do that again... even if we WERE having a bad day. Zakkie and me are too scared of hurting other people if we stay away from each other too long." Wheezie's memory of the incident of the bouncy trampoline still plagued her mind of her friends getting hurt because she wanted TOO much fun and not the right amount of safety that Zak just KNEW how to keep. It taught her a lesson that they were meant to be together to work together better. That's why they had their 'separation' cones. Zak specifically kept it in his pouch at all times in case Wheezie or Zak got on one anothers nerves.

"We messed with things we didn't understand, and we learned that. Separation stones are scary magic. I made things bad and so did Wheezie." Zak reaches into his pouch from his tummy, rummaging for a moment and then pulls out a simple paper cone with the words "alone" on it. "My alone cone is enough and I'm okay with that." Zak would stuff the cone back into his tummy and smiled softly.

"Besides, I never stay too mad at Wheezie for long. She's my sister. I wouldn't ever want to be away from her just because she made me mad or something. Wheezie would do the same."

"Yep! Zakkie is the bestest brother I could ask for! That's why our dragon badges don't activate either when we're away, meaning we couldn't do magic as good!" She giggles. "Magic is an important tool! That's what Quetzal tells us."

[erwinsvow]

part two of rafe and shy reader! inspired by my lovely 💓 anon

rafe didn’t like it in the beginning. when he first met you, he thought it’d be a conquest, from the way you couldn’t even meet his eyes or would flush at anything he said. he always knew he wanted an obedient girl but you were something else entirely—painfully shy, skittish with any movement from him, eager to please. he thinks he could backhand you and you would apologize to him.

he drove you home from tannyhill, and on the drive back, he decided that you were going to be his.

you didn’t have any say in the matter. rafe told you that he would see you tomorrow, and you believed him instantly, not even stopping to question anything. the stories sarah and your other friends have told you through the past months circle through your mind—most of them involving drugs and violence. it seems so odd, because you would never suspect anything with the sweet way rafe treated you when he drove you home, reassuring you when you were crying, promising to try to not scare you again.

you come to the consensus that it’s always better to play it safe than sorry—you like the idea of being with rafe, but you can’t get involved in his life. it’ll be too much for you, and since you can hardly handle watching a horror movie, you know this is for the best.

rafe said he would see you tomorrow, so you try as hard as you can to make sure it doesn’t happen.

“are you coming over today? pool again?” sarah asks on the phone, and you lamely cough.

“not today, not feeling good. next time!”

she’s disappointed, but you think she’ll be even more disappointed if she finds out her brother wants to see you again. you think you’ve dodged a bullet, until your parents drag you to dinner on the beach. wearing your usual dress and a sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled up to cover your hair, you go with them, looking around and putting your sunglasses on to hide your face at the crowded restaurant.

you make it through most of dinner, but when you finally pull your sunglasses off to find the bathroom, you see him. rafe’s at the bar with his friends, amber liquid sloshing around in a cup in his hand. you freeze, and you think he’s seen you, so you turn around and head back to your table. you squish in between your parents and duck your head when anyone walks by, earning questioning looks from them. you finally get out thirty minutes later, sprinting past the bar with the keys in your hand to get back safely to the car.

rafe thought you would be a conquest, just not this kind. he thought he’d have a hell of a time coaxing out the shyness from you, spoiling and pampering his way into your heart until he was nestled in there forever, just like he had decided, but you were a different kind of challenge.

you stop coming to tannyhill, when you used to be there more often than he was. your pool days with sarah are replaced with trips to the beach, done at alternating times. if you even suspect one of the trucks pulling up is his, you take off in the other direction or run into the water. sarah’s confused, and you don’t feel like enlightening her.

“what are you doing? do you have a stalker that i don’t know about?”

“no,” you say, craning your neck to look behind her, making sure rafe isn’t there. “i’m just… getting my steps in. yes. that’s why i keep running off.” 

the shops that you often frequent, mostly just to window shop but every once in a while you’ll splurge and get yourself something new and pretty, are abandoned for online shopping. the bars that rafe frequents is just up the street, and you usually go alone, something you definitely can’t risk since the last time.

you had a new pair of sandals resting in your shopping bag, swinging from your arm as you stood outside the next shop’s window, staring at the mannequin’s outfit. lost in thought, you wonder how the outfit would look on you with your new shoes.

“hey, kid!” you hear from down the street. you turn your head quickly at the sound, because there’s only one boy in town who has ever called you that nickname. you see rafe a little further down, fast approaching. your eyes go wide. there’s only a few cars driving, so you take your chance with the next one and dart across the street, running down and then away. you worry about what will happen if rafe finds you with no one around—that you won’t be able to resist giving in despite knowing better.

when you get back to your car, you drive straight home. it’s only when you pull into your drive way and are about to get out that you notice the open shoe-box inside your bag. one sandal remained, and the other must have fallen on the street while you were escaping rafe.

even your nightly ice cream trips, your most sacred summertime ritual, had been disrupted by trying to avoid rafe. the ice cream place you and sarah loved was the one near tannyhill, so you had stopped going there in favor of the one closer to your own house, thinking that would help reduce your odds of seeing rafe. 

you had forgotten one small thing—the ice cream shop near your house was the one wheezie liked best. and there was always one person bringing her to get ice cream.

“can i get a medium, no, large peanut butter chocolate fudge? with hot fudge and peanuts?” the teenager behind the counter gives you an odd look, and you fight the urge to explain yourself. you pay and step aside, waiting for your ice cream, before someone behind you speaks up.

“what, you eatin’ your feelings, kid?” 

your body freezes, eyes wide, shoulders tensing up. you turn to see rafe and wheezie behind you, the little girl waving hi up at you. rafe’s laughing a little, but his smile disappears when you dart out of the door, running back to your car and pulling out. 

“rafe, she forgot her ice cream,” wheezie observes, as the girl behind the counter yells after you.

“yeah, i know, wheeze.”

you think you can make it through to the point where rafe stops caring, though it’s getting harder and harder to avoid him. after so many close calls, you make a point to stay at home, electing to sunbathe in your backyard instead of the beach.

it’s the perfect set up—lawn chair on the green grass, a cup of lemonade and your water resting next to you, your book in your hand, blocking the sun from your face while your body gets all the rays. with your headphones blasting your music—bryson tiller today—you don’t hear anything, not the birds chirping or the sound of a truck pulling up, the lock on your back fence unlatching or the footsteps getting closer.

it’s not until you set your book aside to take a sip of your drink, staring up at the sky before lifting the book open again, that rafe’s head pops into your eye-line, looming over you. 

“oh my god,” you jump up, startled. your book falls onto the grass. you yank off your headphones, setting it on the lawn chair while you look up, hoping what, or rather who, you just saw was a figment of your imagination. 

he’s not. 

you stare up at rafe, and then look behind him towards your fence, wondering how far you could get with no shoes and just a bikini.

“don’t even think about it,” he says, taking a step to cover the fence from your vision. “you know i’ll just catch you. can’t outrun me.” you flush, hands feeling clammy.

“i wasn’t gonna run.”

“yeah, right. like i believe that after the crap you’ve been pullin’ for the last week.”

“what crap? i didn’t do any crap.” 

he laughs, but you know he’s being serious. rafe crouches on the grass, at eye level with you now while you sit on the lawn chair. his eyes rake over your skin. you’re wearing the same blue bikini he saw you in when he drove you home, reading what can only be the next book in your series.

“get serious. why are you runnin’?” you feel your eyes get watery, instinctually.

“you said you wanted to see me the next day. and i’ve heard bad things. and i got scared.”

“bad things? ‘bout me? from who?” 

“i…i-”

“from who?” he repeats, and you get the sense that rafe doesn’t like repeating himself. words starting spilling from your mouth as a few tears escape. you don’t know why you’re crying, you never do.

“n-no one, i just, i know that you sell, um, drugs and that you get into fights. and you always have a new girl with you. and, and sarah said that sometimes you’re mean. and, um, well i’m pretty sensitive so, i just thought maybe this isn’t a good idea.” rafe nods, taking in your words. his hand comes up to wipe your tears away.

“and why didn’t you jus’ tell me that, hm?”

“because i knew if you got me alone i’d give in right away.”

“what’s so wrong with givin’ in?”

you look up at rafe, mind thinking a million thoughts, running through all the possibilities of what you were getting involved in, what could go wrong, what everyone would think. your head starts to hurt.

“stop thinkin’ so hard about it. you’ll hurt yourself,” rafe says, and your shoulders relax on their own at his words. you comply right away, falling into a hazy headspace.

“okay,” you agree, nodding. 

“what’re you worried about, huh? i’d never hurt you. all this time you’ve been over at tannyhill, have i ever been mean? didn’t i even apologize last time?” you keep nodding, taking in his words now, trying to fully understand the meaning behind them. 

he’s right—of course he’s right. he’s never once done anything to make you think he’s like what the others have been saying. you suddenly can’t remember what you were so concerned about. rafe’s words seem to reassure you immediately, and you think there would be nothing better than having him tell you what to do everyday.

“but if you think this—us—is a bad idea, i’ll leave now. i’ll stop botherin’ you.” he gets up, but you get up quickly too, catching his arm before he can turn.

“no! no, don’t go. you’re right. i-i was being stupid. i wanna see you tomorrow. i wanna see you everyday.”

“not stupid, kid,” he says, running a hand down your hair, holding you tight and close. you’re suddenly really aware of how thin and tiny your bikini is, how warm rafe’s body is, how butterflies are floating in your stomach and brain and pussy. “just need to stop thinking about what everyone else says. don’t worry. we’ll work on it.” 

you nod in agreement again, melting into rafe while he leans in to kiss you, hard and sweet.. you don’t know how long the two of you stand like that, only that he pulls away when you start moaning into his mouth, strings of spit connected between you two and your lips red. 

“get your shit, c’mon. takin’ you home with me. got your other shoe in the truck.”

[urmum-lovesme]

toxic!dad!rafe acting guilty and sweet around reader while she takes care of his kids because he acted her soo bad yesterday:( maybe hit her, maybe telling her reallyy bad things and she got hurt

This is so good wtf I love this idea it's lowkey fucked me up tho 😔

The morning was quiet, save for the soft tune of a lullaby Y/N absentmindedly hummed under her breath. She sat on the floor of the living room, legs folded beneath her, while her daughter sat in front of her, small and fidgety as Y/N carefully braided her soft curls. The little girl giggled every time her mothers fingers tickled the back of her neck, her chubby hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly.

“Almost done, baby”

She murmured, gently smoothing her daughter’s hair before looping the final section of the braid. Her reflection in the door leading out to the garden, it caught her off guard. The faintest streak of red where Rafe’s signet ring had nicked her skin. The light swelling of her cheek, just enough to make her wince when she thought too hard about what had happened. Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the memory away but the calm didnt last for long.

She felt him before she saw him.

Rafe’s presence lingered in the doorway, heavy and suffocating. She knew he was watching- had probably been watching for a while now. Still, she didn’t acknowledge him, she just kept braiding. Rafe cleared his throat.

“I, uh- made you that tea y'like...”

Y/N didn’t respond. He shifted on his feet as he looked down to the little girl sitting. He muttered, nodding toward their daughter’s hair.

“Looks nice”

Y/N tied off the braid with a small elastic as she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before nudging her forward.

“Go show your bunny baby”

The toddler wobbled off, giggling as she held the braid over her shoulder, showing it off to her stuffed animal like it was the best thing in the world. Y/N took a breath, exhaling slowly, then pushed herself off the floor. She barely got a step away before Rafe moved, cutting her off.

“Y/N…”

His voice was softer now. Careful. Like he knew he was treading dangerous ground. She felt his fingers barely graze her arm, his touch feather-light as they trailed down- over the bruise he left on her wrist, over the soreness beneath her skin. But then he stopped.

Right at her cheek.

The pad of his thumb brushed over the small cut, and she flinched causing him to pull away immediately. She turned to him then, finally looking at him. The guilt was evident in his face, but she said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t waver. His jaw clenched slightly, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Not in anger- just restraint.

“I just... fuck Y/N, I don’t wanna fight—”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, quiet and humorless. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, letting out a sigh as his head nodded a little.

“I know.”

She shook her head, turning away from him, her eyes landing on their daughter who now sat near her play pen, enamoured with some pink blocks wheezie had bought her.

“What were you even so angry about, Rafe? What was so fucking bad that you had to hit me?”

He paused at her words, yet her voice wasn’t yelling. It wasn’t even angry anymore. That made it worse.

“I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“I don’t know.”

He did know.

It had started over something stupid. He had been out late- again. She had called him- again, multiple times, like she did every night. And when he finally came home, she had been pissed—rightfully so. Their argument had escalated soon after that;

"You can’t just disappear all night, Rafe."

Her voice was irritated but careful- not because she wasn’t angry, but because she knew better than to raise it in the house when everyone was asleep. Knew that if anyone overheard, it would just give him another reason to twist things around, to make her seem like the problem starter.

"I was handling business."

Rafe’s voice was humerously calm, but it wasn’t apologetic. It was clipped, defensive, like he was already prepared for a fight. Like he had expected this reaction from her. Y/N scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh, right. ‘Business.’ That’s what we’re calling it now?"

That got his attention. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark crossing his face as he took a slow step closer. He muttered out, voice sharp and dangerously low.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, jesus Rafe. You're a dad now—you can't do this shit anymore."

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. Her arms tightened around herself, her voice cracking just slightly before she forced it steady again.

"You can’t be out all night doing God knows what and then just waltz back in like nothing happened."

"I just told you, I was handling shit."

He exhaled harshly through his nose, running a hand over his face. She shook her head as she looked at him, her hands were shaking from the fact she was arguing with him in the first place but she couldn't stop herself anymore.

"Handling what?"

She shot back, her voice strained but still hushed. She was tired- exhausted even. She'd been looking after their baby girl all by herself, days and nights, and she'd had enough. She was miserable and that's not what she wanted to be

"Whatever bullshit mess you got yourself into again? Do you even think about her? Do you care you've left me by my—"

"Of course I care." His jaw tensed, his entire body wound tight like a spring.

"Don’t fucking act like I don’t care."

He snapped at her and she took a step back, shaking her head, the lump in her throat growing.

"Well you don’t act like it."

She let the words hang between them for a second, watching his expression shift, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. She was so sick of his shit, she just wanted to scream at him, but she didn't- she couldnt. Yet before she could stop herself the words fell from her mouth,

"You're just like him, you know that?"

His entire body went rigid as the sentense passed her lips, and he instantly tured around to face her.

"What?"

Her throat felt tight, but she didn’t back down. "You're just like your dad." she whispered.

"Someone who pretends to care about his family but in reality—"

The slap came fast.

A sharp, stinging pain shot through her cheek, her head whipping to the side as she gasped. His signet ring sliced against her skin, the warmth of blood rising in its place almost instantly.

Silence

She barely registered the sound of her breath hitching, or the way her vision blurred for a second before sharpening on the floor. Everything felt muted, heavy. Her cheek burned and her ears rang, the sound reverberating. Rafe was just standing there, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell quickly, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides at the burn in his palm. His eyes weren’t on hers. No, they were fixated on the mark he had just left, on the crimson dot blooming just below her cheekbone. And then, his voice—low but edged with something unsettling.

"Don't ever fucking say that to me."

Her eyes were now unreadable, dark with exhaustion and something heavier. He hadn’t seen her cry last night. Not in front of him. Not after she had staggered back from the slap, a thin line of red appearing beneath her cheekbone where his ring had nicked her skin. She had just gone quiet and that had fucked with him more than anything.

“I just wanna make it up to you.”

Rafe said now, voice barely above a whisper. Y/N blinked, eyes burning as she mumbled out in return.

“I don't know...”

She stood there, breathing him in- his presence, his guilt, his need to smooth things over like last night never happened. Her cheek still stung faintly, the cut from his ring a sharp reminder of how far he’d taken it. And yet, Rafe was standing there, looking at her like he was the one hurting. Like he was suffering under the weight of his own actions. Her lips parted, words barely forming before she was cut off-

“Dada!”

Their daughter’s voice broke through the thick tension, her small feet pattering against the hardwood as she toddled toward them. She latched onto Rafe’s trousers with both hands, tugging insistently.

“Up!”

She demanded, eyes big and expectant. Y/N’s stomach twisted the moment Rafe bent down without hesitation, scooping their little girl into his arms with ease. His large hand supporying her small frame, letting her rest against him.

“Forgive me, please”

He murmured again, but this time, his voice was softer, edged with something sweeter. Y/N swallowed, throat tightening.

She knew what he was doing.

He knew she wouldn’t start a fight with him while their daughter was in his arms. He knew she wouldn’t reject him, not with their little girl looking between them, not with her small hands resting against his chest, oblivious to the storm simmering beneath the surface of her parents relationship. Rafe studied her carefully, watching the way her expression shifted- conflicted, torn. His grip on their daughter tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder of what was between them, what they shared.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered.

“Let me fix this.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her gaze flickering to their daughter. She was sucking her thumb now, head resting lazily on Rafe’s shoulder, so blissfully unaware. She clenched her jaw, blinking rapidly at the water pooling on her waterline, lips pressing together into a thin line. And then- their daughter, still nestled in Rafe’s arms- turned her head slightly, her little eyes locking onto Y/N’s. The small hand that had been contently resting against Rafe’s chest now reached out towards her, fingers wiggling with in a grabbing motion.

An unspoken demand for her to come closer.

Y/N’s chest tightened. The sight of their daughter’s small, innocent gesture, that soft yearning for her mother, cracked through her resolve. She had no words, just the flutter in her chest with caused her breath to hitch.

“Okay”

Y/N whispered, so quietly it could’ve been mistaken for a breath. Rafe’s eyes softened, a glint of triumph flashing briefly before he stepped forward, a slow, deliberate smile tugging at his lips. Before Y/N could fully process the shift, Rafe closed the space between them, pulling her closer and capturing her lips in a kiss.

It was slow.

Sweet.

The kind that carried an underlying ache, as though they both knew that they were only putting a temporary bandage over something far more complicated. But in that moment, Y/N didn’t pull away, she couldn't bring herself to. Instead she let him kiss her and let herself fall back into the illusion of peace.

this lowkey made me want to sob. . . ?

[captain-huggy-bear]

In Sickness and in Health

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talks of sickness and the grossness of it

Summary: You've convinced yourself that you're not actually that ill, mostly because setting cover for your lessons is more trouble than its worth. Quinn is having none of it.

Notes: I have a chest infection and convinced myself that I was making it up and it wasn't that bad, apparently it is. So I figured Quinn is the voice of reason that I need in my life.

Thank you for the 400 followers as well! Very much appreciated :D

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Quinn's watching you like a hawk from the doorway to the living area, you're bundled up on the couch with at least 3 blankets (far too many for how warm the apartment is), tissues piled high in a bin next to you as you wheeze into another. You've opted for your most comfortable clothes in an effort to make yourself feel better as you cough and cough and cough some more. Your cough is harsh and can only be described as hacking, for someone who has never smoked a day in her life you sound like you've smoked 20 packs a day for 50 years. Your chest crackling and rattling, wheezing in a way that sounds unnatural and decidedly unhealthy.

He hates it, hates that every single night for the past few weeks you've been awake in the night, coughing so hard you make yourself throw up violently, head hanging over the toilet bowel, his hands coming to hold your hair out of the way. He hates that you've taken to sleeping on the couch in an effort not to disturb him, worried about his sleep schedule even though he can hear you through the walls and would feel better if you were beside him in the night. He hates that you've been going into school, teaching while struggling to breathe simply because you feel guilty about taking a day off, about the extra work for others and because somehow you've convinced yourself that 'its not that bad'. He hates that he can't snap his fingers and make you better. He hates seeing you sick, worse still seeing you sick and not properly looking after yourself. Worse still feeling powerless to help.

His eyes narrow this time as you cough so hard you bend in two, whimpering as your body tries to expel phlegm from your chest and fails. Only succeeding in causing your chest to hurt even more and for you to taste blood in the back of your throat. You're practically shivering from discomfort and he decides he can't take it anymore. He's fed up of being the nice boyfriend that lets you hurt yourself further because you're feeling guilty and deluded. Because you're being a bit of a brat, a stubborn arse. A stubborn arse he loves, but a stubborn arse anyway.

"That's it. I'm taking you to the doctors." He's already reaching for your coat by the door, and bending down to pick up your shoes. Even as your head turns to him slowly, eyes half-open and fatigued, mouth opening in protest.

"I'm fin-" You're cut off by your own cough, wheezy and rattling, the sort that is definitely not 'fine', "I'm fine, it's just a cough. It's nothing, it'll go soon..." You've been saying this for 2 weeks and it's less reassuring and believable at the near 3 week mark.

"You've been up every night for 2 weeks. I'm taking you to the doctors." It's a Saturday morning and he knows the walk in clinic is open, he also knows he won't get you to agree to go on a school day. This is his best chance and Quinn's decided, as he looks at the pallor of your skin and the limpness of your body, that you're going even if he has to carry you out to his car. Even if he has to drag you kicking and scream like a naughty toddler. Even if he has pictures all over the internet and headlines exclaiming 'Canuck's Captain, Bully of a Boyfriend?'. If it means you'll get better he'll take all the press, all the stares, all the heat.

"I'm not even that sic-" Once again, your cough interrupts you and this time, Quinn cuts in before you can continue. He's crouching in front of you, your shoes placed beside your feet in their snoopy socks.

"Baby, you might have gas lit yourself into believing that, but I know better. I'm taking you to the doctors, we're going to get you some meds. That's final." Quinn treats you like a princess, always has, and sure he usually takes a more dominate and traditional role in the relationship. But, it's rare for him to lay down the law, for him to outright remove your choice. Mostly, because you usually make the wise one anyway...today, you seem determined to put your health at risk and if that means he has to force you to do something you'd rather not? Well, the captain in him will come out to play and nice boyfriend Quinn will go take the bench. Nice isn't going to keep you healthy. Letting you get your way isn't going to make you better.

"Quinn..." Even the way you say his name is wheezy and it hurts, it hurts your chest to breathe, to speak. A sort of dull ache, a discomfort that deep down you know isn't normal...even as you try to push through.

"Shoes on. Now." His voice is sharp, not unkind, but firm. It's an order, not a request. A voice he rarely uses with you. Quinn only uses it under 2 scenarios: 1) You're putting yourself at risk and he's sorting it out or 2) it's an agreed role choice for your bedroom. He'd rather not have to use it for the first reason, but you're not really leaving him any choice.

"Bu-"

"Shoes, baby." He softens the tone, pulling back a little on the captain voice even as he grabs your right foot and forces you to put your first shoe on. You seem to give in, letting him help you into your shoes, tying them so they're supportive and comfortable.

He stands, reaching for your hands to pull you to your feet, holding onto your arms as you sway, lightheaded and dizzy at the upward movement. It takes longer than he would like for you to recover and it settles Quinn's mind even firmer on the course of action he's taking, helping you into your coat before leading you out of the apartment.

It's slow going, you're dizzy and short of breath and each step seems to take you even longer than normal. But, he's just happy to get you to his car, knowing that the next step is the triage walk-in centre 15 minute away.

You practically slump in the passenger seat, curling towards the door, blinking as the streets pass by. You have to admit, even if not audibly, that Quinn's right. This isn't just a cough, you feel like death warmed over and you know there's something not quite right. Even if you're loath to admit it. Even your students had picked up on how ill you were this week, being extra nice for once and not forcing you to yell at them like they knew you physically couldn't raise your voice even if you wanted to (which you didn't). Even the two boys you'd asked to stay behind to talk to about their behaviour had been patient when you'd had a coughing fit, unable to address their poor behaviour for a good minute.

When you finally arrive at the medical centre, he's very tempted to carry you inside, but you just about accept his arm as he helps you to the door and to the front desk. He takes over, describing your symptoms to the receptionist as you wheeze beside him, pressing your face into his arm as you seek some sort of comfort and you don't stop when you sit in the tiny uncomfortable seats waiting for your turn to see a nurse. Seeking his body for comfort, Quinn runs his fingers through the ends of your hair, occasionally rubbing the nape of your neck. He hates the way you whine into him, like everything is wrong with the world. He hates that he can't immediately fix how you're feeling.

It takes longer than Quinn would like for your name to be called, in the time it takes you're so tired from the outing that you're almost falling asleep on him. Your breathing is shallow and laboured as you wheeze in and out. All he can do is offer comfort and support, even as he forces you to stand once again and make the walk to the nurse's examination room.

You struggle through describing your symptoms, Quinn jumping in when he feels you're underplaying them or have missed something out. The nurse takes your blood oxygen levels, tutting as she does, and gets up to listen to your chest.

"I know what I'm going to hear already, but let's have a listen." The stethoscope is cold as she lifts the back of your shirt and slips it against your skin. You try to breathe in and out as normal as she moves from each section of your back, the top down to the bottom, left to right.

"Just as I thought, very crackly in the bottom left of your lungs...you've got a pretty nasty chest infection, lovely." She gestures for you to take a seat and you ignore the look Quinn gives you from the corner of your eye, the sort that screams 'I told you so.'

"Right, I'm going to prescribe you a course steroids and a course of antibiotics. You need to take 8 of the steroids in the morning for 4 days, just take the first dose the moment you get home today. The antibiotics you need to take for 5 days, 2 today and then 1 a day for the remaining 4, okay?"

You nod at her instructions, not feeling much like talking. You know Quinn is mentally cataloguing each instruction so that he can make sure you take your medication right and fully. A relief because you're so tired you're not sure you'd remember right now.

She prints out your prescription and hands it to you, which you promptly hand to Quinn, who holds it tight like he's scared it'll blow away in the windless room.

You both thank her as you leave and Quinn insists on going straight to the pharmacy next door and putting your prescription in. It takes longer than he wants, 20 minutes before you have your meds in hand and he's ushering you back to the car and strapping you in because you look too tired to do it yourself. You hold the little paper bag of medicine on your lap and watch him as he drives, your blinks are slow and tired and he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, clearly worried. Quinn's hands tighten on the steering wheel.

The moment you're in the apartment, he's helping you from your coat and shoes, ushering you to the coach and helping you sink down into it, your head drooping as your arms dangle between your knees.

"I'm going to get your meds ready, okay? Just sit right here, baby." His hands run over your hair, across your shoulders, comforting strokes as he watches you struggle. He's relieved you have medicine now, even if he's angry that it took so long to convince you to get checked out. The anger isn't directed at you, but at himself and at the schooling system, the guilt its put into your head. The feeling that you can't be sick, can't take a day off. Anger that he'd allowed you to put this off for so long when he should have pushed more.

"Okay...Thanks, Quinny..." Your voice is fragile, delicate and his chest aches at the way you look up at him with tired, red eyes. Tired, hardly sleeping, fatigued from an infection attacking your body and still so thankful for him.

"No trouble at all, baby." Quinn leans down pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering slightly as you sway into him, eyes closed and nearly fall forward when he pulls away. But, Quinn's hands are there to right you, gently leaning you back against the couch pillows.

In the kitchen area he pours you as big glass of water and counts out 2 antibiotics, dark green capsules, and 8 tiny uncoated steroid tablets.

When he reaches you he hands you the glass, watching as you take a big gulp, holding it in your mouth as you gesture for the first pill. One at a time he hands them to you, watching as you swallow each with a healthy mouthful of water to make them go down easier. You shiver at little after each, like your body doesn't want you to take them, but they go down easy enough.

"Baby, I think you should go lay down in bed..."

"Mmm..." You're starting to feel sick, nausea hitting as your body processes the unfamiliar but strong medication. Your head is pounding, you feel like you're going to be sick and it's with nothing short of gentleness that Quinn scoops you up into his arms, your head nuzzling into his neck.

"C'mere..." You're not a light person, adult humans generally aren't, but Quinn has spent years as a pro-athlete training his body and in more recent years making sure he can bench as much weight as possible so carrying you isn't ever an issue. For reasons like this. The need to support you when you're sick or hurt. The idea that you might need him like this and he be unable to provide was simply unacceptable.

He moves carefully, steady so as not to rock you too much or too harshly as he walks you the short distance to your shared bedroom. He's gentle as he deposits you on the bed, helping you pull the blankets up around you as he sits beside you, fingers tracing a path over your forehead and down your cheek.

"How you feeling, baby?"

"Dizzy...nauseous...feel horrible, Quinny..." You almost sound like you might cry a little, a shakiness to your voice that pulls at his heart strings.

"I'll go make you some ginger tea for the nausea..." Quinn goes to get up but you're gripping his hand as hard as you can, eyes blinking up at him blearily, a pout directed his way that you know he can't really say no to. "No. Stay, cuddles please."

"Okay, baby, cuddles."

Quinn wastes very little time getting into bed besides you, letting you curl into him, your leg slung over his hip and your face pressed into his sternum like you could bury yourself in his chest and hide away from how you feel. All he can do he does, wrapping you up tight in his arms, hand rubbing soothing circles across your back.

Your breathing is shallow and shaky, swallowing as the nausea hits in waves. You can feel Quinn pressing kisses to your hair, your temple and it makes you feel better even if it doesn't take the sick feeling from your stomach.

"Thank you for looking after me..." You mumble it against his jaw, pressing a light kiss there, energy to do anything more none existent. Quinn responds with a kiss of his own to your hair, fingers reaching up to run through the ends as you nuzzle closer to him, chest to chest.

"I'm always going to look after you, baby. That's my job..."

"No...you're job is...your job is to play hockey." You sound a little confused and dazed, not really a surprise with the brain fog you've had this entire sickness. You seem to struggle to realise that he's not being literal, but it's cute. It's cute now he knows you're being medicated and not letting yourself get progressively worse and more and more likely to end up with pneumonia.

"Mm, that's my paying job, sure...but you're my real job. I just want to make sure you're okay, baby...especially when you're stubborn." Quinn's fingers rest on the nape of your neck, massaging the tense muscles there as you press further into his neck, little kisses being left like it's the only thing you have the energy for. It's sweet, even as you wheeze and rattle like an old change machine.

"I'm sick, don't be mean to me." Your voice is pouty and playful, and there's a slight relief in it for Quinn. That if you're being playful you're probably feeling a little better, a little more like yourself. He readjusts your leg around his hip, a hand resting there to keep you close.

"Never, baby. I love you too much to be mean to you."

"Liar." There's no animosity in it, just playful back chat that has him leaning back slightly to look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, I see you're already feeling better? Absolute brat." Quinn grins at you for the first time in days, the relief that you're feeling even slightly better, the feeling of accomplishment at having convinced you to go to the doctor's, all combining to make him feel lighter than he has in a while.

"I'm sick, a sweet baby actually." Even you smile slightly as you look up at him, eyes slightly delirious and hazy like you're not all there right now which is probably about right. Your voice is croaky, but no less sweet to listen to.

"Mmm, sure y'are, baby. My sick, sweet girl who's also such a brat."

"Fuck off." You pretend to shove him away but he barely moves, your push weak and completely not serious. Even your voice has absolute no bite, just humour in it, the sort he's missed from you. You've been so down, so tired, so sullen that he's missed the banter, the back and forth, the playfulness that you two have.

"Alright-" Quinn pulls away, starting as if he's going to get up, but you're leg locks over his hip, arms practically crushing him to you as you stop him leaving your cuddle pile, the nest you've made, "No, stay! 'm sorry, Quinny...stay, feeling so much better with you here." You mean it. Maybe you still feel sick, nauseous and achy. Maybe your chest still hurts, your cough still rattling through you. But, being close to him helps, it makes you feel comforted in a way that you need right now and the idea of him going makes you want to cry. Even though rationally you know he's joking and not serious.

"Okay, sweet girl. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He settles back into space next to you, hand running from your knee to your hip in soothing strokes as his other hand rubs circles over your back.

"Love you so much." You mumble it against his neck, face pressed as tight as you can, inhaling his cologne, the smell of his skin, the distinctly Quinn scent that brings you a sense of safety and comfort.

"Love you too, sweet girl."

Maybe Quinn hates the way you refuse to get help when you're sick, maybe this whole episode had terrified him to his core, made him worried sick, but God, he loves you enough that he'd do this every single year of his life if he had to.

In sickness and in health, right?

[tinylilacbun]

Hi, I saw that you wanted requests, and one popped into my head. When my brother was younger, my mum had just taken him out of the bath and put his pajamas on him. My mum went to do something, and when she came back, my brother had climbed back into the bath FULLY CLOTHED. I was wondering if you could do something like this, but with Rafe and toddler!reader?

Take your time, and don't rush yourself. Love your work 💓

Rafe shouldn't have let you roam around the yard by yourself, knowing you would only get dirty everywhere and since he's on babysitting duty he's now the one to give you a bath.

Luckily you seem to be in a good mood today, making it easy for him to get you into the bathtub, handing you a few toys to distract you before he starts to wash you.

"Jeez, how would get this dirty?" He complains, but you're own world right now, babbling to your rubber duckies as you splash around happily, not noticing the way you get your brother drenched with the dirty water.

With what Rafe struggles a little is washing your hair, trying his best to not let get any shampoo in your eyes but you keep squirming and going underwater during your mermaid play.

"Kid, hold still." He groans after pulling you over the surface for the second time, finally managing to shampoo your hair thoroughly.

After rinsing your hair with water he's about to lift you out of the tub only to lift a brow when you start to whine.

"Wanna be mermaid!" You pout after being set down on the bathroom mat, crossing your little arms over your chest to which Rafe just chuckles.

"You've been in there long enough, look." He takes one of your hands, showing you how shriveled up it is. "They look like raisins, meaning you've been in the water for too long."

You huff but let him dry you off with a fluffy towel. Soon you're dressed in a pajama with a bluey print on it.

"Damnit, I forgot your socks. Stay here I'll go get them." He sighs as he stands up straight from his kneeling position to go and retrieve your socks from your room.

You stand there, eyeing the still full bathtub. Suddenly you get an idea, smiling with determination as you clumsily climb back into the tub, giggling loudly as you're able to pretend being a mermaid again.

"You really got too many clothes for a 3 year- what the hell!" Rafe stops himself mid sentence when he comes back into the room and sees you in the water again fully clothed. "You've got to be kidding me..."

"Oh, this is just amazing." Wheezie laughs behind him, her phone already out and recording the scene. "TikTok is gonna love this."

Rafe glares at her. "If you post this, I swear I'll throw your phone into the pool." He threatens her, now attempting to lift you out again despite your struggling.

"You're no fun. I'll send this in the family group then." She says, walking off again instead of helping her brother.

"Wheezie!" He calls after her, now looking down at you who's simply smiling up at him while the water keep dripping down onto the floor. "You owe me for this one."

"Mermaid!"

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 194

Bart is frozen. He’s terrified- his heart is beating faster in his chest than it’s ever done before yet he couldn’t even start to force himself to run, his body practically vibrating in place as he shook. 

There was a familiar feeling in the air, one he’d never thought he’d ever feel again once he’d slipped back in time. He couldn’t breathe, everything felt like it was falling away except for that horrifying fiery aura- 

“Kid, are you okay?” There was a hand on his shoulder, light as a feather (he’d learned that from gramps!) yet grounding. 

He finally managed to suck in a breath, however wheezy, and looked up to answer, the words dying in his throat before they even began. 

“Kid? Holy shit-” Bart didn’t hear anything else as his poor brain fizzled and he fainted. 

Danny blinks down at the barely-teenager who seemed to just have some sort of attack before fainting practically in his arms. He’d say diabetes or something, but he has no way to be sure and is maybe panicking himself. 

“Wow Mum, wha’ you do?” a toddler Dan- he knew what he did but honestly his baby lisp was adorable- snarked from next to him, chewing on his kid leash. Which he wasn’t getting out of until he could both stop floating whenever he saw the stars (yes he knew he used to do the same thing, shush) and walk out into traffic. 

[rafeandonlyrafe]

daddys home

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, establish relationship (theyre married!), dad!rafe, mom!reader, p in v sex (protected), female receiving oral, mentions of pregnancy/breeding, readers stretch marks are described briefly

“when is daddy getting home?” your daughter asks for what feels like the millionth time since rafe left for work this morning.

you sigh, rubbing your forehead, hoping it alieves your splitting headache. “any minute now, poppy. why don't you go get a cup of water for him and leave it on the counter?”

you know that the task will occupy her for some time, having to drag her step stool that she uses when helping you cook around the kitchen to get a cup and fill it.

you let out a breath of relief when you hear rafe pull into the driveway.

“daddy! daddy!” poppy hears the noise as well, running to the garage door, jumping up and down excitedly as she waits for rafe to come in.

she jump-tackles him as soon as he opens the door. rafe laughs, catching her in his arms.

“hi baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of her head, toeing his shoes off onto the mat.

“welcome home.” you say, moving over to rafe, pressing your face into the shoulder that poppy isn't currently resting hers against.

“you okay?” rafe whispers into your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. he sets poppy down carefully, only half listening as she begins to tell him about getting rafe a water all by herself like a big girl.

“yeah, she's just been… a lot today.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around rafes waist, snuggling into his warm body.

“hey, poppy. wanna spend the night at aunt wheezies?” rafe asks.

“yes! yes! yes!” poppy screams, quickly flying up the stairs to her room with her unstoppable toddler energy to pack a bag.

“thank you.” you look to rafe, taking a moment to press a kiss to his lips.

“wheeze has been begging to have her over, she'll be so happy.” rafe says, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “and you can get a real break.”

“god, i need it too.” you laugh, pulling away from rafe but not before giving him another kiss. “i love poppy to death, but she can be so exhausting some days.”

“aw, baby.” rafe coos. “why don't you go get in the bath, ill help poppy pack a bag then take her over the wheezies.”

“mmm, sounds perfect, can't wait to spend a night just us.” you wink at rafe before both heading further into the house and up the stairs. poppy has had a string of clinginess lately, especially at night knowing you and rafe are just down the hall, so she fakes nightmares to sleep in your bed.

it's nice having her so close, but at the same time you haven't been intimate with rafe in months.

“poppy.” you call into her room, seeing her stuffing pajamas into her backpack. “you be good for auntie wheezie, okay? ill pick you up in the morning and if you behaved, we can go to the park.”

“okay, mommy.” poppy nods, a serious look on her face.

“daddy is gonna help you pack then take you over.” you finish, looking to rafe.

“thank you again babe.” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his cheek before heading towards your bedroom. you turn on the hot tap in the master bath, letting the jacuzzi tub fill as you scrounge in the cabinets for your epsom salt.

you let out a groan when you sink into the bath, eyes closing as you relax into the hot water, your muscles finally getting a break after entertaining poppy all day.

you relax in the bath until the water starts to turn room temperature. you pull the drain before getting out, toweling yourself dry. you go through your skincare routine quickly before pulling your robe on.

you exit the bathroom to see rafe on the bed, back against the headboard, having changed out of his work clothes to sweats.

“was she excited?” you question.

“poppy or wheezie?” rafe jokes, a soft smile on his face. “both of them were so excited, but i think wheeze might have more fun than poppy does.”

“that's good.” you laugh before taking a deep sigh.

“how are you feeling now?” rafe asks, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. you move to stand in front of him, letting your knees press into the side of the mattress.

“a million times better. no more headache.”

“good.” rafe tugs at the strap on your robe, not hard enough to undo it, but making his intentions clear. “wanna lay down?” 

“just lay down?” you smirk, raising one eyebrow.

“if that's what you want,” rafe takes your hands in his, bringing your knuckles up to his lips, pressing kisses along your skin. “mrs. cameron.”

“i want you.” you tell rafe, taking your hand out of his grasp to tug your robe open, revealing yourself to him. you slide the fabric off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

“you're so beautiful.” rafe says, eyes sweeping over your naked body. he rubs a hand over your stomach, the small lines running over your skin, the physical reminder of your pregnancy.

“this part of you is the most beautiful.” rafe leans forward, kissing the stretch marks. “because it shows that you carried our daughter. kept her safe inside you for nine months until he she was ready to see the world.”

“you're gonna make me cry.” you sniffle, feeling tears start to form.

“wanna make you cry a different way.” rafe says, standing up suddenly while turning you swiftly, pushing your hips down so now you're the one sat on the edge of the mattress.

rafe sinks down to his knees, spreading your thighs open for him, revealing your cunt.

“you know-” you gasp when rafe begins to kiss along your inner thighs, inching closer to your center. “i was worried when i first got pregnant that you wouldn’t be attracted to me after i gave birth.”

“really?” rafe questions. “why would you ever worry about something as impossible as that?”

“pregnancy brain.” you shrug, eyes fluttering closed as rafe spreads your thighs further, wrapping his hand around your ankle and bringing your heel up onto the bed.

“well, mrs. cameron-” rafe leans in, licking a stripe straight through your folds. “no need to worry anymore, i find you very attractive.”

you smile, bringing one hand to rafes hair, clutching it between your finger as he dives in, tongue swiping through your wetness, tasting you on his tongue. rafe works his way up from your entrance to your clit before lapping over the sensitive skin there.

“taste so good mama.” rafe hums, letting his tongue flick and play with your clit. you let out a cry, glad that you’re able to be as loud as you want with poppy out of the house.

“more.” you whine.

“all these years later, carrying my baby and you're still my little slut.” rafe tsks, bringing his finger to your entrance and plunging it in, thrusting in and out slowly as his lips wrap around your clit, giving gentle sucks to build you up, tease you.

“can’t wait for you to fuck me.” you toss your head back, pushing your hips even further into rafes face.

“yeah, you miss my cock?” 

“all the time.” you whine, bringing your other foot onto the bed as well, spreading your knees wide open to give rafe even more space to work into you as he adds a second finger.

“you think after being married for five years you’d be sick of me.” rafe jokes, but you shake your head.

“never, daddy.” the nickname impacts rafe differently now that he is actually a dad, knowing it comes from a different place.

“god, i was gonna have you cum on my tongue three times before i fucked you, but i need you too badly.” rafe stands up, but not before pressing another kiss to your clit, now puffy and red from the attention.

rafe hesitates before reaching for the nightstand drawer, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but before you can comment on it, he is removing his clothes and rolling the condom onto his length and lining himself up with your cunt. 

he rubs briefly through your folds before pushing in, sinking into your pussy. you let out a loud moan, unafraid to get interrupted by your daughter as rafe copies your moan right back.

“such a perfect pussy for me baby.” rafe coos, beginning to pump his hips forward. you wrap your legs around his hips as he leans forward, pushing until your back is resting against the sheets. he hovers over you, pressing your lips together. 

you moan into his mouth, moving your hips up and down in sync with his thrusts. your bare chests are rubbing together, yours still slightly damp from the bath. your nipples catch as rafe moves, making you whimper.

“so big.” you cry out, hands moving along rafes back, feeling the cords of muscles as they stretch with his movements.

“filling you up real good, huh?” rafe smirks, cocky that he can still get you in this state just from his dick.

“so good.” you turn your head to bite rafes earlobe, tugging on it. “you know,-” you gasp when rafe speeds up. “this is the same position we were in when i got pregnant with poppy.”

you remember the night well, when you ran out of condoms and decided together fuck it, were married, and you were blessed with your little girl soon after.

“yeah? want me to take the condom off mama? fill your belly up again?” rafe asks, moving a thumb to your clit, rubbing it quickly.

“yeah, daddy, yeah i do- fuck!” your back arches off the bed as rafe pumps faster, your body quivering as his thumb strokes you to orgasm, the tightening of your cunt causing him to spill into the condom.

rafe breaths heavily, hips slowly grinding into you as you work through your highs.

rafe pulls out as you try to stop your deep gasps of breaths. he pulls the condom off and tosses it in the trash can before climbing back onto the bed, flopping down next to you.

“were you serious?” rafe asks.

you don't need any more context to know exactly what rafe is referring to.

“i wouldn't mind having another baby.” you say honestly. “besides, poppy will start kindergarten in around a year, so think about in around nine months having another little one.” you feel yourself already beginning to tear up at the thought, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“oh, baby.” rafe coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling you into him. “well, since poppy is still at aunt wheezies…” rafe trails off, moving his hand from your waist lower to cup your pussy. “we can get trying right now.”

“it only took you one try for poppy.” you remind rafe, slinging your leg over rafes body, twisting yourself to sit on top of him, rubbing your cunt over his length.

“yeah…” rafe places his hands on your hips, flipping you over so your back is against the bed. “but maybe i want more than one try.” rafe says as his cock slides back inside of you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude

[lavender-bun]

Bonding

SUMMARY | You and Rafe have more in common than you both thought.

-requested by anon

PAIRING | rafe cameron x adopted!teen!reader

WARNINGS | drug consumption, yelling, arguing, hurt/comfort, soft!Rafe, fluff at the end

            ◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

You have been living with the Camerons for a few weeks now, still getting used to yet another family who grantly took you in. You're related to them, but not by blood. Your so-called mother met your stepfather when you were just a toddler, both quickly bonded over the fact that they're drug addicts.

You were only 6 when you got ripped out of your home and thrown into the system, going to family after family, everyone claiming you were too much to handle.

Now you were a teen and the system surprised you one day when they told you they found some of your relatives.

"They live in the Outer Banks. Ward and Rose Cameron already await you with open arms." The social worker told you with a smile while you only sighed, slumping in your seat before her desk. Great, another family who are 'oh so happy' to get to know you.

Now here you were, sitting in your room at Tannyhill and it was just how you expected. Ward did seem like a nice guy all until the papers were signed and the social worker left. He showed you your room and since then you were just air to him. A charity case to show off at events or the country club, to let everyone know what a good guy he is and how generous for finally getting you out of the system.

You hated it. After all these years of being thrown back and forth from family to family, you were now stuck here, adopted by someone who doesn't even acknowledge your presence when entering a room.

At least his kids, or your new siblings you suppose, talked with you and showed you around the Outer Banks.

Wheezie is funny and very smart. You both had a movie night once every week or sometimes you would go shopping with her, loving to just listen to her rambling or gossiping about school, sometimes she even asked you for advice.

Sarah took you several times to the Chateau where you got to know the pogues, they're a chaotic group of friends but it's nice feeling included in something.

And then there was Rafe. You don't really talk much, just the usual small talk when you would go to the kitchen to get water or when he passed your room, peaking inside to ask if you want to join him by the pool.

            ◃◦--------●--------◦▹

One evening you got home late, stumbling through the door, high as a kite, and didn't notice Ward standing there with his arms crossed until you kicked your shoes off jumping in surprise when you turned to face him, placing a hand on your chest.

"Where were you?" he asked, his tone laced with anger.

"Out." you simply shrugged, about to walk up the stairs when Ward turned you around, grabbing your chin in one hand and examining your face.

He scoffed with a smile, letting you go harshly, making you stumble a little before he snapped at you. "You're grounded!"

"What?!"

"You heard me. For the next two weeks you won't leave the house except for school," he said crossing his arms.

"But I bet I still have to go to that stupid midsummer event, right? Have to keep up your reputation?" you laughed mockingly.

"What are you on about?"

"As if you don't know! I'm nothing but a charity case to you, a trophy you can show around and live on your act as the generous Ward Cameron, so no one knows what an actual asshole you are!" you screamed in his face, pointing a finger at him.

"You better watch who you're talking to you brat!" he shouted back.

"You're pathetic. Doing everything for another dollar in your pocket as if you don't have enough already!" you waved your arm in the air.

"Alright, you just earned yourself a month of being grounded! There are rules and as long you're under my roof and care you're going to follow them. Unless you want to end up like your mother, pregnant and as an addict."

"Fuck you!" You flipped him off, stomping up the stairs and to your room, slamming the door shut before throwing yourself on your bed burying your face in a pillow.

You never wanted to be here in the first place. You screamed into your pillow in frustration before the tears started to fall, sobbing quietly.

When you heard someone knocking on your door you ignored it at first, groaning when the knocking continued and shouted. "Leave me alone!"

It didn't stop and you sighed, wiping your face before going to answer the door. "I said leave- oh, it's you."

Rafe stood before you, hands in his pockets and lips pressed in a thin line. "Hey, I- uhh, heard what happened downstairs." he coughed awkwardly. "I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"Perfectly fine." you said with a sarcastic smile, about to close the door again.

"You want some company?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You were about to turn it down but decided against it, nodding your head you stepped to the side, a silent invitation for him to enter.

You walked back over to your bed, sitting on the edge of it, and patted the place next to you. He sat down next to you, rubbing his hands over his knees.

"So, what happened?"

"I thought you heard it?" you raised an eyebrow with a small smile on your face.

"Yeah, okay, you got me." he chuckled. "You know, Dad gets angry fast, you shouldn't take it seriously."

"Don't worry, he's nothing but a clown to me." you both laughed.

There was silence for a moment before you sighed, looking down at your hands, fidgeting with them.

"I just feel so out of place, not only here. I feel like this everywhere. I know it sounds stupid...but...I just want to feel loved and appreciated. There wasn't a single family where I felt at home." You told him, tears already forming in your eyes again. "I know I can be a lot to handle, at least, that's what I've been told my whole life..."

The tears you tried to hold back started to flow down your cheeks. Rafe straightened, slightly panicking at seeing you cry. He reaches behind you, soothingly rubbing your back.

"Shh, it's okay. C'mere." he pulls you more into his side.

He continued to hold you while you soaked his shirt in your tears, but he couldn't care less right now.

"It'll be okay, and hey, don't you know how much Wheezie and Sarah love you?" he asked and you pulled back to look at him, wiping your tears away, sniffling.

He wanted you to know that there are people who love and care for you, himself being one of them. He related to you more than you'll ever know. Being the oldest he tried to be a role model for his sisters, failing miserably, but he still did so much to get his father's attention, receiving nothing in return, not even a pat on the back.

"Really?" you asked, eyes big and filled with hope.

He nodded. "Really, trust me. You're not out of place, you just need time and that's totally valid after all you've been through." he noticed the confusion on your face since you never really talked with anyone about your past. "I've done some research," he admitted and you nodded.

"Thank you, Rafe." You smiled, still sniffling a little.

"Don't mention it, kid." he smiled, reaching a hand up to ruffle your hair. "Now, how about we go and watch a movie? Wheezie had been nagging my ear off about some new horror movie."

"Sounds perfect. I'm grounded anyways, so I don't have any plans." You shrugged making him laugh again.

            ◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

[farter-imperator]

Thinking about Dew with asthma. Specifically, little Dew with asthma.

Dew playing quietly on the playmat in the common room, content to line up all his toy cars while his plush dragon, Dio, watches on. Swiss is also watching.

Every so often, Dew coughs or clears his throat. Swiss can't figure out if he's just got a tickly cough, or if it's something more. Either something viral, or an asthma attack.

He asks softly "Dew, buddy? Are you okay?"

Dew gives him a toddler cough in return.

"Alrighty, then. You tell me if you start to feel worse."

It's a few more minutes, Dew rearranging his cars by height, occasionally watching the TV. Swiss put on Bluey for him, but Swiss is watching it more than he is.

And then Swiss hears the wheeze.

Just a little crackle in Dew's throat at first. But Swiss' head snaps up nonetheless.

"Dewy? How are we feeling?"

"U-Uhm... 'Eezy..."

"Wheezy, bud?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need your inhaler?"

Swiss already knows the answer. Little Dew does not like his inhaler. But his choices right now are, 1) use the inhaler, or 2) don't use the inhaler and end up in the infirmary.

Swiss reaches under the coffee table and grabs Dew's spacer kit. It's never far from reach when Dew's little. He won't take his inhaler without a spacer when he's little.

He moves onto his knees on the floor, kneeling by Dew. Dew whines at the sight of Swiss setting up his inhaler, but his wheezes are becoming more frequent and his chest is burning a little.

The spacer is clear, with teddy bears printed over it, and a mask on one end.

Swiss wraps his arm around Dew and brings him into his lap. Thankfully, Dew doesn't protest, apart from a little wheezy huff.

"Gonna be a brave little guy for me, huh?" Swiss asks as he clicks the inhaler into place. Dew shakes his head, burying his face against Swiss' chest. "Yeah, I know. You don't like it. But we've gotta do it, buddy. You'll feel super yucky if we don't give you your puffs now."

Dew turns his head from one way to the other, like a baby refusing a bottle as Swiss holds the mask up. Eventually, however, the tight feeling in his chest wins and he lets Swiss hold the mask over his mouth and gives him the first puff.

"Nice slow breaths, bubby. Yeah, that's it, you're doing great. In and out. In and out. Good job..."

Dew looks up at him with big eyes, taking shaky breaths. After a little while, Swiss gives him another puff of his inhaler, his thumb gently rubbing Dew's cheek.

Dew's breathing slows eventually, and then he cuddles into Swiss, tired out after his little eezy episode.

[princessbrunette]

how do we think rafe is celebrating easter with the bunny herself !!!!!

୨♡୧ 🎀 ᰔ 🎀 ໒ྀི꒰ ◞ ‌ ◟ ꒱ྀིა

easter in the cameron house is a big deal.

from noon, there’s an easter egg hunt for toddler!wheezie / even just regular wheezie because she’s only 13 and she prob thinks she’s way too grown for it but ward writes the clues and hides them about and she feels too bad to let him know. plus, it’s a little fun — even sarah joins in. rafe is usually long gone by this point, but because you’re with him now he often hangs about.

the chefs prepare a large lunch which you all eat outside in the sun. family time was never rafe’s favourite but it’s more tolerable with his sweet girl tucked into his side wearing a little floral sundress. the rest of the day is kind of a free-for-all — except the rest of them head out for an evening walk together leaving rafe and you in the house alone.

the time is spend wisely, as he’s lounging on his bed you arrive at the foot of it in skimpy bunny lingerie costume, swinging a little basket in your hand. he’s quick to toss his phone aside, smirk sliding onto his face.

“what’s uh, what’s this huh?” he sits up, eyes raking over you. “do a spin for me.” he nods at you and you do, sure to shake your fluffy little tail at him. he hums in appreciation, giving it a playful little tug.

“just a bunny lookin’ for a carrot.” you giggle at the corniness of your own joke, fluttering your lashes shyly at your boyfriend. he huffs out a quiet laugh, wrapping an arm round your middle to easily pull you to straddle his lap.

“yeah? i got one of those, for sure… yeah…” he nods, frowning with a faux serious expression for a moment, hands sliding down to grope you. “think you uh, got some eggs for me, right?” he jokes quietly, nipping at your jaw as you start to grind on him, letting out an elated breath.

“yep, sure do daddy.” you muse and you feel him smile against your skin.

“alright then, bunny girl. let’s waste no time.”

୨♡୧ 🎀 ᰔ 🎀 ໒ྀི꒰ ◞ ‌ ◟ ꒱ྀིა

[wendigoruble]

Post Trial Comfort: 🪳🍼 Gen/Franco

[Gen offers a different kind of comfort than what Franco is used to. Hurt/Comfort below]

Franco sits on the thin bed of his sleep room. He stares at the stained bandages around his forearms and looks over the scuffed rips on the knees of his once nice dress pants. The pain that lingers in his limbs isn't anything new, but the cause seems to make it only hurt worse. It damn near makes his blood just boil over. His jaw clenches hard as he curls his fingers into fists. His arms tense so much that they tremble. A familiar warmth rushes to his cheeks as anger rolls through him. He squeezes his eyes shut with hot tears rolling down his face.

This is bullshit. He's the son of Salvatore Barbi, the button man of the Martino family, he's a fucking prince and he's reduced to this!? This bullshit work just because he had one slip up and that doctor decided to fuck him over on a whim after he helped finance so much!

He slams his fist into the wall and then throws himself down on the bed with a yell of frustration. With his chest heaving, he begins to cry without regard to the other reagents that may hear. His sobs slowly become the cacophonous wailing of "WAAAHHHH!" while he thrashes about like an overstimulated toddler until he begins to bleed under his bandages again. He slows himself with wheezy, gasping huffs as he rips the suddenly too tight gauze off his arms. The gashes there are just a reminder of how far he's fallen, how he's failed.

"Motherfucker!!! Fucking FUCKERS!!" He growls between his teeth.

"Franco?"

The familiar voice hits his ear, and he slowly turns his head towards the door where Gen stands. She's got a more than concerned look on her face. It's almost panicky. Akin to the first time they met and she cowered before him. She takes a hesitant step forward.

"Are you okay?"

Her tone quivers just slightly as she goes into her pocket. Pulling out a roll of gauze, which she always kept on hand. When Franco doesn't verbally respond, she comes closer.

"I'll wrap those for you." She sits down on the bed beside him.

"I fucking hate it here." Franco spits between his teeth.

"Yeah.. Me too. But we have to uh, ya know. Take what we get and all."

"I don't belong wit' these fucking mooks! I'm supposed to be in there doing my fucking job, not doing yours!"

Gen takes a breath to keep herself steady as she rewraps Francos forearms. Surprisingly he holds still even if he complains the entire time. Once his arms are bandaged again, he throws himself back down on the bed just like he had before. Cheeks still flushed red with anger and eyes still glassy. She's known him long enough to know that moods stick, and he's probably going to be like this for the rest of the night. Maybe she can help ease him out of it though.

"I'll try to help you better next time. I know I'm not good at the...Ya know. Um but..Ah, I can help you not get hurt."

"..As if you do more than hide."

Another calming breath escapes Gens lips before she lays down beside him. The words roll off of her with ease because shes heard them a million times over. Not just from him but from herself.

Wrapping her arms around his frame, she gives him a nice tight hug. Franco is visibly taken back by the gesture, but he doesn't try to push her away.

"They gonna come kick you out if yous in here too long?"

"Probably, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the moment."

"....You could hold me a little tighter.."

[taysdorothea13]

cherry flushed cheeks

summary — after seeing baby wren through a difficult recovery from her last placement, taylor and travis find themselves with a sick baby and a lot of anxiety

Taylor sighed softly beneath bright moonlight, cascading waves slamming against the shorelines just beyond the frost dusted window she gazed out of longingly. Against her chest was a pitiful toddler with cherry flushed cheeks and tear-filled green eyes. One tiny hand held onto the strap of her pajama top tightly, but the other pulled at tiny earlobes interchangeably. 

It had been a long couple of days in the Swift-Kelce household. Rhode Island was peaceful. It always had been, but there was an additional comfort in the air now that there was something more to Taylor’s life. However, Rhode Island had not been as peaceful as she remembered this time around. Their first day home had been overtaken by an issue with the upstairs air conditioning unit, resulting in the nursery practically becoming a sauna and the master bedroom being a tundra. Their second day had been derailed by a lack of internet connection resulting in Travis getting a hotel room for the afternoon to film an episode of the podcast with Jason whilst Taylor juggled a toddler and an electrician by herself. And now, here they are, the third night back in High Watch and the baby that Taylor had spent her entire life waiting to love was sick and miserable against her chest. 

“Do you see the waves, Wrenny?” Taylor asked softly, turning just slightly on her heels so that Wren’s little green eyes could glance out the windows with her. She brushed chestnut brown hair away from clammy skin, frowning at the warmth radiating off of her baby girl.  “Daddy’ll take you out in them when you’re bigger. And your cousins can’t wait to teach you how to use a boogie board. I think you and Wy are gonna be good friends. She’s crazy just like the big guy that throws you around all the time.” 

It happened in seconds. Taylor was glancing out the window, swaying to a rhythm in her head with her palm splayed against Wren’s back feeling each wheezy inhale, and then there was warm vomit soaking her chest and hiccuping sobs harmonizing with occasional heaves. Taylor had seen babies spit up, she’d been spit-up on too many times, but there was something horrified about watching a baby genuinely throw up. She didn’t have a thought to spare about the fluids saturating her top, her full attention on Wren as she tipped the baby toward the floor and gently rubbed her back. Another splash of vomit landed between her bare feet, and despite herself, she found herself trying to figure out what the combination consisted of. Thankfully, that seemed to be all of it, and swiftly Taylor made a b-line for the kitchen sink. 

“Trav!” She called out for her boyfriend frantically, trying not to dwell on how her hands trembled with panic as she stripped a hysterical Wren. She pulled her own vomit soaked shirt off before she brought the diaper clad baby back into her embrace, thankful that the blinds were drawn as she stood bare-chested beneath dim lighting. As footsteps padded near, Taylor brought her nails down Wren’s goosebump adorned back. “We lost a binky and our clothes in the battle.” She teased weakly as Travis came into view,  her eyes glimmering with parental fear as she tried to ground herself in her boyfriend's secure gaze. 

Travis took one look at Taylor standing half-naked in the middle of the kitchen before his eyes trailed to the spot he’d last seen her in before he went to call the pediatrician back in Tennessee, puddles of sick on the hardwood telling him all that he needed to know about the supposed battle. He pulled his battered Cleveland Heights t-shirt off with two hands before he stepped toward his girlfriend and daughter, taking the baby first before he extended the shirt to Taylor, leaning in to kiss her lips sweetly. 

“Not feeling too hot, huh, girlie?” Travis brushed his lips against Wren’s forehead, grimacing at the heat beneath his touch. He reached for the faucet on the sink, letting the water run over his fingertips until it was warm enough to draw a makeshift bath. He plugged the sink with one hand, the other reaching for the baby shampoo they’d unpacked and left by the dish soap. Sink baths after dinner time were practically sacred, and they’d long ago learned to keep everything handy. Parenting was weird sometimes. “Why don’t you go rinse off and grab her some clothes. I can give her a bath.” Travis glanced down at Taylor who had melted into his body, her arms wrapped around his waist as her manicured fingers softly tickled the soles of Wren’s little feet. 

“What’d Dr. Yates have to say?” Taylor asked hesitantly, scared of what could possibly come out of Travis’ mouth now that she’d asked the question. If this was anybody else’s baby, she wouldn’t be so nervous. She’d be able to recognize that it was just a cold and at the very worst, an ear infection. But, this wasn’t anybody else’s baby. This was her baby. Her baby who had only just stopped bearing bruises on her innocent body. Her baby who had finally stopped crying anytime someone picked her up too fast. Taylor had finally seen the end of her daughter’s suffering, and yet here she was flush and miserable like no time had passed at all since that very first night together. 

“If her symptoms don’t get any worse, she should be good with lots of fluids and rest. She said it sounds like a cold and nothing we should be concerned about.” He laid a gentle kiss to the top of Taylor’s head, feeling her nod against his chest before she was pulling away and turning toward the stairs. 

“If I grab the wrap and our jackets, will you walk the rocks with me?” She asked after a moment of silence, peering over her shoulder at him softly. His bare chest looked strong with Wren curled up between his pecs. Taylor loves supporting him during the season, but she can’t help but look forward to the off-season when his features soften the slightest bit and his guard breaks down freely. 

Travis softened beneath Taylor’s gentle gaze, and even if he had wanted to stay inside for the night, he would’ve found himself agreeing with her. Tenderly he nodded, brushing a knuckle across Wren’s flush and pitifully damp cheeks.“‘Course. Some fresh air will do you good, isn’t that right, Roober?” 

Taylor smiled softly before she headed upstairs, attempting to convince herself that she trusted Doctor Yates. The pediatrician was the very best in Tennessee, Taylor had made sure of it, and she hadn’t led them astray in the months that Wren had been seeing her. Still, Taylor couldn’t fully get herself to believe that her sweet girl would be okay.  

Her shower was much needed but painfully short, like most of them were nowadays. Regardless, Taylor had clipped her damp hair up with a red claw clip she’d purchased for the football season and thrown on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that were both considerably warm. The baby carrier was the next thing to wrap around her body, and tightly she tied the purple material around her hip in preparation for Wren’s weight. Only a handful of months ago she’d been weeping into Travis’ chest about wanting another chance at motherhood, and now she was here, practically moving on autopilot with a sick baby downstairs. Sometimes it randomly hit her that this was the rest of her life. She finally had it between her fingers. 

Taylor crept down the stairs with a small arsenal of things thrown over her forearms and grasped between her (no longer trembling) hands. She had Wren’s pink fuzzy bear suit, a new pacifier, and a baby beanie all crumbled into her left fist, Travis’ winter boots in her left hand, his sweatpants and both of their jackets hanging over her left forearm. Life looked like this often, and the muscles in her biceps attested to the workouts Taylor saw herself pushing through sporadically throughout the day. 

“There’s my precious girl.” She cooed softly, turning the corner just as Travis fastened a diaper around Wren’s waist. Her baby was sprawled out on her back on the counter, a yellow hooded towel under her squirmy body. She seemed to be in better spirits even if it was just slightly, but that was enough for Taylor to breathe a sigh of relief and drop the boots on the floor by the refrigerator. “Daddy got you all cleaned up, didn’t he?” She cooed gently after lying their winter coats and Travis’ sweatpants down on the counter. She batted at his chest, nodding towards his clothes silently. 

Taylor gave the pacifier over to her daughter fondly, brushing her fingers over Wren’s little cheeks before she maneuvered the toddler’s body into the ridiculously adorable onesie with bear ears sewn onto the hood. Wren, who hadn’t made so much as a peep since the fever first popped up a couple of hours ago, grunted at Taylor irritably when the woman sat her up after the outfit had been zipped onto her body. “Grumpy girl.” Taylor cooed softly, pressing a kiss to Wren’s head before she pulled at the wrap, getting Wren settled into it without a struggle which definitely was not the case the first time she’d tried this particular wrap. Taylor tugged at the tie around her waist, tightening the knot until it supported Wren the way it was meant to. Wren hummed contently at the position, her little ear pressed against Taylor’s beating heart and her body tightly pressed to her evenly moving tummy. 

Taylor took one glance at the puddles of sick on the floor in the living room before she quickly averted her gaze, deciding that was a job for Travis when they came inside. If Travis was going to pin the chore on her, she’d be sure not to give him the chance. Taylor giggled softly as she watched her boyfriend pull his sweatpants up over his basketball shorts, the material awkwardly bunched up in places but Travis didn’t seem to care as he slid on his jacket. Taylor shook her head fondly before she pulled the beanie down over Wren’s head, making sure that most of her little body was covered in some kind of fabric. The baby would soon be zipped up into her winter jacket, so with or without the wrap as an additional heat source, Wren would be warm enough. 

Travis held Taylor’s hand tightly as the walked the rocks down in the sand, their boot-covered feet kicking small granules behind them with every step. It was only after they’d paced in front of the stairs twice that Taylor stopped moving and instead pulled Travis toward her, her blue eyes gleaming bright with tears as she glanced between blue eyes that she adored and the fluttering lashes of her sleeping angel girl. “Thank you for giving me this life.” She whispered so softly Travis almost couldn’t hear her over the crashing waves in the background, but he did hear her, and he smiled tenderly. 

“I love you.” He whispered, pulling her into a hug that positioned Wren between the both of them closely. “I love you, girlie.” He directed the second reiterate at his bundle of a daughter, leaning down to press a kiss to her head that was covered by a Carhartt beanie, the bear suit hood falling off the top of her head. 

“We should probably head back in. You have vomit to clean up.” Taylor sniffled softly, her eyes sparkling as Travis scrunched his eyebrows together and attempted to fake his annoyance. 

“You gonna make me clean it up every time?” He asked, already knowing that he’d do the job without even having to be asked, but he liked this. He liked having things like this to talk about. He liked having tasks to delegate and another person to love. He loved that Taylor trusted him enough to raise an entire little person with him. 

“That’s what you’re here for, big guy.” She teased, but leaned forward to kiss him sweetly before craning her head toward the house. “I probably should’ve dried my hair before we came out here. I’m freezing.” 

“I’ll make you some tea.” Travis hummed, and Taylor was content with that, knowing she most definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep until Wren’s fever cleared and she wasn’t feeling so poorly.

[stellagibs0ns]

If you’re still up for Bedannibal prompts- could you do Bedelia being super comforting/nurturing towards their daughter in a time of need (nightmare? Minor injury? Illness?) and Hannibal looking on with heart eyes at their interaction?

Bonus points if they have a convo about how Bedelia previously felt she would be cruel rather than kind towards weakness. Many thanks!!

omg LOVE this so much <3 and i will always want to write mom bedelia

—

The low light of the room casts tall, dark shadows across the lavender walls. A wheezy cough crackles through the silence, followed by gentle, motherly shushing.

“Drink, baby,” Bedelia says gently, holding the glass of water to the lips of her three year old. “Slowly. That’s it.”

Her daughter is feverish, shivering. Coughing and sniffling. She’s tucked up in bed with the curtains drawn and her night light casting stars across the room.

Bedelia presses a cool hand to her child’s forehead, and purses her lips.

“Mama…” the girl whines, clutching at her mother’s robe. She’s weak, vulnerable, and it breaks Bedelia’s heart to know that she can only do so much. Only so much medicine, only so much water. She cannot take this away from her, despite it being nothing more than a cold.

“I know, darling,” she says, shifting closer onto the bed and cradling her girl to her body. Her blonde hair is sticking to her forehead, and Bedelia smooths it back and presses a soft kiss to the feverish skin. “The medicine will work soon. Be brave for me.”

The child nestles into her mother’s side, another wheezing cough cracking through the air. She has to remind herself that she’s doing what she can. She trusts her husband and his medical knowledge. She understands that it’s a simple cold. And yet there’s nothing she can do to stop the way her heart heaves with worry.

This child is her life. It’s her duty to protect her, to adore her. Above that, it’s instinct. There is nothing she would not do for her daughter. Nothing in the world.

A creak from the door draws her from her thoughts, and she glances up to see Hannibal. He’s watching over the two of them. The way she cradles their young girl. His eyes are fond and shining, but he doesn’t intrude — he understands how she values her independence, her instincts as a mother.

Quiet breaths come from beside Bedelia, their daughter having fallen into a twitchy sleep. She doesn’t imagine she’ll sleep much tonight. Not when she has a child to tend to. However, that’s never been much of a chore to her, and she doubts it ever will be.

Hannibal cocks his head, a silent question.

Bedelia quietly removes herself from the toddler’s bed, careful not to wake her. She presses a gentle kiss to the girl’s forehead once again, and lingers for just a moment as she watches the way her eyelashes flutter against her rosy cheeks. A familiar ache settles in her chest.

She slips from the room, leaving the door ajar.

“How is she?” Hannibal asks, his voice steady and low.

“Still feverish. Fussy, but she’ll sleep for an hour or two,” Bedelia says, clearing her throat.

A pause rests between them for a moment.

“You make an excellent mother, Bedelia.”

Something passes over her face, and she wordlessly rests her cheek against her husband’s shoulder.

“I had imagined you as a mother many times. The idea, however pleasing, was always abstract,” Hannibal explains. “Until, of course, you brought our child into the world. And it was more stunning than I could’ve possibly imagined.”

A silence.

“I was never maternal,” she says finally.

“No, perhaps not. I recall you once told me that cruelty is often less troublesome than caring for another. That it will save a great amount of pain. And yet, I’ve never seen somebody care so deeply for their child. What do you make of that?”

She stiffens in his arms for a moment, before reminding herself he means well. He’s curious, by nature.

“That didn’t necessarily extend to…every situation. I believe, at the time, I had my…aversions. To your relationship with Will Graham.”

She can’t see his face, but she can tell his expression changed.

“You spoke out of envy?”

“Partially, yes,” Bedelia replies. “However, it was partially true. Caring is not always an advantage, and, at the time, I believed it would land me in an…unsavoury position. It wasn’t so much guidance as it was reflection.”

Another beat of silence.

“Do you believe you’ve changed?”

She lets out a short, breathy laugh.

“I carried our child for almost nine months. And God knows she wants for nothing. As though I could deny her. I’d like to believe I’ve changed, and I’d like to believe for the better. That girl is my life. And I would stop at nothing to keep her safe, happy.”

Hannibal draws her back a moment, his hand resting on her cheek.

“Motherhood is treating you very kindly, Bedelia,” he says, his voice thick with adoration. “Very kindly, indeed.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, as she did to their child.

“Rest for an hour. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

[tinylilacbun]

Rafe bringing toddler reader to see Santa and she’s so deathly afraid of Santa that she’s screaming crying and rafe has to stand behind the camera with her Lovie trying to get her to smile but when that doesn’t work he has to get in the photo with her and he’s so unhappy about it but she relaxes

Traumatic Picture

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: reader is scared of santa, rafe being grumpy

⋆꙳•❅*🎄*❆•꙳⋆

The Camerons are currently decorating the Christmas tree, well mostly Sarah, Wheezie, and you while the others are sitting on the couch, Ward and Rose drinking a glass of wine, and Rafe is occupied on his phone.

He only sits here because his father used the bond Rafe has with you and sent you to ask him to join you all, knowing he won't say no to you.

As he lifts his gaze from his phone he sees how you're standing on your tiptoes, holding the star in your hand as you probably try to set it on top, which is impossible given how short you are.

With a sigh, he pushes himself up and walks over to you, reaching down under your armpits to hold you up.

You squeal and stick the star on top of the tree, clapping your hands excitedly and giggling when the others clap as well.

Rafe sets you back down on the ground, ruffling your hair before he gets back onto the couch, hearing his father's conversation with Rose.

"The mall closes next week until new year and we haven't gotten the chance to take Y/n for a picture with Santa, and we're busy the next days too." Rose sighs, taking a sip of her wine.

"What about Sarah?" Ward suggests but Sarah instantly cuts in, shaking her head.

"Hell no, I went with her last year and it was horror, she wouldn't stop crying while taking that picture." Sarah recounts last year's experience.

It is tradition that every Cameron kid gets at least one picture with Santa but somehow you're so scared of him that Sarah is sure you got a trauma from last year, and the picture never happened so hopefully this time it's gonna end differently.

Suddenly everyone looks at Rafe and he groans, throwing his head back.

That's how he finds himself waiting in line for a picture with Santa at the bustling mall, people in holiday rush to get presents that are on sale.

He's holding you firmly on his hip, scowling at everyone who looks at you both too long for his liking, rubbing your back with his free hand as you cling onto him and watch how children get their pictures, sucking on your pacifier furiously.

"A'ight, listen kid, we're gonna get this done quick, yeah? Just a picture and we're on our way home again. There's no reason to be scared." He tries to soothe you, bouncing you a little.

You nod your head, still unsure if you want to do this, the big man in red still giving you an uneasy feeling as you hear his deep laugh from where you're waiting.

Now it is your turn and you tense up when Rafe moves you to sit on Santa's lap, taking your pacifier out of your mouth as he pats your head, taking a few steps back.

You look up at the man with big eyes while he smiles down at you, his hand hovering behind your back in case you fall down. "Hello there, little one."

The tears instantly well up the second he talks to you in a deep voice, crying out loud. Santa stays in his role, the person in the costume already used to younger children being fussy or scared.

"Princess, look who I have here." Rafe tries to get your attention, standing beside the woman with the camera and holding your lovey above it.

Instead of calming you down it makes you sob even harder, making grabby hands for your brother, wanting him to save you from this scary situation.

"R-Rafey." You hiccup and the woman frowns, leaning closer to Rafe.

"Y'know, many kids feel safer when family members stand beside them." She tells him sweetly.

Rafe sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and reluctantly goes to stand at Santa's side behind you, leaning down to kiss your head to calm you down. "I'm here now, yea? Think you can be a big girl and smile just for a moment?"

You immediately calm down the moment you feel his presence behind you, letting him wipe the tears from your cheeks and nod.

Still sniffling you manage to form a smile, Rafe standing there with his usual grim expression, there's no way in hell he will smile with all those people present, it's already a surprise that he gets in the picture.

Luckily the process is quickly over and Rafe scoops you back up in his arms, handing you back your Lovey and pacifier as he makes his way to where he pays the printed out picture.

After he carries you outside and to his truck he takes a look at the picture. "If you tell Topper or Kelce about this I'll never let you sleep in my bed again." Oh yes he would.

You're too emotionally exhausted to give any response, nuzzling your face into his neck, feeling him kiss your head in reassurance.

"Proud of you, kid." He murmurs, opening the backdoor of his truck and buckling you in your car seat.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

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For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 52

"What the hell do you think they're talking about in there?" John B asked looking between Rafe and JJ.

"If I know Jessie," JJ answered with a sigh and a run through his hair. "She's probably setting her straight."

"You don't think she'd actually do that do you? I'm sure she's just trying to reason with her." Sarah said, saying that last part as more of a question than a statement.

JJ and Rafe just looked at each other with a face that showed they weren't so sure Jessie was reasoning.

"Yeah, well..." Rafe replied as he held Charley in place on his lap and held her plate steady. "Jessie's got a a way with words."

"And a way of getting what she wants." JJ only half joked with a crooked smile, always trying to lighten the mood as he took a sip of his beer.

"Come on guys, if anyone can get Wheezie turned around, it's her and you know it." Pope commented. All the Pogues seemed to just nod either out of understanding or hope that he was right.

"I don't know..." Sarah interjected. "Wheezie's pretty persistent."

Rafe and JJ both laughed and hung their heads. It was almost freaky how they did it at the same time. What was even freakier was what they were about to say in unison.

"Not like Jessie."

"Woooooah" Charley finally piped up through a mouth filled with food. "You said that at the same time as uncle JJ!"

Rafe simply laughed at his daughter who was so bewildered. The Pogues were really just astonished at how much JJ and Rafe seemed to be on the same page now more than ever... literally. Suddenly they all turned their heads when they heard the distant creaking of the unmistakable screen door to reveal Wheezie and Jessie, who now was dawning her Manhattan Mayhem jacket. Rafe took notice of it, and knew she definitely just handled business. JJ took notice of it, and was once again reminded how badass his big sister was.

Wheezie came out looking somewhat neutral. The Pogues, especially Sarah, studied the teenager ever so closely, looking for any sign of anger, sadness, joy, or anything in between. Wheezie simply looked at everyone. Jessie stood behind her with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.

"So when do we leave?"

Wheezie's question was enough to pull everyone out of their concern and turned their faces immediately to smiles and laughs. On the other hand, Wheezie wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked exchausted, mentally and physically. Jessie made her way back over to Rafe and Charley and before she could trade places with the toddler on Rafe's lap, she heard Wheezie speak up once more.

"It's late... shouldn't I be going to bed?" Wheezie asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice. Jessie could tell she was still feeling a little defeated and was probably looking for a way out of the impending conversation.

"You're an adult..." Jessie stated calmly as she moved Charley to set beside the couple and took a spot on Rafe's lap. "you can decide when you go to bed."

Wheezie realized once more that Jessie really wasn't playing. She was going to treat her like an adult, and was going to advocate for the others to do the same. However, Wheezie's first lesson in adulting was playing out right then and there. She wasn't sure if she liked the feeling. Sure, she had always wanted to be an adult, but now... it all seemed too much. Nonetheless, the teenager took it in stride and sassily replied back.

"Fine then I'm going to bed."

"Alright." Jessie sassed back with a shrug of her shoulders, clearly not caring whether Wheezie actually stayed up or not. Wheezie just shook her head and turned back around, but not before hearing her brother speak up behind her.

"Goodnight Wheez." Rafe spoke up loud enough for her to hear as she was walking away. "I love you." He yelled a little louder.

"I love youuuuu!" Charley chimed in, of course being the perfectly timed comedic relief in the situation. The pogues all laughed despite them being worried about the kid they just watched stomp off in defeat. Wheezie swatted her hand back at them and only murmurs could be heard from her mouth as she went back inside. Once she was gone the pogues felt comfortable speaking up.

"What the hell did you do, Jessie?" Sarah asked, clearly annoyed and feeling like she needed to come to the defense of her little sister.

"I told her that if she wanted to be treated like an adult, she was going to have to act like one." Jessie retorted as if it was basic knowledge as she kicked back her beer.

"Well she looks like you scared the shit out of her, Jess." John B spoke up through a slight laugh.

"You shouldn't have done that." Sarah broke in with furrowed brows. "Now that you've given her all this freedom she's going to take it and she's going to abuse it! Do you know what you've gotten us into?!"

Jessie didn't waver. Rafe didn't speak up, secretly he worried the same way that Sarah did, but he had to trust that Jessie saw something in Wheezie that neither one of them did. He just looked at his wife, who never broke eye contact with his sister as she took another big sip of her drink.

"She's not gonna do shit. I'm telling you. She's not half the adult she thinks she is. She's scared shitless, trust me." Jessie responded nonchalantly.

"Sometimes that's all a kid needs... a little tough love and some hard truth." JJ commented. "And Jessie's right, Wheezie hasn't been exposed to a third of the shit that Jessie and I were exposed to at her age. She's definitely not as hard as she thinks she is."

Sarah sighed and looked down at her plate, still not fully convinced. Jessie could tell, and she looked at Rafe, who clearly had the same worries.

"Guys..." Jessie spoke back up, her words clearly indicated for the two Cameron kids. They both looked up at her. "To you she's your little sister, to me, she's a cocky little teenager who needs a reality check. This is either going to make her grow up or make her realize she needs to rely on us. But I promise you, she'll be fine either way. She's got all of us to make sure that she doesn't screw her life up."

Rafe and Sarah looked at each other and took a deep breath, indicating to the other that they were choosing to trust Jessie on this one.

"But... there is one more thing Rafe and I wanted to talk to you guys about." Jessie said with hesitation as she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck.

"Oh my god if y'all say you're having another kid I'm gonna-" JJ was never able to finish that sentence.

"Absolutely not." Jessie refuted with a hand up in defense. Jessie took the accusation seriously, Rafe, on the other hand just found it funny. He tried to hide his laughs in his hand as he looked away from his wife. The Pogues breathed sighs of relief as they got confirmation that that is not where this conversation was going.

"Ok well then what is it?" Kiara asked through giggles as well.

"Well... Rafe and I talked and... we've decided that wherever you guys go... we're not gonna go with you." Jessie replied, physically wincing as if she was ready to catch a jab from anyone at any second. Her ears were immediately filled with judgmental murmurings and questions.

"What do you mean? Rafe? Where's Wheezie gonna go?" Sarah asked, clearly more worried now than ever. John B placed a hand gently on Sarah's leg and gave her a comforting look to try and ease her mind. It didn't work very well.

"We're gonna go with you guys and get you settled wherever you need to go but... we're not staying." Rafe began to explain. "We can't."

"And why can't you?" Sarah asked defensively, venom clear in her voice.

"Because the business-"

"The business can go to shit, Rafe! Are you seriously gonna let your little sisters run off to some foreign country and live on their own?"

"You're not living on your own, Sarah," Jessie butted in, now spewing venom in her words as well, as she felt it was unfair for Rafe to get the brunt of her wrath. "This was a decision that Rafe and I came to together. It's what's best for our family at this moment. It's not to say that we can't move down the road but for now, to keep the business in tact, we have to keep things as localized as possible."

"Too big of movements looks suspicious Sarah, you know that." Rafe interjected.

"And besides, you guys have been playing treasure hunting for the past year clearly not caring where you go, who you meet, or what kinda trouble you get yourself into... so this is your chance... you can go full kook wherever the hell you want. And Rafe and I, being the legal adults for now, will support you however you need us to. We want to take Wheezie with us but there's no way she can live a good life here in the US while everyone thinks she's dead."

The Pogues all looked around, knowing that Jessie had a point. Here she was, treating them like the adults they wanted to be as well. The only person who didn't seem to hesitate about this arrangement was obviously JJ.

"Yukatan anyone?" JJ butted in, and suddenly Jessie realized where exactly Charley got her perfectly timed comedic relief. She laughed at her brother, yet all the Pogues just groaned.

"There's no way you guys are serious." Pope chimed in, "What're we gonna do with the cross?"

"What do you wanna do with it Pope? It's your family's heirloom." Kiara replied.

Suddenly Pope realized, he really didn't know what he wanted to do with it. He had spent so much time actually finding the cross and worrying about keeping it safe and now he had no clue what to do with it. For once, Jessie wasn't going to tell Pope to forget about the cross. Now was his actual opportunity to be strategic with the treasure.

"I say we melt that bitch down and sell the gold piece by piece." JJ piped up with a smirk on his face and a greedy glint in his eye.

"JJ, no, that's a terrible idea." Pope retorted. "This- this cross is much more valuable than just the gold and diamonds it's made out of... it's... it's priceless to me."

"You could sell it in a museum." Rafe hinted with a shrug of his shoulders. At this point he was just spit balling with the rest of the group.

"Okay, but guys, you still haven't figured out where you're gonna go. You might want to do that first." Jessie only half joked as she looked around the fire. All the Pogues stared at each other. Rafe and Jessie couldn't take the silence, as they clearly had a better plan in their head, one that they had thought up long before they got back from their trip. But they both agreed they would let the Pogues decide. Jessie could see the tension in Rafe's face as he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He began to bounce his leg as he heard the Pogues argue in front of him.

"Okay, can I please make a suggestion." Rafe finally spoke up, not being able to take it anymore. Everyone could tell there was clear annoyance in his tone and his face. They all went silent, hanging on his words.

"You need to at least start in the Bahamas. We have a house there with Cameron hired security so you know it's air tight down there and you all will be safe until you can actually do something with that damn cross."

The Pogues say there silently, realizing that Rafe's plan was actually a good one.

"That's... actually a good idea..." Sarah admitted. Rafe just looked at his sister with an expression that said duh.

"If I were you, I'd sell the cross to a museum with the rights and name tied to the Hayward's." Rafe continued, mainly speaking to Pope at this point. "That way the cross stays tied to your family but you also get the money out of it. I'll even help you sell it."

It was clear on Pope's face that he wasn't sure if he should be grateful for the offer or terrified. He felt bad for not trusting Rafe completely in the back of his mind. Rafe could tell he had a hint of hesitation. He didn't blame him. Him and Pope had just as much of a checkered past as him and JJ, and just like his brother in law, he had to take baby steps.

"I think that sounds like a win win to me." JJ said as he shrugged his shoulders as if there was nothing else to consider.

"Look, Pope, we're gonna be in the Bahamas with you guys anyways at first just to get you guys settled in. Will you at least let me set up some meetings for you so you can meet with some buyers? You can make the final decision, I'm just trying to help."

Pope was seriously considering his words as he looked around at the Pogues, who all seemed to be on board despite their slight hesitation as well.

"Pope..." JJ whispered as he laid a hand on his shoulder. "I think Rafe's the only one that can really help us here."

That was JJ'a attempt at giving Rafe the benefit of the doubt, although it didn't make Pope much more confident. Jessie cursed JJ in her head and wondered why it was so damn hard for him to just say something nice about him.

"I think what JJ meant to say," Jessie spoke up, giving JJ a side eye. "Is that Rafe would be a great help considering he's had a lot of experience with multi million dollar deals. Pope, you're still gonna make the final decision on where it goes or if it goes anywhere, but you're only gonna get contacts through Rafe."

Pope sighed and looked down, his leg bouncing in thought.

"But what about my parents? W-what are they gonna think? What if I never get to come back home and-"

"You'll get to come home, Pope. I don't know when... but you will." Jessie said assuredly.

"Yea, Pope," Rafe reiterated, "you just all need to stay the hell out of dodge until everything blows over. I think that'll be just enough to get the cross sold, get comfortable somewhere else and then decide how you wanna come back."

"Or if we wanna come back." JJ jumped in. All the Pogues looked at him as if he was crazy for not wanting to come back... all of them accept for Jessie. She understood exactly what JJ was hinting at, as him and her both had dreamed of the day they could leave OBX and never come back. Now was their chance, and Jessie assumed JJ wouldn't pass up such a perfect opportunity.

"Look I know the rest of you got families and shit to come back to..." JJ said as he jumped up from his seat. "But my family is all right here, okay? Jessie, you and I both know how long we've dreamed of skipping town and never coming back. Guys! This is our chance! To go full kook!"

The pogues knew JJ was right, this was the stuff they had dreamed about all their lives, especially after they started searching for treasure. Were they really going to pass up their perfect exit plan? John B finally decided to stand up alongside his best friend.

"I'm with JJ... my family's right here." John B said as he looked over at Sarah, who decided to join him with an arm wrapped around his waist. By this point all Jessie and Rafe could see was the three teenagers standing in front of Kiara and Pope, the only two with parents that would actually care about this escapade.

"My parents would kill me." Pope spoke up.

"I think they'd forgive you when you come back with half a million dollars to their name." JJ smirked. "What do I always say, Pope?"

"Bad ideas..." John B started the infamous saying.

"Have good outcomes all the time." JJ completed.

"Hey, you got that from me!" Jessie chimed in. They all chuckled in response, knowing that Jessie was definitely the original ring leader for the friend group's bad ideas. At this point Pope just looked over at Kiara.

"Don't look at me..." Kie responded with a slight laugh, "the second I get home my parents are sending me to military school."

Pope took one more deep breath as he contemplated the faces of every person there, all of them hanging on the edge of their seat waiting for the teenager to agree. Pope got up from his seat, went to the cooler and grabbed his favorite beer.

"To going full kook?" Pope asked as he raised his drink in the air with a slight smile.

"To going full kooooook!" JJ screamed as the rest of the group whooped and hollered various things out of excitement. Jessie and Rafe both were happy to see the pogues so excited, like they were kids again.

Everyone got up to grab another drink and they all brought them together, inevitably spilling most of it, but drinking it nonetheless.

Rafe held Jessie in his arms and looked down at her after watching the scene unfold before them.

"To going full kook?" Rafe asked. Jessie just smiled, despite being a Cameron for four years now, she hadn't technically ever been a kook. She dreamed of that just as much as JJ and the others did. In fact, she was the originator of the idea years ago.

"To going full kook." Jessie replied with a grin.