#she did grow up with four older sisters too

[stuckybangs]

Thank you to all the participants in this year's reverse bang! We're thrilled to present the incredible 34 collaborations in this round! From the artists, to authors, to betas, pinch hitters and cheerleaders, we thank you all for being a part of this year's bang!

Under the cut you'll find all the collaborations from this year. Enjoy!

Touch Me and You'll Never Be Alone [not rated, wip] art by @metalbvcky written by @hanitrash

Bucky is barely managing to get by on his own, but is proud of the small, safe life he's created for himself. He's even content to thirst in secret over the insanely hot older man that recently moved to the area. But when a popped tire and an early season winter storm combine to throw their paths together, Bucky's carefully constructed life is about to get flipped upside down.

hold my body (hold my breath) [Teen, 2/2, 16k] art by @alwaysabrighterdarkness written by @teenytabris

“You were born in a storm. On a rocking boat, too. Maybe that’s where all this started,” his ma had said, kissing his head and rocking him in her arms. “Demanded to come into the world in an in-between place. Couldn’t wait to get to America,” she joked. Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he did know that even imagining a boat out there, getting tossed by waves, made him feel ill enough that even looking at the rain made him retch weakly. His ma tutted, and pressed a hand to his forehead. -- Steve has always had an all-consuming fear of water, and nearly drowning twice only made it worse. One day, after just turning on a tap sends him spiraling, he has to consider what his breaking point is.

Runaway [Teen, 8/8, 20k] art by @alwaysabrighterdarkness written by @mandyyvibes

Steve still felt a little guilty that Bucky was willing to do all that for him. Did he really deserve his unconditional loyalty? He could’ve picked anyone at school to be best friends with, but he picked him, and Steve would never know how he got so lucky. The thought of running away was comforting, anyway, even if maybe they couldn’t actually leave for a while. Days, weeks, months. — In which Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes grow up together under circumstances that no child should have to face, and Bucky paints Steve daydreams of a better life together, if only they could run far enough.

Finding You With Open Arms [Gen, 1/1, 8.5k] art by @taybay14 written by LuxuryVelvetStudebaker

Coming home means the big things are the little things

Some legends are told [Explicit, 2/2, 26k] art by @rufferto9 and @chaosmanor (additional art) written by @chaosmanor

Twenty-eight billion kilometers. Four thousand years. That's how far Bucky has gone to get away from HYDRA, and that's how far Steve will have to go to bring him home.

The art of shadowboxing [Explicit, wip] art by @burnin-brighter written by @dharmasharks

In 1918, Bucky is forced to flee New York with his family. In 1923, he returns as a prize fighter, determined to send money to his sisters and stay far away from the gang violence that destroyed their home. And then Steve Rogers shows up. These days, Bucky’s childhood pal isn’t facing down neighborhood bullies. He’s taking on every factory owner in the Garment District—and every gangster they hire to intimidate union members. By joining the fray as Steve’s bodyguard, Bucky can finally stand up to the mobsters who took so much from him. And if that means spending a whole lot of time by Steve’s side…well, that’s just an added bonus.

In the Mood to Let You Know [Mature, wip] art by @burnin-brighter written by @voylitscope

Bucky's never liked keeping secrets from Steve, but there are a few things he hasn't told his best friend over the years. These days? There are three. The two new ones he begins keeping in the summer of 1925, and that one massive secret he's been holding onto since 1918. (Or: During the height of the 1918 flu outbreak in New York, a seveneteen-year-old Steve spends a month indoors. Steve and Bucky write letters to pass the time and keep in communication. By the time Steve is out and about again, they've said a few things they'll never say out loud.At least not until 1925, when Bucky can't seem to stop running into Steve in unexpected places. )

Desert Fires [Explicit, 1/1, 9.6k] art by @zanthems written by @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

Bucky doesn’t plan to end up high and naked in the desert with stars shining in the heavens and his eyes with his dick deep inside a dainty, beautiful man with sparkling sapphire eyes and chapped, bitten lips that drive all coherent thoughts from his mind. He didn’t intend for any of it to happen, but that’s where he’s found himself, nonetheless.

Coffee, Sugar, and Pine [Mature, wip] art by @taybay14 written by @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

There’s nothing Bucky loves more than his cat Alpine and an excellent cup of coffee. After three tours in the army, he’s probably earned a few breaks and an IV of caffeine. When he steps into a café in Brooklyn where a spunky redhead mans the cash register and a sassy blonde with sparkling blue eyes concocts delicious hot beverages, Bucky realizes he’s found his perfect drink and perhaps his ideal mate. Now, he can’t stop thinking about how to guarantee that he’ll have both for the rest of his life.

Let's Do It [Teen, wip] art by @skullfragments written by @trinitydaydabbles

Even before Steve drags him up before the crack of dawn to go running, Bucky is already plotting his revenge. If only Steve didn't know him so well, maybe the day wouldn't devolve into a game of one-upmanship.

Human Lens [Teen, wip] art by @taybay14 written by @chaossmagic

Torn from his old life and dumped unceremoniously in the 21st century, and then having to face an alien attack just months after coming out of the ice, Steve Rogers is struggling to come to terms with everything he's lost and isn't sure the title of Captain America is one he feels 100% comfortable with anymore. Alone, deeply lonely and desperate for anything to help him feel like his old self again, he stumbles across the work of fellow veteran and photographer Bucky Barnes, who specialises in helping wounded soldiers reclaim their bodily autonomy and sense of self after injury in combat. When he asks Bucky to take his own photograph, he finds the connection he's been looking for the entire time. And, as it just so happens, Bucky finds exactly the same thing.

Taking Pictures [Gen, wip] art by @taybay14 written by @leavinghopeao3

Reporter Steve Rogers and photojournalist Bucky Barnes stumble across a conspiracy at the heart of the United States government. Will they be able to stop it before it's too late? And will this fight bring them closer together?

lost to time [Mature, wip] art by @rufferto9 written by @burnin-brighter

As Steve returns the last Infinity Stone, he realizes there is nothing for him to return to in 2024. His friends, the ones who are still here, have families they want to be with or people they need to help. Steve has no one. Bucky died in 1944, Natasha died on Vormir, Tony perished in the fight with Thanos. What is he supposed to do? There are many options in front of him, though before he can make up his mind, a ghost from his past appears. Could it really be his Bucky?

A Game for Two [Mature, 1/1, 9.9k] art by einahpets written by @dontcallmebree

Steve will never forget the itch under his skin, the need to peel the world back until it finally felt right. He knows he would have gotten it then, would’ve finally latched his teeth around this amorphous, unnamable thing that had been haunting him if it weren’t for the Winter Soldier. If it weren’t for Bucky. And ain’t that a trip and a half—if not for Bucky. Story of his fucking life. The hands of fate are familiar, loving, and too cruel by half.

Til the End of the Line [Teen, 7/7, 14.7k] art by @taybay14 written by @xoxobuckybarnes

Back home after their first tour, the Avengers are getting ready to record their second album - they just have to write it first. Lead singer, Bucky Barnes, struggles to write a song that's not about his childhood best friend, the drummer of the band, Steve Rogers. The problem is, Steve has no idea how Bucky feels about him. When another childhood friend starts leaning on Steve, Bucky must decide if it's time to let his crush go, or to finally be brave and let Steve know how he feels.

Plan Bee [Gen, 1/1, 15k] art by britbrit99 written by @hkandiu

Steve is still getting used to the 21st century and begins to frequent farmers markets, where he becomes a regular customer of Shield Apiary, a small business selling all things honey. As he enters that sweet chapter of his life, Tony decides to take on a new project - finding someone for Steve! Steve lies to the team that he's already dating someone but before he can come clean, Tony reaches the wrong conclusion that Steve is dating one of the owners of Shield. Except, Steve's never met Bucky, much less gone on a date. Becca somehow talks the men into pretending to date to help Steve, and the month isn't what anyone expected...

The Beekeeper & The Gardener [Gen, 10/10, 13k] art by britbrit99 written by E_Greer

Every morning, Bucky likes to greet the dawn and watch morning runner guy. Every morning, Steve likes to sip his coffee and watch plant guy. One morning, runner guy and plant guy meet.

Let Us Partake in Summer’s Bounty [Teen, 1/1, 11.8k] art by britbrit99 written by @theflailing

Spring was one of Steve’s favourite seasons; it was a time of renewal and intention, a time to plant the seeds of things that will yet bear fruit, both literal and metaphorical. It was a time when the chilly grip of winter gave way to the lush green of new growth; it was when the world took its first deep breath and stretched its limbs after the long, somber solitude that preceded it. Although Steve was born in the height of summer, his mother always said that he did not belong there. “I did a reading, the day you were born,” she would tell him often, a soft and loving sparkle in her eyes. “Your heart belongs to the springtime; it is an omen that marks your soul.” -8- Steve is never one to turn down a request for help, and as he prepares to accept this call for aid, he reflects on his life, the friends he has made, and the community he serves.

I'll Use You (As A Focal Point) [Teen, wip] art by @taybay14 written by @lynlee494

The Soldier’s understanding of the world begins to unravel after he completes a mission and finds a helpless, shivering, and soaking wet kitten. Unable to leave, knowing the frail thing will die in the elements, the Soldier makes a choice... The Soldier can not risk contact, capture, and the inevitable return to Hydra and captivity would bring. He may remember Steve Rogers, but he also remembers Captain America. Similarly enhanced, the Captain would have the advantage, the Soldier’s movement would be limited with the kitten’s safety to consider.A surveillance approach is the safest angle to take. There had been notebooks at the museum exhibit, so there may be more memories to be dredged up if Steve Rogers still keeps journals, keepsakes, things that may stir up more memories - more pieces to fill in the expanse between Bucky and the Soldier.He’ll seek out Steve Rogers, who seems to feature in nearly every memory with Bucky, but he’ll be cautious. Can hopefully glean from the exposure more about the time before Bucky – before he – was presumed dead in a war. From before Steve’s Bucky became Hydra’s, time stuttering by till the Soldier was born.

5 Times Bucky Tricked Steve Into Washing His Hair +1 Time He Didn’t Have To Ask [Explicit, 8/8, 34.8k] art by @taybay14 written by @norelationtoatticus

During the worst of his recovery, Steve used to wash Bucky’s hair for him. Now, Bucky is a semi-stable hundred year old man who can bathe all by himself… but he misses Steve washing his hair for him. Asking for it? Out of the question. Lies, subterfuge, and expertly crafted machinations to manipulate Steve’s big, soapy hands right where he wants them? Much more Bucky’s style.

Piece By Piece [not rated, 10/10, 34.7k] art by @skullfragments written by @taybay14

Steve and Bucky are discovered on the bank of the Potomac & brought to Stark Tower. From the beginning, everyone has one thing on their mind: Help Bucky. It’s going to be hard, but they're ready to give it everything they’ve got - and they’re the Avengers, so they’ve got quite a lot. *** “Hey, Buck,” Steve says, his voice soft. Bucky lays on his side, pressing a cheek to the soft carpeting, wishing he hadn’t ruined all his blankets. He hates feeling cold and it’s a little cold in his room. “You don’t have to talk or come out or anything, but… I’m going to lay here, okay? All night. I’m going to stay right here so you don’t forget that it’s different now. So you don't forget that you’re safe. You’re not alone.” Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that. Even if he did know, his tongue is doing that heavy-sticky thing again. Instead, he slides his flesh fingers under the crack in the door, barely able to fit the tips, and waits. A moment passes. Then Steve’s fingers are pressing right back. And maybe Steve is right. Maybe things are different, maybe he is safe, maybe he’s not alone. Maybe - just maybe - he’ll be able to get himself back after all, piece by piece.

Now That I've Met You [Teen, 3/3, 11k] art by @louikazooie written by @megs-bee

First day back from vacation, not even inside the building yet and Bucky’s boss calls, telling him to head straight up to the executive suite. “The short version is that we’ve found ourselves with a VIP who needs a personal assistant immediately,” Pepper sighs. “The longer version is that we discovered the previous assistant was selling information on said VIP’s schedule and other high-security details which resulted in, among other issues, an attempted…let’s call it assault.” Pepper hands over the StarkPad open to what Bucky recognizes as a personnel file. Commander S. G. Rogers. If he’d been drinking his coffee at that moment, he’d have choked.

The Rest Are Stories To Tell [Teen, wip] art by @taybay14 written by @endlesstwanted

After he broke free from HYDRA with Steve and his new friends’ help, Bucky is working on reconnecting with himself living in the Avengers Tower with his cat Alpine. Soon, a dream brings back memories of his time as the Winter Soldier and one specific location in which he supervised experiments like the ones he went through. The team works together to figure out what’s real and puts the pieces together to prepare against a potential hidden thread by HYDRA before they run out of time —or the experiments run out of time. What would happen if, on top of this, Bucky discovered a secret related to Steve and me that would tie them together more than they have ever been?

out of the darkness, out into the light [Mature, wip] art by bergamotene written by @burnin-brighter

There were very few things Bucky disliked in life, although chaperoning his sister at every ball of the season was one of them. It was boring, long, and overall unpleasant. Or it used to be, until the day Bucky laid eyes on the most beautiful man he had ever seen at such an event. The man wasn’t familiar, Bucky would have remembered seeing him before. And after the first night, Bucky saw him everywhere. While he slept, while he daydreamed, while he walked around town. There was no escaping this stranger. And perhaps Bucky did not want to. What was the worst that could happen if Bucky were to let himself give in to his thoughts, to his urges?

Penumbra [not rated, 1/1, 12.7k] art by bergamotene written by @bonky-bornes

There was nothing more dangerous than having a soulmate. That’s what James had been taught his entire life. Being bound to another, life for life, got one killed just as surely as treason. Anyone with the mark of a binding was executed. Kings and peasants alike, it didn’t matter. There was nothing more dangerous than secondary loyalty to your Kingdom. James mastered the art of knives and silence, he learned to move like a shadow, unseen and inescapable. Bondeds were a disease, and he was a cure. He’d rather have his hands stained red than see his people suffer. Bondeds killed to protect one life. James killed to protect them all. - The Northern and Southern Kingdoms have been at war over Bonded Pairs for years. When a temporary armistice is proposed, and James is invited to the Southern Kingdom, it's one last chance to find a way towards peace.

No Better Version of Me [Teen, 3/3, 26.8k] art by @koreanrage written by @film-in-my-soul

Like Steve’s got a shooting star fused to his pulse (and hell, it just might be), he makes a wish. Thanos is stopped from making the snap. But just because Steve managed to save everyone else, it doesn't mean he can save himself.

no years of silence in the shadow of regret [Gen, 1/1, 9.7k] art by @koreanrage written by @hipsterdiva

“I’m fine,” Steve says again without looking at him. “You don’t have to stay.” It takes a while, and for a second, Steve thinks that perhaps Bucky will get up, pack his bag and his cat and leave. For a second, Steve hopes that’s what’s gonna happen. Then Bucky speaks. “I know,” he says. And stays. Or, Steve has baggage, communication is difficult, and (baby) steps are taken.

A Safe Place To Land [Explicit, wip] art by @kahey2804 written by @gloromeien

Bucky Barnes had it all—grease under his fingernails, dog fur behind the cushions of his couch, a cozy place to call his own. The house, the truck, the dogs, the works. A ride-or-die, close-knit community. A patch of land he could wander. A mountain view to inspire him. After six tours of duty and nine months in captivity, Bucky knew how bad things could get, so he didn't dare ask for anything else. Especially not someone to hold. Until a tall, blond super-soldier crash-landed into his quiet life and threatened to make all his dreams come true. For now.

Soul Mates and Circumstances [Explicit, wip] art by @kahey2804 written by @sunriserose1023

It’s a classic story. Boy meets boy, they share an instant connection. They have a night of pure heaven, and then life steps in. That’s the story for Bucky and Steve. They had one great night, then radio silence. Until they manage to cross paths again, but they seem destined to ghost each other. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. But what if it is?

All Along - It Was You [Explicit, 8/8, 34.k] art by @burnin-brighter written by @taybay14

It all started with a suggestion from Natasha - which should have been Steve's first clue that it'd end in trouble. She suggests a BDSM club that allows photostatic veils for anonymity, knowing Steve has growing desires he's been desperate to explore. Of course, she didn't bother to warn him of three very important facts: 1. Bucky Barnes is a member of this club 2. Bucky Barnes is apparently gay 3. Bucky Barnes is a dom Steve is stunned when he comes face to (veiled) face with Bucky Barnes himself his first night at the club. His brain malfunctions. Surely, that's the only reason why he does the incredibly idiotic thing of accepting Bucky's invitation to play with him. He knows he shouldn't - but what will one night of lies hurt? One night to scratch the itch, to get Bucky Barnes out of his system once and for all, and then Steve can move on. Except when Bucky keeps giving him chances for more, Steve finds himself unable to walk away. Like Steve said before... trouble. Unfortunately for him, he's always been a magnet for that kind of thing.

Complicate this world you've wrapped for me (I'm acquainted with your suffering) [Explicit, wip] art by LadyGigi written by @hanitrash

The Captain is sent on a mission to prove his ability to perform without the assistance of a STRIKE team. What he doesn’t know is that it’s more than his competence being tested…because if he passes, the face of HYDRA—and the fate of the world—will be forever changed.

Stephanos of the Glade [Explicit, 9/9, 22.6k] art by @murkycrush written by @wolfiefics

Escaped gladiator slave Iacomus discovers a new path in life as a guardian of a mysterious glade and it's equally godlike inhabitor, Stephanos, the river god of the Aneine River. With Stephanos' intercession, he learns to live a life outside of slavery with the help of Artemis, Ares, Demeter, and many other Greek/Roman gods. He finds his purpose in helping Stephanos protect the river from one who would cause it harm. Possibly to the death.

Covert Display [Explicit, 1/1, 8k] art by @murkycrush written by @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

For decades, Bucky suffered, but he’s finally back with Steve, completing missions together, and going home to a shared apartment. Despite their past, nothing’s happened between them since waking up in the twenty-first century. Until it does. Bucky just never intended for anyone else to see.

I Wanna Break a Sweat, Eating Your Juicy Cake [Explicit, 1/1, 13.4k] art by @mxaether written by @theflailing

When Bucky finally has some time off work, he books a flight to DC to visit his best friend and old college roommate, Sam. While there, Bucky decides that he needs to blow off some steam, and a Grindr hookup is exactly the thing that will scratch that itch. When the hottest guy on the planet starts sexting him, Bucky can't believe his luck. But the universe has more in store for Bucky than he ever could have hoped for, and with the luck that he's about to have, maybe he should buy a lottery ticket, because it feels like all of his dreams are coming true.

Thank you again to all the participants this year!

[scobbe]

“Ah! Poor women, how they are misunderstood! And yet they love God in much larger numbers than men do and during the Passion of our Lord, women had more courage than the apostles since they braved the insults of the soldiers and dared to dry the adorable Face of Jesus. It is undoubtably because of this that He allows misunderstanding to be their lot on earth, since He chose it for Himself. In heaven, He will show that His thoughts are not men’s thoughts, for then the last will be first.”

- Saint Therese of Lisieux, A Story of a Soul, slyly suggesting not only does Christ suffer in solidarity with women but also that women will be elevated over men in heaven.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN is the governess for Harry's children, and they cannot hide their growing affection for each other.

author's note: part one of governess!yn (who is my lil angel baby). after the love on good omens, i finally got my mojo back and i'm back with another work! pls be kind and definitely let me know what you think (and what you would like to see in part 2!)

word count: 12.4k of mutual pining (but they just don't know it yet), friends to lovers, employer/employee relationships going out of the window and meddling modistes!

WARNINGS: death during childbirth, child abandonment, parent death, death of a spouse (you have been warned)

let me know what you think of daisies here! mwah <3

YEAR ONE

“Noah!” YN called from where she sat on a picnic blanket on the house grounds, “Slow down, wait for your sister!”

“But Miss. YN,” The younger boy groaned, a second away from stomping his feet YN assumed, “She’s so slow.”

“Noah,” YN warned again with a tilt of her head, watching as the little boy stopped and waited for the even smaller girl behind him, “Thank you.”

YN loved her life.

Whilst YN had not had the easiest of upbringings in life, she had truly found her passion and calling in being a governess. The Styles household had not been the first family she had worked for – but they were her favourite. Noah, the six-year-old little boy, was bubbly, mischievous and had a penchant for teasing his younger sister made her life interesting every day. Honorah, who was just three years old was the complete opposite of her brother – quiet, sweet and the happiest little girl YN knew.

The family that YN had been with before were difficult to work with. There was an absent father and a mother who interfered with YN’s work too much for her liking so when Mr Styles asked her to come and work for his family – she did not even have to think about it. Mr Styles loved his children, but from what YN had heard – he had loved his wife too. Mrs. Styles had died during the birth of Honorah, and from what YN had experienced it had shaken the family.

YN had started working for the Styles about three months ago. Before, Mr. Styles had relied on his mother and his household staff to aid with the upbringing of his children. Unfortunately for them, his mother had been unable to continue helping in her old age and that was when they sought out help from YN.

“Miss. YN,” Honorah’s voice shook YN out of her daydream, “I picked this for you.”

“Thank you, Norah,” YN smiled, accepting the small daisy that the girl was holding out for her, “This is a lovely daisy.”

The girl sheepishly smiled, rocking on her feet slightly as she stood above the older woman. YN smiled, tapping the space on the blanket next to her for her to drop down.

“How about this…” YN smiled, pulling out some paper and pencils that she had packed in a basket and placing them in front of the girl, “I packed these for you, would you like to try and draw the daisy?”

Honorah nodded, accepting the paper and pencils from YN. The older woman watched with a smile on her face as the girl carefully placed the daisy down in front of her, her tongue slightly slipping out from her lips in concentration as she grabbed the pencil and started to sketch. In her peripheral vision, YN could see Noah chasing what looked to be a butterfly around some of the flowers in front of them.

YN loved the summer, and the Styles children did too it seemed. They had a perfectly good classroom spare in the house to use but when the weather was this lovely, YN saw no need to keep the children holed up within the four walls. They had completed spelling tests each earlier in the morning, and seeing as though it was a Friday, YN saw no need to overwork the children.

“Miss YN,” Noah screamed, running over to her with his hands clutched tightly in front of him, “I caught it!”

“You caught it?” YN’s eyes widened, trying to match the younger boy’s excitement, “What did you catch, Noah?”

“The butterfly I was chasing!” The younger boy’s words were followed by a giggle and a small shake of his shoulders, “It is tickling me.”

“That is probably because it is scared, Noah,” YN explained, placing the younger boy’s hands in hers, “Remember how small the butterfly is? Small enough to fit in your hand. Even though you are a little boy, you are big and scary to the butterfly.”

“Oh,” Noah’s face dropped, his shoulders dropping slightly, “I do not want to scare it.”

YN nodded, “Should we let it go?”

Noah nodded, accepting YN’s help when she cupped his hands and opened them and there was the butterfly. It immediately flew away from them, and Noah saw that as the opportunity to go chasing after it again, Honorah could not resist abandoning her drawing and running after her brother.

YN leant back on her hands lightly and watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. YN had come to terms with the fact that she would not have children of her own, and these two little ones filled that void. YN had been trained with people that she knew would not be the kindest of governesses and at most hated children and she swore she would never be like that. She had been dealt this life, but she was not going to let it change her.

“The last time he caught a bug it took us three hours to convince him to set it free,” YN jumped at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice from the side of her, the man standing a few feet away from her with his hands in his pockets.

YN smiled, turning her attention back to the children, “I must admit I am surprised he gave it up so easily.”

Mr. Styles chuckled, his hand pointing to the blanket next to her, “May I join you?”

YN nodded, “Of course.”

She tried not to stare as he sat down. There was a decent amount of space between them, and whilst YN’s legs were curved to the side of her – Harry’s extended in front of him. YN would be lying if she said her employer was not attractive. Even with his mood which often reflected the tragedies he had experienced in his life – his features still stood out to YN. Mr. Styles was not shy about eye contact, and every time YN was under his gaze her heart fluttered – just as she was now.

YN looked out at the children who were now chasing each other around a tree, “They completed their spelling lessons an hour or so ago, and instead of keeping them indoors I thought this was a better way for them to spend their time.”

“I am in no position to criticise your methods, Miss YLN,” Mr. Styles nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched his son taunt his daughter from behind the tree, “If anything, this will ensure that bedtime goes smoothly.”

YN chuckled, watching as the children spotted their father and came bounding over to him. Noah immediately latched onto his father’s side, with Honorah wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Papa, did you see?” Noah’s beaming face almost shouted at his father, “I caught a butterfly! But I let it go because it was scared.”

“I did see, Noah,” Mr. Styles nodded, pulling down his son’s shirt that had rolled up at the back, “It was very nice of you to let it go.”

Noah nodded, obviously trying to suppress the smile on his face due to how his father was happy with him. Honorah, obviously feeling slightly left out of her father’s attention, picked up her half-finished daisy and passed it to him.

Even though YN knew the difficulties of making sure that each of the children had equal attention, Mr Styles did it so effortlessly. After YN’s first experience with a family, one in which she was sure that the father had no idea as to what his children’s names were – it was a lovely sight. He managed to ensure that each one of his children knew that they were loved, and he did everything he could to ensure that they did not feel the hole that the loss of their mother created.

“How about we go inside for supper?” Harry offered to the children, both of whom nodded their heads and scrambled to stand up.

YN took that as the opportunity to start packing up the things she had brought out with them and retire for the evening. Just as YN was about to fold up the blanket, Mr. Styles had already beaten her to it. He smiled at her as he offered the folded blanket to her, which she accepted with a nod of her head and placed it within the basket.

Just as she was about to turn and walk towards the house, Mr. Styles cleared his throat.

“Would you like to join us for supper?”

“Oh,” That stopped YN in her tracks immediately, “I… I should not…I would not want to intrude.”

“You would not be intruding,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I am offering. There is no need for you to eat alone when you can dine with us.”

YN contemplated his words for a second or so before nodding with a small smile on her face, “Thank you.”

Walking side by side, the two adults followed the children as they ran ahead – a supper waiting inside for them.

For the last three weeks, YN had not eaten alone.

To anyone else, that may have not seemed a fate that would be something to be concerned about – but it was strange. It had started with the supper after the day in the garden with the children and had then been followed by an invitation to breakfast the next day.

YN supposed that it had been for ease, and even more so to allow for her teachings of the children to continue into the rest of the day rather than just to the previous allotted times. The only issue that YN had found with the new arrangement was how YN was being affected by the newly increased amount of time she was spending with Mr. Styles.

Throughout the day YN did not see much of him (just like before) as he tended to retreat to his study to take care of the estate and any other issues that may be presented before him. During mealtimes, however, Mr. Styles now took his place to the left of her at the dining table.

Their conversations never strayed far from the weather, food or most likely the children. Whilst it was strange for YN to join them for these meals, there was a slight comfort that was now found between the two of them. YN never saw Harry converse with friends or leave the house late at night to engage with mistresses which had been a favourite pastime of the previous husband she worked for. A part of YN just assumed that maybe he was lonely, and a conversation with someone that was above the age of six was something that he wished for.

There was also a side of YN that missed the quiet that eating alone gave her. It allowed her time to pause and think. Whilst she loved her job, and she loved the children more than anything YN often wondered what her life would have been like if things were different.

Similarly to the Styles children, YN’s mother had died in childbirth. She had known nothing of her but that information. Her father, a gentleman from the city had remarried almost immediately and his new wife had wanted nothing to do with YN – so she had been abandoned at an orphanage. It was only due to her father’s lineage (even though she had not the faintest idea of who he was) that she had not been made to work, and instead had been trained to be a governess.

YN often wondered what would have happened if that was not the case, if she had not been abandoned in the way she had. She could have been married and had children of her own by now. At the age she was (eight and twenty) the only way in which she could even register the thought of getting married was to a businessman in the village, and yet she did not venture into the village long enough for that to even be a possibility. These thoughts would swirl around YN’s head, just as they were doing now, but then she would be reminded of how fulfilled she was in this role and none of these thoughts would matter.

Whilst YN would often brush these thoughts out of her head, there was a slight comfort in imaging what her life could have been.

YN sat on the steps outside of the residence, a cup filled with tea next to her and the light summer’s breeze a comfort to her. It was deep into the night, and there had not been movement in the house for a few hours and YN was at peace. Dressed in just her nightgown and shawl, the only comfort to her being the silence and the night sky – YN was happy. This time, whilst it had become few and far between recently was the time that she cherished.

“It is a lovely night.”

YN jumped out of her skin at the sound of Mr. Styles’ voice behind her, just as she had done in the garden a few weeks ago. With a hand pressed firmly on her chest in hopes of calming her heart rate down, she turned to look at the man.

“Mr. Styles,” YN gasped, her hand still clutching her chest, “I am afraid you quite terrified me.”

“I apologise,” He offers her a smile, “I heard footsteps earlier and I thought it was the children, but then I saw you sitting out here, and I am now assuming it was you.”

“I apologise,” YN was quick to insert, unable to hide her embarrassment at the situation, “I had no intention of disturbing you.”

“I am most certain you did not,” He pointed to the space on the step next to her, as though asking her permission to sit down and she nodded, watching as he dropped down next to her, “In fact, you were very quiet, it is just me who is a light sleeper. Since my wife…I became the one who had to listen out for the children.”

YN’s body froze when she heard Harry mention his wife. It had been Mr. Styles’ mother who had initially told her about the death of Mrs. Styles. YN had never heard Harry even mention her. She had not a single idea as to whether he spoke to the children about her. She assumed that whilst he may not speak about her now, he must at some point speak to them. YN knew what it was like to have not met a mother, and she knew the pain that it causes and would certainly not ever wish that upon anyone else – especially not those darling children.

“We had another eventful day in the garden today,” YN explained, “I attempted to teach the children how to play pall mall with the old set I found but we instead ended up with a game of cat and mouse – and I am therefore not surprised that they are worn out.”

Harry chuckled, “My family and I used to play pall mall when I was a boy. I had hoped that I would get around to teaching them, but I never had.”

YN’s eyes immediately widened, “I apologise if I overstepped Mr. Styles – I was merely attempting to make use of the day.”

“No, no do not apologise,” Mr. Styles shook his head, “I heard their joyful glees earlier in the day – I would allow for anything to continue to hear those sounds.”

YN wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them closer to her chest, “I know that I have given you this information before, but you do have two beautiful children, Mr. Styles.”

Mr Styles’ face beamed a smile, as though he was proud to be hearing such information. If YN had heard this information about her children she would not have been prouder to be a parent. Mr. Styles’ face reflected that.

“I wish I could take all of the credit but indeed I cannot,” Mr. Styles sighed, a hand running over his face, “Norah, is, well… she is exactly like her namesake. My wife was sweet, gentle, and kind. She was inquisitive, just as Noah is. Unfortunately for him, he may have inherited my unfortunate mischievous side which I had as a child.”

YN chuckled slightly before offering him a small smile, “It must be lovely to see her in them. To know that she is still here, in them.”

Mr. Styles hesitated. YN’s heart dropped, the fear that she had overstepped coursing through her veins.

“Mr. Styles, I apologise,” YN’s chest started to rise up and down, this time from the nerves rather than being scared, “I completely overstepped. I did not mean to offend you.”

Mr. Styles shook his head, “You did not, and please forget the formalities – call me Harry.”

YN nodded, “I am still sorry if I offended you, Harry.”

“You did not, YN, I can promise you that,” Harry offered her a smile which settled any of the woman that might have still harboured, “In truth, you are correct. Whilst she is no longer with us, I see her face every day. I see the aspects of her that I fell in love with day after day. Whilst it does not fill the hole of what we have lost, it offers a sense of comfort that I am more appreciative of than words could ever explain.”

A comfortable silence loomed over the two of them, the words that had just been spoken dancing around them, invading their thoughts. It was at this point that YN felt her sense of loss wash over her.

“I, uh, well…” YN offered Harry a sad smile, “My mother died giving birth to me too. I do not wish to bore you with the details, but I did not have a father looking out and loving me in the way that you do. Your children will be grateful in the future for that – I promise you.”

Harry nodded, “I am ever so sorry for your loss, YN.”

YN shrugged, “It was a long time ago now, Harry. Whilst I do not advocate the idea that wounds heal with time, I suppose that the effects of such become easier to deal with.”

“I tell them stories of her every night,” Harry offers her a small smile, “I will not allow them to forget her.”

“Then that is all that you can do.”

YEAR TWO

“I do so wish that I could dress you proper, Miss YN,” Miss Francis, the modiste, spoke as she continued to pin the dress on YN’s body.

YN chuckled, “I do not need them, Miss Francis. It would be a waste of an expense.”

The older lady sighed, continuing to pin the length on YN’s new-day dress. It was in a delightful lilac, trimmed with lace that around the cuffs and soon to be the hem.

“But you would look so gorgeous adorned in the latest fashions,” YN sighed but allowed Miss Francis to continue, “I do not know if you have heard, but Mr Jacobs’ son is looking for a wife.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You know that I do not entertain myself with the idle gossip of the village.”

“Well, I for one believe you should,” Miss Francis stood up, her eyes focusing directly on YN, “You have done your duty as a governess, and I am sure the Styles’ are nothing but grateful for your service but there is a time where one must think for themself.”

YN shook her head, not allowing her words to infiltrate her mind at all, “I would never betray my role. Those children need me… Mr. Styles –”

“Mr Styles can find another governess at the drop of a hat,” Miss Francis sighed, “I am sure that if an advertisement went out today there would be a line from here to London hoping for the role.”

YN scoffed and shook her head, “We both know that is an exaggeration.”

“From here to Manchester, then,” Miss Francis corrected.

YN sighed and stepped off the podium, allowing Miss Francis to help her remove the dress on her body and return to the gown she had arrived in. Today the children had gone with Mr Styles to his mother’s house, something that they did every so often and allowed for YN to have a day just to herself. It was a rarity, and in some parts, YN was thankful to receive these days but sometimes she truly did just miss the children. She would also be lying if she said that she did not miss Harry.

In the last year that she had worked for him, she would say that their relationship grew to what YN would deem as a friendship, to more than just an employer-employee relationship. That in itself was something she cherished alongside the life that he had given her. They still ate meals together with the children, and more often than not in their alone time she would find herself in his company. Even if the room was quiet – they would be together.

To anyone looking in, their situation would seem strange. In all honesty – it was. But no matter how strange the situation, YN would not change it for the world.

“I am happy just the way I am, Miss Francis,” YN smiled at the woman, “I do not need to change anything.”

The older lady just scoffed, “Well, if you are ever to change your mind I would be happy to arrange a meeting.”

YN just shook her head, “I promise that shall never be the case.”

It was at this point that YN could tell that the older woman was slightly annoyed with her, “I shall send your gown to the Styles residence when it is ready.”

“Thank you, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “Do not be too angry with me.”

“I am not,” Miss Francis shook her head, “I just wish that one day you realise your full potential, my dear.”

YN left the modiste with her brain spinning with the words that Miss Francis had said. It was not that she was taking account of anything that Miss Francis said about marriage because she knew that was not on the cards for YN. She had made her peace with that a long time ago. It was more so that YN was struggling to decipher what the older woman meant by saying that she had not met her full potential.

All of her life, YN knew that her only job in life was going to be a governess. The orphanage had made that very clear to her, and fortunately for YN – it was also something that she enjoyed. That was her potential. That was the start of it, and that was the end of it. There was nothing else that anyone could say to change that.

It began the age-old question discussion again. It started YN’s spiral as to when she would think about what life could have been like if certain things were different. Then, no matter how much she would imagine what her life could have been like – she always circles back to right now and how this was where she wanted to be.

Sighing, YN stepped out from the side of the building and onto the road in hopes of crossing it and continuing her journey home. Just as she was about to step out, a hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back by the side of the building. It was just as she had been pulled back that a carriage went riding past her, too fast for the speed of a normal carriage.

It was only then that YN realised that whoever the person was who had pulled her out of the way of the carriage had pretty much just saved her life.

“Oh,” YN sighed, her hand lifting to rest again on her chest – her heart rate rising once more.

“Are you okay, miss?” The saviour asked, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

For the first time, YN’s eyes turn to meet the man and they widen. He was tall, and the only word that YN would have to describe him would be rugged. But in between all of that ruggedness, he was handsome, and YN was not ashamed to admit that.

“I am fine,” YN offered him a small smile, “I… Thank you for that. I fear I was not paying much attention to my surroundings.”

“I gathered that,” YN’s eyebrows furrowed at him, “From the way you ignored my calls for you to stop.”

“I, uh, I did not hear you,” YN chuckles, “I was just…”

“Not paying much attention,” He chuckles.

It was then that YN realised that her hands were shaking. In the adrenaline of it all, she supposed that her near-death experience was finally catching up with her body.

“I… I, uh, thank you for… saving me,” YN nodded, pointing across the road, “But I must be getting home.”

“Allow me to fetch a carriage for you, miss?” YN shook her head at the gentleman’s offer.

“No, I cannot, but thank you,” YN gave him a small smile, “I would very much prefer to walk.”

“Then allow me to escort you,” The man continued to press, obviously not wanting to take her no for an answer, “Just to ensure you are out of the path of any other carriages.”

YN chuckled but again shook her head, “Sir, even if I was to say yes I know better than to accept offers from strangers.”

The man offered her a smile, “Well, that is an issue that is immediately fixable – Mr Jacobs, it is lovely to make your acquaintance Miss…”

“…YLN,” YN chuckles, realising by the second that this man was insanely stubborn, “But I assure you, Mr Jacobs, I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.”

“Well, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs presses, “How about instead of me walking you home it turns out that the two of us are just walking in the same direction.”

YN tilts her head at the man, “I fear that may be worse.”

“Yes,” The man laughs, unable to stop himself, “I knew that the minute I said so.”

There must have been something that made it so that once Miss Francis had mentioned this man to her she would meet him. YN would not say that she believed in fate, but this was certainly an odd coincidence.

“Whilst I am not saying yes to your offer,” YN started, offering the man a small smile, “I suppose I cannot stop you from joining me if you do so wish, Mr Jacobs.”

“Very well,” He opened his arm out in the direction she had been walking in, “After you, miss.”

YN makes it obvious that she double-checks whether or not any carriages are coming down the road before she attempts to cross it. Her heart has calmed down, as well as the shaking in her hands but in all honesty she would rather curl up with a book and relax.

“Seeing as though we are walking in the same direction, would it be improper of me to ask you a question or two?” Mr Jacobs prompted from the side of her.

“I would say that I owe you as much,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile, “Seeing as though I could have been in a very different situation if it was not for you.”

Mr Jacobs laughs, “Yes, I must admit saving one from a carriage is a much better play.”

YN shrugged, “Ask away.”

YN was surprised. The conversation, barring the near-death experience, seemed to flow with ease. More often than not, YN found herself laughing. Whilst she loved the conversations that she had with Harry, and she would say that he was her best friend within this world – it was nice to converse with someone who did not necessarily know her.

Whilst it had been nice (as it always is) to play make-believe for a little while, she knew that the second the turn-off for the Styles estate came into view she would have to return to her reality.

YN stopped just at the turning, and Mr Jacobs had not anticipated this as he continued to walk. She cleared her throat, and that was when he stopped and turned around – his eyebrows furrowing at her stopped movements.

“This is me,” She pointed down the road.

He pointed down the road, “The Styles estate?”

“Yes,” YN nodded, lifting her hand to brush her hair out of her face, “I… I am their governess. I work with the Styles children.”

“Oh,” Mr Jacobs seemed to relax slightly, “An honest profession, I must say.”

YN just smiled, “I do appreciate you walking with me, and also not allowing the carriage to run me over.”

Mr Jacobs shook his head, “Do not mention it – I would do it over again if you needed.”

YN opened her mouth but shut it again almost immediately. YN just decided to offer him a smile instead.

“Well, thank you again,” YN pointed down the path, “I must go but I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “As I wish you do too,” YN turned and started to walk down the path when his voice called out again, “Stay out of the way of any carriages!”

YN could not help the chuckle that left her lips at his words.

The second that YN had returned to the house she had dropped down in the drawing room and stayed there. The house was still silent, letting YN know that neither the children nor Mr Styles were back at the house, and surprisingly to her YN was thankful for that.

Near-death experience aside, YN had enjoyed herself. It was always a pleasure to see Miss Francis (even though she enjoyed meddling more than anything) but the real shock of the day had been her walk and subsequent conversation with Mr Jacobs.

The issue that YN found herself in was that the bridge between her thoughts and her reality had started to merge. From one conversation YN could not presume that she was going to marry the man and she was certainly in no place to do that – but she could not say that the prospect was not there.

YN could have been sat there for an hour, or maybe even five by the time that she was knocked out of her daydreaming. She had not even heard Harry walk into the room and it was only when he moved to stand in front of her was when she realised that he had returned.

“I have been looking for you everywhere,” He sighed, dropping down on the settee just next to her, “Did you not hear me calling your name?”

“I seem to be doing that a lot lately,” YN sighed, offering him a small smile but saying no more.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the state that she was now in which was very different from the one that he had left her in this morning.

“That was not ominous at all,” Harry stated as though it was the most obvious thing, but YN seemed to be paying no attention, “Are you going to give me an explanation at all?”

“I was nearly hit by a carriage today.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened, his body immediately leaning towards her, “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine,” YN shook her head, leaning back on the seat she was on, “I am just…”

YN’s sentence trailed off and then she did not say a single thing. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed again, and he decided then that he did not believe her, “Are you sure you were not injured? You did not bang your head or anything?”

“Harry, I did not hit my head!” The exclaimed rather loud, earning a laugh from Harry from across the room, “I am perfectly okay.”

The silence washed over them again. YN’s eyes continued looking forward, out of the window and to where the trees were slightly swaying in the breeze. She could hear the children squealing throughout the rest of the house, and she was reminded that they were probably happy from spending the day with their grandmother.

“How was your day?” YN asked, still not looking away from the window, “How did the children enjoy it?”  

“They loved it, as they always do,” Harry shrugged off their questioning, “But, and promise me you will not be angry with me –”

“Harry, we both know that if you start a sentence with that I am probably going to be angry with you.”

“I know this but still, I have to ask,” Harry sighed, “Are you positive you are okay?”

YN went silent, her hands messing with a loose thread of fabric on her dress. Harry looked at her, still unable to figure out why on earth she was acting so strangely.

“Do you ever think of marriage?”

Harry’s mouth opened once, before shutting again. He then sighed, and then the realisation of what had been said washed over her and her eyes found his.

“Harry, I am so sorry,” YN shook her head, completely unable to understand why on earth she would have said that, “I should not have said that, God, I do not understand why I said it.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I must admit I was a little shocked but do not apologise. My mother had a lot to say about marriage earlier today.”

“She did?”

Harry nods with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “She just mentioned how beneficial it would be for Noah and Norah if they had a mother in their lives. And when I say mentioned, I mean brought up every other sentence.”

YN chuckled. She would be lying if she said she did not love Harry’s mother. She was lovely, and just a ray of sunshine. Whilst she had not experienced having a mother in her life, she did have some idea as to what it would have been like to have a meddling mother. She also had the experiences with Miss Francis, and she gathered that it must have been something like that.

“So, you have considered it?” YN asked, her fingers still pulling on the thread of her dress.

“No, I would not say that,” Harry shook his head, “I would not say consider, but rather had the idea in my head for a few seconds before removing it altogether.”

YN laughed, “I honestly do not blame you for such.”

“Have you…” Harry’s eyes found her, “Thought about it?”

“I do, sometimes,” YN shrugs her shoulders, “I would not say very often but sometimes I find myself doing the same as you. I think about it, and then I remove it from my brain.”

YN laughs, but Harry does not join her. Once she realises her laughter drowns out, she finds herself under his gaze. She should not be so surprised that someone she has lived with for almost two years now knows her so well, but it still shocked her. Just as it had done earlier on in the day, YN found herself unable to stop the increasing of her heart rate. It was silly. He had not even said anything to her, and yet she was completely and utterly a mess under his gaze. It should not be like this, and yet it was.

“It is not unnatural to think about marriage, YN,” Harry says, and YN can tell that every single word he was saying was sincere and he believed true, “Whilst as your employer I should be saying to you not to marry because my children and I… they need you, I cannot in good conscience say that. If marriage is what you wish – then nothing should stop you from doing so. As your friend, I would even go as far as to say that any deserving man would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

YN was silent, taking in his words with nothing but shock swirling around her head. To hear him say those words, as well as the look his face held whilst he said them shook YN to her core.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, attempting to not focus on the tears that were starting to collect in her waterline and more so on her breathing.

Harry cleared his throat, attempting to mask the awkwardness that now loomed over them, “I apologise if I spoke out of turn, YN.”

“No, you did not,” YN shook her head, “And I appreciate everything you have said, Harry, I truly do but… today must have just been a lapse in my judgement. I would be lying if I said that I am not happy here because I truly am.”

YN’s face could not help the smile that crossed her features at the sight of the one across Harry’s lips.

“I truly do not believe that I could have asked for a better life, and you are the one I have to thank for that.”

Harry just nodded, “Whilst as your employer I am more than happy to hear those words, as your friend I am just delighted that I have managed to help you in this way.”

YN smiled, finally feeling as though whatever mood she had found herself in after today had been brushed off. She stood up, her eyes catching Harry’s as she motioned her head towards the door.

“Let us go find your children and get them ready for bed before they terrorise the rest of the staff.”

Harry laughs and stands up, following YN out of the room and towards the sound of children’s laughter down the hall.

YEAR THREE

“Noah, it is not appropriate to throw food at your sister,” YN warned from her seat next to Harry.

The little boy did not seem to care about her warnings and continued to load grapes onto his spoon and launch them at his sister.

“Noah,” Harry was the one to warn the little boy this time, “Pass me the spoon?”

Harry held his hand out for the spoon. Noah continued to hold the spoon, his eyes darting between his father and the grapes set out in front of him. Harry just raised his eyebrow at his son who sighed and placed the spoon in his father’s hand. YN watched as the boy picked up the grape and without his spoon launched it at his sister.

“That is it, Noah,” Harry shook his head, “If you carry on with this behaviour you will be staying here instead of going to your Grandmother’s house tomorrow.”

That was all that the little boy needed to drop the grape that he had picked up and sit up straight in his seat. YN pursed her lips in hopes of suppressing the giggle that was attempting to escape her lips at the child’s antics.

“How about the two of you go to the classroom and wait for Miss. YN?” Harry asked, a smile present on his lips, “I just need to have a quick word.”

YN nodded, wiping her hands on her napkin, and placing it on the table next to her plate. YN watched with a smile as the children started a race upstairs to the classroom. YN knew that they were going to be a handful today as they always were when they were going to see their grandmother. It was as though the excitement of waiting for tomorrow was too much for them.

“Is something the matter?” YN asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“I had a question to ask you,” Harry started, “It is about tomorrow.”

“Oh,” YN smiled, “Do you mean your birthday? Something about your birthday?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head and the girl giggled. YN knew that Harry did not enjoy his birthday and that made it ever so easy to tease him.

“It is unfortunately something about my birthday,” Harry sighed, “Even though I am not supposed to know, I do know that my mother is throwing a ball for my birthday tomorrow night. She has tried to for the past few years, and I asked her to wait, and she has.”

“That should be lovely,” YN smiled, “I have heard from others how enjoyable your mother’s balls are. I hope you have a lovely time, no matter how much you hate it.”

Harry shook his head, knowing that he would be unable to stop the girl’s teasing, “I was wondering whether you wanted to join me? At the ball?”

YN’s eyes widen. That was certainly not what she was expecting him to say. YN thought that she would do what she normally does when Harry and the children go to his mother’s house which was have a day to herself. She honestly would never have thought would be what he was going to say to her, and yet here he was asking her this.

“Harry I…” YN shook her head, “I… even if I did, I do not have anything to wear.”

“That is an easy rectifiable issue,” Harry sighed with a smile on her face, “I will take the children for a few hours this afternoon so that you can go and see Miss Francis.”

“I do not… how will she even manage to…”

Harry shook his head, “Please stop your worrying, there is no need for it. Do not worry about the cost or the timing for I am sure that Miss Francis will be happy to do this for you to attend the ball.”

YN just shook her head, “I shall be so out of place, Harry.”

Harry placed his hand on the table, leaning forward to offer a comforting look, “No you will not. You will be with me, and I am positive some of your acquaintances from the village shall be there. And even if they are not, it is my birthday, and you are my best friend, and I will not go unless you are there.”

YN sighed and shook her head, “You will upset your mother by doing that.”

“You will upset me by not coming,” Harry retorts quickly.

YN sighs, and nods her head, “Will you send word to Miss Francis that I shall be coming to see her later?”

Harry beams a smile at his friend and nods, “I will do so immediately.”

A few hours later YN was standing in front of Miss Francis with an already complete dress on her body. YN was shocked, and confused as to why there was an already complete garment ready for her but then she remembered Miss Francis’ penchant for meddling and the fact that Harry knew that she would not have been able to say no to him.

“When Mr Styles sent word of the ball a few weeks or so ago, I knew that this fabric would be perfect for you,” Miss Francis explained as she pinned the hem of the dress for the girl.

YN’s mouth opened in shock as the older woman’s words registered in YN’s head, “I saw you just a week ago to alter my winter dresses and you made no mention of the ball.”

The older woman’s face broke out in a smile, “Mr Styles wished for it to remain a secret and who am I not to oblige?”

Even though YN was pretending to be annoyed with the woman, she was sort of pleased that she had only been told about the ball the day before. Whilst the children had known they had been going to their grandmother's for the last few weeks and each day they had become more and more excited, YN would not have experienced that. If YN had found out about the ball at any time before today, she knew that she would have convinced herself not to go. Finding out so late and knowing that a dress had already been made for her – there was no way that she could convince herself not to do so.

“This gown is truly beautiful, Miss Francis,” YN smiled, “You truly have outdone yourself.”

“I have said to you all along my dear, if you allowed me to dress you in the latest fashions you could have suitors lining outside the door.”

YN sighed and shook her head. Since YN’s conversation with Harry last year after her near-death experience with a carriage, she had not even thought about marriage. When she had said that she was happy during that conversation – she had truly meant it. She was happy in her current situation, and she would not change it for the world.

But, seeing herself in this dress she would be completely and utterly lying to herself if the thought had not crossed her mind one more time. This could have been her life if things were different – these outfits, and balls could have been her day-to-day life. But, there were balls, and these dresses were now her day-to-day in this life and to her that meant everything.

“I must admit, Miss Francis, I am completely out of my depth with this entire thing.”

Miss Francis just shook her head, “Do not worry, my dear. There is no pressure on you, at all. At most, you will have a few drinks, some sweet, possibly a dance if you are lucky and that is it.”

YN sighed with a chuckle, “Goodness, I have not danced in years.”

Miss Francis placed a comforting hand on YN’s arm, “As long as you do not stand on your partners’ feet, I believe you shall be okay.”

“That is easier said than done, Miss Francis.”

The older woman aided YN out of the gown and into her previous outfit so that she could make the last amendments to her gown.

“If I were you, every time that you find yourself nervous, or without somebody to talk to I would just remind yourself of why you are there – because Mr Styles is your friend, and he wishes you there.”

YN reached out to grab Miss Francis’ hand and give it a gentle squeeze, “Thank you. If anything, I am lucky that you are my friend.”

Miss Francis held up her finger as if to delay that thought for a second and moved into the back room. She came out with a wooden box in hand, unlocked the clasp and passed it to YN.

“This belonged to my mother. It was a family heirloom of sorts,” Miss Francis explained, “I always thought that I would pass it to my children, but that never came to be. I wish for you to have them, and to wear them tomorrow.”

YN gasped as she opened the box, placing her hand on her chest as she peered at the matching diamond necklace and earrings that were inside. YN had seen the jewellery that many members of society wore, and whilst this was not like that – YN preferred it more. The earrings were modest, with a tiny diamond falling from a gold stud and the necklace matched. It was beautiful, and it was timeless.

“Miss Francis, I do not know what to say,” YN shook her head, “I cannot accept this.”

“You can, and you will,” The older woman nodded, “You are the closest thing that I have to a daughter in this world, and this is your first ball, and you deserve to show yourself off.”

YN chuckled through the tears that were collecting in her waterline, shut the box containing the jewels and wrapped her arms around the older lady. Miss Francis laughed in obvious shock at the girl’s antics.

“I do not know how to thank you,” YN muttered into the woman’s shoulder.

“Do not thank me,” Miss Francis shook her head, “Just promise me that you will have a good time and enjoy yourself.”

“I promise,” YN nodded.

YN had never felt more out of place in her entire life.

She knew that the way that she had grown up was different to those in society, but being surrounded by them in the way she was truly allowed YN to realise how much of that was true.

YN did not even know where to begin.

That was how she ended up standing, hovering by the wall as people mingled and danced around her. She had arrived with Harry earlier in the day but had left the family alone to celebrate with each other. Once she had joined the festivities of the ball, she still had not seen the birthday boy. Of course, he could have been anywhere in this room and YN would have missed him entirely due to the amount of people there.

With a sigh, YN’s eyes fluttered around the room until she spotted Harry and his mother walking into the room. YN would be lying if she said that the smile adorned on his face did not cause a matching one on hers. He truly did look happy. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks were red, and YN wondered whether or not he had some liquid courage before joining the party. YN could not blame him and chuckled to herself at the thought.

“Miss YLN,” YN jumped out of her skin slightly at the sound of a voice next to her, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Mr Jacobs, “Is something amusing you?”

“Oh, no,” YN shook her head with a small shrug, “Just an amusing thought, that is all.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed, “I must admit, it is nice to see you. When I received the invitation for the evening I did wonder whether or not you were going to make an appearance, and I am happy that you did.”

YN just smiled, dropping her head slightly. She had not seen Mr Jacobs (or thought about him at that) since the almost fatal carriage incident day. It amused YN to no end that had not been the case for Mr Jacobs, and he had thought about her. Maybe she left more of an impression on people than she had thought.

Mr Jacobs looked around the room and cleared his throat, “How are you enjoying yourself so far?”

YN chuckled again, “I would be withholding the truth if I did not say I am slightly overwhelmed, but, I must admit there has been a lovely turnout to celebrate Mr Styles’ birthday.”

Mr Jacobs just hummed again, “That itself is not surprising.”

YN’s eyebrows furrowed in the man’s direction, “And why would that be?”

Mr Jacobs lifted the glass he held in his hand up to his lips and shrugged, “I heard that Mrs Styles extended invitations to every eligible lady in the county, as well as a few from London, seeing as though Mr Styles wishes to take a wife.”

YN nearly choked on her spit at his words but attempted to cover it up in hopes of not raising any questions. This was the first that she had heard of this subject. The last time that she and Harry had conversed on this subject he had made it painfully aware that he was not thinking at all of marriage. Of course, that conversation had been almost a year ago and his intentions could have changed since then. The only question that floated around in YN’s brain was – if so, why had he not said anything to her?

“Oh,” YN faked a laugh, “Well that does make sense. If Mr Styles wants to marry again, he should ensure that he makes the correct choice.”

Mr Jacobs’ eyebrows furrow, “You did not know that he was looking for another bride?”

YN lightly shook her head, “I am not shocked, though. I am only his governess, he does not have to discuss such important, personal matters with me.”

“I just thought that since you had been invited to the ball perhaps you were friends,” Mr Jacobs pressed, confusing YN slightly.

“To a degree, yes,” YN nodded, “But not to the degree of discussing these matters, I suppose.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, finished his drink, and placed his glass down on the table behind them. YN had hoped by that point their conversation would be over, and she could go back to watching the room – but that was not to be the case. YN was admittingly shocked when Mr Jacobs extended his hand out before her.

“Miss YLN,” He spoke, a small smile etching across his features, “Would you do me the honour of joining me in the next dance?”

“Oh,” YN shook her head, “Thank you, Mr Jacobs but I will have to politely refuse – I have not danced since I was a child.”

“Well,” Mr Jacobs shrugged, “To me, it seems there is no time like the present to start again.”

YN watched from over his shoulder as other couples began to migrate to the dancefloor. Exhaling a nervous breath, YN nodded and placed her hand into Mr Jacobs’. He led her towards the dancefloor, and they somehow ended up directly in the middle. Her eyes fluttered to the left and the right of her before they settled directly in front. Mr Jacobs offered her a smile, and that was seemingly all it took for her nerves to dissipate almost completely.

The music started, and they danced.

What YN could not see as she moved around the room, her hand tightly placed in Mr Jacobs was the two eyes watching her from across the room. Harry had been speaking to one of the many ladies that his mother had invited without his knowledge (he will remember this for next time) when he saw them. There was not a possible way that he could have missed her. When he had instructed Miss Francis to make her a dress, he knew that the older woman would succeed at making it beautiful but the only word that seemed to stand out in his head was breathtaking.

Harry tried to listen to the conversation he was in, but he could not. The only thing he could pay attention to was how she floated around the dance floor. She was smiling, an indication to him that she was enjoying herself. At one point he even saw her share a laugh with Mr Jacobs, a man that Harry knew of but not very well. A wave of longing washed over him, a longing for that to have been him.

“Mr Styles!” A voice called from the side of him, “Mr Styles?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, turning back to the lady who had grown impatient at the expense of his distraction, which was now finishing thankfully.

“I asked whether or not you enjoyed dancing?”

Harry’s eyes caught YN walking over towards the refreshment table, alone, and he saw this as his opportunity. He excused himself from the lady, who stood there in shock and watched as he walked away. Harry made a beeline for the refreshment table, ignoring any calls of his name the entire way there.

YN had just picked up a glass to take a sip when she felt someone beside her. She turned, saw that it was Harry and smiled – only for that smile to drop when she saw the expression on his face. The once smiley Mr Styles had been replaced with a look of sadness. It concerned YN to no end.

“Harry?” She dropped the drink back down on the table, “Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “I require some air. Would you care to join me?”

YN just nodded, knowing that he was probably wanting to talk to her more than have some air. Saying that, the room was quite stuffy with the amount of bodies occupying it so she would not be shocked. She followed him through the house until they could slip out of the back door. There was a chill in the air, seeing as though it was February, but that was not the important thing right now.

YN stood by the door, hoping to guard herself from the child slightly as she watched Harry pace in front of her. With each step, she grew more concerned for the man.

“You are worrying me now, Harry,” She started, her voice turning to a slight plead, “Would you please tell me what is wrong?”

Harry sighed and stopped his pacing before turning and walking so he was standing just a few feet from the girl.

“If you wish to marry Mr Jacobs then you should do so.”

YN feels as though all of the air has been sucked out of her body. Her heart begins to beat uncontrollably – the only sound she can hear is her heartbeat throughout her body. Out of everything that she thought he was going to say, that had certainly not been it. She could not even imagine why it had made him act in this way.

“Harry, I…” YN shook her head, unable to hold back her laugh, “That is… I had not even… I only danced with the man Harry.”

Harry shook his head, “I need you to know that if you wish to marry him, then you should.”

YN laughed again, “Harry you are being preposterous! You cannot just go around saying things such as that! But, seeing as though you have said such things, I would like to reiterate all of the information which you already know – I am happy just as I am, with you and with the children.”

Harry sighs, “You do not have to lie to me, YN. I can take the truth.”

“By this display of emotions Harry I find that very hard to believe,” She shakes her head once more, “And even so, I am not lying to you. I merely offered a dance, and I accepted and whilst I do not have the most experience with balls – I have gathered that this is something that usually happens at them!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at YN once more, and that is when she noticed that his chest was heaving just as much as hers was. The more that they were standing staring at each other, the more confused YN became. That all came to a head when Harry turned and walked away from her, walking into the house without a single second look at her.

YN watched him as he walked away, and she was overwhelmed with the want to cry. She took a deep breath, lifting her hand to rest a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her breathing. YN took a few steps away from the house so that she could rest against the wall surrounding the steps, the chill in the air the last of the worries.

YN sighed, lifting her hand to her forehead in hopes that would help regain even an ounce of or so of calm again. It was no use though as all she could think about was Harry, and what was the reason behind his sudden outburst of emotion.

“Oh, Miss YLN,” YN lifted her head at the sound of her name, “Are you quite alright?”

There was a part of YN that wanted to groan slightly at the fact that Mr Jacobs had somehow found her even admits the festivities. Instead of groaning, however, YN, found herself offering him a smile.

“I am fine,” She nodded, “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, approaching where she was sitting on the wall. She did feel bad for the man, seeing as though he was the cause of so much turmoil and yet he had no idea of it. At the end of the day, Mr Jacobs had technically done nothing wrong, and she could not blame the man for something that was between herself and Harry.

He dropped down on the wall with an adequate space next to her and ran his hands over his trousers, “I did wish to ask you something after our dance, before I realised you had disappeared.”

YN just nodded, “Of course, Mr Jacobs.”

“I do not wish for you to read too far into this, Miss YLN, but I do enjoy your company,” Mr Jacobs started, “And, even though I had wanted to do this the last time I saw you I knew it would be inappropriate, but now I do not think the same.”

“Mr Jacobs, you do not have to justify yourself to me,” YN offered him a small smile, “Please, ask whatever it is you would like.”

Mr Jacobs nodded, “Would you care to join me for a promenade tomorrow?”

For the second time in a short period, YN found herself short of breath. She could not believe how these declarations were coming one after the other.

YN knew that if she lingered on the thought too much she would lose herself or talk herself out of it. She supposed, in deciding for herself for once she nodded her head at Mr Jacobs.

“I would very much like that.”

YEAR FOUR

“Do you think Father is scared of bees, Miss YN?” Noah asked, holding YN’s hand as they walked back towards the house.

YN shrugged her shoulders slightly, “I do not know, Noah, you should ask him yourself.”

The little boy nodded, “I do not wish for them to sting me, but I would not say that I am scared of them – not like Norah is.”

The little girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name, “I am not afraid! I just do not like them very much.”

YN chuckled at the discussion between the small children. They both pulled away from YN once they reached the steps to the house, turning it into a race just as they did with everything. Sighing, YN followed them up the steps slightly slower than they had done. Once she stepped inside the house, she saw both children standing in the doorway of the sitting room with shocked expressions on their faces.

“What is it?” YN questioned, turning to look at what both of the children were staring at. She stopped in her tracks at what it was.

Sitting on the settee was both Harry and Mr Jacobs. YN could not figure out the expression that Harry’s face held, but she could see that Mr Jacobs seemed to be one of happiness. YN placed a hand on the back of the children’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you both get yourself cleaned up for supper?” She smiled, ushering the children out of the room before she stepped inside.

YN stayed standing up just by the door as she watched the uncomfortable air that seemed to be passing between the two men. In all honesty, YN believed that this was probably the first time that they had met properly. They had both been a topic of conversations with YN but had never spoken directly. It caused YN’s stomach to twist. 

YN had agreed to meet Mr Jacobs the day after the ball mainly to spite Harry, and the words that he had shared with her just a few moments before. What she had been surprised by was the amount she had enjoyed herself. Their walks had been few and far between over the past year or so, as YN would not have let herself forget the real reason she was there in the first place – and that was the children. She could tell that Mr Jacobs had wished for more, but she was unable to give him that. In all honesty, she did not know whether she wanted to give him that.

She had not expected him to show up at her house, though.

“Mr Jacobs,” YN greeted with a small smile, “It is lovely to see you.”

“As it is for you, Miss YLN.”

YN’s eyes flickered between Harry and Mr Jacobs, “May I ask the reason for your visit?”

Harry cleared his throat and stood up, looking at YN with an unreadable expression on his face, “He is here to ask you a question, YN. Or really, to ask me whether it is agreeable for me if he was to ask for your hand in marriage.”

YN gasped. Out of everything that Harry could have said, she had not expected that. Whilst it had shocked her, there was another feeling present that YN couldn’t quite put her finger on.

With a slight drop of her head she looked towards Harry, “Mr Styles, would you mind leaving the room?”

The second YN said those words, she regretted it. The expression on Harry’s face had gone from unreadable to pained, and she knew that she was the cause of this. She hoped that he would not let himself get too worked up over this. Whilst YN had no idea as to how this would play out, she had hoped that Harry would have a little more faith in her than to just abandon him in this way.

With a nod, Harry nodded and walked past her to leave the room. The door shut behind him, and she was finally alone with Mr Jacobs. That was when she realised the other emotion that was swirling within her – it was anger.

“Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs stood up, “I had hoped that I would be able to…”

YN shook her head and held her hand out so that he knew not to take a step closer to her, “I do not want to hear it, Mr Jacobs.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowing at her words, “Miss YLN, if I have done something to offend you –”

“You have,” YN nodded, unable to hold back her anger, “You have offended me, Mr Jacobs. You have offended me by coming to my place of employment to ask for my hand in marriage instead of coming to me.”

“You have avoided me for weeks, Miss YLN,” Mr Jacobs responds, his tone turning stern, “Of course, I had wished to speak to you first, but I was unable to do so.”

“So you thought your best course of action was to show up here and what?” YN sighed, laughing slightly at the absurdness of the entire situation, “Ask Harry for my hand in marriage?”

“I only wished to ask…” Mr Jacobs stopped in his tracks, his expression changing once more, “Harry?”

YN shakes her head, even more confused, “What?”

“You call Mr Styles by his first name?” Mr Jacobs presses once more.

YN scoffs a laugh, “Yes I do, Mr Jacobs, but I do not see how that is your business.”

“I think it is,” Mr Jacobs nods, “Seeing as though he is your employer, and you call him by his first name.”

“Yes,” YN nods, “My employer who is also my friend, and has been for the past four years.”

Mr Jacobs scoffs, “I should have known. I should have known when you were at the ball, even more so when you refused to join me on promenades, and this has just made it even more apparent.”

YN shook her head, “Made what even more apparent?”

“That your affections lie with Mr Styles, or Harry is it?”

YN could not believe what she was hearing. It angered her more so than she thought anything ever could. The audacity of this man to say such a thing – make such a claim when he did not the extent of the accusations that he was making.

“I think it is time for you to take your leave, Mr Jacobs,” YN stated coldly.

“No,” Mr Jacobs shakes his head, placing his hands upon his hips, “Not until I receive my answer from you.”

“I think my asking of you to leave is answer enough.”

Mr Jacobs sighs, “Will you not at least give me a reason as to why?”

“I said leave!”

“I will not,” YN was surprised at the level at which Mr Jacobs raised his voice, “You have no authority to order me out of this house.”

That was when the door opened and Harry stepped in, the look on his face matching Mr Jacobs in anger.

“That is where you are wrong, Mr Jacobs,” Harry speaks calmly, “This is just as much Miss YLN’s house as it is mine, and if she does not wish for you to be here anymore then you should leave. If you refuse, well that is when I shall step in – and I have no qualms in physically removing you from the property.”

Mr Jacobs looks at YN one last time before scoffing and practically storming out of the room. Once she hears the front door from the side of them slam shut, YN thankfully knows that she is in all clear. It takes all of a few seconds before she breaks down, the tears streaming down her face involuntarily.

“Oh, YN,” Harry takes one look at her shaking body, and he is there, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. The pressure of his body against hers was all she needed to collapse, her legs giving way and her body falling to the ground.

Harry is there to catch her, pulling her body even closer to his. Her hands grasp at the lapel of his jacket, hoping that would give her even an ounce of relief.

“Harry,” She gasps, the tears still streaming down her face, “I am so sorry.”

Harry shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”

YN was sitting at the front of the classroom, the complete silence in the room offering an inch of comfort to YN after a difficult few days. 

She was not necessarily one who thought that silent reading time was the best for the children, but she had no other option. The past few days she had not been herself, and unfortunately whilst she had tried to not let it affect her work – there was unfortunately no way that it would not.

YN was staring out of the window when the door opened, replacing the silence in the room with footsteps that could only belong to one person. It was at that point that YN realised that the children had not been reading, and instead had been occupying themselves in other ways. The pencil that Noah had been attempting to balance on his face fell off and clattered to the ground the second his father made an entrance into the room, and Norah dropped the hair that she had been attempting to colour with her crayons.

“Noah, Norah,” Harry addressed his children, “How about you go and find the cook. From what I have heard, she has a plate of treats waiting for you both.”

The children’s faces broke out into smiles, and they bounded past their father, the two of them making it a competition as they did. YN sighed, offering Harry a small smile as he closed the door to the classroom. It was the first time that the two of them had been alone since the incident occurred and YN supposed that was not for a lack of trying on Harry’s part – more so that YN had been avoiding him.

“I know what you are here to discuss, and I fear we cannot,” YN shook her head, watching as Harry leant against the children’s desk and crossed his arms over his face.

“We can,” Harry nodded, “You cannot avoid me forever, seeing as though we live in the same house, and you are the governess to my children. And more importantly, you are my friend.”

YN sighed, “There is nothing to say, Harry. We both know what happened, and I believe the best thing for us to do is move on as though nothing has happened.”

“But we both know that is not the case,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I know that you think the best thing for us to do is ignore the situation, YN, but we cannot.”

YN sighs and nods her head, “Very well, then. Say what you need to.”

Harry sighed and stood up, taking a step closer to YN from over the desk, “Did you want to?”

“Did I what?” YN offered him a puzzled expression.

“Want to marry him?” Harry asks, “Mr Jacobs?”

YN sighed and almost immediately shook her head, “No. I did not. If I had, I would have accepted his hand right then and there. I have told you time and time again, Harry, I am happy just where I am.”

Harry nodded, starting to pace up and down in front of her just as he had the night of the ball. If he was not careful, she would not be surprised if a scuff mark appeared on the floor from his shoes.

Harry stopped directly in front of her and nodded again, “Then marry me.”

YN’s eyes widen. Whilst the last proposal she was shocked and appalled by – this one, she was just shocked. YN could not even believe that those words had just come out of Harry’s lips, and more so that it was directed at her.

“Harry,” YN addressed with a laugh and a shake of her head, “You cannot mean that.”

“But I do,” He nodded, walking around the table so that he was directly in front of the chair that she was sitting in, “I do mean it.”

YN scoffed, “I understand if you are upset with what happened with Mr Jacobs but Harry, what you are saying is preposterous.”

“It is not,” Harry shakes his head, dropping down so he is at eye level with the girl, “I know that you wish to marry, YN, and I am saying – let that person be me.”

“Harry…”

YN’s eyes start to fill with tears, even more so when he reaches forward to grab her hands, “I know that I need to marry, and I know that somewhere, deep down you would like to. We are already acquainted, and I would definitely say that we are friends and I already know that the children like you. I mean – it makes perfect sense to me.”

YN sighed, beginning to shake her head again, “No, Harry you do not mean that.”

“But I do,” He nods his head, his eyes never leaving hers, “I do not think I have ever meant anything more in my life. I lov…” Harry’s eyes widen at his words and then he shakes his head, “I appreciate you more than anything, YN. You have changed my life and my children’s lives for the better. We do not have to care about what society may think, all we have to care about we think. Let me change your life.”

YN opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was truly and honestly in a state of shock.

[pucksandpower]

I have an idea for the Grid Kiiiiiids. They all try to start teaching their sister to drive a kart 🥹 up to you how old she is when they start lol but you know Max and Charles especially want that girl in a kart ASAP

Grid Kids: Little Racer

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids can’t wait to take their sister karting

Series Masterlist

Lando looks particularly proud as he rubs his hands together. “Alright, we got the best present for her. Trust us, she’s going to love it!”

George nods enthusiastically, “It’s honestly the best thing ever. A bit of an investment for her future, you know?”

Max, trying to hide a grin, chips in, “And it’ll give her a head start in racing.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously, “What did you boys do?”

Charles can barely contain his excitement. “Just open the garage and see!”

You slowly make your way to the garage with growing trepidation, the grid kids practically bouncing on their feet behind you. When you open the door, there, in all its glory, sits a shiny new kart, complete with racing stripes and a custom-made helmet with your daughter’s initials.

Your jaw drops. “She’s one! She can barely even walk! What is she going to do with a kart?”

Lance, looking a little defensive, offers up ideas, “Well, she can ... sit in it? Look cute? Take photos for Instagram?”

George chimes in, “It’s never too early to get them started, right? I mean, she’s got the genes for it.”

“Think of it as a ... decorative statement piece for now? Then, in a few years, she can actually use it,” Mick suggests.

You can’t help but chuckle at their over-the-top enthusiasm. “You guys ... she’ll probably be more interested in the cardboard box it came in than the actual kart itself right now.”

Lando pouts, “Well, when you put it like that ...”

You laugh, “Thank you. It’s a very thoughtful gift. But we’re going to have to save it for when she’s a bit older.”

Max smirks, “By a bit older, you mean like five, right?”

You shake your head, exasperated by your impressively stubborn sons but always grateful for how much they love their sister. “We’ll see.”

***

Four years later, the sound of shattering glass pierces the quiet night. In an instant, you’re on your feet, grabbing a baseball bat from the corner of your room. Sebastian, equally alarmed, snatches up a table lamp from his nightstand, wielding it like some sort of medieval weapon.

As you both stealthily approach the main room, you hear muffled whispers.

“Why did you have to step on the vase, Max!” George hisses.

“It was dark! And Lando pushed me,” Max retorts defensively.

Lando protests, “Did not!”

You round the corner, brandishing your bat and glaring at the intruders. “What are you doing in here?”

The grid kids freeze like deer caught in headlights, Lando holding a giant Happy 5th Birthday balloon, Charles cradling a shiny new helmet, and Mick holding a small cake with five candles.

Max tries to salvage the situation with a sheepish grin, “Well, you did say she could start karting when she turned five. We just wanted to be the first to take her.”

Lance points to the clock on the wall that now reads 12:03 AM, “Technically, she’s five now.”

You sigh, lowering your bat, a smile slowly forming. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Sebastian chuckles as he puts the lamp down, “At least wait till morning. And next time, maybe use the door? You all have keys for a reason.”

Charles grins brightly, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Lando glances at the broken vase and nudges a shard of ceramic with his toe. “Sorry about that. We’ll get you a new one.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Just ... go home. We’ll see you at a more reasonable hour.”

Mick winks with a cheeky smile, “How about 7 AM? Sounds reasonable to me.”

You groan, ushering them out. “Go, before I change my mind about the karting!”

As the door closes behind them, you and Sebastian share a laugh. The grid kids never fail to bring some chaos into your lives.

***

The morning sun is just starting to peek through the curtains when you hear the soft hum of engines outside your window. Rubbing your eyes, you sit up and glance at the clock. 6:57 AM. “Seriously?” You mutter under your breath.

The doorbell rings and the soft hum now sounds suspiciously like the familiar excited murmurs of multiple voices.

You throw on a robe and head downstairs, opening the door to find the grid kids, all in their race suits, clustered on your front porch. Behind them, a trailer holds the tiny kart, polished to a shine and adorned with a large bow.

Max declares, “Told you we’d be back!”

Charles holds out a tray of coffee, “We brought reinforcements.”

George steps forward, a picnic basket in hand. “And breakfast! We figured that after all the excitement, you might be hungry.”

Lando bounces like a hyperactive puppy. “So, is she ready? We’ve got the whole day planned out!”

Sebastian, now also at the door in his pajamas, chuckles, “Let the poor girl wake up first.”

Mick is holding a small helmet and gloves. “We’ve got everything she needs.”

“We even have a little race suit for her.” Lance shows off the preschooler-sized suit, complete with the German flag and her name. “We got it customized and everything!”

You can’t help but join in on their enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. Just give us a minute to get her up and ready.”

The grid kids cheer, high-fiving each other.

As you head back inside, Sebastian wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You know, for a group of the most elite drivers in the world, they sure get excited about kiddie karting.”

You smile back, “That’s what makes it all the more special.”

***

You tiptoe into your daughter’s room, finding her sprawled out on the bed among a sea of stuffed animals. Sebastian follows closely behind, his excitement barely contained.

“You do the honors,” you whisper, motioning to the tiny alarm clock on her nightstand.

Sebastian nudges the clock and it lets out a soft rendition of a race car engine revving. Your daughter stirs, her little eyes slowly blinking open.

“Vroom vroom,” she murmurs drowsily, pushing herself up with a yawn.

“Morning, sunshine,” you greet, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Ready for your big day?”

She beams, “Karting day?”

Sebastian chuckles, “That’s right! And you’ve got a whole pit crew waiting for you downstairs.”

Her eyes widen in excitement, “Brothers are here?”

You nod, “Bright and early. They couldn’t wait.”

She practically jumps out of bed, “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Downstairs, the grid kids are in a frenzy of activity, making last-minute checks on the kart, packing snacks, and discussing strategies.

“You sure she doesn’t need a quick racing line tutorial?” Lando asks, pointing at some scribbles on a whiteboard.

Max rolls his eyes, “She’s five, mate.”

“Exactly. The perfect age to start,” Lando retorts.

Your daughter giggles as Charles lifts her onto his shoulders, “Look at you, future world champ!”

George hands her a small helmet, “Safety first!”

She tries it on and it slips down half of her head.

“Maybe we’ll adjust that,” Mick chuckles, helping to resize the straps.

Once everything is packed and ready, the convoy sets off for the track. Your daughter, sandwiched between Lando and George, is treated to a hilariously exaggerated commentary of their drive.

“Watch that apex! Oh no, a dramatic overtake by that ... minivan?” Lando narrates, making your daughter giggle uncontrollably.

At the track, the grid kids swarm around, setting up the kart, unloading equipment, and securing the area.

Lance kneels in front of your daughter. “Now, remember, it’s all about having fun, okay? But also ... don’t crash.”

She giggles, “Okay, Lancey.”

Charles takes her hand, leading her to the kart. “Ready to hop in?”

She nods eagerly, and with a little help, she’s seated and ready.

With the helmet securely in place and the engine purring softly, she looks up at you and Sebastian with big, excited eyes.

“Remember, slow and steady,” you call out, giving her a thumbs-up.

She revs the engine, and under the watchful eyes of her brothers, begins to kart for the first time.

As she makes her way around the track, the grid kids cheer raucously and even get a bit teary-eyed. The sight of the little kart zooming around, driven by your fearless daughter, is a memory none of you will forget.

When she finally finishes her laps and the engine dies down, the grid kids rush over, lifting her into the air in celebration.

Lando, panting from excitement as if he were the one driving, declares, “Best. Day. Ever!”

Your daughter is grinning from ear to ear. “Can we do it again tomorrow?”

Sebastian pulls you close as you watch your children make plans to kart together soon. “Looks like we’ve got another racer in the family.”

Your heart melts when you see the look of pure joy on your daughter’s face as she’s surrounded by her brothers. “Formula 1 better watch out.”

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

taglist: @serenaxpedro @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[bakugoushotwife]

a/n: some of my self-ship ramblings while i'm supposed to be writing gojo kinktober skfjskhdkgdf--this will be the family set up for a series of mine ;)

everyone says girl dad gojo this boy dad gojo that, when in reality it's gojo and his son + his two little sisters.

oh gojo just fusses all over his firstborn son when he arrives, all glossy eyed with pride as he boasts about the gojo line—and his son being the strongest yet! (though he'd rather die than let his son face the same perils he did-)

your husband turns into such a doting father with his little sidekick, teaching him how to gush over mama, but how to pick daddy's side. oh his son is just his best friend! a little carbon copy of him down to the dimples. he takes him everywhere once he's about five, letting your son traverse the school with him if for no other reason than to boast over his spawn. he's such a little gentleman thanks to tips from daddy, picking fistfuls of dirt and dandelion to plop on the table while you're making dinner—eyes of blue you know all too well grinning up at you, a smile that's missing a tooth or two. "got you flowers mama!" he brags, stepping up on his helper's stool to get a look at what you're doing—stage one clinger and nosy freak like his dad. you giggle at the mess and nod, patting his hair and thanking him with kisses.

"what about my kisses?" your husband smirks, revealing a proper bouquet from behind his back as he peeks over your opposite shoulder. your giggles intensify as you give him the same treatment, letting satoru finish up the food so you could put your bouquet and your dandelions away in a vase.

"i wanna help you daddy!" the high pitched determination from your son has your heart melting, and satoru doesn't think he could get any happier.

that is until his first daughter is born. his son changed his life, but the little girl in his arms now has him sobbing as she bats white lashes up at him—he knows he'll never be the same person, now forever occupied with her safety and happiness, raising her to be a good person, a sweet and kind person like you. her big brother is just as invested, eager to help his tired parents and hardly complaining about the baby's crying. he wants to be a big man like daddy, so he'll follow satoru into her nursery and help give her bottles while you sleep, though satoru (jokingly) wishes he was old enough to change a diaper—you've created some dynamic shitters, not that your son was any better.

but oh how his daughter was his sunshine. such a delicate and powerful little thing too, he didn't even know how to treat her at first. with his son it was easy, he was unafraid. but with his daughter, he knows he'll be the example in her life and he's terrified to mess it up. but he gets the hang of it—and she absolutely adores her father.

maybe one of these days you'll get one that prefers you, though your son is quite the mommy's boy thanks to satoru's shining performance.

the girl though, all hopes of her being sweet and kind go out the window by the time she's four. she's a mouthy little thing, bossing around her big brother, who's definitely grown less charmed with being a big brother—only on the outside. he still adores his little sister, but he does roll his eyes when you tell him that you're pregnant with another girl.

the baby of the family, satoru bawls when he holds her yet again. she's just as strong and beautiful as his first two, but by far the biggest daddy's girl yet. she grows up under the protection of her older siblings—her big sister dresses her like her own personal babydoll and her big brother rescues her from such activities. she is sweet and lovely despite her siblings, and you think it's a miracle. that only lasts so long, though.

satoru spoils all of his kids, but his girls are so snotty by the time they reach puberty, no boys can even catch their attention. this was all to his design of course, he would not have his smart, strong, and talented girls bogged down by boy troubles, gag. as bratty as satoru was in high school, imagine two of them. as girls. yes.

the teenage sisters are closer than close—banding up against their annoying big brother when he comes by to poke at them, the once protector turned aggressor—though he would die for his sisters without a second thought.

don't even get me started on gojo's son. if the girls are bratty, satoru's carbon copy is entitled and smug, even more handsome than his dad thanks to your enhancements and the only next gen gojo man? he's intolerable by the time he graduates, and satoru is absolutely tickled about it—even asking for another baby as yours grow and prepare to leave the nest. he's a family man, and so so good with babies...you may just give into his wishes just to witness it some more. <3

[13keithxpidge13]

I wanna write an AU where Rhaenyra chooses Harwin to marry and their marriage is solidified in the eyes of the Realm.

Immediately, Rhaenyra becomes pregnant. The couple are overjoyed and the kingdom celebrates, excited at the prospect of introducing a brand new prince or princess to the world.

When Prince Jacaerys Targaryen is born, Harwin is absolutely /flooded/ with joy and pride. Jace is his precious boy, his /beautiful/ firstborn son. He looks so much like himself but with Rhaenyra's violet eyes and her gorgeous smile. It doesn't matter to him that his hair isn't white (he doesn't care /what/ the Queen says). Jacaerys is his perfect, special boy.

Not even two years later, Rhaenyra is announced to be pregnant with their second babe. Her stomach doesn't grow nearly as large as it did when she was in her later months carrying Jace which did worry the Maesters just a tad but, Harwin wasn't concerned at all. Rhaenyra was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, if anyone could pull through-it would be his beautiful wife.

And, he was right. Eight months into her pregnancy, albeit a little early, Rhaenyra gave birth to their second son; Lucerys Targaryen. Harwin's precious, sweet little second son. Tinier than most babes he is but as strong as can be nonetheless. He looks like the spitting image of Rhaenyra. Bright violet doe eyes, a button nose with freckles caked across his cheeks, and a sparkling happy smile. When Rhaenyra first laid eyes on him, she sobbed with joy and whispered how he looked so much like her mother; the late Queen Aemma. King Viserys agreed, holding his second grandson and weeping whilst gazing at his sweet face.

It was at this time that the rest of Viserys's children had begun to become more curious about their older sister and their nephews. Prince Aegon often dragged the young Prince Aemond down to sneak into his and Rhaenyra's chambers to get a peek at the two young boys when Luke and Jace were playing.

Harwin wouldn't say anything against the young princes when they sneak in, when they think no one could see them. If anything, it warms his heart to know that, despite Queen Alicent and her bitterness against his wife and their children, her boys nonetheless attempt to be close to their nephews even when their mother argues against it.

Harwin watches, amused as Prince Aegon rushes over to Jace and immediately plops down next to him from where Harwin's eldest boy is playing with his youngest. The two sit on the floor surrounded by tiny dragon wooden cut out toys and Jace squeals as Prince Aegon takes one of the toys and starts playing. Little Luke kicks his tiny four month old feet out and giggles loudly, clapping his hands together.

Prince Aemond takes a little more coaxing but, eventually, they all are playing together on the floor with the sound of happy laughter and childish giggles ringing throughout the room like church bells.

It isn't too long before Rhaenyra returns, entering their chambers and the group of children all whirl to meet her.

"Oh my," She gasps, but she's smiling and little Luke squeals, babbling nonsense and reaching towards his mother. "It seems I have a group of little hatchlings nesting in here. What are you doing away from your mother at this hour, brothers?"

"Playing!" Prince Aegon shouts and stands up, smiling wide as he raises his arms. "Mother forgot to put Aemond down for a nap so I brought him here!"

At that, his wife's smile falters just a tad. It was not secret that Queen Alicent often...neglected her children, leaving them to the servants and wet nurses instead of spending time with them herself.

But, that didn't seem to bother the two young princes as they would often sneak away to come find their nephews anyway.

"All by yourselves?" Rhaenyra asks, concerned and that's when Harwin speaks up from where he was situated beside one of the desks inside their bedroom, hidden from sight but able to keep an eye on the group.

"Don't worry, princess," Harwin spoke up and all heads turned to him. "I've been watching them."

Rhaenyra sighs with relief and stalks towards little Luke who was practically crawling over to her at this point, desperate to get to his mommy. He had always been more attached to her than Harwin but, Harwin supposed he didn't blame his son. He was quite attached to her too.

"Hello, little love," She whispers to her second son as she picks him up and cradles Luke against her chest. He coos and babbles, clutching onto her hair and nuzzling against her. "Yes, hello, my sweet boy. I've missed you too."

"Can we stay, sister? Please, please?" Prince Aegon begs, bouncing on his tip toes as he grabs at her black dress. His eldest sister chuckles and she gently runs a hand through his wavy white hair and he leans into it.

"Ah, well," She sighs in a teasing manner. "I /suppose/ you could stay for a bit while longer."

Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond cheer and Jace and Luke follow along, all of their giggles resounding and joining together.

Harwin and Rhaenyra smile at each other and he walks over to kiss his wife, his girl humming against his lips and he then plants another kiss upon her head and one on little Luke's.

It won't be for some time that they have another babe, many years but, Harwin cherishes each and every moment he has with his family. His perfect family.

[koiiiiijiii]

windbreaker characters as parents ༘⋆🌷🫧💭 ⋆˙

tw ; cuteness overload, contains character x character and character x reader

pairings ; min u x mia, shelly x jay jo, dom x reader, monster x reader, vinny x reader

౨ৎ let's start from min u and mia! proud parents of a girl and boy who are three years apart. girl is the older sister and goes along with her brother super well even through his puberty. mia is a great mother and her kids never hide anything from her as they know that they can trust her. mia and her daughter have their own "girls secrets" and side jokes, while min u and his son are super annoyed by it and tried to make their own side jokes, but girls always know its context. also, their grandad and auntie yuna spoil them so much!!! and also min u father are so proud of his son and he really likes mia. all in all 10/10 highly recommended to be born in this family.

౨ৎ shelly and jay. here things are more complicated because shelly parents insisted on them move in the UK during her pregnancy, but they decided to stay in Korea simply because shelly likes weather more and feel more comfortable there. life blessed them with a boy - a copy of his father. but he is a mummy's boy and he gets along with shelly more, even their son's first word was "mama!" when he happily squished shelly’s cheek with his small hands. with time, he builds more interests with jay’s hobbies, so till he hit his puberty he was such a sweet child. but when he turned 14? monster that going through "nobody understands me" era. sometimes jay wonders maybe he need to send his son to his mother so she will teach him some discipline, but then jay remembers that he doesn't want to give his child such trauma. by the way jay family calmed down the moment jay was accepted on the really well paid job and even his mother was proud that her son has international family. all in all 7/10 bc both jay and shelly parents would have a beef over who is better grandparents.

౨ৎ so i can imagine that dom would accept his father's business even tho he didn't insist. so you two were gifted with three daughters each with year apart. dom honestly wished his first would be a boy so he can grow up and protect his sisters, but fate had her own ideas. through your second pregnancy dom repeated that he would be happy for girl or boy, just healthy, strong child (he prayed for a boy), and you decided not to find out who you were going to have until the baby was born. and it was sweet, super calm girl. on third pregnancy dom really tried to have a boy (yes, he scrolled all that weird mums forums to find out in which pose you can conceive a boy). he has genuinely been surprised when doctor said you will have a girl. who was the happiest over the fact that he surrounded by girls? his father!! he loves all four of you, and dom suspect that his father loves you more than him. he definitely would call you daughter and generally he is super granddad and father-in-law. your daughters loves their granddad too!! imagine them cling to him from all sides, hanginig on his neck, arms and legs. generally girls goes along super good, but oldest and youngest are more close to their father as they share extrovert personality, while middle girl gets super along with you. dom are scared that they are growing up too fast and that in one day they will start dating b̴̨̢̰͖̂ͫͨ̒ͦͩơ̷̧̢̛̤̠̻͔̤̖̳͖̥̼̲̮̥̣̼̮̂̽̓ͮ͆̉ͩ͆ͣͧ̿ͫ́͋ͩ̏̚̕̚͜͞y̶̢͎̜̬͖̩̰̬̞̓͌̽͆̈́̉̑ͨ̂ͧ͌̌̇̅͗͌͘͜͟s̶̸̢͉͙͈̳̻̣̲͔̜̩ͮ̌̃̄̄̓̍̽͌̈́͑́͑ͩ͟͠͝ 💀☠️ all in all 9/10 dom vibes with his favourite girls but one one stingy male tear drops when he sees fathers play baseball with their sons (he was hitted in the nose with a ball from his youngest daughter)

౨ৎ when you and deokbong announced that you will have a child, people were... curious - how?? how you would be able to carry his child since you look so small in comparison to him. and you know what? it was twin boys... the birth was difficult but you did it and then you faced new challenge - both boys was copy of their father and they was heavy. you prayed for your back, seriously, but deokbong is super supportive husband and father so he was always there to help you. thankfully your boys were calm. like literally they always had serious faces, fists clenched and almost never cried. with time your younger one maintained your character and more of your features showed, like brows and nose form, cheeks, and face shape. all in all 10/10 you four would be happy simple sport family!!

౨ৎ vinny hong refuse to have children. end of headcanon.

but seriously, vinny had huge trauma from his father and from bulling in school, he will never be sure that he is enough as financially and emotionally for kids, so you two are proud parents of one big dog, maybe doberman or cane corso and lazy cat. all in all 7/10 just because there are too much wool at home and vinny refuse to go on a walk with dog in the early morning.

[hwasdvlly]

Mini-Me | k.hongjoong

✧ summary: it's not every day you get a surprise visit from your beloveds.

✧ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader

✧ genres: romance, fluff, family, and slice of life

✧ word count: 0.6k words

✧ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, idol!hongjoong, non-idol!reader, married life, the members are the best uncles, cuteness overload

✧ a/n: despite being a hongjoong writing it's also our yeosangie's birthday! this is honestly so soft to read

His little angel is a carbon copy of himself.

She has his doe brown eyes, facial structure, and his cherry lips. Hongjoong loves his baby to the moon and back. 

He believes his Heeyoung will be a daddy’s girl when she grows older. The members even debated whether she’ll become one or a mommy’s girl. Hongjoong is confident that Heeyoung is going to stick by his side. She has him wrapped around her cute small hand. It was love at first sight when he saw her beautiful face. 

Even though being an idol and raising a kid is difficult, Hongjoong is committed to doing what he loves and staying in touch with his wife and daughter. He calls them his treasures. Hongjoong did joke about it because the saying takes after one of the group’s songs. Overall, he grew to love it because they are his everything. 

It’s late afternoon, and the sun is setting. The group has been rehearsing nonstop. As the captain, Hongjoong directs the members and wants an excellent result for their comeback showcase. He is a perfectionist in all aspects. 

Subsequently, they have visitors. 

Hongjoong’s stern face amends when he sees two special people. You opened the glass door, and Heeyoung waddled inside the practice room. “Youngie!” The guys squealed at the sight of their beloved princess. Heeyoung is also known as Atiny’s little sister. 

“Come to Uncle San!”

“No! You love Uncle Wooyoung more!”

“She loves Uncle Mingi the most!”

“Youngie wants puppy Uncle Yunho!”

The four of them bent down to her level with open arms. “Yah! Don’t give her a hard time!” Jongho scolds them. Pure and innocent Heeyoung stares with a blank expression. Her big eyes look at the seven handsome guys smiling at her. With her little chubby legs, she makes her way to hug Yeosang. He laughs cheerily. “She prefers Uncle Sangie!” The man picks her up in his arms. 

You walked over to him with a box of delicious cupcakes. “Happy birthday Yeo! Heeyoung and I wanted to surprise you with a gift.” You showed him the sweet treats. His sharp, dark eyes softened. “Thank you so much, noona. And Youngie.” He kisses your daughter on her mochi-like cheek. Yeosang also brought his arm around your shoulders for a hug. 

Soon enough, the little family and friends gathered for a short break. “Here you are, baby.” You give Heeyoung a cupcake out of the box. She holds it tight in her hands. “Who do you want to sit with?” You asked her. The two-year-old shifts to see her seven uncles are giving her puppy eyes. Hongjoong is sitting next to you and snickers at his child. She doesn’t know who to choose. But eventually, she moves her feet to go for an uncle. 

A smile etched on your face. “And Youngie chooses Uncle Seonghwa~” You playfully dragged out his name. Heeyoung plops herself onto the oldest member’s lap. Like a gentleman, Seonghwa smoothes down the skirt of her dress. 

Instantly, the members get occupied with Heeyoung. They would talk to her so soft and gentle. While that’s happening, Hongjoong scoots himself close to you. He rests his head on your right shoulder. “I’m happy for this abrupt visit,” Hongjoong confessed to the love of his life. You can hear the exhaustion in his voice and notice the heavy eyebags on his bare face. 

As you rest your head on top of his, you reach for his left hand and interlace his fingers with yours. His ring finger has the item that symbolizes their love, respect, and trust. “I know my husband more than anyone else. You are too stubborn to take a break.” You stated with humor, yet you were being honest. 

Hongjoong lets out a giggle that is so melodic. It never fails to make your heart flutter.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {8}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It's hard to stay mad at family for long but forgiveness doesn't come from everyone. Warnings: 18+ only, swearing, angst WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine

“That was my race line. I had the inside line!” 

“Snooze you lose, Max Emilian.” You flipped your visor up as you faced the teenage boy who confronted you. “You're lucky this was just practice.”

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you in the race just because you are my sister.”

“Half sister.” You corrected as you pulled your helmet off, making the older boy's cheeks turn pink at the reminder. “Don’t cry too much when you get beaten by a girl, Verstappen.”

“I’m 15 years old, little girl,” he said as he looked down at you, “I don’t cry.”

You glanced at the backdoor and debated taking your chances with the six foot fence blocking your escape. With your luck you would probably break your ankle and miss the rest of the race season, something you would prefer not to happen. 

“Run?” Lando double checked as you heard car doors closing loudly, the thuds reverberating in the quiet neighbourhood. The option was taken as you failed to make a decision before the door opened without a knock. Seeing you tense, he placed a hand on your knee under the table and gave it a squeeze. “Brave face, baby.”

The slap of feet running on the wooden floors stole your attention but they weren’t heavy enough to be Max’s and you turned with open arms to catch the toddler. 

“Hello Penelope,” you greeted her as she climbed up onto your lap and waved to Lando and Charles. “You’ve grown again!”

“P, what have I said about running off,” Max huffed as he stepped inside the doorway, stopping under the archway that connected to the dining room. 

Covering Penelope’s ears, you pinned your brother with a glare. “Dick move bringing P into this.”

He shrugged innocently as he buried his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Kelly’s working, and she misses you.” 

It had been a while since you spent time with her since you didn’t go to Max’s place as often, opting to spend your time with Charles and Lando. Letting your hands fall away, you pointed to the kitchen. “There’s some muffins in there if you want. Are you hungry?”

She nodded eagerly and Lando pushed his chair out, offering his hand for her. “I can help you, P. Want a glass of milk too?”

“Nice shirt,” Max said with a little laugh as he noticed what Lando was wearing. “Did you lose a bet?”

“Maybe I just like wearing my boyfriend's clothes,” he said with a daring arch of his brow. “Is that a problem?”

Max looked at his feet with the smallest shake of his head. 

“I have a boyfriend too!” P exclaimed as she jumped around excitedly, tugging him out of the room. “His name is Brodie and he lets me use his crayons.”

You shared a smile with Charles as the two chatted their way to the kitchen, their voices growing even quieter when the backdoor opened and they took their muffins outside to eat. The moment the door clicked shut the smile fell from your face.

“What are you doing here, Max?” 

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the race,” he said as he walked into the room, his eyes scanning the walls to see if there were any new pictures since he last visited. “Nice win.”

“Bullshit,” you scoffed as you pushed your chair out and rose to your feet, not liking how much smaller you felt with him standing. “I should have crashed out at least three times. It was just luck that I finished the race.”

Charles’ brows pinched at the news but you placed your hand in his to ease his mind as he stood by your side. 

“You don’t believe in luck, you make your own.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, klootzak.”

“I don’t know what that means but I’m going to assume it wasn’t nice,” your mother tutted as she stepped into the room, making her way to your brother. “Hello, Max, nice to see you again.”

“Is it though?” you muttered as she gave him a hug, her disappointed eyes landing on you. 

“Yes, it’s always nice to see family.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Max said, completely ignoring your comments. “I hope you don’t mind us just showing up at your door.”

“Not at all, I hardly get any visitors anymore.”

You felt guilty hearing those words and vowed to come home more often in the future, especially since it was a place where you didn’t have to hide your unorthodox relationship. 

“Well if he wants to stay then there is something he needs to do first,” you said as you pointed to Max and then your mother. “Apologise. Now.”

“That’s not necess-”

“Just because you have been called worse doesn’t make it alright,” you interrupted her before turning back to your brother. “Max, apologise or leave.”

You felt Charles’ hand settled on the small of your back, the warm reassurance that he was by your side. You focused on that hand as the silence drew out, your mother sighing with defeat and Max staring emotionlessly back at you.

“What did you think I came here for?” he asked, sounding mildly bored. 

“I never know with you, maybe you wanted to lose another fight.”

“No fighting under my roof,” your mother warned. “Now I’m going to put the kettle on and everyone is going to take a seat and calm down.”

“I didn’t come here to fight,” Max admitted quietly and he stopped her from leaving as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I said a few things I didn’t mean in anger and I came to apologise. To the both of you.”

“Apology accepted, dear,” she said as she patted his hand. 

“Just like that?” you asked her with a frown.

“One thing age has taught me, is life’s short and grudges weigh heavily on the soul. It’s better to forgive and move on, honey.”

“No wonder Lando gets along with her so well,” you whispered to Charles as she went to the kitchen. “They’ll be making friendship bracelets and dreamcatchers in no time.”

“I’m pretty sure I already saw them reading the horoscopes in the newspaper this morning.”

“Zusje,” Max interrupted the whispers with a sheepish step forward. “Can we have a word, alone?”

Charles looked at Max defiantly until you patted his stomach and he looked back at you. “It’s okay, there’s plenty of vases if he gets out of hand.”

“Touch my monsteras and there will be hell to pay, missy,” the warning came from the kitchen.

“I was thinking a cactus would hurt more.” You looked at Max and saw his lips twitching as he knew you were just winding your mother up.

“Just don’t reach for a fork,” Max said with a chuckle. “Then I’ll be scared.”

“Ouch, too soon for a Jos joke,” you snickered and made your way to the front door where you wouldn’t be overheard from the kitchen. “I don’t want to get in trouble for swearing.”

Max followed you out of the house and took a seat beside you on the front step. Seeing the mess in the front yard, he cocked an eyebrow and jutted his chin at it. “Yours?”

You were about to open your mouth to bite back a remark before a dark smile grew. “How sorry are you?”

“Seriously?” he groaned, eyeing up the rusted shears and dozens of plants still overgrown. “I can pay someone to come and do that.”

“So can I, but you said you were sorry and actions speak louder than words, Maxie.”

“Let’s get this straight, I fix the garden and you forgive me.”

You chewed your lip before nodding. “But, if you ever, and I mean ever, say something like that again I will torpedo you into turn one.” 

“Sounds fair to me,” he agreed. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“I wouldn’t like fighting me too,” you joked before sobering up. “I’m sorry I said I didn’t have a brother.”

“Half-brother, but it’s okay, we both said things we didn’t mean.” He looked over his shoulder at the shoes lined up and knew which was Lando’s and which was Charles from when they used to sit outside his door on the nights they would hang out. “I hope you seriously thought this through.”

You snorted a laugh. “It wasn’t some whim, Max, they were my friends too so yes, we thought this through. I think you need to give us more credit.”

Max dropped his chin onto his fist. “I just don’t understand how it can work.”

“You don’t have to,” you said simply. “It works for us and has for the last couple of months, and will continue to for hopefully a very, very long time.”

“Months?”

You shrugged innocently. “Told you, not a whim.”

“Months?” he repeated as his brows crumpled together and his face screwed up like he was in pain. “Oh, I’m going to kill those lying fuckers.”

“No you’re not,” you growled as you planted a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated. 

“Give me one good reason.”

“Because I love them, and I would never speak to you again. Can’t you just be happy for me? I’m not the easiest person to get along with. Or, at least be happy I’m not on Raya anymore.”

“Oh no, this is much better than Raya,” he muttered sarcastically before taking a deep breath. “Fine. Not fine, but okay, fine.”

“It's a start.” You held out your hand. “So I forgive you, you forgive me - even though your transgression was much worse in my opinion - and we are all happy families again.”

“Yeah, totally happy,” he said with a roll of his eyes and you returned it with a punch to his arm. “I can’t believe you stole my best friends.”

“Get used to it, I’ll be stealing the championship next.”

He huffed a laugh and relaxed a bit as he shook your hand. 

“One other thing,” you said as you shook on the deal. “I may have forgiven you but the guys aren’t going to be as easy to convince.” You rose from the steps and wiped the dust from your ass. “But you can worry about that after you take care of the garden. Laters, bro.”

You slammed the door closed before he could reach it and locked it with a laugh as he banged on it. “You didn’t say I had to do it now! It’s the middle of the fucking day.”

“Better put some sunscreen on then, Snow White.” You turned away from the door with a proud grin and found Charles and Lando waiting expectantly. “What? He’s still alive.”

The door swung open and Max smirked as he held up the spare key that was hidden under a pot plant. “Terrible hiding place.” His smile fell as he saw your boyfriends blocking the hall shoulder to shoulder and their arms crossed over their chests. 

“So you two are…?” Lando waved a hand between you and your brother.

“Yeah, we’re good now,” you said with a nod and Lando relaxed his posture with a quiet exhale that made you smile. He could be so protective but it didn’t change the fact he was a lover not a fighter. 

Brushing past you, Max offered his hand in peace and Lando shook it. “You hurt my sister and you’re a dead man walking.”

Making the only promise that meant anything in your world, he said, “I’d rather lose my seat.”

Satisfied with the answer he turned to Charles who accepted the handshake but his stiff spine remained as he leaned closer to Max and whispered, “This doesn’t make us friends again. I’m only doing this for her.”

Click here for chapter nine.

[readychilledwine]

Kissed by Fire pt 2

Summary - Amelia Archeron, the oldest of the made sisters, sacrificed more than her sisters would ever understand, and more than she would ever allow them to know. Now, they want her to sacrifice her one chance at happiness, too.

Warnings - talks of sex work, beron, implied abuse, Lucien getting to be the smartest, person in a room.

Series Masterlist Eris Masterlist Master Masterlist

Eris sat at a silent family breakfast. Per tradition, no one spoke. No one had spoken at breakfast since Lucien's exile.

Beron no longer allowed casual conversation between his sons. No discussion of how their days were laid out, of who was covering which territory for the day, of how they slept.

Beron no longer allowed brotherhood. At least, not in front of him.

The note casually passed under the table started at their mother. He soft elegant script gracing the page. It had gone to the now youngest Hermes, his red hair was shaved on the right side with an intricate pattern and then curled on the top. He showed no reaction on his face before waiting for the next opportunity of Beron Speaking down to a servant over the quality of something she had no control over to pass it to Ares. The smug idiot also controlled his face as he continued eating and scratched his facial stubble that he had allowed to grow for much too long. He then waited for Beron to look away, passing the note to the second oldest whom Eris immediately shot a look. Apollo had always been the diplomatic one, the scholar interested in music and arts much more than any throne. He played his part well, but the male was easy to read. He kept his face cold and indifferent, waiting for the chance to pass the note To Eris.

Eris was the riskiest pass. He was constantly sitting at his father's right hand. A testament to his efforts and the cruelty he'd inflicted for the sake of his mother, his brothers, himself.

Lunch and tea at noon? Your father is going to the Winter Borders Today.

It wasn't even a question in Eris's mind. His mother could ask him to carve his own heart out and he would say yes.

Walking alongside Beron was something Eris longed to end. He always felt an almost slime growing on him when he had to. He listened carefully as Beron's spymaster, an undereducated ruddy looking male who hardly could gather anything worth knowing, handed him a folder.

“Rumor has it the King of Hybern got a hold of the 3 older Archeron sisters and threw them in the Cauldron,” he paused as Beron did. A look of disbelief flashes in his father's eyes as he opens the Report. “All three of them emerged fae.”

“And where did this rumor come from?”

The male looked at Beron, a small smirk forming, “Ianthe. She's currently in Spring with the curse breaker. Tamlin and the boy witnessed the whole thing.” The simple mention of Lucien had Eris looking up. “One of the sisters is evidently his mate.”

Chill set over Eris at that thought. It settled when he looked at his father's face. In place of the normally stone cold mask was a smile, not one of joy or happiness. One that promised if he ever got his hands on that poor girl, she would suffer, just so Lucien did. Just so his mother did. “Find out if this is accurate and let Eris know as soon as possible. Then find out which sister.” Beron slapped the report on Eris's chest. “Ensure your mother does not learn of this until it is convenient for me.”

Eris went to the tearoom his mother and brothers sat in, stress lining his every muscle like a heavy coat as he did. “I have news,” he watched as they all sighed heavily. “Lucien has a mate,” he threw the papers down. “I am guessing these three are why Azriel came to me a few weeks ago.”

Andromeda held the papers tight, reading each line over and over. “This changes things,” her voice was soft, breaking slightly at what this could mean. “You four need to be ready.”

Hermes leaned back, nodding as he did.

Ares took the reports next, Studying them hard. “You said the shadowsinger made you a deal right? Can you use it to force Rhysand into a bargain?”

Apollo sighed heavily, having dealt with Rhysand the most in the 50 years they were all trapped together. “Rhysand isn't going to bargain for his assistance unless his family is at risk. That's his sole motivation in his world. Not his court. Not himself. His family.”

“We need more,” Eris concluded. “Helion might not be enough. Tamlin is an unstable support. Kal is unknown. Thesan is going to hand his support on a platter just because he hates Beron. Rhysand-”

“Has no hound in the race,” his mother finished with a distant look over her shoulder towards the window. Towards the sunlight she could never fully bathe herself in. “Find one.”

Amelia hated Rhysand. She leaned across a table from him, blinking at him like he was an absolute idiot. “If I could access it, I could learn to control it, Rhysand.”

The High Lord sighed. “And when you open a gate to Mother knows where, Welcoming Mother knows what into my court and home, what then Amelia?”

It had taken Amren the better part of three weeks. Three long weeks Amelia had spent on constant faebane.

She hardly ate anymore, not that she really was before.

All glow and color had left her skin, leaving her pale and lifeless.

Her eyes constantly held dark circles from dreamless sleep.

Rhysand saw the parallel. He was not foolish or blind. It ate at him, nagging loudly in the back of his mind and pounding over and over again whenever he'd shut his eyes.

He kept lying to himself, pretending it was for Amelia's own good.

There had not been a worldwalker since Amren first appeared. And even those thousands of years ago, the walkers were rumors. Ghosts in the wind passed down by busy body gossips who believe they possibly saw a gate open and close.

“And what will you do if I just refuse to take it?”

Rhys looked up at Amelia, a sympathetic glaze to his eyes as he began to hold her mind and force her to drink the tainted wine. “It wouldn't matter,” his voice was flat. “I am sorry Amelia, but until we find out more, this is what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” she whispered the word back like it was poisoned. “You all promised us that word before and failed,” she stood ignoring the look of pain that flashed on his face, on Cassian's, on Azriel's. “Hopefully you fail this time too.” She left the room, slamming the door so hard the frames shook.

Amelia walked down the hall, shutting her door Behind her and curled into her blanket, smiling at the familiar scent that screamed Autumn.

Amelia pulled out the map of Pryithian She had ripped out of a book. Studying it hard one more time.

She'd make it out of this damned court.

Even if she had to burn it to the ground to do so.

Lucien read the note over and over again. It had come to him through the hearth. It smelled of roasted chestnuts and a crackling fire.

He wished he could bask in it. He wished he could bottle up the scent and bathe in it, take comfort in it during nights when his dreams plagued him.

The sense of security the scent brought him was almost mocking as he read his mother's handwriting over and over.

“Beron knows. He knows about your mate. Hide her. Run away with her.”

Lucien sat on his bed, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. He had planned on running with Feyre anyways. He had been trying to find a way out for them for a week now, but the damn twins went everywhere with them.

Lucien hid the note as his door opened without a knock, “What do you want, Ianthe?”

“There's something in the forest. Tamlin told me to take you to look at it.”

Several days had passed since Amelia and Rhys fought. They had only spoken in passing, the female holding her head high and refusing to apologize. The high lord returned the sentiment. He had started having to have Azriel or Cassian watch her drink the tea, or else she would dump it according to the twins.

She had lost weight. Way too much weight. Her and Elain were walking skeletons. Rhys entered Amelia's room, heart falling at the sight of each bone visible in her back. “Feyre has escaped Spring. Lucien is coming with her.”

Amelia nodded. “Elain's mate. How does your dear Shadowsinger feel about that?”

Her bored tone had Rhys immediately irritated. “Do you not care that your youngest sister is currently on the run?”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over the sweater that was now much too large for her. “I trust Feyre's abilities to get herself out of anything she walks into. I've had no choice but to do that for years,” she moved towards the window. “You do not know everything, Rhysand, you do not know the extent of my care nor the sacrifice I made.”

He sat in the chair he always took, “Because you refuse to tell me, Amelia. You refuse to tell me what oh so wonderful sacrifice you made while your younger sisters were cold and starving.”

Her mind flashed to that cabin, chopping wood for hours straight, stacking it nicely. To prepare them breakfast and leaving it to warm over a fire. Just for her to leave the house without eating and head to the pleasure house.

She'd leave before they woke, and return long after they slept.

Each night she'd hide money in Feyre's bags. Enough to get them food for the next week, if her younger Sister didn't decide to treat herself to unnecessary paints and brushes, then tuck the rest into another bag.

A bag she hoped to eventually gain enough gold stashed inside of to buy them a home.

One that wasn't one windstorm from falling apart.

“How long did you work there,” his voice broke. “How little were you paid to lay there.”

Amelia's father had lost and gambled away their wealth when Amelia was 15. “The second father was hunted down, so I went there. I was 15. I worked there long after that raging fluff ball decided we were his charity case. That's how Jurian found me. He bought me for the night using enough money that they'd turn a blind eye to whatever he wanted to do to me. The house took 90% of my Earnings. 20% would go towards paying off my debt to them so I could be free. They pocketed the rest. I'd take home a measly 10%.”

She could see the disgust washing over him. “How much was an hour with you?”

She shrugged, "Depended on what he wanted to do. I had a male pay 30 gold to beat me once. I had a male pay 50 to do things I never want to speak about again.”

Rhys nodded. “Why don't they know?”

“Because High Lord, nothing says hold on to your hopes like finding out your sister fucks for coin.”

She watched Rhysand get a distant look in his eyes, “I have to go. She's here.” Amelia nodded. “I will give her your love, even if you won't ask me to.”

She paused, looking at him in shock. He moved to her, kissing her temple softly. “No one will ever touch you without your consent again. I promise. Just give me time for the rest. We are still searching.”

Something soft was in his eyes. Something akin to care. To love.

It made Amelia feel bile set in her stomach followed by guilt.

Despite her anger and insults, he was trying.

And maybe, she should try too.

Lucien sat on the couch across from the oldest Archeron sister. He was trying to process her outfit. “Where did you get that sweater?” His brother's sweater, Lucien didn't say the words after a look from Azriel and Cassian told him not to.

“Az brought it to me,” Lucien hummed at her response.

They were studying each other. Trying to figure out each other's ticks like it was their passion project in court training. “Why do you smell like faebane?”

She countered immediately, “Why do YOU smell like faebane?”

“Poisoned by the same whore of a priestess who sold you out,” Lucien leaned back, raising and nodding for her explanation.

“Being forced to take it because that whore of a priestess had me thrown into an oversized Cauldron and it did something to me.”

“Enough,” Azriel said softly. “This conversation is done.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien pushed despite the warning.

“I can see strings,” Amelia said softly. “They're all different. Different colors, smells, materials. Some sparkle like what they're connected to is active and alive. Some are duller like light can't fully reach the end I can see.”

Lucien felt his face dropping, unable to school a reaction due to his exhaustion. “And these strings, when you touch them, can you hear anything? See anything?”

She nodded. “Between teas when they come back, I can reach them. One was dark, cold, when I touched it I heard a woman's voice. It sounded like someone was singing a dark song as she spoke in a language I didn't understand. Another time there was a string that almost seemed to glow. I could hear laughter, strange music, another language I didn't know.”

The three males shared a look. This was more information than they had gotten from her in a month, "Amelia, the night you followed me, did you pull one of the strings?”

She looked to Azriel, blue eyes sad. “In my sleep, yes. It smelled like fire and apples,” Lucien's stomach fell. “I was drawn to whoever you were speaking with. Like their voice was enough to keep me warm. Like they'd be enough to keep me safe.”

Azriel felt his face pale when she turned away and stood to leave the room.

“I think I already know the answer, but who were you with?”

Cassian sighed, sitting down. “He went to Eris. To get that sweater and a blanket in hopes he would enchant them. Amelia can't hold warmth since the Cauldron.”

“Has she met him?” They shook their heads. “I'd keep her away from him.” Azriel knew what Lucien was suggesting and voiced soft agreement. “Beron can't get his hands on a Realm Walker. It'd be too dangerous for every court and world she got him to.”

Lucien sipped the tea he had staring at the fire. "You should also check resources from Vallahan instead of here. The last recorded Realm Walker was born and trained there. Helion would be able to get his hands on some of their notes."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes

Kissed by Fire Taglist:

@justdreamstars @coralseacourt @kemillyfreitas @impossibelle @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @believinghurts

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 32

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of Daemon, whose loved her all her life.

masterlist for this series

Chapter Thirty-Two: Exile

Saera takes a deep breath; moving the curtains back, allowing the morning rays to enter their shared chambers. She feels his hands settle around her waist. "Daemon," she whispered. "You should come with Daegon to Harrenhal. Spread out before Aegon makes a move." he commands, staring deep into her purple eyes.

She knows what the command means.

He wants her away from the battle.

"- bring our children too, they'll be safer there." he added.

Elinda Massey pours him a goblet of wine. He reaches for it - silently dismissing the handmaiden.

"My father was a slave to his omens and portents," she started, sitting on the foot of the bed.

"He dreamt of you wearing a crown before you were born." Daemon took a sip of his wine. "He dreamt that I'd be his son. He was wrong - could he have been wrong about Daegon?" her teeth burrowed into her lower lip.

Daemon shifts.

"What about him?" he inquired.

She reaches for her ear, playing with her earrings. She stares off to the horizon, evidently contemplating. "Saera." he repeats her name, more firmly this time. "He said that Daegon should be King." she informs, reasoning with herself.

"You should've told me." he scolded.

He felt betrayed.

"I wasn't certain, kepus. I didn't want to ruin our quiet life." she reasoned, eyes watery with tears threatening to spill. "- I didn't want to risk any of our children's life for something I did not have proof of." she added, fearing that the rift between them would grow.

Love and hate were the same thing, and if allowed to fester - may never return to adoration.

"Daemon, please say something." her voice comes out as a whisper. Daemon snaps out of his trance. He looks at her face - tearful eyes, teeth burrowing into her lower lips.

He vowed to never cause her sorrow, vowed to always protect her.

He kneels in front of her, cupping her cheeks and placing a kiss on her lips. "It was the wisest choice, all the more reason to keep our family in Harrenhal." he placed another kiss on her lips.

He didn't want to be a pessimist, but this could be their last meeting. The Hightowers will not chafe their knees.

"Pack your bags, and the children's too. I'll have the gold cloaks escort you after luncheon." he stood up, forcing a smile on his lips. "You'll come with us?" she asked in a pleading tone.

"You know better than that." he teased.

"When will we see each other again?" she inquired.

They've never apart in all the twelve years they've been together; their apartness only brought turmoil, like the War in Stepstones. She fears of what their distance may bring, what it would do to him.

"Nothing has ever kept me from you, wife." he stated.

"- and nothing ever will." he promised.

Ser Otto Hightower placed a finger to his lips. He stares at his grandson, sprawled on the floors of the throne room. "Aemond," he gritted his teeth, anger pulsing through his veins.

'Not a shred of decency for his wife.' he thought.

It was a surprise to him when one of his informants came late at night, whispers of seeing Aemond with a whore down in Fleabottom.

"This behavior is unbecoming of a prince. Your wife is in her chambers, unable to eat or drink or even sleep. In a few hours the entire realm will know about your son's death, we cannot have rumors of you whoring and drinking." he scolded.

There was a drastic change in Aemond - when he married Alyssa, but you can never change a man's nature.

"We've lost, Otto." Aemond manages to choke out, fighting the pulsating pain in his skull. "Rhaenyra has murdered my poor boy. And Alicent holds love for the enemy, that makes both of them fools." he cursed, still feeling the ale in his throat.

"Daemon will side with us - provided that Alyssa is restored to sanity." Otto states, in no mood for another fight.

"You must restore your wife to sanity, or she will jump off the windows of her chambers." he threatened, wanting to see if his grandson still held love for the woman.

"Shut up," Aemond mumbled - burying his face in his coat.

She could smell the salt breeze. She could hear the waves that were crashing behind her. "I was young when I asked you, what makes us different from our subjects? Why do we live in castles while they live in squalors. You told me that our dragons set us apart from them." she continued, trying her best to recall the story.

She adjusts Daelon on her arms, tying him firmly to her body.

"I said: but we are all mortals, we live and die like them. You told me that I was right, and we are the same - in the same way that a dragon was akin to a lizard, we had the same scales and figure, but we were greater than them, because we can command dragons." she told.

"Husband, there are whispers in the north - dragonseeds that can claim dragons without having the proper blood. Find the right one and our victory will be guaranteed, we'll see Alyssa and Aelor again." she informed, relaying a story that she's heard long ago.

"I will," he promised - pressing a kiss to Daelon and Viserra's foreheads. "- as long as you promise me that you'll stay safe." he required and she nodded with a smile.

"Of course." she promised.

He turns to look at his oldest child.

Their eyes having a conversation of their own.

A few minutes after, they all boarded their dragons - fleeing to Harrenhal.

Daemon stares at Rhaenys.

"A raven has told Rhaenyra that her son is dead. She's acted composed these past few days, but she was bound to explode." she whispered, watching a few of the gold cloaks leave in boats to Harrenhal.

"She was a fool to go there alone. What if Aemond were to happen upon her?" he snaps. Annoyed at the cowardice she showed. "- then I would fear for Aemond." Rhaenys interrupts him.

"The queen was wise to recluse herself. She has not acted for revenge on impulse," Rhaenys compliments.

"- or have we not caught her acting for revenge?" he whispered, and their attention is piqued by a ship arriving with a Hightower sigil.

Daemon narrowed his eyes as he walked down the flight of stairs. There were a million different possibilities. "Ser Otto," he greeted, keeping the conversation vague and distant. "Prince Daemon," the man greeted in return, adjusting his collar.

Only then did he realize that the older man was wearing black.

"Have you come to surrender?" Daemon teased.

"Where is Princess Rhaenyra?" Otto tried to look for a figure behind the Rogue Prince. "The Queen is predisposed." he corrected.

A wave of satisfaction washed over Ser Otto.

"I did not come here for an argument, nor did I come here as the King's Hand." the man tried to keep his composure.

He had the winning hand, after all.

"- I came here as Prince Aelor's great-grandsire." he added.

Daemon scoffed.

His grandchild was their leverage.

"Aelor has been in this world for one winter, I assumed that we were better than using his name for a feckless campaign." Daemon breathed, containing his anger - just as his wife taught him.

"He is dead, according to informants: Rhaenyra hired mercenaries to murder the boy whilst Alyssa slept." he informed.

taglist: @watercolorskyy @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @thisbihreadstoomuch @plutoscosmoss @immyowndefender @marvelescvpe @batmans-love @luanasrta @tesha-i-guess @valeridarkness @thefallenangel21n @kishie8 @23victoria @danart501 @wallacewillow0773638 @xyahx @apollonshootafar

[heavyhitterheaux]

When Four Makes Five

First Babies of Private Garden Fic

AN: I don't want anyone to get confused, so they didn't find out that there were two boys until later

Synopsis: You break the news to your ten year old triplets and six year old daughter that the family is about to get a little bigger. However, one of them isn't excited as the rest

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: an anon 💕

First Babies of Private Garden Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

"Smush, I'm nervous." You told him as you were playing with your curly ponytail as you sat on his lap. You had kept the secret for as long as possible and you knew that it was only a matter of time before they started to notice.

Jack looked over at you and sighed. He knew you were nervous and for good reason. The two of you were about to tell your four older children that they were about to have another sibling, but that wasn't the problem.

The problem was the gender of said child.

It was a boy and both of you knew that Axel was about to be upset since now he wasn't going to be the only boy anymore.

However, the two of you were extremely excited to grow your family and to give them another sibling.

"Maybe he's going to take it better than we think." Jack tried to reason with you, but all you did was shake your head.

"Babe, be serious. You know how he is and I just…. I don't know."

Axel frequently made comments about being the only boy, hence, being the favorite child out of the four, but the two of you would constantly tell him that you didn’t have favorites among them and that they’re loved by the both of you equally. 

"He was excited when Nova was born and was excited to be a big brother again."

"Uh huh and Nova's a girl." 

"Good point. But the last thing he would ever want to do is upset you. He's always ready to beat someone's ass when it comes to you, including me, his own father." Jack replied as he scrunched up his face. 

You couldn't help but to laugh because you knew Jack was right. That’s simply how he was and you knew that he had gotten it from Jack being that he was protective over you and over his sisters.  

"It'll be fine, baby girl. Stop worrying about it." Jack comforted you before leaning over to kiss you which you gladly accepted.

"We can tell them at dinner. I'm about to go and pick them up from school, okay?"

"Okay." You quietly said before sliding off of Jack’s lap so that he could stand up.

"It's going to be okay. It'll probably go better than we think it will."

Jack gave you one last kiss before leaving the house and you simply sat down in your room for fifteen minutes staring at the wall. You had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to go over well at all, but only time will tell.

You were in the kitchen starting to make dinner when you heard the front door open and several sets of footsteps enter the house. You were startled when you felt someone come up behind you and hug you, but you already knew that it was Axel.

“Ax, is that you?” You said while cutting up onions and peppers for the fajitas that you were going to make.

All you heard was his small laugh and you turned around to see him looking up at you.

“Hi mommy.”

“Hi, my sweet baby, how was your day at school?” You asked while squatting down to his level and he gave you a proper hug.

“Good, I got to play soccer at recess.”

“Did you now? What else did you do?”

“Hmm, bother my sisters.”

“I……”

“MOMMY! AXEL GOT TO HOLD THE CLASS HAMSTER AND CHASED ME AROUND THE CLASSROOM WITH IT!”

“Hi to you too, Ivy.” You laughed while you stood up and she came over to you while she was eyeing Axel.

“IT’S JUST A HAMSTER!”

“THEY’RE WEIRD AND I DON’T LIKE THEM!”

“Funny how the two of you are arguing over a hamster when we literally have thirteen pets, but go off.” Jack muttered while Autumn and Nova filed in behind him.

“They don’t even do anything, but yet you don’t like them?” You asked her and she immediately shook her head no.

“Babe…” You started to say as you looked at Jack, but his eyes went wide and looked at you in disbelief.

“NO. NO MORE PETS. WE ALREADY LIVE IN A ZOO.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” You answered him while pouting before turning back towards the stove.

“Okay, I know the four of you have homework so let’s go and get that done.” Jack said to the four of them and they collectively sighed.

“I finished mine in class, daddy.” Ivy said while smiling and he knew that she was probably telling the truth. All four of them were extremely smart, but you knew that Ivy would probably be the one to take advanced classes since she was the first one to learn the alphabet, her numbers, and to talk in full sentences.

“Then let me look over it to make sure you did it right while mommy makes dinner.”

“Can I do my homework at the table to stay with her?”

“Why of course you can Ax.”

You were soaking all of this up now because you knew it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose. But maybe it would actually go better than you thought, so you put it in the back of your mind and tried to keep a positive attitude. 

You had made your salted caramel chocolate cake for dessert after everyone had eaten their fajitas and once you placed it on the table, all four of your children were eyeing you because they knew that you only made that on special occasions. The last one being Nova’s birthday.

"What's the occasion, mommy?" Autumn asked as she was stuffing her face with cake and you looked at Jack who simply smiled at you.

"Me and your mom have something to tell you."

"Is it another puppy?" Nova excitedly asked.

"No, Nova. Not this time because daddy won’t let me be great and get another one." You said while laughing and she pouted while Jack rolled his eyes at you.

"Daddy bought me a new video game?" Axel asked and you shook your head no.

"Our family is about to get a little bigger." Jack said and Ivy immediately yelled.

"I'M GOING TO BE A BIG SISTER AGAIN!"

"OOHH is it a girl!?" Autumn asked while looking at the two of you and you both shook your heads no.

"Then that means…."

"It's a boy! I’ll have a little brother!" Nova exclaimed while smiling. 

The girls were excited, but Axel had been silent the entire time while looking at you and Jack.

"Ax, are you excited to be a big brother again?" Jack asked him and he didn't say anything in response which of course made you nervous. 

You knew it.

"Ax?" You said, calling him again and he immediately pushed himself away from the table.

"What's wrong bubs?" You asked as you got up to embrace him, but he pushed your hands away.

"I'M SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONLY BOY!"

"Axel…." Jack said in a warning tone but he wasn't backing down.

"NO! IT'S NOT FAIR! NOW YOU'RE GOING TO FORGET ABOUT ME."

"Ax, baby I would never." You said before reaching for him again, but he ran past you and up the stairs.

You couldn't help but for your eyes to start to water and it was now silent at the table.

"Babe, I'll go talk to him." Jack said as he got up from the table and went up the stairs.

Nova, noticing that you were upset, climbed into your lap and began to rub your belly.

"He's in there?" She asked and you nodded while wiping away the tears that had fallen and Ivy quickly grabbed a tissue to dab at your face.

“Yeah, he’s in there. Mommy is keeping him safe in her belly until he’s ready to come out. Thank you Ivy.”

“Welcome, mama.”

The child that was most in tune to your emotions was Ivy and she could see it from a mile away if you were about to get upset about something and was always the first one to comfort you if Jack didn’t get to it first.

“Do you know what you’re going to name him?” Autumn asked while trying to put you in a better mood.

“Me and daddy haven’t decided yet, but when we do, you’ll be the first ones we tell.”

“Is Ax going to be okay?” Nova quietly asked while playing with your necklace that Jack had gifted you which had his initials on it.

“He’ll come around eventually.” You answered her while shrugging.

“Well,it’s not like he really has a choice.” Ivy said only loud enough for you to hear.

“But we’re excited, mommy!”

“Now, Nova, he’s going to need a little extra help for when he’s born since there won’t be a lot that he can do for himself. Your sisters already went through this with you so they know what to expect, but mommy and daddy still love you just the same and we do not ever want you to feel like you’re not as important. And we need you to step up and be an amazing big sister to him. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes! I want to help!”

“She says that now, but it’ll change once she hears him crying throughout the night.”

“Autumn…..”

“Sorry, mommy. Just saying.” 

“Be good and set an example for your little sister to follow.”

This was giving you flashbacks to when you brought Nova home and Autumn acted as if the world was coming to an end because she wasn’t going to be the baby anymore. Your mother offered to take her for the first few weeks, but you quickly declined saying that she needed to get used to her role of being a big sister and that you and Jack would teach her healthy ways on how to manage her emotions if she began to get frustrated with what was going on around her. 

“I will, promise.”

Jack had followed Axel upstairs to find him in his room playing one of his video games and went to sit down next to him.

“Ax, we need to talk so turn the game off.”

All he did was sigh in response before doing what he was told and looked at Jack.

“Tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

“You and mommy are going to forget about me and I won’t be the favorite boy anymore.”

“But do you think that me and mommy are going to love you any less? Because that’s not true. All of you have a special place in our heart and just because we add another person to our family doesn’t mean that the special place we have for you is going to get any smaller.”

“It’s not?”

“No, of course not. All of you are important to us and we’re thankful to be your parents.”

“I made her cry, didn’t I?” He quietly asked before starting to feel guilty.

“You did make her upset because she feels like her only son isn’t supportive of her. Isn’t she always supportive of you when you come to her and tell her something?”

“Yes.”

“And she always tells you that she wants the best for you, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, don’t you think you need to apologize to her and focus on being a good big brother once he gets here? You’ll have a very important job seeing as you’re going to be the one he looks up to. Yes, he’ll look up to his sisters too, but since you’re the only boy, that makes it extra special.”

“You promise that you won’t love me any less?”

“I promise. He’ll need a little extra attention when he gets here like Nova needed, but you’ve gone through that before. It’ll be the same thing.”

“Okay.”

“You ready to go downstairs now and eat some cake since you get to be a big brother again?” Axel eagerly nodded and hopped up off his bed and Jack followed closely behind him. Once downstairs, he walked over to you since you were sitting at the table and scrolling through your phone when Axel tapped you making you look over at him.

“Yes, bubs?”

Axel didn’t say anything and simply sat in your lap while looking at you with his big brown eyes that resembled yours.

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I promised daddy that I would be a good big brother since he promised me that the two of you wouldn’t forget about me.”

“We could never forget about our first boy.” You replied while squishing his cheeks and making him laugh.

He reached down to touch your belly and rubbed it while talking to it.

“Baby brother, this is your big brother, Ax, and I promise that we’re going to be the best of friends. I’ll teach you how to play soccer and to be a good brother to our sisters. We have to protect them and protect mommy too, because that’s what daddy taught me.”

“I already know that the two of you will be inseparable.” You told Axel while hugging him.

“Can I have some cake now? It’s not every day that you become a big brother again.”

Both you and Jack laughed before cutting him a big slice and placing it in front of him.

Since Axel was focused on eating his cake, Jack took this opportunity to lean down to whisper in your ear before kissing your temple.

“I told you it would be fine.”

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@toocriticalharlow

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

[sunnytarg]

Part 3 to Aegon & Rhaenerya’s daughter by popular demand. It got pretty fluffy at the end which is weird cause it was super smutty in the beginning.

Pt. 2 || Pt. 1

Aegon + Rhaenrya’s Daughter Pt.3

Aegon had no idea that his seed had taken with his niece. He had shoved his cock in her so many times and spilled his seed nowhere else but her warm and inviting pussy, but he never knew if she drank moon tea or not.

Days, before she disappeared everything about her, seemed slightly fuller but he was so lost in the way she felt that he never thought to think that it might mean she was finally carrying his child.

It also didn’t occur to him that Rhaenrya had moved her entire family away to hide what her daughter had been doing and what was to come of it. He thought he finally pushed his sister too far with him fucking her daughter so blatantly that she decided it was just time to leave.

He only learned of a supposed bastard that had been born on Dragonstone several moons after his niece had left from a whore in the Streets of Silk. After he had filled her mouth with his cum and watched her swallow it she had asked him about the supposed bastard on Dragonstone. He thought idly that she must be new because they usually never asked questions, especially before they’ve been paid.

He fisted his cock to get it hard again so he could slide his cock between her large tits when he asked what she meant, when she said that servants have been whispering that a baby born with Targaryen features had recently been born on Dragonstone and it wasn’t the Princess Rhaenerya because she had trouble getting pregnant as of lately.

His hand stilled at those words. Sure Jace could have brought a woman to Dragonstone and fathered a bastard but he highly doubted it. He was not only prudish in Aegon’s eyes but extremely faithful to his betrothed.

It had to be his niece. She must have been with child when they left and bore his child on Dragonstone.

He quickly pulled on his clothes and tossed a few coins at the whore before pulling his hood on and storming back to the castle. He wasn’t angry about the bastard. He knew he had many bastards running around. It was the fact that his sister had kept his niece from him. The niece that he claimed that first night he shoot his seed deep into her womb. He remembered every time he cornered her and fucked her he thought of how he wished his seed would take. How it would be nice to see her grow with his child.

Yet, his older sister had stolen that away from him when she refused to agree to marry her daughter to him.

The next morning he settled on what he wanted to do. He had every intention of flying to Dragonstone that day and taking his child and his niece. What he wasn’t sure of was whether he would marry his niece or if he should keep her within the red keep and continue breeding her. Never letting her mother see her and only sending a letter every time she had given birth. Just so she could know that because of her actions her daughter was now his own personal whore.

When Dragonstone came into view he had Sunfyre set down on the bridge. He wanted Rhaenerya and Daemon to see him coming. A pet of him wondered if his niece could see him. If she did, did she hold up their child a point to him and tell the infant that he was their father? His heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing his child and niece again.

Yes, he had originally taken his niece to bed to piss Rhaenrya off but over the months he had grown to care for her, and with the absence of presence, he had nearly forgotten how much he had missed her when she first disappeared.

When he thought back to when he first bedded his niece and the last time he realize that his child could be newly born to at least four moons old.

When he made it to the top of the bridge he was met with Daemon and Rhaenrya. He didn’t say anything, he only glared at his sister as Sunfyre roared behind him. Daemon had his hand on the hilt of his sword but Rhaenrya only sighed and gestured for him to follow her.

They took several steps until they were outside the room in the highest tower of Dragonstone.

“She’s in there. I love my daughter but since she bore your child three moons ago I find it hard to come in here.” Rhaenrya said quietly. She walked away and Aegon took a breath to steady himself before entering the room.

Inside, he saw his niece, as beautiful as ever with a baby cradled in her arms. She was standing at the window staring out at Sunfyre as she breastfed the baby.

“I was wondering if you would come. Jace said you wouldn’t. Daemon thought I’d leave on my own. My mother…I don’t know, we do t talk anymore.” She spoke it so quietly that Aegon had to walk further into the room just to hear her.

“If I knew you were with child I would have come for you sooner.” He said honestly. She turned finally and he froze under her stare.

“Are you here to fuck another bastard into me, now that I’m healed from giving birth to our son?” She asked as she put the baby into his cradle. He watched the whole time. She said son. They had a son together.

“Would you like me to?” He asked as he looked up and down her body. He would very much like to rip that nightgown off of her. Her breasts her much larger and her hips wider. She looked delicious and Aegon very much wanted to spread her legs and devour her sweet cunt before fucking her. Maybe if he fucked her hard enough his sister would hear and she would have to stop ignoring her own daughter.

“I don’t care.” She whispered as her eyes grew hooded looking at him. He stepped closer to the cradle to see their son sleeping. He looked so peaceful. He had his mother’s nose but he already had a nice patch of silver hair on his head. “I just want you to take me in any way you want. Just have me. I’ve missed you.”

He looked up at her when she said those words and he smiled. He reached her in a few short strides and kissed her, “I’ve missed you too, but our son won’t be a bastard for long and all the other children I plan to fill you with will never be called bastards because I’m taking you away now and I plan on marrying you.”

He kept his word to his niece. Before he took her and their son away from Dragonstone he fucked her for the first time in what felt like forever. He stayed buried deep in her through the night and when the sun rose they took to the skies and left.

When they arrived in King’s Landing, Aegon went to his father instead of his mother and asked if he could marry his niece. His father, for once, seemed pleased with him and agreed.

It took time for them to finally put the wedding together. After all, Aegon was the eldest son of Viserys and if every lord wasn’t invited it would seem like an insult. By the time the wedding was to happen their son, who was already crawling, was legitimized and when his wife-to-be was escorted down the aisle by her brother Jace.

Many whispered that they were only getting married because the princess was pregnant again. Aegon ignored them all just as he knew his love did. When she finally reached him he held out a hand for her to take and his other hand rested on her swollen stomach. She was large again with his child and, although, he rarely thanked the gods he thanked them this once for letting him witness this.

Two moons after their wedding his wife gave birth to a little girl. Aegon refused to let anyone other than his wife take her from his arms and when his sister showed up after months he left the room so she could finally mend things with her daughter.

As he was waiting outside of the room he felt a tug on the bottom of his breeches and looked down to see his son. Already crawling and soon to be walking if the maesters were to be believed. He bent down and adjusted his daughter in his arms so he could pick up his son.

Maybe he wouldn’t fill his niece up with a bunch of bastards but now that he got a taste of fatherhood it was doubtful that his wife would not have a babe within her womb most of the time.

[normal-internet-user]

Tis I, 💜

I think my request got eaten maybe? But I just wanted to request the 2012 turtles with an adoptive human!older sister reader, who is very good at being a sister to each of the brothers unique needs. Example :

Skateboarding /being silly with Mikey (but not so much the others, baby brother privilege lmao)

Sparring /rough housing with Raph

Serious training / meditation with Leo

And actually helping Donnie or listening to him when he goes on his rants? Instead of making fun of him she gives him encouragement ?

And of coarse a cute lil bit with splinter wouldn’t upset me :) but whatever you can do with this! I don’t wanna ask too much. Hope you are doing well, love ya 💜

OMG hi Purple! Haven't heard from you in forever friend! Love the prompt, this is gonna be great!

2012 BOYS WITH A BIG SIS READER

When Splinter took you in, he was still a new father, the boys were still just tots and you were only around 4.

He'd found you lost and alone in the sewers, how you had even gotten there, he had no clue, but after discovering a note in your coat pocket asking for someone to care for you, he decided he would.

He raised alongside the boys, and there was never an issue.

You got along well with each of them and all four looked up to you as much as they did to him.

Splinter trained you in ninja arts, and you were patroling by fifteen.

By around that time, the boys had started their training, and Splinter often had you help him teach the boys.

You were Ane-chan to the boys, (Older sister, if it's wrong feel free to tell me.), And you always made sure to spend time with all of them growing up.

You'd make sure Donnie slept, and sit with him while he worked, and he appreciated how much you cared.

You'd let Raph vent to you, and you would rough house around alot, obviously he's a bit stronger than you naturally, so even if you won, it was usually sporting a few new bruises. He would always feel bad about it, but don't worry Red, Ane-chan can handle a few bruises.

You meditated often with Leo, and always listened when he info dumped about Space Heros. He always went to you if he struggled in training since he knew you'd do your best to actually help him.

You reserved all that pent up silly for Mikey, prank wars, staying up late with video games and moutain dew.

Honestly, I thinked you would have a moment like Po, where you find out you're adopted, and your just like,

"WHAT?"

Then you're talking to April and Casey about it like, "So, I just found my dad isn't really my dad."

Casey: "Your dad... the rat?"

*Nod*

Casey: "Are you-"

April: "That must have been quite difficult."

Moving back abit, when the Foot and Kraang start borderline harrassing the boys,

You're just about go kick Shredder's ass yourself,

Ain't nobody gonna mess with your Kyoudai. (Little brothers).

Obviously Splinter tells you to cool it,

But after that you go with the boys everywhere you can.

You never take away Leo's role as the leader but rather offer yourself up as the voice of reason and peace among the team.

You do your best to make sure arguments are settled in a healthy way,

While also trying to keep those idiots from getting themselves killed.

The first time you faced Shredder he was like, "Wtf how the hell did Yoshi aquire you? And why?"

You almost succeded in kicking his ass,

Emphasis on almost,

You got your fucking leg fractured.

You had to stay in a hospital up top for a while.

Ahem-

Obviously it would have been hard for Splinter to send you to school,

So growing up he just homeschooled you to the best of his ability, and you actually homeschooled the boys.

So when April and Casey show up, April let's you know it's possible to get a highschool diploma online.

You're all like, "Hell yeah, let's do this."

But then, ya know,

Highschool.

Splinter taught you how to cook, and you were the designated chef of the household, (Even if it was just algea)

Eventually, you taugh Mikey, so now you guys share the kitchen.

Now about that wholesome moment with Splinter,

I have a little drabble thought.

So, imagine you're around 13, and your job is to watch the boys and make sure they don't hurt themselves or anything.

For some more context the boys are around 9.

So, anyway,

Splinter is out, and you're babysitting.

The boys are wrestling, which isn't too unusual, they do that alot ya know?

But, someone's foot lands were it shouldn't, and now Donnie's wrist is swelling and all four of them are crying.

You panic, you pick up Donnie and bring him to the kitchen and put some ice in his wrist.

After that, you move back to the living room, and do your best to calm evryone down.

Now, Splinter knew he could hear anything happening for quite a distance, so when he hears crying and your panicked voice, he instantly made his way home.

He ran in, expecting the worst, and was relieved to find no one was mortaly injured.

After you told him what happened, he calmed you and the boys, and after checking Donnie's wrist, he put the boys to bed.

The entire time, you sat on the couch, waiting for Splinter to come and scold you. You felt guilty and ashamed.

After all, Donnie got hurt on your watch.

It was your fault.

Splinter sat next to you, and you curled into yourself with tears running down your face, "Is Donnie gonna be ok?" you sniffled.

Splinter put a gentle hand on your shoulder, "He'll be fine, my dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, "I'm sorry, Father. I- I messed up, and then Donnie got hurt and I didn't know what do to-"

"Hey, hey. It was not your fault. Accidents happen. What is important is to learn how to prevent the same accident from happening again."

"B-but-"

"Ah, ah. No buts. It was not your fault. Now go tell your brothers goodnight. And then we can read stories." You nodded, smiling softly as Splinter pulled you in for a hug.

You wiped your eyes and entered the boys' shared room.

Mikey shot up from his bed, "(Name)!"

You shushed him, tucking him back in, and giving him a kiss on the forhead, "Quiet down, Angelo. It's bedtime."

He huffed, and you moved around the room, making sure each of your brother was tuckes in nice and warm.

As you moved to leave, there was a soft chorus of, "Goodnight, Ane-Chan."

You turned and smiled, "Goodnight little brothers."

....................................

Whoops, got a little carried away with this one lol!

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number, Part 3.5

i feel like the last part to unknown number was kind of rushed, so i decided to write a little extra part. enjoy!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

J: do you BELIEVE in love

HS is typing...

J: after love

J: after love

J: ...

J: after love

HS: I see. You're drunk.

J: finish the lyric 👉🏼👉🏼

HS: Are those supposed to be finger guns?

J: i'm not ACTUALLY gonna hold you at gun point!

J: now finish the lyric!

J: 👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼

HS: I hope you know that I am ROLLING my eyes at you right now.

J: 👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼🐇👉🏼👉🏼

J: oop sorry didn't mean to put the bunny in there now it looks like i'm shooting a poor helpless animal!

HS: Monster.

J: i'm not!

HS: What if that bunny had children? Think of the children June!

(five minutes later)

J: you made me cry ://

HS: I did?

J: yeah. i'm a bunny murderer :(((

HS: Jesus Christ. You really are drunk, aren't you?

J: :'(((

HS is typing...

HS: I can feel something inside me say I really don't think you're strong enough no...

J: :D

J: DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE

J: after love

HS: After love.

HS: After love.

J: i don't really have anything to base this off of, but i think we would be the life of any party

"So...you and Harry."

"Yep."

"You...and Harry."

"That's right," Y/n said as she stuck safety pins through the hole of Ashton's t-shirt.

"How—Wh—When did this happen?" Michael stuttered, looking at Y/n like she had three heads.

"It's a long story," she said, not wanting to explain how she and Harry had unknowingly been texting for months before they realized they were a lot closer than they realized and were able to act on the feelings they developed for each other.

"And you, like, like him?" Calum asked, like he couldn't wrap his head around the idea.

Niall had stayed true to his word and immediately blabbed to the members of 5 Seconds of Summer about Y/n and Harry. She'd hidden from them that night while they performed and after they got offstage, but now that she was prepping their clothes for tonight's show, she had no choice but to face them. And their questions.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n said, "Yes, Calum, I like him. And he likes me. I've been on a number of dates while touring, you know that. Why is this different?"

No one said anything, which was fine by Y/n. She thought it was better than asking her for dirty details. Looking up from where she was sitting on the floor of the dressing room, she fought a smile. The four boys in front of her were in varying states of confusion and disbelief. Luke was blushing and wouldn't meet your eye, while Calum looked like he was thinking about the information a little too hard. Michael and Ashton seemed to be taking it well, though it was hard to tell.

"I'm gonna talk to him," Calum finally said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Good idea."

The rest of the boys followed suit, all of them turning and leaving before Y/n could stop them. Dropping the shirt in her hands, she scrambled to follow them, calling out for them to stop.

"A—And say what? Come back here!"

Luke was the only one to turn back as Y/n called out to the four boys. He smiled down at her and ruffled her hair playfully, which Y/n promptly swatted away. It was easy for them to think of her as a younger sister kind of figure, she thought. She was older than the boys, but they were all freakishly tall.

"Don't worry, Y/n," Luke said. "We're just gonna make sure he doesn't act stupid. We have your back."

Y/n sighed and shook her head. It was sweet of them to feel so strongly about her relationship with Harry, even if their scare tactics were unnecessary. But she knew she didn't have to worry. The boys talked a big game, but they were all gentle giants.

Then

J: tell me about your childhood

HS: What do you want to know?

J: not specific details obviously, but like...idk were you a happy child? one of those kids that ate dirt?

HS: Dirt?

J: or worms without having to be dared?

HS: ...Where the hell did you grow up?

J: rural town. we had to entertain ourselves in strange ways.

J: but i should make it known i've never eaten anything that isn't food

HS: You know, I think the town I grew up in might be considered rural but I don't think I knew anyone who ate dirt or worms.

J: ok...so what were you like growing up?

HS: Normal I guess. Nothing too crazy.

HS: Parents got divorced when I was young though. I think that's about as interesting as it gets.

J: mm

HS: Mm? What does that mean?

J: i'm humming! it's hard to communicate humming over text

HS: No I got that part but you always have some kind of comment, and now all I get is mm?

J: i'm no psychiatrist h i'm not gonna unpack all of that with you

HS: You asked!

J: i know, but i thought you were gonna give a silly answer

J: i'm not very good with serious or heavy stuff

HS: Well you've certainly made that clear.

J: i want to know and i want to ask you but i don't really know what to say without making a joke, you know?

HS: It's really not that serious. It happened ages ago. No unresolved issues here.

(six minutes later)

J: i've...never been someone who's been like a source of comfort for someone else

J: maybe i have some unresolved issues but talking about deep shit makes me squirmy

HS: That's okay. It's not like I'm stellar at it.

HS: But we can work on that together.

J: we can?

HS: Of course. What are friends for?

Now

J: my clients are assholes

HS: The boys are your friends.

J: they are menaces to society

HS: What did they do this time?

J: they're teasing me >:(

HS: About what?

J: you

J: they're sing the stupid kissing song. i work for CHILDREN

HS: Kissing song?

J: harry and y/n sitting in a tree...

HS: Ohhh.

HS: Do you need me to rough them up a little?

J: now THAT would be a sight to see

J: but no i'm a big girl i can handle it

HS: Give em hell.

HS: Then come find me after.

(the next night)

HS: Where are you? We were supposed to go back to the tour bus??

J: the boys wanted me to go out with them

J: i was going to tell you earlier but they took my phone bc they said i'm on it too much

J: i had to hide in a pub bathroom to text you

HS: So you're telling me you've been kidnapped.

J: no! they miss hanging out with me it's actually kind of sweet. that's why they've been teasing me so much

J: i can't really blame them either

HS: What do you mean?

J: we do hang out just the two of us a lot. i could see why they would feel left out or something

HS: We don't hang out that much do we? We're a couple it's a given that we do things together.

J: i know, but i don't want to be that girl that only hangs out with her boyfriend and abandons their friends, and i don't think you want to be that person either

HS is typing...

(five minutes later)

J: you're not mad are you?

(thirty minutes later)

J: come on h it's one night

J: please don't ignore me :(

(one hour later)

J: big baby

(the next day)

Y/n got up early and walked from her tour bus to One Direction's, her slippered feet shuffling across the pavement. The sun was slowly rising, and she had a slight headache, but she was up anyway, making her way over to Harry's tour bus.

She didn't think he would be so bothered by her going out without him, but when she checked her phone when she woke up, her last few messages hadn't even been read. Y/n supposed she should've told Harry ahead of time that her plans had changed, but she hadn't been kidding when she told Harry that her phone privileges had been revoked. Michael grabbed it and slipped it into his pocket before they went out, and she had to beg to let him give it to her for just a few minutes.

When she got to the door of the right tour bus, Zayn was stepping out dressed in gym clothes. He nodded to Y/n, who simply waved back. She was friendly enough with Zayn, but he kept to himself for the most part, and if she wasn't with Harry, she was usually with one or all of the 5SOS boys. He'd always been nice to her, though, and Y/n thought that they might be friends if they gave each other a chance.

"He's still asleep, I think," Zayn said as he passed her. "But feel free to watch TV or whatever. And help yourself to whatever food you can find."

"Thanks," Y/n said.

She pushed her way inside, cringing when the door creaked and swung shut. It was still early, and Y/n assumed that everyone on the bus was still asleep. All the little curtains that fell over the bunks were pulled closed. She knew she could go right over to Harry's bunk, pull the curtain back, and see if he was asleep or just lying awake, but she stayed at the front of the bus instead, rooting through the fridge to find something to make for breakfast. Technically, Y/n knew she didn't do anything wrong, but having a nice breakfast to wake up to would perhaps make their conversation easier when Harry eventually did emerge from his bunk.

Quickly assessing what she had to work with, Y/n got to work. Nothing too elaborate, but she was still working on it when Harry finally came out of his bunk. He still looked sleepy, rubbing at his eye as he shuffled over to the kitchenette. "Morning," she said, setting a full plate down for him.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice deep and rumbly from sleep. "You have a nice time last night?"

"I did," Y/n said. "You should come out with us next time."

Harry hummed noncommittally before thanking Y/n for the breakfast she made. She watched him closely, unsure of what to make of his disposition. He was quiet and subdued, but she couldn't tell if it was him still waking up or if he was actually upset with her. When a few minutes went by and he still hadn't said much, she broke the silence.

"Are we okay?"

He looked up from his plate. "Yeah, why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't know...we left things kind of awkwardly last night, didn't we?"

"Because I didn't text you back?" he asked, and Y/n nodded. "Sorry about that. Lou asked me to babysit Lux last minute and I didn't have a chance to check my phone before it died. And, you know, you were right. I wanted you to have fun without me."

Relief washed through Y/n when she heard that. She didn't want this to be a big fight, and it turned out to be a miscommunication, a misunderstanding. "Oh. Okay. Good. Just um, ignore the text I sent where I called you a big baby."

"You called me a what?

The look on Harry's face made Y/n giggle. She went over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You weren't answering me! And it felt like you were ignoring me. And I might have been a couple drinks in. So, I am sorry for that."

"Unbelievable," Harry muttered, though he sounded more exasperated than anything else.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "So we're good? This breakfast was meant to be a peace offering too, you know."

Harry reached up and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, we're good."

Y/n grinned, then came around him to sit at the seat next to him. "Great. Now give me a bite of that. I'm starving."

Harry rolled his eyes, but nudged his plate toward her anyway. Y/n hummed as she took her first bite and leaned into Harry's side, enjoying the warmth emanating from him. Now that the air had been cleared, she felt much better. It was their first little disagreement they'd had since getting together, and it turned out not being that big of a deal. It made her feel better about her relationship with Harry and their ability to talk things through. Y/n could only hope that they could do that when real issues and arguments happened between them. But for now she was content to enjoy her morning with Harry and hide from the rest of the world with him by her side.