#hope my bubby is feeling better

[blkwag]

[depresseddepot]

my little buddy doesn't feel good and I have to go to fucking work !!!!!!!!

[luveline]

���𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream. 

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed. 

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand. 

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted. 

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye. 

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb." 

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?" 

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart." 

She smiles more. 

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says. 

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'" 

"I'm so 'mart." 

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft." 

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost. 

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck. 

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly. 

"Love you," she says back. 

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you? 

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go. 

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach. 

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before. 

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition. 

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair. 

“June,” he mumbles. 

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says. 

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger. 

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her. 

"You know who you look like?" he asks her. 

She shakes her head. His face lights up. 

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby." 

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask. 

He shakes his head. "Come here." 

"What?" 

"Just come here. Lie down." 

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?" 

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired. 

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible." 

"I'm impossible?" 

"You're impossible," he promises. 

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth. 

"I can't believe you're real." 

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck. 

"Do I look bad?" he asks. 

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you. 

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over. 

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks. 

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't. 

"Junie?" he asks. 

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce. 

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?" 

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head. 

"Mom's dying." 

"Eddie." 

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast." 

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night." 

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says. 

You glare. "You are not exempt." 

"Can I use the bathroom?" 

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?" 

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back." 

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose. 

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing. 

"Don't know what you mean."  

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome. 

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?" 

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap. 

"I wasn't serious." 

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."  

She only smiles. 

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face. 

"Sorry," you say. 

"For what?" 

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three. 

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours. 

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging. 

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?" 

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again. 

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching. 

"Oh, shit," you say. 

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug. 

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases. 

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me." 

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look. 

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?" 

It sounds clunky in his mouth. 

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely. 

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again." 

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you. 

"What? I brushed my teeth." 

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention. 

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes. 

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating. 

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval. 

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise." 

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways." 

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box. 

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head. 

"This is positive reinforcement." 

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot. 

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?" 

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup. 

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand. 

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome." 

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?" 

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but. 

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes." 

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance. 

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things." 

"Of course not." 

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble." 

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally. 

"Do I look stupid?" he asks. 

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy. 

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean." 

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you." 

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected. 

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too." 

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be. 

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio." 

"They did not." 

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches. 

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you." 

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding. 

"I'm not going to get her pregnant." 

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby. 

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?" 

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested." 

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw. 

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?" 

Eddie makes himself scoff. 

"Yeah, you should've." 

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school." 

"You had to get that one in there." 

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same. 

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers. 

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks. 

"You never did either." 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers. 

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though." 

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening. 

"Thank you." 

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement. 

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back. 

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–" 

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you. 

"I think I can deal with it." 

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face. 

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter. 

"She's in the bedroom." 

"What for?" 

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse." 

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too. 

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

"What?" 

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?" 

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you." 

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?" 

"'Course not… Are they working?" 

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?" 

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you." 

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference. 

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?" 

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door. 

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you. 

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time. 

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too." 

"See you," she says, patting his neck. 

"How do I look? Handsome?" 

She tangles her fingers in his hair. 

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?" 

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you." 

"Duh, but does he like me?" 

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you." 

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?" 

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man." 

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?" 

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him. 

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt. 

He drops his head into yours. 

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly. 

"What, today?" 

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?" 

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it. 

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out." 

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?" 

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months. 

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im." 

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry. 

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking." 

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn." 

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers." 

"You better be helping her." 

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you." 

"What time am I expected?" 

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?" 

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef. 

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit." 

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–" 

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget." 

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook. 

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show. 

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug. 

"Can I get some of that?" 

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology. 

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead. 

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is." 

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight. 

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to." 

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it." 

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to." 

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders. 

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight." 

You still don't budge. 

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles." 

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby. 

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you. 

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly. 

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me." 

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him. 

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up. 

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"  

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave. 

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek. 

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third. 

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear. 

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love. 

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet. 

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand. 

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing. 

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold.  "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?" 

"Okay. What's for treats?" 

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?" 

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying. 

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes. 

"Hey, bub, look at you!" 

"She has something to ask you." 

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?" 

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…" 

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats." 

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling. 

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake." 

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh." 

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise. 

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh. 

"'This' is killer," Eddie says. 

"No, but can you see the bleach?" 

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."  

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response. 

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it." 

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese. 

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you. 

"It's fine. You want me to answer?" 

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling. 

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket. 

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door. 

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse. 

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes. 

He nods. Looking good. 

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her. 

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up. 

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way. 

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice. 

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you." 

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie." 

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'? 

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out. 

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway. 

"Can I stay over?" 

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home." 

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip. 

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing. 

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way. 

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly. 

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out. 

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone. 

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her." 

"What? You've never told me that." 

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back. 

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here." 

You groan, "No, this is fine." 

"Sit on my lap, loser." 

"I'm heavy." 

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips. 

Your eyes are bright in the lighting. 

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb. 

"I can see why you're so kind," you say. 

You smile at each other. 

"I don't know what I did." 

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs. 

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life." 

"A past life," he repeats. 

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair. 

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out. 

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life. 

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face. 

You lean in for a kiss. 

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention. 

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever. 

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps. 

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like. 

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it. 

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his. 

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…" 

"What?" you ask. 

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing. 

Movement. Little feet. 

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist. 

You press your arm to his. 

"Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head. 

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips. 

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze. 

"Bed?" he asks. 

You slouch down. "In a minute?" 

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure. 

"Whatever you want." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 4.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: this chapter might be a bit slower. it's building some things up and i wanted to brush up on my combat writing. it's a bit scuffed but i hope you enjoy! aemond is kind of feral in this chapter.

wordcount: 4.2k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

‘Little wolf spider’ Helaena had called her. She remembered Helaena’s incessant facts about them specifically– why, of all things, did she remember that? She remembered Helaena citing that they were excellent hunters with superb eyesight. They did not spin webs, most being wanderers without permanent homes.

It almost made her want to laugh. It truly described her well, didn’t it? Besides the eyesight part… and the hunting part– she was indeed, a little wolf spider– doomed to be alone and not able to make her own home, a rolling stone amongst the waves that threatened to drown her.

After the betrothal announcement dinner and subsequent breakdown of Shera, she stayed in her chambers for a few days, not feeling well enough to socialize, nor see the faces of people that would’ve heard her crying. Cregan visited a few times, bringing her a meal or two and forcing her to bathe– it was agitating her to be forced to do something she loved, something she wished to do alone.

He, thankfully, had maids do the actual washing part– but this still annoyed Shera to bits. She hated being touched, being fretted over by them as they looked upon her like she was lesser, like she wasn’t capable of doing things herself. She felt suffocated in a place that usually brought her peace, simpering tiny whines as they pulled at her hair. 

I can do it, I can do it– just let me do it!

She wanted to scream and claw their wandering eyes out, then go and kick Cregan in the balls– this was his fault, his fault– 

Finally, the maids left and she felt like a freshly plucked duck, ready to be roasted over the fire. Her skin was red and pink, emanating heat that she could almost see, steam roiling over her overwrought skin.

Moongeist whined at the closed washroom door– they had locked him out, the absolute fiends. She wrapped in a robe, pinning her hair up with a whale bone pin and opened the door.

“Come here, lovey,” she cooed, voice broken and hoarse still. “They locked you out– my poor bubby.” Shera pat his head, descending onto her knees. She was still weak from the emotional turmoil she’d gone through, bleeding into her physical state, but she would need to be bed bound before she would ever forsake Moongeist proper scratches. Her hands glided through his black fur and she pressed her face to him, taking in his familiar scent.

 Everyone said he smelled like a dog, but that was simply untrue. He smelled… clean, he smelled like wolf– which was much different than smelling like dog. It was primal and heady, deep and warm like fir trees and pine nettles and all the things that were so synonymous with him. She scratched behind his ears and his leg thumped on the ground. 

Cregan returned to her chamber, a plate of something sweet smelling in his hand. He put it down on the dining table. “Are you feeling better today?” 

Shera’s mouth pursed into a thin line as she got back to her feet— with Moongeist’s assistance— and meandered to the table. “Define better.” she murmured, inspecting the plate. It was piled high with her favorite treat; sticky honey walnut cakes. Her mouth filled with saliva instantly and her brow raised to Cregan. Perhaps her brother was more considerate than she thought. 

“Better as in you’d be able to walk the Keep— Jacaerys and I are going to be skirmishing in the training yard at noon.” 

She all but scowled as she pilfered one of the pastries, biting into it without much decorum. It was a messy dessert, designed to be eaten with a fork and knife— but damn that, she would be sticky faced like a honey drunk bear if she pleased! She melded into the flavors, the nostalgia of it tampering her mood. “… I suppose I could watch.”

“He asked for you, you know.” 

Shera’s brow raised. ‘He’ could mean a lot of people. “Who?” 

“Jacaerys. He asked if you were alright and wished his condolences for your… illness.” 

“Is that what we are saying it is now? An illness?” she muttered, taking another bite of the cake. Yes, how diminishing it felt to pass off her fragility of mind as an illness. Of course— how else could it be put? She was surprised that it wasn’t being spread as a ‘malady of woman’, or some other pompous innocuous name for whatever was really wrong with her. 

“What would you call it then?” 

She made a noncommittal noise and continued eating. After finishing, she let out a sigh. “Thank you for the cakes, Cregan.” 

“I didn’t bring them— they were at your chamber door when I came back.” 

She tilted her head. “They were just… there?” 

“I didn’t even know you liked honey walnut cakes, Shera.” 

She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be at the yard at noon. I need to get ready, if you please.” she said, the nicest way of putting it. Leave, brother. You’re annoying. 

–

Dressed in a lighter garment than usual, she descended the steps carefully. A light blue tulle train flowed behind her, rippling and waving in the breeze like the white capped crests upon the Blackwater. It was different from her normal style of muted, monotone colors— mayhaps it was a way to uplift herself. 

It was a lovely blue and green hue, embroidered with filigree patterns. The sleeves were long, accompanied by a sweeping circular decolletage, exposing her soft collarbone and the faintest swell of breast. She had felt so confident leaving her chambers— she even went with a shorter veil than usual, the lace falling just past her jaw. 

Walking down the hall, Moongeist nosed her hand to his head, as if to remind her of something. She felt… exposed. A bit too much for her liking. Her fingers glided over her wolf’s soft fur… and she remembered, swiftly turning around to grab her fur stole from her room. “Thank you for reminding me, sweet boy,” she hummed, snuggling into the comforting, familiar fur. 

Descending down to the training yard, she fanned herself with an errant hand. Even with less layers than usual and lighter colors, she was still broiling under the sun. Moongeist panted near her, tongue lolled out in silent agreement.

“A parasol might do you well, my lady,” a bored voice drawled. “Your pale complexion does you wonders, but I wonder if you still flay in the sun like as a child.” 

“Aegon,” Shera recognized the lazy, tired voice of the eldest child of Alicent. He had been one of her companions back in the day, but also one of her greatest foes– before the incident of course. “I’m surprised to see you outside. I’ve heard you’re solely a creature of the dark now.”

“I am full of surprises, dear Shera,” he caught up to her, looping their arms together all too readily. He had a dopey smile on his face, but it didn’t match the pure exhaustion in his eyes. Dark bags fell under those violet orbs like a dreary storm. “I happen to be coming back from… such nightly activities.”

Moongeist let out a growl as he touched her, but Shera silenced him. She didn’t believe that she had any reason to fear Aegon and thought him almost as pathetic as she. “Very well.”

“I heard about… the dinner. I’m glad I slipped out when I did, I knew it’d be a shit show,” he was fiddling with his rings on his free arm, all while stringing her along to the training yard. “Curious how Aemond said you were a bashed up mess under that veil of yours, and yet– he is challenging your betrothed and your brother to a duel?”

“How do you know that?” 

“I have my ways– eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Helaena told you, didn’t she?”

“... mm. Maybe– even so, I don’t think it’s wholly terrible under there, is it?” he peered at her, a single hand lifting her veil to peek underneath. 

She promptly slapped his hand away and wrenched herself from his grasp, followed by Moongeist giving a warning snap to the air. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Sleeping off your night, mayhaps?” 

“Well– yes,” Aegon backed up, putting his hands in the air in surrender. “I just wanted to catch up. Is that so terrible?”

“Yes.” 

He patted down imaginary dust from his doublet, twisting his rings again as they reached the landing to the training yard observation deck. He leaned his head to look out and survey it for a moment before a devilish smirk perked at his mouth once more. “You are going to wish that it was me talking to you soon enough, Shera. Have fun, zokla.” Wolf. 

Shera watched him jaunt off with an air of confusion, turning to walk onto the rampart. She saw Jacaerys there already with Cregan, talking and laughing with… Rhaena and Baela. Daemon was there, too, stalking in the background.

Fuck.

She took a deep breath, glancing to the dirt grounds where Aemond was sparring with Criston. 

Cregan’s voice echoed in her mind. They’re not your friends, not anymore. She pulled her stole closer to herself, walking forward. I don’t have any friends here. Except for Helaena, it seemed. Steeling her nerves, she made her way to the small congregation. “Brother, Jacaerys,” she greeted first, dipping her head. Cregan seemed jovial and in good spirits– he always was around Jacaerys and vice versa. “Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena.” she spoke then, trying to keep her quivering voice even. They hadn’t spoken since Baela had slashed her eye and attempted to kill her. Shera took in her appearance best she could– she had grown up, as they all had, but especially resembled her mother, Laena. Shera remembers seeing Laena’s portraits in Driftmark– and her statuesque coffin depiction before she was pushed into the sea. 

“Shera,” Jacaerys grinned, taking her hand– which she did not offer him– and kissed it. So gallant, so princely. It made her want to vomit. “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?”

Yes, it’s a lovely day, stifling hot in the hells. “... it could do with a breeze, mayhaps. But yes, quite nice.” she responded coolly. 

“‘Tis my turn to spar Aemond next– apparently he has been here since the crack of dawn with Criston. Do you think he’s getting exhausted yet, my lady?” Jace asked, guiding Shera to her seat and handing her a fan. At least he noticed that she was positively broiling.

She leaned and looked over the rampart to the skirmishing ring, where Aemond kept up his pace. “Since dawn, you say?” she asked, raising a brow as she fanned herself.

Aemond was using a shortsword, which seemed to be his weapon of choice against all others. Ser Criston was wielding a morningstar with spiked barbs around it. Her lone eye was entranced on the prince’s movements as he danced around his teacher, footwork impeccable as if he were simply floating across the dirt, whipping up hardly any dust in his wake. Shera wished she was a bit closer so she could see it better, but his movements didn’t seem to be exhausted in the slightest– he was like grebe skimming over the water, in his element. 

Criston raised his morningstar, twirling it before making his advance to the prince, to which Aemond did not move. Move, Aemond. Move! What are you doing? Shera clenched her fist in her lap and leaned forward even farther to try and parse exactly what Aemond’s plan was– certainly not to face a morningstar head on with a simple shortsword? She held her breath as he was within bludgeoning range of the flail, the chains clinking as Criston didn’t waiver– it was like they were in a real fight. Was he about to kill Aemond? 

She rose to her feet quickly, startled by what she thought was about to be a murder– only to watch Aemond roll deftly out of the way as the kingsguard’s weapon stuck into the dirt, lodged a few inches in by the heft of his lunge. This was a clear opportunity for Aemond, one he calculated so carefully. He stuck the tip of his shortsword through the links of the flail, keeping it pinned to the ground and hovered a dagger at Ser Cole’s neck with his other hand. 

“I yield, my prince.” Criston huffed, bowing his head. 

“Very good,” Aemond grinned– but it wasn’t a grin of joy, this seemed to be a recurring theme with Aemond– he smiled but it was nothing of mirth. It was simply a reflex, like a snake opening its jaws to stretch its fangs, one might think it was laughing. “Who’s next?” 

Shera realized the kerfuffle she’d made, her hand white knuckled against her chest as she stared at Aemond in abject horror, still not getting past the fact that she had been deathly worried about Aemond– even after the horrible things he had said. If Ser Cole’s flail had met the prince’s head, she would’ve jumped the rampart with Moongeist and mauled that sordid Kingsguard without a second thought.

She blinked, letting out a breath. Where did that come from? She was usually so well versed in her moods, as tumultuous as they could be. But this rage had snuck up on her, her blood boiling slightly. She glanced to her side, Moongeist was up and raring to go, as if sharing her sentiment.

Aemond wiped sweat from his forehead, finally looking to the ramparts. Their eyes met once again and he smirked. Smirked. It wasn’t a reflexive, mirthless smirk either. It was taunting, pompous. “Lady Shera,” he drawled, dislodging his sword from the ground and twirled it with ease, like it was an attachment of his own body. “You are dressed… brightly today.” he walked to the edge of the ring, looking directly up at her. 

Shera looked behind her for a moment– the rest of the party was occupied with talking with one another. She pressed her arms on the wall and leaned down. “I am. You are not.”

“When have I ever been?” 

“You used to like green.”

“Hm,” he snorted, wiping some errant dirt from his face. “If I were in a tourney, would you cast down your favor to me?”

“I thought you didn’t care for tournaments, my prince.” 

“I don’t.” he responded coolly, his eye trained on her so intensely. He was looking at something– did she have something on her face?

She realized quickly the air coming up from under her veil, the shorter one she wore today, and her angle. She was looking… down at him, and the veil stayed in place. He could see her face. He was looking at her, studying her like a book. Shera let out a soft sheepish noise, pushing back from the rampart and sitting back at her seat. 

She heard him laugh as he walked away to stow his weapon on the rack and pick another. He was laughing at her– surely because he thought her ugly. Wilting into herself, she adjusted her veil so that she might not have any more mishaps. 

“Jacaerys, I believe it’s your turn,” she murmured, fanning herself again, then fanning Moongeist.

“Ah, very good. Wish me luck, my lady.” 

“Good luck, Jacaerys.” she hummed. I do wish you don’t get your brains splattered in the pit by Aemond. I am not getting up again.

Cregan clasped Jace on the shoulder with such ferocity he almost knocked the prince over, walking down to the pit with him. Shera rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“So, Lady Stark,” Baela hummed, pulling her seat up next to Shera. Uncomfortably close. “Cregan is your brother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.” she responded, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Forgive me– you two don’t look much alike, so I was just making sure.”

You cannot even see my face, how do you know we do not look alike? The last time you saw my face, you mauled it. “Cregan takes after our father more than I. I am more like our mother– or so I’ve been told. I’ve not met her.” she fiddled with her fur stole to ease her growing irritation. Add mother issues to the list of things I have wrong with me. Shera’s mother died shortly after her birth– all she knew is that she had copper hair. Their father had put away portraits and any semblance of her existence after– and never remarried.

Baela carefully sidestepped the issue of Shera’s mother, keeping her pressed about Cregan. “My stepmother says that mayhaps after you and Jacaerys are wed, she will propose a betrothal between Cregan and I.”

Oh, of course. Let’s have Winterfell all but indebted to dragons. “I hadn’t heard. Have you been North, my lady?” 

“No– but I imagine it cannot be any harsher than the roiling tides of Driftmark.”

Fuck you. “Having been both places– they are very different, Lady Baela,” Shera knew she was being short and not doing well in containing her agitation at this whole situation, being in proximity to her would-be murderer. “The North is harsher than any tide and is not the best climate for everyone. I do not think dragons fair well in the North,” she paused to breathe, her pace of speaking beginning to burn her throat. She was fueled by disconcertment and barely contained anger alone. “... that is what I have heard. Vermax loathes the snow.” 

“Well,” Baela kept a smile on her face. “Cregan is handsome, don’t you think?”

“I cannot say, my lady. I don’t really see him in such a manner— I am not a Targaryen, after all.” Shera said back, finally regaining some control in her voice. 

She heard Daemon laugh behind her. She fought the urge to turn around and sneer, focusing on the melee happening in the pit. It was well on its way and Jacaerys was… faring. She didn’t know how he was faring, but he wasn’t knocked out yet. 

Aemond was circling him like a wolf upon prey– a totally different technique than what he had done with Criston. He had let Criston come to him, rather than facing him head on. It was almost sickly how he was playing with him before the slaughter. There was a dangerous glint in Aemond’s eye that only Shera seemed to catch– did he mean to kill Jace? She remembered a similar glint in his eye when he raised the rock to Jacaerys’ head in the tunnels under Driftmark–

Aemond surged forward and steel met steel, their swords clashing together. Jace had chosen a shortsword as well, parrying his opponent’s thrust– barely. He knocked the white-haired prince back slightly, catching his breath. 

Once again, that sickly smile spread across Aemond’s face. “Tired already, Jacaerys? We’ve barely begun!” he continued his walk around his nephew, twirling his sword.

“Hardly, uncle. All you’ve done is dance around me. How about an actual fight, ey?” Jace quipped back. 

Shera had to give him credit where it was due. Jace was brazen. Taunting an already unhinged Aemond and being mayhaps a bit stupid– but brazen nonetheless. 

“A swordsman knows how to pick his fights and when to wait, doesn’t he?” Aemond’s eye flicked to the ramparts where Daemon was still looming. “Has your stepfather not taught you that?”

“You’re both talking a bit too much for my liking,” Cregan grunted, his hand itching on his own sword, which he had already unsheathed. It was the Stark’s ancestral weapon, a huge greatsword aptly called Ice. Cregan handled it with ease– Shera wouldn’t even be able to lift it. “Go on, Jacaerys.”

“Go on, Jacaerys,” Aemond taunted in a similar tone, his hackles raised. He looked slightly manic in the moment. “Let's see what your stepfather has taught you– if anything. I thought you were supposed to be strong.” 

Jacaerys raged forward, spurred by his rising anger. Their swords clashed again with such force that sparks flew from the metal. Aemond thwarted him off, pushing him backwards into the dirt, shrugging his shoulders. 

Despite being pushed down, Jace still got up, coming at Aemond again and again, each slash more sloppy than the last, but fueled with spite. His uncle continued to parry him, to push him, to sweep him aside with ease– it was a game to him.

“Keep your attacks focused, Jacaerys,” Cregan commanded. “He’s getting tired, I can see it.”

“I can go all day, Stark!” Aemond barked, his violet eye pierced solely on Cregan now as he thwarted Jacaerys’ heavy-handed blows without even looking at him. “Let’s make a wager, shall we? If your… pup here wins, I’ll personally pay for you and your troops to have a trip to the Silk Street– the best brothel. If I win– I get to take your sister for a ride on my dragon.” 

Ah, fuck. Cregan’s hackles rose and he shoved off his fur cape. “Don’t talk about my sister, you beast,” the vein in Cregan’s neck throbbed and Shera knew it would come to blows between the Warden of the North and the One-Eyed prince. “You wouldn’t know a real fight if it hit you in the face.” 

“Oh, please– now give me a moment so I can pummel your little pup into the ground and show your sister a real dra–” Aemond’s voice was cut off as Cregan punched him squarely in the face, right in his nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils and he then raised his sword to Cregan. “Fine.”

Their bodies tensed and Jacaerys saw the opportunity to walk away, thoroughly exhausted and not wanting to get in between the two of them. 

They were about to clash swords once more in a very real manner and Shera stood up from her chair hastily, opening her mouth to say something– but she was cut off. 

“Aemond!” an authoritative voice called from the rampart. It was Otto Hightower, hand of the King– and Aemond’s grandsire. “Forgo your petty spar and meet me in the Tower of the Hand. Promptly.” 

The mania in Aemond’s eyes and aura faded, snuffing it out once more– just like his rage at the dinner. “Of course. Good fight, Jacaerys,” he nodded his head to his nephew, then looked to Cregan. “Stark.” he uttered before spitting blood onto the dirt, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He didn’t even look at Shera as he ascended the steps and followed his grandsire. 

“I notice you did not greet me, Lady Stark,” Daemon hummed as he loomed behind her. “Am I not worthy of your respect?” 

“... you were quite far away, Prince Daemon. I simply cannot project my voice that far, forgive me.” she droned, blinking profusely at the turn of events. 

“My nephew said he would’ve taken you on a ride upon his dragon– care to enlighten me what that might mean?” he continued, tapping ringed fingers on the stone barrier.

“I presume he would take me on a ride on Vhagar,” she muttered, edging away from Daemon. “He would find it hard to get me upon his beast, even if he won the bet.”

“I’m sure he would. Your brother has a temper when it comes to you, it seems?”

“All men have tempers when it comes to women in their lives, do they not?” 

“That’s true.”

“I don’t imagine you would wish your daughter,” she cleared her throat, eyes looking to Baela, who was speaking to Jacaerys off to the side. “To be absconded to the North. Nor do I imagine you’re entirely pleased at the prospect of more Andal blood tainting your line.” 

“An apt observation, wolf. Though, I am not sure the North is meant for northerners, either. Some people just do not belong anywhere, it seems.” 

Fuck off, old man. “I wish you a good day, prince Daemon.” Shera whispered, bowing her head, careful of her veil placement. She could feel his gaze on her, leering at her, trying to figure out what was beneath.

“Cregan– I am going to lunch with Helaena,” Shera tried to call down, but her voice didn’t project. He was caught up talking very animatedly to Jacaerys and Baela– Rhaena was off to the side, not saying much.

Shera let out an errant puff of agitation and left the training yard. She stopped at her chambers before going to Helaena’s– she took off the errant piece of flowing fabric from her outfit and put it on the desk. 

– 

Aemond returned to his chambers hours later after being thoroughly chewed out by his grandsire for ‘behavior unbecoming of a prince’. Is this how it felt to be Aegon?

His nose ached and he was sure that northern beast had broken it. It mattered not, it will mend. Most things do in time.

He began to unlace his jerkin as he noticed a piece of cerulean fabric on his desk, pinned with a note.

My favor, for you.

There was no signature to whom had written it, only a crude drawing of a wolf. He rolled his eye, picking up the fabric. It was soft between his calloused fingers and smelled heavily of lavender and rosemary. It smelled of her– he could absorb it even with his broken nose.

A tiny smile perked at his lips for a moment. ‘Twas a real one.

[astraysimp]

Mini Binnie

I'm back-kinda! This is based on this ask

Hi everyone! I am back with my first full fic in a while! Sorry it has taken me so long, I have had many many many mental breakdowns BUT I AM FEELING BETTER AND DRINKING WATEER! YIPPEE!  This is for my lovely 🍒 anon! Who is my first request, like ever, so thank you lovely anon! I saw the words chunky baby and i KNEW  I had to whip something up. Soooooo, enjoy my loves!!!!

Pairing: Changbin x reader AND BINNA (THE CHUNKY BUBBA)

Warnings: this might suck bc I haven’t sat down and written a full fic in a while so I sorry, dad!changbinnie, 10 month old Binna( our chunky bubby), FLUFF FLUFF,, italicized text indeicates reference to the past, pet names,simp binnie, playful teasing,fem!reader, let me know if i missed anything 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

10 months ago, you and your husband Changin welcomed your daughter into this world. Her name is Binna and she is yours and Changbin’s world. Changbin was the proudest dad to be and is now the proudest dad. 

Even in your 42 week pregnancy— Binna came late, loving her warm, safe home in your belly a little too much— he was proudly telling everyone and everyone that he came across that he was going to be a dad. And when i say everyone, i mean everyone. He told strangers, his bandmates ( like a million and one times), JYP, his managers, he told STAY on bubble and in lives, he told his stylists, his bandmates’ stylists, he even told you. 

Currently, you were about 30 weeks into your pregnancy. So, your bump was round and proud. You and Changbin wer5e cuddled on your couch, watching your favorite k-drama as he rubbed your belly. Turning to you, an ecstatic giggle tumbled from his lips. “Yes, jagi?” you asked him, pausing the drama on the Tv in front of you. “I’m going to be a dad.” He giggled, his hands caressing your bump. “Yes, you are, Binnie.’ you patted his hand and laughed. “A baby. Our baby, jagiya!” he exclaimed, he was just exploding with excitement. Yes, you knew you were having a baby, your bump proving the point. But, you couldn’t crush his cute excitement.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you giggled. “You know, i hope she looks like you, binnie.” Gasp, “yah! You can;t just say things like that to me, yeobo!” he pouted. “Why not, my binnie?” You giggled, pinching his  plump cheek. Oh, that’s why. Sniffling, he whined and whined. “I’ll cry, jagiyaaaaaa.” oh, he was so cute. “Baby, why are you crying?” 

“You said you hope our baby looks like me,” he sniffled out.

And you thought your pregnancy hormones were all over the board. Well, at least he’s cute. 

Holding his cheeks in your hands, you pressed a plethora of soft kisses all around the perimeter of his face. “Waaahhhhhhh. My Binnie is so cute!”  you google out, seeing a soft crimson blush rise up his neck, cover his cheeks and tint his ears. “Why is my hubby blushing? You’re too cute?” nYou teased, his eyes crinkling as his perfectly straight pearly white teeth flashed with his wide grin. “You’re making me! Yeoboooooo!” 

“How am i  making you blush, huh binnie?” you giggled, as his hands resumed their usual belly rubbing. Such belly rubbing causing your already daddy’s girl to kick from her secure place in your womb. Laughing, you pinched his cheeks, “see. Even Binna thinks her appa’s cute!” 

Again, he giggled, as a blush tinted his cheeks again.

“Shush, yeobo.”

That was a little over 11 months ago. Since then, you and Changbin have been soaking up the precious times with your baby girl. When she became Earth side, you remember how chubby she was– and still is. Her late birth made her a chunky and squishy baby. 10 pounds and 5 ounces to be exact. So, safe to say, Binna is a chunky girl. And a replica of her appa– big brown doe eyes, the same smile, raven black her and the same giggle.

Oh, her giggle, one to match her appa’s. 

Currently, you were sitting next to Changbin on your couch, a 10 month old Binna on his lap. She was giggling and hitting her hands against his chest as Changbin’s lips were blowing raspberries on her cheeks. “Hi, Binna! Binna bear!” you cooed, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. 

Giggling, she squealed and turned her head to look at you. “Eomma!” she squealed– although her first word was appa. Something Changbin was very  proud of and told everyone. “Hi baby doll! Are you having so much fun?” you perched, as one of her small, chubby hands reached towards you.

Taking her hand in your, you smiled and playfully bit at it. “Eomma! Eomma!” She exclaimed, plopping herself to lay against Changbin’s chest. Smiling, Changbin held her close to his chest, his hands supporting her back and legs. “My binna bear, give appa some love,” he pouted, pressing his lips to her forehead. Gasping, she looked up at him, her pink lips forming a small o-shape, before forming a gummy smile as she giggled. “Appa!” she exclaimed, her short legs kicking. 

reaching her arms up, she pressed her hands against his cheeks, smooshing them to make a fish face. “Appa!” She squealed, loud, high pitched giggles falling from her lips. “Ppo-ppo?” Changbin asked, hands lightly tapping on her bum, as he puckered his lips even more. Puckering her own lips, Binna raised herself to be level with Changbin’s face. 

What Changbin thought would be his daughter giving him a sweet kiss, was not that. 

Puckering her lips, Binna leaned and bit down on Changbin’s chin. “I-Binna bear, what are you doing, bubba? I wanted a kiss.” He laughed, feeling her nomming and gumming at his chin. The cold wetness of her drool coating the slightly stubbled skin of his chin. “Okay, princess, come here,” you cooed.

Leaning back, you carefully lifted her off his chin and subsequently off of his chest. “Yah! Yah yah yah, I still haven’t gotten my kiss,” Changbin whined, seeing Binna curl into your hold, her hands holding a tight grasp onto your shirt, as you peppered her chubby face in kisses. “Oh hush, let me love on my princess,” you retorted. “Binnie, you get plenty plenty plenty of kisses. Doesn’t he, princess? Doesn’t appa get so many kisses?” You smiled, as she giggled and kicked her feet. “Eomma! Eomma ppo-ppo!” She giggled, smacking her lips together. “Yes, baby. Kisses for eomma,” you giggled, kissing her lips. 

Pouting, Changbin leaned over, with his lips puckered. “Not fair, jagiya! I want Binna kisses too,” he pouted, watching Binna smack her lips onto yours. “How about me, binna bear?” He pouted, leaning in to try to steal a kiss. “Eomma kiss!” She squealed back, much to Changbin’s dismay and chagrin. “Wha-why not appa, binna bear?” He pouted, pretending to sniffle.

What a dramatic man. Hanging out with Hyunjin too much,although he would disagree.

Laughing, you squeezed binna to your chest as she kissed your cheeks. “Waaah! Thank you, angel! So many kisses for eomma!” You laughed, watching as Changbin’s jaw dropped. Bro was flabbergasted, appalled, taken aback. He was shook. 

“Wh-why does eomma get kisses but not me, binna?” all Binna did was giggle, continuing to give you kisses. Squealing happily, Binna laid her small chunky body against your chest and smiled. “Because she loves meeeeeeeee. Isn’t that right, princess?” You cooed, rocking her back and forth in your arms. “Love eomma so much so much, huh, Binna bear?” Nodding her head, she pressed her lips against yours before resorting to laying her chubby cheek against your shoulder.

Maybe, she wasn’t so much of a daddy’s girl after all. Lies. Binna was the epitome of a daddy’s girl. Oh, she’s crying? Changbin walks in and those tears dry up and she goes back to being her bubbly self.  She can’t fall asleep? Put her on Binnie’s chest and she’s out like a light. You’re trying to feed her mashed veggies and she won;t eat them? Let Changbin feed Binna and she'll eat those veggies right up. 

Daddy’s girl

But, you could pretend for a little bit that she was a mommy’s girl. Just for now, until her daddy’s girl side came back out. 

Smiling, you cuddled her small body close to you, her arms curled around your neck for some much needed eomma cuddles. “But…. she’s my binna bear…just want a kiss is all.” He sighed out, gently running his hand over her pink sleeper onesie clad back. “Binnie, my sweet sweet husband….you know she’s the biggest daddy’s girl. She clings to you, day in and day out. Not that I'm complaining. I find it adorable, you and your mini. But, she needs momma kisses and cuddles sometimes.” You conceded, gently leaning forward to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. “I know, jagiya. I know,” You soothed back, running his knuckle over your knuckle. “You’re the best wife, eomma and partner anyone could have. I don’t blame her for needing some lovings from you, in fact I want to join,” he giggled.

“Join? Yah, be careful, you sap.” You teased, as he maneuvered himself to be fully wrapped around your side. Much like Binna was cuddled into your shoulder with her cheek pressed against you and her arms curled around your neck; Changbin was wrapped around you. His arms curling around your waist with his head on the opposite shoulder.

Sighing, you turned and kissed a kiss to his forehead before repeating the same to Binna. “Aigo, now I have two cuddly babies, don’t i?” you pondered to yourself. Nodding, Changbin smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Indeed you do, yeobo. Me and my mini.” situating yourself into a more comfortable position, you leaned to settle your back further into the couch. “Now, how am I going to get up if I have to use the bathroom?” You questioned, feeling him nuzzle further into your side. “We’ll figure that out when we get there, yeobo.” he smiled, his big brown eyes filled with nothing but pure love and adoration for you.

You really do have two babies, in the best way. There was a lot of Changbin’s personality that showed and carried in Binna’s.  She got his bubbly personality, his eyes, his laugh and giggle and his love for your love and cuddles. 

 she was the epitome of a daddy’s girl. She’s tired? Give her to Binnie and she’ll fall asleep in the snap of a finger. She’s upset or fussy? Not when her appa holds her and kisses her cheeks. You made pureed veggies and she won’t eat them? Sure, not when you try to feed her. But, let Changbin feed her and those veggies will be eaten without crying, fussing or a tantrum. 

And her favourite plushy? You guessed it….dwaekki.  

Curling himself into your side, Changbin laid his head on your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw. Unknowingly, his knee was pressing against your lower region. “Aigo, Changbin-ah. Don’t do that please, my love. Then I’ll have to pee.” You breathed out, wiggling in your spot a bit. “Oops. sorry, jagi.” He nodded, head still tucked into your shoulder as he moved his leg to sit lower. “Thank you baby.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose.

Laying into the couch, you sighed. “At least if I have to go to the bathroom, I can take binna with me.”  Wait, Binna goes but not him? Changbin thought to himself. So he pouted and looked up at you.“If you go to the bathroom, I get to go right too?” he asked, settled into your side. “I-what kind of question is that Changbin? Why would you go.” “Well, it only seems fair and right since baby princess gets to go.” this man. He is something, that’s for sure. “Binnie….I love you and all. I do, really but please be so for real.”

Time had passed so fast that neither you or Changbin had realised it was 8 o’clock. Which was Binna’s usual bedtime. So, she would eventually grow sleepy and  fall asleep. However, Changbin was still tightly curled around your body. His arms around your waist and one leg thrown over the tops of your thighs. 

Changbin had always fallen asleep if he was cuddled to you, and Binna would as well. Well, when she wasn’t in Changbin’s arms.  While being so befuddled by your dear husband asking if he was going to the bathroom with you, you had failed to notice how Binna had gone completely relaxed against you and fallen asleep. 

Peeking down at her, you smiled to yourself seeing how her eyes had closed, dark eyelashes fanning over her chubby cheeks. While her arms were still curled around your neck, they had gone more lax. A state of sleepiness and relaxation consuming her small body. Her legs were relaxed, lax against your torso. “Awwwww, princess is asleep, bin.” You smiled, gently rubbing her back. 

“She is,hm” He smiled, gently lifting his head to see his 10 month old daughter so completely relaxed and at peace in your arms. “Mhm. My cuddles do have that effect. Even on you,binnie. “ It was true. Something abo0ut being in your arms or just curled around you brought a sense of peace and urged anyone to fall asleep within minutes. Especially Binna and Changbin.

Changbin could never place a finger on it as to why your cuddles so easily made him fall asleep. Maybe it was the way you would play with his hair or run your hands up and down the expanse of his back. Maybe it was your soft scent, a scent he knew as home– soft cashmere notes tinged with vanilla and a hint of a light spice. Whatever it was , he would never complain. Often getting the best sleep when he was in your arms or cuddled up to your body and Binna seemed to be the same.

Feeling himself yawn, he nestled his head into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to the space of skin that your shirt didn’t cover. “Sleepy, binnie?” you perched, pressing a kiss to his temple before resting your cheek against his soft black curls. “Mhm,” was all he was able to get out before another yawn cut him off. 

His strong arms, once tightly wound around your waist, had loosened their hold. Still, they were holding you and Binna close to him and his leg had relaxed on its spot on your lap. He was almost there, the realm of his dreams creeping upon him and embracing him in their hold. The big brown eyes that had been passed onto his daughter, asleep in your hold, drew closed. His own eyelashes spanning the tops of his cheeks. 

Smiling to yourself, you gently manoeuvred your cuddle puddle so you could lay more comfortably on the large plush couch. Binna still safe, tucked against your chest with Changbin curled into your side. Pressing a kiss to his hair, you smiled and repeated the same to Binna’s hair. “Good night, binnie. I love you to the moon and back.” 

“I love you too, forever,” was all you heard before falling asleep yourself. Warmly welcomed to the world of dreams where you would see Binna and Binnie, even while asleep. 

They were yours forever. Binnie and Binna, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Blessed was an understatement when it comes to the lights of your life. 

🌟Hi hi hi! I hope you guys enjoy this fic! I think I am slowly easing my way back into writing so please bear with me! I love you all! My requests are open for drabbles or full fics. Reblogs are appreciated 🌟 

🌟REPOSTING ON ANY PLATFORM, STEALING, REPUBLISHING WITHOUT MY CONSENT, TRANSLATING OR IN ANY WAY CLAIMING MY WORKS IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED AND YOU WILL BE BLOCKED🌟©AStraySimp2023 🌟

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[princessmanamia]

Billy Hargrove CG head cannons

Theres not nearly enough soft Billy content so please enjoy this Billy Hargrove x Agere femreader brain rot

IF YOU DONT LIKE AGE REGRESSION (or absolute fluff) DONT READ

(VERY SPECIFICALLY IF HE HAD LIVED POST MIND FLAYER, NONE OF THIS IS PRE MIND FLAYER BILLY)

- Big brother energy, self explanatory i hope

- refers to himself as “Bubby” or “bubuh”

- When your in his care, he specifically refers to steve as “your daddy” ie, “angel if you dont stay in my line of sight, YOUR Daddy is gonna have my head on a steak”

- Hasn’t actually seen you completely baby spaced, (your too unsure and embarrassed to be that small around billy so its more 5 yr old energy ) and he is secretly intrigued and wants to gain enough trust to get to that point

- Definitely not one for bottles, i cant explain it but this man spoon feeds, i just know it! More like “nope ur too big for that, c’mere -opens up applesauce and grabs a spoon-

- More attentive than he appears! if he notices the little space tendencies, he is watching your body language like a hawk (and looking for any stressors or potential danger) to a point that (daddy) steve or (momma) robin might miss

- Head scratches (and rubs)!!! And the kind where all his fingers are splayed out, like he’s cradling your head….Its his way of showing affection and trying not to startle you if he’s coming up from behind, he’s secretly pained cuz you would flinch from him for the longest time, (from trust issues)

- Also blowing raspberries?? he’ll try and be sweet, and raise ur hand to his mouth to kiss it (or better yet grab ur face to kiss your cheek) but no you just end up with a slobber filled raspberry blowing and it always results in a giggle fit (if you could see how he looks at you when you giggle like that😩🥺)

- Has a soft blanket secretly tucked away in the back of his car, (only max knows about it, cuz he feels that steve might tease him for it and the thought alone irritates him) also has juice boxes in the glove box

- Petnames he uses: angel/angel face, little bunny, cotton tail, pipsqueak, little bit, doll/ doll face

[hwaightme]

BUBBIE !! have you seen this picture of seonghwa??? he looks so sweet dreamy and kind 🥹 kinda getting sweet librarian, kindergarten teacher, or barista vibes from this picture. ik he loves his hair long so i hope he can keep growing it out more

how was your day? how have you been!

hello lovely <333 AAAA THANK YOU FOR SENDING THISSSS oh my goodness i am and always will be enamoured with this look ;~; he gives 70's nostalgia, a sweet daydream or memory, a paradise in a sepia filter...

omg all these scenarios sound so so adorable! maybe this is me being affected by the season, but spring feel is *there*. windows open to let a fresh breeze in, warm glances, and a light heart.

(don't mind me putting songs that gave me this energy here:)

Sunflower by DOHU

너를 사랑하고 있어 (my love) by Baekhyun

Matsuri by Fujii Kaze

a miniature vision: seonghwa quietly passes you a book with a soft smile on his face, and when you flick through it, you find a pressed flower between the pages - one of your favourites. "this was the work you were looking for, wasn't it?" it is, but while searching, you have found so, so much more than just the novel. you grin back in silent understanding. lost and found, and here to stay.

my time has been alright~ hopefully will be getting better as i take things easy and enjoy the waking of the world (i have a mild - read as any antonym to that - fondness for cherry blossoms). how are your march days going? how have you been? <3

[strawbubbysugar]

I’m sorry your toofs are in pain, I hope you feel better soon :(((

I have to get my cavity filled next week, so I shall be in the same boat as you soon 🤝

Hang in there and take care of yourself Bubby!! <3

Solidarity,,,,,

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

'and bubby's all in the back singing "kiss the girl"'

next time i'm staring at your lips

with that awkward silence

(it's funny how the distance

and the kissing feels like an eternity

in two opposite ways),

maybe i'll actually get the guts

and the throat on top of it

to proposition you for a kiss.

it's kinda cute that i'm rendered mute,

'but the point is probably moot.'

do you think if i post some bikini pics

that it's enough to get wet with the dick?

how come i need a cheerleader, two liter

of stomach acid on pause,

to muster the breath to breathe with you?

when i hazard a look down,

as subtle as my broken neck,

i can see you're packing,

and i guess i am too;

checking my bag'd only reveal i'm a fag.

not outed at the outing,

not cooked at the cookout —

either way, i'm still gay.

i came prepared; i came, prepared.

unused condoms in the trash

because i'm all cautious just like that.

i wish you would've taken more of an initiative,

taken my worries, more of me, and inching in....

but given your incentive, sense,

that's an even bigger ask, isn't it?

i asked you for something a bit (a bit)

more normal, i guess,

and you, smiling so big,

said 'yeah, of course!

(can't you see?)'

'i can't stop staring.'

i'm laying down the ground work,

betting on getting better,

low-balling in hopes you'll

take it all on the spot,

but we both saw how far we got.

next time i get down on the floor,

i will make sure to four for the fores.

- ellie revenge

[queenofcats17]

So, I banged this out while I was bored in class and refined it here. Hope y’all like it! I am so normal about these peepaws. 

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

Bubby was taking the whole “living in a video game” thing better than Coomer had.

He’d been angry at the knowledge that his whole world was just a game and that Gordon was essentially god, but after a bit he’d been over it the whole thing, preferring to just move on and enjoy his new life outside of Half-Life.

“I must admit, I am rather curious, Bubby dear,” Coomer said as he and Bubby sat on their back porch. “Why are you so alright with this?”

A part of him couldn’t help but be jealous. When he had learned the truth, he had lost himself, lashing out against everyone and attempting to hurt Gordon. He still felt guilty about that, even now, even after Gordon had assured him that it was alright and no one held any ill will toward him.

Why did Bubby get to be so calm?

“I already had my existential crisis,” Bubby answered. “They don’t get another one out of me.”

For a moment, Coomer wasn’t sure what Bubby meant. Very quickly, though, his brain filled in the details, and he smiled softly. Although he knew the memory was more than likely false, it was still one he held dear.

The existential crisis Bubby was referring to was the one he had had 30 years before. Bubby had been fresh out of his tube back then, still getting used to the world and the expectations the other scientists had had for him as the perfect scientist.

One thing Bubby had noticed right away was that his coworkers didn’t treat him like a person. They were only ever interested in his scientific thoughts. Outside of the lab and his work, he’d been treated as something less than human, not entitled to the same rights as ordinary human scientists. The security guards had been nice to him, at least, but even they hadn’t seemed to consider him entirely human.

He’d ended up breaking down in front of his new friend, Doctor Harold Coomer. Bubby had been incredibly embarrassed afterward since he and Coomer had barely known each other for a month at that point. But Coomer had felt like...a safe person to talk to. After all, Coomer had been the one to insist they were going to be friends.

“Am I even a real person?!” Bubby had yelled, pulling at his hair as he slumped with his back against the cabinet. “Do I even count as a person?!”

Coomer still remembered what he’d said, even now. “Maybe you aren’t an ordinary person, and maybe you aren’t human, but your thoughts and feelings are as real as anyone else’s. You matter, and you’re real to me. Please don’t forget that.”

Bubby had echoed those words back to Coomer one night when Coomer had been having a particularly existential breakdown.

“Maybe we’re not as real as Gordon, but who cares?! We’re real to each other, aren’t we? We have thoughts and feelings and lives. And anyone who says we’re not real people can go fuck themselves!” He’d taken Coomer’s hand in his, his expression and voice softening. “You’re real to me, Harold. Never forget that.”

Coomer’s expression had softened in return. “I won’t, Bubby. I won’t.”

Which led them to where they were now, sitting on the back porch of their Sims house, watching the sunset.

“It is quite a beautiful sunset, isn’t it?” Coomer remarked, resting his head on Bubby’s shoulder.

“It is,” Bubby agreed.

“I’m glad I get to experience this with you.” Coomer’s hand found Bubby’s and he squeezed it.

Bubby squeezed back. “Me too.”

They sat there in silence for a long time, just watching as the sun crept below the horizon.

“Thank you,” Coomer finally said.

“For what?” Bubby looked a bit confused. Of course he was being thanked, he was awesome! But...what was the specific reason?

“For keeping me grounded,” Coomer replied. “For reminding me that if I feel I’m real, I am.”

“Oh! Well, you’re very welcome,” Bubby said. “That existential bullshit can kiss my ass. I’m real because I think I am. So there!”

Coomer laughed, leaning more against Bubby. “Oh, I adore the way your mind works, darling!”

“Damn straight!” Bubby puffed up at the praise. “My mind is fucking amazing!”

“It certainly is,” Coomer agreed. “It certainly is.”

He was so lucky to have such a wonderful person in his life. He very much looked forward to all the days he would spend with Bubby in the future.

He was sure they would be just as wonderful as this one.

[kiankiwi]

CLINT RENO AU!!!! The PORCH AU

You can’t take him anywhere when it’s raining and you better get him home before it rains bc rain is really triggering for him! And if it starts to rain on the way home, aus will hold Clint’s hand or sit in the back with him so he can hug him and hide in daddy’s chest

Clint likes goin to target with aus to help him pick out sweaters and to test them out, he runs the material on his cheek so he can tell if it’s soft enough to cuddle with

ooooh maybe in this au he travels for work. not too far but still enough to need pictures and face times. mostly maybe it’s clint in our lap a half drank bottle and droopy eye lids. and he calls for daddy to read to him.

***

Little!Clint PORCH AU:

After a tornado that destroyed his home and a took him from his family, Clint just started walking until it began to rain again and he ran onto your porch to take shelter from the rain! He was trying to figure out where he was going to go next when you opened up the door, curious to see what was crying on your porch and you found him.

You quickly took the little boy inside and gave him some clean, dry clothes of your husbands, "There you go honey, I bet that feels so much better, huh?" Still nonverbal, Clint waddled up to you and raised his arms, wanting a safe cuddle. "C'mere bubby. Do you want something to eat, hm?"

Austin, your husband sat with you two and made Clint some oatmeal while the scared boy clung to you since you made him feel safe. Austin had made him some oatmeal but something seemed to be wrong with it since little Clint didn't touch it. "What's wrong buddy?" Austin asked. Wordlessly, Clint got up and walked to the fridge, opening it up and peering inside. You came up behind him and saw he was pointing at the milk jug. "Oh, you want milk? We can do that." Clint sat in your lap at the table while you slowly fed him the milk, making sure he didn't spill any of it.

While Clint was drinking and holding onto you, you looked over to Austin who was looking at the little boy lovingly. "Did the stork give us a little?" You asked, voice low so as not to startle the boy. "I think he did. Welcome to the family buddy." Austin whispered back as he watched him.

From then on, storms were a huge trigger for Clint but his momma and daddy always kept him safe. <3

***

NEW AU WITH LITTLE CLINT RENO!

I really hope you like it! I can't wait for this AU to blossom as more of his storm comes out <3

@elvisthesillygoose @mooodyblue @bellanotchewrites @jhoneybees

@arianatheangel-girl

if you have any clint reno porch au ideas, pleas put them in my inbox!

[luveline]

maybe a reader and roan centered ficlet where roan gets to go to readers work for the day, be like her mini assistant because eddie couldn’t find anyone else to watch her while he had to do something?

ty for requesting ♡ fem reader

The phone rings at exactly 2PM as previously discussed. 

"Ro! Quick, come answer the phone for me, baby." 

Roan climbs out from under your desk where she's sorting paperclips into cuteness piles, the skirt of her best blue dress brushing your calves, her hair in a slicked back bun but coming undone as the day goes on. "What do I say?" she asks.

You pull her onto your lap. "You say, Hi, I'm Roan Munson with Cora Enterprise Limited, how may I help you?" 

She squares her features into a fierce, determined glare. Picking up your heavy grey phone, she presses her lips to the receiver and says, "Hi, I'm Roan! How can I help you, Cora?" 

Her eyebrows pinch together before smoothing, elation quick to take. "Daddy!" 

You can't hear what Eddie's saying, but you imagine it to be like, Hey, pumpkin, you sound so grown up! How's working for a mindless conglomerate as another cog in the machine working out for you? 

"It's fun." Roan tips her head back to look at you. When your gazes connect, she wiggles her thin brows. "She's fine, dad. We're having fun without you." 

Passionate garbled talk from the other side. Roan giggles and leans further into your chest, seemingly pleased when you wrap your arms around her stomach. 

"I learned how to do the printer, and the managing, but they wouldn't let me in the lab 'cos you picked shoes with cut outs. Yes, I know I asked for them, dad." Roan hands you the phone with an expression beyond her years. "He wants to talk to you." 

"Thanks, babe." You bring the phone to your ear. "Hello, Y/N speaking."

"Hello," Eddie says, his voice warm as usual, the sound like laying under the sun on a cloudless day. "Is she behaving?"

"She's being awesome. I told you, you don't have to worry about it. I'm practically alone in my office with Mel on maternity leave and Jessica trying to impress the Swedes." You stop Roan's little hand where it tries to open your top drawer, worried about the box cutter you use to unseal samples. "She's literally no fuss. I'd have her here every day if they let me." 

Roan gasps like this is the very best idea in the world and nods at you until her head looks like it's going to fall off. 

"They might have to. I can't believe it's day four of no water at the elementary. We're lucky you could take her, what are the parents who work jobs like me supposed to do?" he asks. 

"Maybe I can have them all here. Roan's a good assistant for a six year old. In fact, she's doing a better job than I was on my first day. Right, bubby?" you ask the head of curls in your lap. 

"Right!" Roan lifts her head to the receiver, her full row of top baby teeth white and shiny in the office lights. "I'm going to do the flying cabinet next!" 

"Filing," you correct. 

"Oh. That doesn't sound as fun." She wrinkles her nose. 

"Lunch first," you say. It's a good pacifier. Boring office tasks are usually easier after one of Eddie's sandwiches. 

"I'll leave you guys to it, then," Eddie says, muffled slightly by the roaring of an electric saw. "I'll try not to feel too left out over here." 

"If I were you I'd feel very left out," you say. 

"Nice. Love you, miss you, see you at five." 

You put the phone against Roan's pale ear. "Tell dad bye," you say. 

"Bye, daddy. I hope you have a nice lunch." 

Loving babble. Roan's smile gets bigger and bigger the longer Eddie talks. She stretches tall in your chair to put the phone down before twisting to wrap her arms around your shoulders, her nose cold where it presses into your throat. You bring a hand to the back of her head. 

"What's this for?" you ask, hugging her. 

"Dad said to give you one. And to say you didn't say I love you back, so, um, you're in the bad books." 

"Not the bad books," you murmur. 

"Don't worry. I get out of them all the time." 

—

more eddie, roan and reader

[dadzawa004]

Bubby Zawa 'ts ok I can call chu dat? Can chu giv som vice fow babies who hav hard time bein smol? Has ben supa hawd fow me to be smol an wen I got smol it was no goods T.T

⚠️ petname (kiddo)

Hey kiddo, I don't mind any nickname given to me. I think that's a cute nickname:] also I can sure try. I've babysat our syskids and littles outside of my system before, so I have a bit Of helpful advice to give I hope.

• fine out the issue. (Example, if you are only regressing because of something bad happened, like stress, depression, etc) then what I'd do is try and find out why this is. This usually helps littles regress easier if they find out why they regress from something negative

• if it's a physical issue, try and flex your schedule the best you can. If you regress voluntary, I find this easier since you can push back all the big stuff so you have time to be little. If you regress involuntary, don't worry. Just remember to take deep breaths and try to take a break if you can

• when/if you find out the reason, what I'd do is take out everything and scatter it out. Like, if you use gear for example— use that and put it near you where you can grab it when you need it. This goes for books, toys, movies, anything that physically helps you regress

• if it's usually something online that helps you regress, use that to your advantage. Like let's say you may slip if you see pictures of cute animals. Or maybe age regression art From Your favorite fandom, orr maybe comfort fics or YouTube videos. Whatever it is that may help you

• what also I figure helps, (experienced from my babysitting before); is that just go ahead and do what you do when little. Sometimes I noticed when littles can't regress they just go ahead and do things they may do when regressed and then boom, you immediately slip. Not always immediately, but it depends the person really. Every little is different, so only do this if you want to try it

• always note that the more work that is done, the more free time you may get from it. Which also means when you finally get to be little, you don't have to worry about being big to do big kid stuff. So when you have a free plate, the better. This will probably improve alot and help you feel less stressed when you're little

I hope this helps kiddo. If you have any more questions or need advice, don't be afraid to message us (since our inbox is closed at the moment) and we'll try our best to help.g

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

8.2

We carried back a basket of ginseng, Dad showed Bubby the red beans that they grew, Mama took the basket to start rinsing, I sat on the porch to think things through.

Everyone converged on the porch too, after a while. I asked my parents this: “Are there other gods?” —heard the breaths that drew. Bubby looked at them while his thoughts conflict.

“Why you asking? Who you’ve been talkin’ to?” The prompt rebuke I expected from Mom, My next words I had under strict review, I gulped, “Aunt Fern is where the thought came from, “She said not to worship trees as a god, But pastor says only one god exists, So, being able to worship is odd— anything that isn’t God yet persists.”

“Now look here—” she started, but Dad stopped her, pulled her shoulders back: “I will handle this. Go take Bubby inside and start supper.” I could feel his belt already—seven hits, one for each year-old I was.

Mom glared at me, then back at Dad, and sighed: “You better nip those thoughts right in the bud.” She took Bubby inside. I heard him cry, “Why is Sissy gettin’ spanked?” Those words tugged.

Dad waited till things settled down inside, Then he sat down on the porch swing, pulled out his Marlboros and lit one while we eyed. Tears plunged as I waited for his shout.

He searched my eyes carefully, God’s priest, Took a long time to respond, but he said: softly “The Word says other gods exist—at least ones that were made up in nature, I’ve read.

Your Aunt was worried because, well, it runs in the family, I ‘spose—heathen ways.” My brow furrowed. He caught that: “Those are ones I hope you never have to meet these days.”

Dad took a long drag from his cigarette, I felt safe enough to sit beside him on the porch swing—but still a looming threat, The crickets had begun their evening hymn.

“There are ones from the clan that turned away, Thought it better suited them to serve false gods, ‘cause our forebears used to walk that way. Back in the old country, they were called ‘Norse’.”

“Our family used to serve other gods?!”

“Our family worshipped other gods, yes, Back when we lived in the East, in Europe, Gods named Odin, Dagda, ones who are less than the one true god—Yahweh—who took up

our heathen clan and saved us from hellfire.

You see, Daughter, we didn’t understand that one god created all of nature, and created all of us with his hand, that there was one high god who was greater,

All we knew, all we could see, was nature. The sun sustained us, the deer herds fed us, So we thought, these things are gods, creators, and we dedicated ourselves with trust.

We did this for centuries, until one who knew the true god showed us our errors, And our brand-new lives, that day, had begun, and our family became Truth’s bearers.

Our forebears burned everything pagan and contrary to the Word of Jesus Christ. Their actions left the old country shaken, And felt it was best to come here in flight.

So, yes, it is possible to worship other gods who are lesser than Jesus. But you’ve seen yourself, when Spirit stirs up, Why worship dead gods when Jesus keeps us?

He is alive.” One last exhale of smoke, and he got up, Threw the filter in the respective pile, And went inside—the door slam was abrupt. I stayed on the porch and cried for a while.

I cried relief that the belt was spared me, I cried joy for our clan was saved and spared, But then I thought of the lost who weren’t free from Satan’s grasp. I cried ‘cause I was scared.

[cipheramnesia]

Please tell me more about your salad-eating dad.

Well he's about eighty now and he's a bit set in his ways as they say about people that hold a lotta stereotyped ideas about women and POC, which honestly I still have trouble reconciling with the diversity of his friends and the frankly unbelievable amount of beautiful women he pulled. Man's always been one big cup of respect women juice away from getting to live the rest of his life with an astonishingly beautiful and brilliant woman with a medical career and that's on him. Twice divorced. Kinda looks like a shorter, more square version of Mr. Clean.

I think he was granted secret fae glamour because he literally can make friends with anyone, anywhere. I've seen it happen on an elevator ride. I know he was the wild child of his family, dealing drugs and listening to acid rock and driving fast cars. He met my mom that way. My bubbie, his mom, emigrated from Russia but never taught a word to her kids.

He's a mixed bag, definitely put some mental scars on me, but also he has been supportive of what I like, I never had a bigger cheer leader for my art. He likes golf and got me into reading scifi at a young age and also kept telling me I could look at his Playboy and Hustlers anytime when I was a teenager, made we swear to stick to LSD not pot becuase LSD was better. Would randomly quiz me about where we were when driving and yell at me if I didn't know, probably hit my mom once, but not me.

And he's old, y'know, pretty old, pretty good shape for an old guy, and I was in a pretty bad place when I started transition and I think the happiness he heard in our calls is really why he never flinched. Somewhere over the year or so I was out but not to my dad the change from "My kid might die" sunk in that when I dropped transition on him I spec he was releived he got an alive daughter not a dead son.

He's just some guy in the grand scheme, mostly he did right by me as a father but he wasn't always good or kind. He's funny and smart and probably on balance, probably, did more good than harm, I hope.

And it really ended up meaning a lot to have him so easily accept transition, because of all that, because I know he's not perfect and has done kind things and cruel things but the thing he never did was make his kid feel unloved for being trans, yeah? I think about how many other parents, better or worse, aren't as supportive, or outright oppositional and I can't understand it. My dad doesn't even understand why it's such a big deal him being like that. It should be that for everyone is all.

Anyway, he also likes making big salads for dinner, probably because he had like four heart attacks.

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

Hi Sana. I just wanted to vent a little because im really stressed about the upcoming exam i have. So basically there is an exam called high school entrance exam and it’s really important. If i don’t get a good score my life is over. I cant go to good schools if i get a low score. And the thing that stresses me the most is it’s in about a month. It’s on 2nd of june. Im not ready. Im really stress i don’t get good sleep because i stay up all night studying but still my grades aren’t good enough i go in to exams 3 times a week to practice for the real one. I go to school 7 days of the week so i don’t have something called a week from 7 to 16:15 and i have private lessons 4 days of the week after school. And i still don’t get good scores. I need to go to a good school so i can study abroad in university. I don’t know whats wrong with me and because of the stress i’ve been eating a lot and i gained weight i hate my body now and on top of that i have an skin condition and when im stressed it gets worse it gets so bad that i cant even walk because my legs cant support my body so thats also a plus. How lovely. I think about my life a lot. And why i was born. Wished i was never born to go through with this life. It’s not different from living in hell. And im just a kid. I haven’t experienced the real world yet. Im so tired. I don’t even know why im telling you this. I just needed to let it all out. I feel a little better now. Im sorry for venting it’s might be disturbing for you. Im sorry

I hope you’re doing better than me. Love you 🩷

awe bubbie…i’m so sorry about the exams, i wish i could help you with the exams but i can’t really do that considering i’m already in high school and i don’t know your curriculum 💔

that seems like way too much work on a kid’s back to go through on a daily basis. you don’t even have a weekend? that seems very overwhelming.

i’m so sorry you have to go through that but i promise you if you study hard you’ll get through it. as a person who used to get all d’s and improved this year, i can tell you it is possible.

please take care of yourself, i know im being hypocritical but please don’t worry about gaining weight. i used to care so much about that but a specific friend of mine eased my out of not too long ago.

i’m sorry about your skin condition, i don’t know how to help but perhaps you can get a parent or a doctor to help out in some way that’s different or how you normally handle it?

it feels so much better knowing someone cares about you no matter how you look. i’ll be that person for you, i’ll love you and i’ll care about you no matter what, okay? 💕

i feel like you should really take care of yourself for one day, because that seems like wayyy too much stress to deal with at once and alone. 💔

take one day to take care of yourself. it might seem hard but you’ll come out of it stronger and ready to work hard. if venting to me makes you feel better then by all means come and chat with me everyday if you need. i’m rooting for you, don’t worry 💖