#when we'll see his whole face - everything ends

[nineteenninety-six]

Teenage Dilemma

Pairings: Michael Robinavitch x Daughter!Reader

TW: Teen pregnancy, abortion, etc

AN: I apologize for the infrequent posting but this job absolutely kills me lol. I only get every other weekend off and rarely 2 days in a row but I've only got like 2 months left.

Anway, bare in mind the warnings just in case.

You collapsed in the middle of gym class, fainting in the middle of a netball game. You woke up minutes later, insisting you were fine but the school's policy meant they had to call the paramedics and send you to the closest hospital, which of course was, PTMC.

Langdon and Mel were the first faces you saw when the paramedics pushed you into the ED, rushing up to your side before recognition dawned on their faces.

"Holy crap kid," Langdon questions you as you're pushed into a room and moved over to the hospital bed,"What the hell happened?"

"Nothing," You roll your eyes, finding everything to be too much, "Fainted during gym class. I'm fine but they send me here anyway."

"They have to," Mel chimes in, "Does your dad know yet?"

You shrug, "They called him but I know what's like here for him, he doesn't have time to answer his phone."

"Okay, I'll get started on some tests while Mel will find Robby," Langdon informs you, not wasting a moment as he calls over a nurse while Mel leaves the room to go find your dad.

"Do you have any hint as to why you fainted today?" Langdon asks as he draws blood for a blood test, "Have you ever fainted before today?"

You shake your head, "No. I mean I felt a bit off today but I've had days like this before and nothing happened. I only began to feel light headed during gym class."

"And you've been fine otherwise?" Langdon asks as he finishes off.

You shake your head once more, "Nothing. I'm sure that it was just a one off."

Langdon sighs, "Okay, I'll go put a rush on this. Hopefully we can get an answer soon."

Langdon opens the door to leave but your father comes barreling in before he could leave. Your dad doesn't even spare the other doctor a look as he rushes to your bedside.

"Oh kid…" Your dad lets out a relieved sigh as he takes your hand in his, "You're okay…you're okay."

"We took some tests, gonna put a rush on them." Langdon informs your dad, "She has no concussion and told me she has no idea what could have caused the fainting spell."

"Thanks Frank," Your dad thanks the other doctor, watching him leave before he turns his attention back to you.

"What happened, Button?" Your dad asks, giving your hand a soft squeeze.

You shrug, "Not sure. I felt a bit lightheaded during gym and then passed out."

Your dad slowly nods, he hadn't seen anything from you that sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

"It's probably nothing…did you eat breakfast this morning?"

You roll your eyes but your lips tug with a smile at his question, "Yes dad, just like I do everyday."

"Just making sure I covered every base"

There was a soft knock on the door before Langdon hesitantly stepped through, looking almost scared as he made his way over to you and your father.

"Everything okay Frank?" Your dad asks.

"We-uh, got the blood test results back." Langdon holds up the file with the results on.

Your dad's whole mood and expression changes at Langdon's words, interpreting the doctor's scared expression as bad news.

"What's wrong?"

Langdon ignores your fathers question and focuses on you,"I have to ask this, but when was your last period?"

"Umm, a couple of months ago. I've never had a regular period, I skip months at a time. W-Why are you asking me this?" You answer, nervously twisting the blanket on your lap.

"Your blood test shows that you're pregnant. We'll need to perform an ultrasound to see how far along the pregnancy is." Langdon reveals before he backs out of the room, "I'll give you guys some privacy."

"Jesus" Your dad groans, his head falling into his hand, "What the hell kid."

You were speechless, never in your life did you think you would end up in this situation. You were always careful and cautious with your ex-boyfriend when it came to protection but nothing is one-hundred percent effective. 

You want to cry. Never in your life did you think anything like this would happen to you. You were warned your whole life about the dangers of teen pregnancy, you were given a thorough talk every year ever since you hit puberty but despite that, here you were, seventeen and pregnant. You didn't want this, you wanted to go to college and achieve your dream and if you had this baby, you'd have to drop out of school and delay your dreams indefinitely.

"I thought you broke up with Declan," Your dad suddenly looked ten years older as he turned to you, "What do you want to do?"

"I did, but only two weeks ago but you're not going to tell me off? Give me a talking to?" You asked, surprised.

Your dad shrugs, "Do you want me to? You're a smart kid, Button. I'm not mad, or even disappointed, just…surprised but I will support you, no matter what."

"I'll have to tell Declan, he needs to know right?"

"Sure," Your dad nods, "But at the end of the day, it's your choice. You need to remember that."

"I want an abortion." You respond without pause, "I don't want to go through with this."

"You don't want to think about it? This is a massive decision, kid." 

"I know I was stupid to get pregnant but I want to finish high school, go to college, start a career and I can't do that with a baby."

Your dad nods after a long pause, "Okay…I'm glad you said that. You know I'd support you no matter what but having a child is a big thing, huge."

"I'm too young. I'm not ready."

"You call and tell Declan and I'll get Frank to do the ultrasound."

Before your dad could walk away, you grab his arm and pull him into a tight hug, squeezing your arms around him as you tear up.

"Thank you dad," You whisper into his ear, grateful for everything.

"Of course Button," Your dad presses a kiss to your head, "I love you."

"I love you too."

With one last kiss on your head, your dad leaves the room, leaving you to make the dreaded phone call to your ex-boyfriend. 

[mixreality]

BROS

COMRADE HAS EYES

EYES REVEAL EYES REVEAL EYES REVEAL

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff (smut in the next part)

part 1

It's been three days since the unfortunate misunderstanding with Charles and you haven't heard from him at all since.

You were overthinking the whole situation that happened on Sunday and couldn't come to any proper conclusion. At the same time, you were sad because he thought you would bring someone else into your bed, even though it wasn't your shared bed anymore, but you couldn't believe that he thought so little of you after all the years you'd spent together.

And yet on the other hand, you were thinking like any woman, you were glad that he was jealous and that the very thought of someone replacing him bothered him because that only meant he wasn't over you and that he still wanted to make things right between you two. Basically, you were torn between your brain and your heart once again and it was just a matter of what would prevail between the two this time.

Even though deep down you knew you couldn't fight yourself. You broke up over some disagreements that when you look at things more closely weren't worth destroying your relationship and your little family. You were both stubborn, he was a little too possessive, you were lacking in understanding, parenting, you spent most of your time alone with Lou and everything came together and exploded.

Now that you look back on the whole year you spent without him, you know that as hard as it is sometimes to be with him, it's ten times harder to be without him. You realize that you both made a rash decision, but then again maybe it had to happen only to make you realize how much you need each other in every way possible.

It's Wednesday night and while you're preparing tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch, Lou is sitting at the dining room table drawing. Soon your cooking is interrupted by the ringing of your phone on the kitchen island. A strange feeling comes over you as you wipe your hands on a dish towel and look at your phone only to see Charles' name on the screen.

You want to answer the phone, but you don't want the conversation to end in an argument so before you pick up the phone, you take a deep breath and try to calm down and strengthen your voice so it doesn't sound shaky.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." He says it in a completely normal, calm tone and you're grateful for that.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Umm, I'm leaving tomorrow for the race so I was wondering if you could put Lou on the facetime so I can see her since I won't be able to have her for the weekend?" He asks.

"Sure, just let me switch to facetime."

Once you did, Charles face appeared on the screen and he smiled when he saw yours too. You tried to hide the blush on your face and quickly walked over to Lou putting the phone in front of her.

"Baby, daddy wants to talk to you" You said setting the phone in front of her and leaving them alone to talk.

Since the kitchen and dining room were connected, you went back into the kitchen and could hear everything the two of them were saying. You didn't want to eavesdrop, but you kinda did.

"Hey, daddy!" Lou exclaimed excitedly.

"Mon ange, what are you doing?"

"I'm drawing and-and mommy is cooking" She says.

"Yeah? What are you drawing?"

"I'm drawing you in a red car. See" She says putting up the paper in front of the camera for him to see.

"Good job, baby. It looks great!"

"It's for you, I will give it to you when you come get me" She says forgetting that she won't be spending the weekend with him.

"Thank you, baby, but unfortunately we won't be together this weekend because papa has to work, but we'll see each other next week, okay?"

"Oh.." She pouts.

"Don't be sad, we'll see each other very soon, okay? I miss you so much and I'm thinking of you all the time."

Your heart is completely softened by his words and the immeasurable amount of love he has for your daughter.

"I miss you too, daddy"

"Okay, baby. I'll talk to you soon, I love you."

"Bye, I love you too." She says waving her hand as he blows her a kiss.

You watch her from afar and see how her mood immediately changed when she heard that she wouldn't be seeing him. Shaken by emotions, you move closer to her and squat down next to her.

"What's wrong, bug?" You ask her.

She doesn't look at you but frowns looking down at drawing on the paper in front of her.

"I miss papa" She says, hear eyes filled with tears.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" You say and she nods. "I miss papa too." You whisper making her look at you.

"Would you like to watch him race this weekend?"

"You mean on the TV?" She asks.

"No, I mean how about we go and see him?" You suggest and her eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, yes! And I can give him this!" She says excitedly and you chuckle at how sweet she is.

"Then we have a deal. Now, finish up your drawing and go wash your hands because dinner is almost ready okay?"

"Okay, mommy. Thank you"

Nothing can compare to the happiness you feel when you see your daughter happy. Both you and Charles would do anything for her, and that's why you decided to quickly run upstairs to your bedroom, turn the hoodie right side out.

When a print of an F1 car was visible on the black hoodie, you took a picture of it and sent it to Charles without any additional explanation, because you knew that everything would be clear as a day to him once he saw it.

After just a few minutes, your phone vibrated in your hands.

'Been looking for it for a while now..' Charles' message said.

'I really fucked up this time, didn't I?' He added.

'You kinda did.' You replied.

'I'm so sorry, y/n..'

'You're lucky your daughter adores you so much and you better send a plane for the two of us so we can make it to the race on time.'

part 3

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164

[postracehair]

fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

__

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

__

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

[runaarinn]

✦ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐯𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡

› 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

› 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐲: everything is all good here, feel free to indulge as much as you’d like!

› 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whether or not some of the haikyuu boys would soft launch or hard launch you

› 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: I thought that this would be really cute, I think I wanna make a couple more parts of this, but we'll see! I do hope you guys enjoy <33!

ᥫ᭡ 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 — I feel like bro doesn’t even use social media, like he has a verified profile and everything, but he doesn’t post unless it’s like volleyball-related. however, I think he’d soft-launch the hell out of you. like when he asks you to be his girlfriend and stuff, like people wouldn’t know (I feel like he’s like a really private person), but as a few years pass and he proposes to you he’d post like a singular photo of you with your hand in the camera, GIANT rock on your ring finger with a caption like “she said yes 🙂”. 

when I tell you, EVERYONE is shocked and surprised. like everyone is, including his own teammates. like they would be like “I know that you’re in love with y/n and you guys have been together for like years, but i didn’t know that you were considering marrying her, let alone proposing to her.” and then ushijima would djust be like, “marrying her was always going to be the end goal”, and he would definitely have liek the softest smile on his lips, like its so cute.

he literally only smiles when he talks about you. his teammates and friends start gushing. and I feel like he would totally cry watching you walk down the aisle, too.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 — I feel like he would attempt to soft launch you, but he just has such a big, fat mouth that he quite literally can’t keep it under wraps. like when the two of you would start dating, he was doing pretty well at keeping it on the low, not by his choice, though. you thought it would be better to slowly make it known that the two of you are a couple, since he does have such an insane fan club of girls, but he understood your reasoning and respected it. 

I think that oikawa is an aesthetic king on the low. so if you guys were to go out on a date at like this super really nice restaurant, he would post a picture [in low exposure lighting, of course] highlighting the two glasses and two plates. he’d probably also caption it ‘on a date, kind of nervous’; and you would just barely be in the frame. on top of that, let’s say that you guys went on a date to like a carnival too, and you guys took two different sets of pictures, he would post the set where your hair is covering your face the most, or where you can’t actually see you that much in general. that way, he can obviously still respect your boundaries of not being ready to let everyone know, but still allowing people to know that the two of you are dating. 

one day, you guys were on a date, and he made this little collage of the two of you just to save to his phone, but he accidentally posted it and didn’t realize till a few hours later when people were blowing up your phone and his congratulating the two of you. everyone was literally super sweet, and saying that the two of you are freaking adorable. you felt a little silly about it all, but oikawa peppered you with kisses and supplied you with D1-level reassurance. mwah.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐢 — what’s a hard launch? the hell is a soft launch? tsukishima, more than likely, has heard of these terms before, but he just simply doesn’t care about them; he actually probably thinks that they’re kind of stupid. if you want to show off your partner, then go ahead; if not, that’s fine too. there’s no need to go through a “hard” or” soft” launch. he thinks that the term and label as a whole is really, really stupid.

I don’t think that he’s necessarily the type of person to like try and “hide” or “not” show you off. like I feel like he’s the type of person to have like mad followers on instagram, and he’ll have like a few instagram highlights; like a highlight of just himself, some stuff from volleyball and like a music highlight. and then he’ll randomly post to his stories like pictures of the two of you, and some candid shots of you! eventually he’ll also make a highlight of just you and the name would probably be something simple like ‘🤍’

everyone responds to his story, but literally, he doesn’t pay anybody any mind. to be honest, I literally don’t think he responds to any of his instagram dm’s like at all. it’s really bad. he has stuff sitting in there from his classmates from like years, ago. a little side track, but I feel like this man is also super bad at texting people back. like he would acknowledge the message, but he’ll leave people on ‘read’, or delivered.

ᥫ᭡ 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 — hard launch. like absolutely, no doubt in my mind he is a hard launcher. mind you — he’d probably hard-launched both of you before the two of you even started dating. I feel like he is such a picture hoarder, like he is at least over 25k pictures in his phone (calling myself out with this one). and a vast majority of those pictures are of you, him, and the team, and random pictures he keeps forgetting to delete. 

when you first joined the fukordani boys volleyball club as one of their managers, you and bokuto hit it off well. you seemed like a really sweet person, you’re super smart, and absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and he wanted to be your friend really bad! him and akaashi started to invite you to grab something to eat after late-night practices, and even things as simple as sitting outside during the lunch period together. eventually, you’ve naturally grown onto the team, and started to hang out with everyone as a whole as well. 

as time went on, you and bokuto began to spend more one-on-one time with one another — whether it be him walking you home, or you guys hanging out at a cute little cafe that is somewhere in the area. no matter what you guys are doing, bokuto will always take a snapshot or some sort of photo of the two of you together and post it. like yeah, he posts a lot on a regular basis, but it’s not that hard to notice when you, specifically, are being posted a lot more often compared to everyone else. 

when bokuto actually posted a cute candid photo of you holding the most gorgeous bouquet of roses, and somewhere on the screen it’ll say ‘guess whose officially the boyfriend to the most gorgeous girl’, and everyone is literally like “WHATTTTTTTT??” “I thought you guys were ALREADY dating.”

© all pastries (aka content) belong to runaarinn — do not repost, steal, or scrape without permission.

[krirebr]

All Things Go 1

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Summary: It's been a few months since Steve was pulled out of the ice and immediately had to fight aliens with the newly formed Avengers. He is doing fine with all that, all things considered. Which is why he's so upset when he's suddenly benched from missions and forced to welcome a support omega into his home. He's fine!

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), panic attack, disassociation flashback, Steve actually having to deal with the PTSD and depression and anxiety he would so clearly have if he'd been through everything in the MCU, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, possible slow burn - we'll see All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh boy. Here I am. Back on my angsty bullshit. This story was kickstarted by this ask. It's an inverse of the program at the center of Still Life, but not in the same universe.

This idea was helped along a ton by @stellar-solar-flare who helped me overcome my fear of writing a mostly canon compliant Steve and dipping my toes into an Avengers AU.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Steve checked his watch for a third time as he paced around his apartment. It was bad enough that he had to indulge this ridiculous idea, but she was late on top of it. Four minutes, now. He’d been pacing for the last fifteen. He’d tried to sit down while he waited, but the buzz of the adrenaline just under his skin had been too strong. 

It was the disrespect, that’s what it was, that really bothered him in her tardiness. That was going around lately. A whole team that refused to listen to him. And then had the gall to go to Fury behind his back after what happened during the last mission. And yes, of course, it was all couched in concern. But he saw it for what it was: a mutiny. And he’d been benched because of it. From all missions for the foreseeable future. So what was he supposed to do now? Thawed out 70 years in the future just to be stranded without a purpose.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst part was now six minutes late. A support omega. He’d scoffed right in Fury’s face when he’d “suggested” it. Of all the stupid, 21st-century things he’d encountered, this took the cake. Like there could possibly be some base alpha part of him that was so broken it could only be soothed by an omega with a degree in psychology. Ridiculous. He was fine!

But it’d been the kind of suggestion that didn’t come with the option to say no. Not if he ever wanted to get back on the team. So fine. He’d play nice, show her there was nothing wrong, and get her to sign off on him going back into the field. He’d be back in action in just a few days. And then he might be able to breathe again.

As he was about to start another lap of his living room, the doorbell finally chimed. He took a moment, so as not to seem like he’d been standing right next to it. Then he took a deep breath, pasted on that Captain America smile, and opened the door. “Hi,” he said, immediately stepping aside to give you room. “Come on in.”

“Captain Rogers,” you said with your own big smile as you introduced yourself, then picked up your valise from the ground beside you and stepped into his apartment. You were sharply dressed, professional. In how you held yourself, too. But your eyes were warm. And you were beautiful. It reminded him of some of the nicer omegas Buck used to go out with. There was a sharp pang in his chest. Like always, he ignored it. 

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” you continued. As if he’d had any sort of choice. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The security checks took longer than I’d expected.”

“No problem at all,” he said. Ten whole minutes. “I hadn’t even noticed. Here, let me put your bag in the room I set aside for you.”

“Oh, a guest room?” you asked. He stopped at your question, a little confused. Where else would you sleep? “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll definitely appreciate having my own space. But, sleeping arrangements are something we can discuss and customize to fit our goals. Sharing a bed can be really helpful if sleep is something you’re struggling with.”

Absolutely not. No. Definitely not. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he demurred. “With the serum, I really don’t require much sleep,” he called down to you as he quickly took your bag to the small guest room he’d finally furnished because he had to have somewhere to put you. It’d never occurred to him you’d want to share his bed. Did people really do that?

When he came back into the living room, you were still hovering by the door, your messenger bag slung over your shoulder and your hands clasped in front of you. You were looking around, taking in the blank walls, spartan furniture. Judging him probably. Well, it’s not like he’d had much time to decorate in between saving the world. What did any of that matter? “Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you said, with a benign smile that seemed aggressively professional. “If you don’t mind, I’d love if we could sit and chat for a few minutes before we move on to anything else.” 

“Of course,” he said, with his own benign smile, as he gestured to the two couches that had come with the apartment. He waited for you to sit in one and then took a seat in the other, a mass-produced coffee table covering the chasm between you.

“First,” you said, your hands resting neatly in your lap, “I just wanted to make sure that my scent is one you’re comfortable having in your home on a long-term basis. I know that the real thing can sometimes be a little different than the sample you based your choice off of.”

Steve had just randomly grabbed one from the box he’d been presented with. He’d thrown it at Fury with a grumbled, “That one’s fine,” as he left the small room they’d given him to make his choice. He’d never even opened it.

He only got a vague hint of it now, sitting across the room from you. Floral maybe. He didn’t bother to take a deep breath, to catalogue it. You’d only be here for a few days max. Not enough time for your scent to permeate. So, it didn’t really matter what he thought about it.

“Yes, it’s fine,” he nodded at you.

“Good,” you said, your smile becoming slightly more genuine. “Well, first I can take a few minutes to talk through what it is we’re going to be doing here. I'm sure you've already gotten the whole spiel, but it might be helpful to hear it from my perspective. Get a feel for how I do things.”

You paused like you were waiting for a response so he nodded along. “Sure, sounds great.” He already knew what the program was. He already knew he didn’t need it. This was a waste of time.

“Mostly, I’m just here to help you as an alpha get back to feeling like your most grounded, best self. Stability and comfort are mainly what I’m here to provide. Listening and guidance too, if that’s what you want. This is fully customizable, very collaborative. I’m not a therapist, but I do have my masters in behavioral psychology. And I’ve been doing this for a while now. So whatever you throw at me, I can handle it. Basically, this arrangement can look like whatever the two of us want it to look like. The biggest requirement, on both sides, is honesty.”

He leaned forward. This was the in he’d been waiting for. “I really appreciate that. And I do want to be completely honest with you. I don’t want to waste your time. The truth is, this is unnecessary. I think people expect me not to adjust well, so they’re treating me like I’m not. But really, I’m fine. I’m doing fine. And I just don’t think I’m going to get much from this.” 

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, just looked at him curiously with your lips pursed. At one point, your eyes flicked down to where his hand was resting on his knee. Could you see the way it shook? His hands hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d come out of the ice. He straightened it out so it laid flat on the denim of his jeans, willing it to be still. That didn’t mean anything.

Finally, your eyes left him as you turned to your messenger bag, pulling out a thin file. “Do you mind,” you asked, “if we talk about some of the concerns your team has for you?”

Steve’s jaw ticked. Not for. About. Fury had already done this. “I know their concerns. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You shrugged casually, like it didn’t much matter to you either way. “I think it could be instructive to what we’re trying to do here.”

“Fine,” he ground out, but you didn’t react to his tone. You just opened the file. Before you had a chance to say anything, he leaned forward and spat out, “Listen, I know what’s in there. They think I don’t listen to anyone. That I’m a bad leader. That my plans are too risky. That I can’t keep anyone safe. Did I get everything?”

You bobbed your head a little, your expression impassive, your voice soft. “Not exactly. They did say that you refuse to listen to people. But they never said anything about you being a bad leader. Or not keeping them safe. They said the thing you’re most likely to risk on these missions is yourself. They’re worried about you.” He couldn’t hold in his scoff and you paused to look him in the eye. “Do you really jump out of planes without a parachute?”

He felt his eyes go a little wide like he’d been caught, doing what exactly, he wasn’t quite sure. He shook his head. “No, that’s not– You know what’s in my veins. If I were a normal man, sure, that’d be suicidal. But I have more strength, better reflexes, I heal faster. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.”

Your brow furrowed as you leaned forward too. “But, you still get injured, don’t you? Even if it doesn’t last as long. You still feel all that pain. Steve,” and the way you said his name, for the first time, different somehow than the way any omega had ever said it before, he felt it like a knife to the heart, “why would you want to put yourself through feeling all that if you didn’t have to?”

He was up off the couch before he even realized it. The room was suddenly smaller than it’d been a minute ago. His mind was racing and he didn’t know why or how to make it stop.

“Captain Rogers.” You were standing right in front of him, holding your hands up at your chest, your palms out. “I’m sorry Captain, I didn’t mean to push. Are you alright?” All he could do for the moment was blink at you. “Hey, how ‘bout you take a deep breath with me, ok? A slow breath in through your nose.” 

He followed your lead and took a deep breath in. And, oh. He was struck by the scent of you. Lilacs and oranges. You smelled like spring.

“And out through your mouth,” you said quietly and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly and you smiled. “Do you want to take a break?” you asked softly. “I have a few more questions, but I don’t need to ask them right now.”

He shook himself out of whatever daze he’d been in. “No,” he said, standing up straighter. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” 

He sat back down on the couch, but you hadn’t moved yet. “Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. I’m fine. Let’s go.” It was only at the look on your face, that he realized how short he’d been. He took a breath. “Sorry,” he said, forcing some calm into his tone. “I’d like to keep going.”

“Okay,” you nodded and finally sat back down across from him. You opened your folder again. “You were a little… vague in your intake questionnaire. So, if you're able, I’d appreciate it if you could just tell me a little about what you’ve been going through, how you’ve been feeling.”

He fidgeted a little in his seat and he saw you clock it. He stilled himself, then said, with as casual an air as he could muster, “If I was vague, it’s only because there really isn’t much to report. I’ve been fine.” He was using that word too much. He knew it. But he didn’t know how else to say it.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “It’s just, on paper? You’ve been through a lot in what must feel like a very short amount of time. And that’s just the widely reported stuff. What’s in the history books and on the news. It would be understandable if you were struggling. Anyone would be.”

“Well, I’m not anyone, am I?” he snapped. 

“No, you’re not,” you said slowly, calmly, and he hated how unflappable you were. “You’re a hero.” He just barely stopped his lip from curling up into a snarl at that. He’d had enough. “But–”

“Listen, I just need to get back in the field, okay? I just need another mission. That’s all I need. We don’t have to– None of this will be necessary if I can just get back out there. I understand that you’re a professional and you’ll want to seem thorough, so we can wait a few days. But I’m fine and that’s what I need you to tell Fury. If the team doesn’t want to work with me right now, that’s– that’s okay. I’ll do solo missions. Whatever they want. I just need to get back out there.” He was pleading by the end of it. He could hear it in his voice. But this was important. He needed you to understand.

You just sat there for a moment, staring at him, your brow furrowed. “I–” you started. “I think there may have been a misunderstanding, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve,” he corrected, “please.”

“Steve, I–” you paused, your lips pursed. “I’m sorry, whether or not you eventually get back on the team, that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t work for SHIELD. I can’t make that decision.”

“What? No. Yes, you do. You can tell Fury that I’m fit for duty.”

“Steve. I work for a support omega agency. I’ve helped a few agents before, but I don’t know Commander Fury. I’m not here to report back to anyone. I’m just here to help you.”

All he could do was shake his head. No, this wasn’t right. There had to be a way to get back to work. You had to be the key.

“I’ve been contracted for a three month period, with the option to extend as needed. I thought this had all been explained to you. I–” You looked at him, pained, like you were willing him to understand 

  ‘Three months to start’ had been said to him at some point in this whole process, but he hadn’t thought that’d been serious. He’d been sure there was a way around it. Sure that you were the way.

He wouldn’t be able to survive three months. That he was sure of. Not without something to do. Not without a purpose. Not without something to fight. The room was getting smaller again. Closing in on him. All of that time stretching out ahead of him, without any purpose, without any point to him. It was all closing in on him.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t do any good. It didn’t do anything. Didn’t get him any air. There wasn’t any air. He was pinned down. Under all the water. Under all that ice. He was so cold and he couldn’t breathe.

“Steve!”

He was distantly aware of someone calling his name, but no one would be able to get to him. He was too far under. There was too much ice. He’d done too much.

“Steve. Hey, Steve! I’m here with you. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here.”

No, that couldn’t be right. He was alone. All alone and–

Lilacs. How was he smelling lilacs? And oranges. Fresh and bright. Spring.

He blinked his eyes open. He didn’t know when he’d shut them. He was huddled on the floor in front of the couch. In the living room. You were kneeling in front of him, your hands held out in front of you, not making contact, but one of your wrists was extended. Right under his nose. 

When he made eye contact with you, you exhaled, like maybe you’d been holding your breath. “Hi,” you said, relieved. “You back with me?”

All he could do was blink at you, at first. Then he looked around. The blank walls. The prefab furniture. The apartment. He hated this place. He looked back at you. “Yeah.” It came out in a croak. “I– Yeah.”

“Is it alright if I touch you?” you asked, inching closer. “You can say no.”

He shook his head without even thinking. “Please.”

As you reached out to touch him, hug him, maybe, he collapsed into you. You let out a little “oof” but didn’t pull away. You just wrapped your arms around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched, really touched, like this. Not just in passing. Not in battle. Before the ice. Decades. Everything had been decades. 

His eyes were wet and he was so so tired. He felt wrenched open. Emptied out like there was nothing left. He exhaled in your arms and with it came a whisper, completely out of his control. “I just want to go home.”

You didn't say anything, but your grip on him tightened.

Tag list is open

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[imaginingmanyfandoms]

worlds worst brother | jamie tartt x kent!reader

a/n; in my head i see this as a mini series, but this part just kind came to me. i'm picturing a part 2 & a 'how they started' ...... idk but i live for the angst, bye.

summary; your big brother roy catches jamie in your house

part 2 - don't shut me out

"I don't understand why you won't tell me about the bloke you're seeing," Roy mumbled, crossing his arms, "you always let me vet them."

Roy had stopped over late, without so much as a warning text, after dropping Pheobe off at your sister's house. He needed you to pick her up after school tomorrow, because he had a meeting with Ted and Beard and couldn't reschedule, and your sister was meant to be at work all day.

"C'mon, let me meet him! Is he here now? These ugly shoes must be his."

You were smiling nervously trying to get Roy to leave. Normally, an unannounced visit from Roy would end in a few hours of chatting and maybe a glass of wine, but today you were rushing your brother out the door - and he noticed.

"Let's set up a lunch next week," you said, "not just spring it on him now."

It shouldn't be a big deal. You were a grown woman, you could have boys' spend the night without Roy throwing a fit, he'd grown used to hearing about his younger sister's dates. But you'd been seeing this guy for a while and Roy hadn't heard a peep.

"All right fine," he relented, "but next fucking week and I'm holding you to that."

Except the guy you were seeing is Jamie Tartt.

And it was Jamie Tartt who was fast asleep in your bedroom after a long night spent mostly between the sheets.

And Jesus Christ, what a good night it had been. Jamie had really pulled out all the stops. From the beginning of the night he'd had it all planned out. He sent you out with Keeley in the afternoon with his credit card to buy a new dress, he'd brought flowers when he picked you up, drove you to the loveliest little restaurant on the edge of town while listening to a playlist of love songs he'd curated for the evening, and after dinner he told you that he loved you, and that he wanted to be your boyfriend properly, not just behind closed doors, and you'd agreed to come out with it.

And then he'd taken you home and spent the next few hours worshipping your body and doing everything in his power to make you scream his name.

No cheering fans could ever make him feel like you did when you sang his name over and over like a prayer.

And you had every intention of returning to that bed, and letting Jamie do it again.

You just needed to get Roy the hell out of your house.

Roy was laughing as you ushered him out, but suddenly... he was dead wait, rigid, glued to the spot. You tried to follow his line of sight, but he was in the way.

“Whose jacket is that?”

“What?”

“The fucking Greyhounds jacket!!!”

“Oh this???" you grabbed the windbreaker and tossed it into the closet. "Uh, no one’s, mine.”

“You’re a shit liar, and that was a team jacket."

“Well whatever, don’t ask a question if you don't wanna know the answer.” You were bluffing, you knew damn well he wouldn't let it go. Roy Kent was not one to just let things go that involved his sister.

“Oh, I want to know the fucking answer.”

"Next week!" you squeaked, "We'll go to lunch next week, promise!"

As if someone somewhere was working against you, Roy’s head snapped in the direction of the toilet flushing, followed by light footsteps.

Did Jamie hear what was going on? Maybe it's a miracle and he snuck into the guest room to play innocent. There was no way he didn't hear Roy's yelling.

Sneaking around with Jamie was one thing, but getting caught instead of telling Roy yourself was a whole other problem.

“Wait, dont-“

But he was already off down the hall, and you were hot on his trail. Jamie was in your room, caught like a deer in the headlights trying to pull on his pants. He didn't have time yet to grab his shirt, and his chest, splattered colourfully with a combination of teeth and scratches were staring Roy right in the face.

In your defense, the team was off and no one was meant to be seeing him without a shirt but you...

"Hey now," Jamie said, crooked, uneasy smile on his face, "it's not what it seems."

"It seems like you just fucked my sister!"

"It ain't fuckin', it's makin' love." Jamie crossed his arms, looking around for his shirt. Roy's eye twitched with this new information.

You threw a random night shirt of yours off the ground, and he slipped on (his favourite) Hello Kitty shirt of yours.

"I bought 'er that fuckin' shirt!" Roy shouts, lunging towards Jamie who yelps, and dodges out of reach, trying to hold his hands up in defense, but Roy just grabs him by the wrist, pulling him close so he can headbutt Jamie, knocking him over with the force of it.

"What the fuck Roy?"

"Jamie fucking Tartt? Jamie fucking Tartt? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Roy will you just-"

"No! No I won't fucking do anything! Out of everyone in this fucking city, you pick Jamie fucking Tartt? This must be a fucking nightmare. And what happens if he breaks your heart? Huh? What if he knocks you up and leaves you on your own? Am I going to have to be the one to pick up all the fucking pieces, again? God, this is gunna turn out so awful and you didn't even stop to think about me, or the fact that he plays for my team, you absolute fucking idiot, I'm fucking tired of sisters who pick stupid fucking boyfriends!"

And it was like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. It was the meanest thing he'd ever said to you, the loudest he'd ever raised his voice against you, and he could see the way your lower lip wobbled, he could see the tears forming in your eyes, and before he could reach out for you, Jamie was already there, arm around you, rubbing your back slowly while he whispered something soothing in your ear.

"I think you should head out," Jamie said, voice even and without any hint of Jamie's usually idiocy. Void of humour or cockiness, and his eyes, his eyes never left your face. "Now, Roy. I think you should head out now."

And Roy didn't know what to say, he didn't mean it, oh of course he didn't mean it. You must know that. He couldn't ever be tired of helping his sisters, you guys were everything to him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, leaving the room with his tail between his legs, closing the door behind him.

With the door closed, he could hear your crying start, and his heart shattered in his chest.

Wasn't Jamie Tartt that broke your heart.

Roy did that all on his own.

[stvrkeysgal]

hi sorry i’ve never done one of these before but i have a request:

drew and y/n are co-stars in a new romance movie that is about to come out. it has been heavily anticipated and because of this calvin klein reached out to them to shoot an ad.

it’s gonna be really tension ridden and like they can’t keep their hands off eachother. the lines between acting and real life start to blur .

i don’t mind how it ends or what you decide to happen☺️

thank you if you do it!!

on-screen (?) chemistry — drew starkey

pairing: drew starkey x fem!actress!reader

warnings: not much, but it's fluff + minimal swearing

taglist: @jadastarkey @tillysslife @hrtsforstrkysblog @hoefordrewstarkey

starring alongside drew motherfucking starkey in a movie was something you still can't grasp onto. he was the man you've always admired way before you started acting. and now that you're finally going to get some time to know what it's like to be with him, you swore you didn't want the whole thing to stop.

both of your schedules were mainly filled with days to weeks of filming. and after that, your upcoming calvin klein photoshoot that's going to happen after your filming with him. honestly speaking, you couldn't quite wrap your head around the fact that you and drew have starred alongside each other, and then a photoshoot to follow. sounds like a dream, if you're being asked.

today was another day of filming with drew. the two of you had been in your separate trailers for today and were given an hour off to get styled. your makeup artist was busy doing your eye makeup, and your hairstylist fixing you up when your PA came in. "drew's here to see you," she says, while you give her a thumbs-up to let him in.

drew walks into your trailer then, and is met by the sight of you being styled. "hey," he says, eyeing your current outfit and makeup. "can i talk to you for a while?" everyone stops for a moment, and looks at you as if asking what they were supposed to do. "is this a 'we need to talk in private' moment, or everyone can stay?"

everyone drops what they're doing and just smiles at the two of you. "we'll just leave the two of you alone. just call us when you're finished." you just nod at them, and in a matter of seconds you're left alone with drew.

"what's wrong?" you took a few careful steps towards drew who sat in your trailer's couch. he looks up at you and smiles. "just wanna know if you're okay about everything. and about the next scene to film." how sweet of him to check up on you!

"yeah, i'm fine. thanks for checking." you returned his smile with as much sweetness as possible. "that's good. just tell me if you have something with the scenes, and we'll work it out." drew says, before standing from your couch and walking out of your trailer.

๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑

if you had to hear the words "and, action!" one more time, you swore you'd lose your shit and crash out on the spot. the scene that you and drew had been filmed and cut so many times—all because the director didn't deem the cuts worthy enough—and he didn't think that you and drew weren't acting that well for the scene.

which was new, since you and drew usually got every scenes right.

you sighed in frustration and walked out of the set, with drew trailing behind you as he saw your face. "you okay, y/n/n?" god, hearing him call you by that nickname he gave you a while ago should be enough to take all your frustrations away. unfortunately, it wasn't.

"no," you finally stopped walking, and then turned to face drew. "i'm just so... pissed." drew barely saw you pissed—in the whole time he was working with you. so this might be a totally different case. "huh," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "do you wanna talk about it?"

"sure."

it's been about an hour since the two of you finished filming so right now, you and him were talking inside your trailer after a long day. "i'm just so tired," you say, taking a sip out of your coffee. "what weren't we doing for him to talk to us like that? we were giving whatever he was asking for. what the hell are we doing wrong?"

what you didn't know was that drew kept asking himself the same fucking thing. what weren't you giving or doing enough for the cuts and scenes to be in line for being unconsidered?

that was until an idea crossed his mind. "you may hate me for this," he says. "but what if we practiced the scene here, and we could just... you know, perform it tomorrow?"

aha, practicing with drew starkey. filming with him was one thing, but practicing? running lines together alone? oh, that was a different talk.

ohmygodohmygodohmygodisthisreallyhappening— but what came out of your mouth was, "are you sure? i mean, you don't have to if—"

"i insist, y/n. alright? it's fine." drew offers you one of his trademark smiles, one that has your stomach swarmed with butterflies. "okay," you nodded, mirroring the same smile that lingered on his face.

filming had finished after a while—three months, to be exact—and everyone was talking about it. before you and drew knew it, the movie had been the talk of social media. twitter, instagram, tiktok, you name it.

of course, the hate comments weren't exactly... avoidable, but everyone was mainly praising how much of a great job you did. drew had been there to comfort you through the negative comments, and he was there to remind you of your hardworks, and how perfect you were for the role—and as his co-star. "you were amazing, y/n. you don't let them get to your mind. got that?"

"holy shit have y'all seen drew and y/n interact earlier at the premiere????"

"trust me when i say drew can't keep his eyes off y/n earlier 😭 felt like i was interrupting something"

"y/n and drew def did it. we just can't prove it 😩"

the premiere night had been great so far. besides the paps and the reporters crowding you and drew, the fans' reactions have made up for it all. seeing them in awe and smiling at your—and drew's—performance, things have been doing good.

"you okay there, y/n/n?" drew asked you once he saw your legs bouncing from underneath your dress.

everyone had been watching the film, and it didn't help that the cinema was a little bit cold for your liking. that alone may have added to your chilling factor. "i'm okay," you give drew a tight-lipped smile. "just cold."

with no hesitation, drew takes his coat off and wraps it around your body. "there," he says, a faint smile lingering on his lips. "still cold?" you shake your head no, but somehow you find yourself shivering a little bit more.

you didn't know which part of the movie you zoned out—but for the rest of the night, all you could think about was drew. and the way he gave you his coat without hesitation.

or the way he smiles at you while filming.

how he casually and protectively wraps an arm around your waist in pictures.

or how he looks at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the room.

'it's normal, it's fine, you're just his co-star, you're just his co-star, you're just his...' you snapped yourself out of it before you could even let your mind wander elsewhere. after all, drew could never see you in that way. he's just friendly to everyone, right?

๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑

a while had passed after that premiere with drew, and here you were now. filming the goddamned calvin klein ad with drew.

if shooting a romance movie with him was something, then an ad for an underwear was another thing. that would mean you'd see him wearing nothing but boxers.

little do you know, drew was thinking of the same thing. if it helps, he couldn't sleep the night before, knowing he'd be seeing you in nothing but underwear for the rest of the shoot.

so to say, you two had been losing your shit about each other in secret.

before you knew it, your body was pressed against drew's, the moment allowing you to feel nearly every inch of his bare skin. he was feeling yours as well, and he fought his hardest not to give away any of what he's thinking right now.

"okay," the cameraman says. "drew, move closer to y/n. y/n, place your arm on drew's shoulder, and lean on him." the command somehow has your mind spinning, and for a moment you felt every inch of your self-control fly out the window.

you did what you were told, and then the shooting commenced.

the two of you had said each other's lines. everything was executed perfectly, but either the two of you would be able to tell that something was missing. "that was good," the cameraman says. "but something's not right." you could feel your cheeks heat up, but you were unsure if it was in a good or bad way. "we'll work on it," drew says, giving you a side-glance once.

"take two, then."

cameras started rolling once more, and when it reached the part where the change was needed, drew grabbed your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. one of his hands snaked towards your waist and pulled you closer to him.

despite the raging butterflies in your stomach, you decided to go with the flow and rested your hands on his chest while staring deep in his eyes.

your hand resting on him allowed you to feel just how toned he was. what the hell, what the hell, what the hell—?

"cut!" you heard the cameraman yell once. "i said cut, you two!" but neither you or drew bothered moving at all. unbeknownst to the two of you, everyone had been snickering and staring at you two and had been observing how neither of you pulled away or heard "cut."

you snapped out of it when the cameraman put the clapper directly to your side and drew's, making the two of you pull away in shock. "yeah, okay." you muttered mindlessly, pulling away from drew with flushed cheeks.

the tension seemed to intensify somehow, once the two of you were left alone with your own thoughts and feelings in a room filled with chaos and staff going around. "so..." you began, eyes avoiding to meet drew's. "what was that?"

"what was what?" drew tried his best not to smirk or let any of his emotions slip, but he knew he was failing. just before you could even come up with a reply, drew was called by his assistant, and he shot you a wink before walking away.

it wasn't until the second photoshoot when you felt the spark that ignited between you and drew. the tension seemed to rise, making it harder to ignore the unsaid chemistry between the two of you.

this time, however, everything seemed to take up a notch when the director had you sitting on drew's lap, arms wrapped around his neck while his hands were on your thighs while the two of you looked at the camera.

your heart raced against your chest, heat crawled up to your cheeks at the position that you and drew were in. and you were sure as hell that the fans would have something new to talk about, then.

๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑

the shoot was over before you knew it. the two of you had done a great job with the photos and videos—and in keeping your professionalism intact, which meant it was time to wrap everything up.

you were fixing up your outfit when drew came in your dressing room, which left you alone with him. your heart beats pick up the pace once more, and it didn't help that what you two did earlier kept flashing through your mind.

seeing that the shoot was over, you were finally going to get some rest, maybe treat yourself out for something to celebrate the shoot finishing—and maybe... just maybe, forget about drew.

however, that plan seemed to go to waste when you noticed how drew's eyes lingered on you—way longer than it should've, and you could only stare back at him, ignore the way his eyes stared at you intensely, and give him a small smile.

drew was having none of that.

he walked closer to you while you moved backward, stumbling against one of the dressers and keeping you trapped against him when he put his arms on either of your sides.

"how long are we gonna pretend that we don't feel it, huh?" one of drew's hands moved to grab your chin, tilting it up to make you meet his eyes. "i swear to god, y/n. this is driving me crazy—you're driving me crazy."

your breath hitches at that. you wanted to look away—look anywhere else but drew, to hide how much you've craved him. but seeing that he was this close to you, your senses were only filled by drew, and him only.

"i don't wanna pretend anymore, y/n," drew leaned down and whispered the words against your ear. "i don't wanna do all this and pretend that i don't want you."

your head spins, your breath stills, and everything seems to slow down for the two of you, all while his words start to get to your head. "tell me you don't want me, and i'll walk away."

you can't.

because you know you want drew.

without even thinking, your lips crashed against drew's. hard. he returned the kiss, and both of his hands moved under your thighs while he lifted you to have you sit on the dresser. your lips moved against each other's, every movement seemed to be just perfect.

"can't believe i didn't tell you sooner," drew's lips moved from your lips to your neck, him immediately finding your soft spot and sucking on it gently. "but well, i'm telling you now. i like you, y/n." you gasped softly at the feeling of his lips, the action making your eyes flutter.

"you're my waking thought, and the last thing i think about before i sleep. you've ruined me, baby. for anyone else." his lips remained where they were, his voice vibrating against your skin which felt more good than you thought.

"you don't know what you do to me, starkey." you said in a whisper, sounding breathless all of a sudden. "you drive me insane. make me feel things that i've never felt before." he moved back up to stare at your eyes, the action making your heart flutter somehow.

time passed by like a blur—the two of you were on the same position you were in, just a few minutes have passed. "so much for acting," drew says, breathless against your lips. "i'm done pretending."

"so am i, drew. so am i."

a/n: OH YEAAAAAAHHHH BABY GUESS WHO'S BACK !!! anyway idrk how to start chapter two of how to lose a guy in 10 days but pls bear w me when i say i'm finishing my works (and drafts) !! love y'all sm 🫶🏻

p.s: tell me if i did a bad job abt the whole social media bs thing pls

[nerdygirlramblings]

Meghan Trainor's "Wrap Me Up" has me feeling some kinda way

poly!141 x fem!reader

"We'll be home by Christmas Eve," John sighs. It's been a long mission, made even harder being away from you at the holidays.

"Oh, John," your voice catches. You will not let him know you're about to cry. You take a deep breath and put as much love as you can into your reply. "That's the best gift I could ask for."

Half a world away, he smiles at his phone.

~~~

Two weeks later and you receive word from base the boys landed safely, and Johnny textes when they leave so you wouldn't be spooked when they troop through the door. That gives you a 40 minute window to make sure the gift you arranged is wrapped and under the tree.

You'd ordered takeaway from everyone's favorite kebab place. You know they would have preferred home cooking, and if it weren't so close to Christmas, you would have had a whole roast going for them, but you put effort into their gift and want it to be perfect.

You dash to the bathroom, arranging your hair to highlight the big red bow. Your makeup is understated, a barely there, natural glow accentuated with some gold glitter near your eyes.

Finally, you pull on the lingerie set you'd bought just for this. Red and lacy with ribbons holding most of it together. You'd practiced putting it on a few times already, making sure you could secure everything. As you tie the final bow, the one that held your breasts in, you dust more glitter across your collar and cleavage.

You are already wet, and the boys won't be here for another fifteen minutes.

You know how to take care of your boys, and this present was going to be as much for you as for them. You hadn't had a good orgasm the whole time they were gone. Even the toys they'd gifted you, molded from their cocks, weren't enough. Yes, they'd been together and thus not in so much of a dry spell as you, but you also knew quickies on cots and hand-jobs in the field were a far cry from what they wanted. What they craved. What they deserved.

A nice night at home, fucking, cuddling, and reconnecting would make everyone feel better.

You hear gravel crunch in the drive and lay yourself out on the area rug in the living room, white lights twinkling in the spruce behind you and a fire crackling behind the grate. You're grateful the house has a slight entryway with a wall hiding their Christmas surprise from immediate view. As a final touch, you turn on the radio low to some traditional holiday music.

The door opens and you hear bodies shuffle in, thuds as they drop their gear and remove their boots.

"Bonnie!" Johnny calls, tired but you hear the relief in his voice too, "We're home! Where are ye?"

You pitch your voice to carry over the music. "I'm in the living room." You watch their shadows move, and then there's a body in the doorway. It's Simon, his face bare in the safety of your home, searching for you and effectively blocking the others from seeing anything yet. He doesn't think to look at the floor, so you lightly say, "Happy Christmas, Si."

His eyes snap to you, and you watch the change come over him. He goes from weary to energetic in an instant. "Why isn' this a nice present," he says as he stalks to you. Kyle and Johnny follow him in and track his movement, clocking you immediately.

"God, doll," Kyle sighs. "What a sight you are." He too has a spring in his step you're sure was not there a moment ago.

Johnny moves so fast he's on his knees next to you before Simon reaches you. He stretches a hand out to pull the end of the ribbon across your chest, but you smack it away. When he pours, you simply say, "This is a present for everyone. No opening it without John."

"Oi, Cap! Get cher arse in here!" he bellows. Kyle and Simon are fully in the room, kneeling like Johnny, hungry, revenant looks on their faces. They haven't tried untying anything, but their hands twitch. You can tell they'd like nothing better than to pull open the bows and ribbons and lay you bare.

John finally comes in, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Until he finally pulls himself into the moment and sees you on the floor. His back straightens, shoulders unfurling. He stands larger in his frame. There is pure want in how he looks at you.

"Welcome home, Captain. Happy Christmas," you say, smile stretching wide. He starts walking as you continue. "You boys have been so good, I thought we could start with presents first this year."

John shoulders his way past the others, taking a space immediately in front of you. The others shuffle around to give him space and access.

"You said our return was the best gift you could ask for. Well, you're the best gift we could ever get." He leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand on your head and the other going to the bow Johnny tried to undo.

The others take it as permission to finally unwrap their present.

main masterlist

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Prompt: Who's Child Is This?

Inspired by an ICarly Clip. "Mr. Wayne, we have your son here."

Bruce blinked, then checked the number on the phone. It was from the police station. He then looked around the table which had fallen silent when Alfred had brought him the phone.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian were all accounted for. Even Jon was there so they couldn't have misidentified him as his kid.

"Which one?" Bruce chose to ask.

"Tim Drake."

Bruce looked at Tim specifically as he tilted his head confused. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. Wayne, we know your boys by now."

"Right... alright, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Can I ask on why Tim has been taken into custody?"

Tim tilted his head even further while some of the others around the table started chuckling.

"He was found trespassing near the new Axion Labs at the edge of the city. The owner chose not to press charges so we're sending him home in your custody."

"I see, I'll be there soon. Thank you for the call."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne, we'll see you soon."

Bruce ended the call then looked at his kids. "Apparently, Tim has been arrested for trespassing near the Axion Labs construction site."

"And you didn't even invite me?" Dick chuckled at Tim, "We could have had so much fun together."

Tim scrunched his nose at the idea. "No way, that whole area is an OSHA violation. If I went there it wouldn't be out of costume, whoever that kid is was risking his life just walking within a block of it."

"Well, I'm going to go down there and see what 'Tim' was thinking." Bruce got out of his seat, "I'll be back soon."

"New brother?" Cass asked as Damian growled.

"We're going to assume no for now, but we may have another for dinner depending on what's going on."

"I will prepare another seat while you are gone, Master Bruce."

"Thanks, Alfred. I'll be back soon."

-

When Bruce walked into the police station he immediately noticed 'Tim' sitting in front of one of the officers desks. It was a newer officer and it was clear that neither Detective Montoya or Commissioner Gordon were in or somebody would have noticed that this kid definitely wasn't Tim.

Yes, the kid had black hair which was on the shorter side but his hair fell in front of his face more than Tim would wear it, and his eyes were unnaturally blue. He was pale in an old hoodie, blue jeans, and red shoes. The biggest difference though was that this kid looked like he was only pushing 15, not 17. Yes, he looked quite a bit like Tim but anybody who had spent more than five minutes with Tim Drake would know they weren't the same person.

"Mr. Wayne." The officer called as Bruce walked over, looking at the kid.

He was thin and pale, which a tired look on his face. He also shrunk away from Bruce when he walked over.

Bruce knew what a kid in trouble looked like. So he smiled down at the kid. "You know, Tim, when I said you could go to the lab to do your science homework I didn't expect you to go all the way to Axion Labs."

The kid looked at him, surprised then seemed to quickly catch on. "What can I say, I had to see what terrible science looked like. Sorry for making you come down here."

"It's fine, but are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, totally." He said, his hand subconsciously moving to his ribs as though he was hurt.

"Alright then you are grounded."

"What?!" 'Tim' squeaked, "Come on-"

"Nope. You are ground... for... 'til... college."

"FOR 'TIL COLLEGE?!"

"For 'til college!"

The officer cleared his throat then held out a clipboard. "If you sign the red x's you can take your son and leave, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce took the papers, quickly looking over it and signing it. It was strange to see that all of the handwriting on the paperwork was adult writing. Had they even asked this kid his name? Once everything was signed he passed it back over to the officer who nodded.

"Looks good. Thanks Mr. Wayne and you stay out of trouble. The whole city knows your face. You're just lucky Mr. Masters didn't want to press charges."

"Yeah, so lucky." The kid rolled his eyes, then stood up and looked up at Bruce. "Can we go now?"

"Sure thing, chum. Come on." Bruce said, leading the kid out of the station and to the car. The kid seemed hesitant as he looked around, his eyes narrowing when they landed on a gentlemen with silver hair in a ponytail, only when the man smiled at 'Tim' did the kid speak up again.

"Come on, Dad, let's get out of here before the stalkers find us." He said, climbing in the front seat and closing the door, much to the annoyance of the silver haired man.

Bruce climbed in the front seat, buckling in and driving away from the station. "So... 'not Tim' what's your name?"

"Danny. Just Danny... sorry about all of that Mr. Wayne. That guy took one look at me and started calling me 'Tim' and when I tried to explain that I wasn't 'Tim' hey called me a liar. But if I gave them my real name then... somebody else was going to come collect me and I didn't want that. So... I let them call me Tim. I'm sorry, I hope it didn't put you out..."

"Not at all. But... are you okay? Why were you at Axion Labs?"

Danny seemed hesitant, "I... it sounds crazy."

"It's Gotham, kid. Crazy things happen all the time..."

"Right... well um... I-I was kidnapped from my home and taken to Axion Labs. I-I escaped and when I was trying to leave the grounds the police saw me and thought I was trespassing. Since the cops were I decided to play along with it..."

Bruce frowned, "Kidnapped? Is... is there somebody I can call?"

Danny shook his head. "I have an older sister who is probably going crazy looking for me but other than her and a couple of friends there wouldn't be anybody. My parents... they were kind of involved. They... they found out something about me and tried to hurt me, I ran to somebody I knew I couldn't trust because I thought maybe he would get his head out of his ass but I was just being an idiot." Danny hugged himself. "You can drop me off anywhere though, you don't have to bother yourself with me or my shit."

Bruce pulled to a stoplight and reached over to the kid who flinched, Bruce waited until he relaxed before Bruce patted his head. "I'm not going to just leave you on the street. Besides, it's late and by now my butler has already dished you some dinner. So at least for tonight you're welcome to stay with me and my kids. We'll get some food in your belly, make sure you're not wounded, let you call your sister, and find a way to get you home. Sound good?" He asked, moving his hand away.

Danny looked at Bruce, seeming a bit untrusting for a moment before he glanced at something near Bruce and relaxed. There was nothing with Bruce, he wasn't carrying anything, but whatever Danny was seeing was enough to put his mind at ease. "Okay... but if anybody tries anything be warned, I bite."

Bruce chuckled, "So do most of the others. You'll fit right in."

'But just what the hell is going on with this kid? Does it have anything to do with that man outside the police station? I've got to get to the bottom of this before this kid leaves, especially if he's still a target.'

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Wolverine x Deadpool x F!Reader

ᯓ★ Being in a polyamory relationship with these two. (A dream inspired this AHAHHA–) fluff, lots of bickering between the two, funny/goofy shit, bit of jealousy/possessiveness, reader is fem!!

This whole relationship is a mess.

I'm talking never getting a moment of peace kind of mess.

For example this one time you drove the Honda Civic.

Nobody understood why you were the one behind the wheels 'cause now you're ramming into everything with Logan grabbing on the handle for dear life while Wade is having the time of his life at the back.

"Stop the damn car before we crash, bub! Yer gonna kill someone!" Logan shouted and at the same time Wade was screaming out the lyrics to "Highway to Hell" by AC/DC.

Did I mention how different these two are with you?

Wade loves it when you run to hug him, he would swing you around a couple of times with your legs wrapped around his waist.

As for Logan, he prefers something less than that. A simple hug is enough and you can't complain much about it because the way he completely engulfs you in his embrace always made your chest flutter.

It's no surprise that they are protective over you.

Like when you were captured by some troops in the void. The fire guy, Johnny Storm, couldn't help but try to flirt with you. He figured why not shoot his shot right?

"Hey..." He'd say, flashing you a cheesy smile.

And seeing his attempt to charm you, you couldn't help but find it amusing and chuckle.

Clearly the two didn't like it.

Which is why that may or may not be the reason why Wade decided to out the man and get him killed 🤷‍♀️ I guess we'll never know 🤔

You and Wade enjoy pulling pranks on Logan.

The sight of him being pissed off pleases you both.

There was this one time you guys swapped his whiskey to a non-alcoholic drink and you can imagine his frustration.

"WADE!!" But he can never get mad at you. He just can't.

Even Wade complains about this privilege of yours.

"Seriously Lo?! You're gonna get mad at me and not our lovely prank partner here? Come on man, we're both guilty parties in this crime scene. If you wanna get angry, at least share the spotlight :("

Cue you sticking your tongue out at Wade as he pouts with puppy dog eyes.

All jokes aside, the two love and support you dearly.

I like to think Logan is more of an old romantic and Wade is the adventurous type.

That's why it can sometimes take a while for them to decide what to get as a present for you.

"Why the fuck would she want a pillowcase with our faces on it?" Logan asked with genuine disgust in his eyes.

"Why wouldn't she?! It's cute as fuck, and you can never have too many pictures of us together. Besides, it's a lot cheaper than buying a life-sized statue of me for her bedroom, although that's an option too, I hear Wolverine-shaped body pillows are all the rage these days" Without realising, he continued on muttering nonsense to himself which had Logan roll his eyes.

"I'm buying her the leather jacket and it's final" Not letting Wade say anything, he'd walk off to the cashier with him left behind. His action causing him to get irritated.

"What about the budget?!?!" He'd raise his voice but Logan simply ignored him. Fed up, he stomps on his feet as he points at his back.

"Fine, you big lug!! I'll let you have your way this time. But don't come crying to me when she dumps us for a pair of more decisive superheroes!!" He'd shout.

In the end you appreciated the gifts you got for your birthday. Each gift speaks for their character.

You guys definitely have lazy days.

Days where you'll lounge around in pajamas and watch cheesy romantic comedies together, complete with a pile of blankets and snacks.

Expect there to be lots of laughter, cringing, and the occasional eye rolling. Not to forget how you three would start making fun of the characters and the cliche plotlines.

Logan clearly struggles to sit through the entire movie marathon and you always have the to be the one to pull his arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Gimme a break, bub. It’s the same damn thing every time— the good guy wins, the bad guy loses. It’s like they think we got the emotional range of a rock"

"Gee, what a buzz kill. But are they wrong though? You practically live like a rock!!" Wade laughed with Logan letting out a scowl.

Thank goodness you're dating them or else they'd be fighting almost all the time.

In the relationship you're the peacemaker

No but seriously Wade calls you that and the nickname has stuck to you.

You enjoy sleeping in the middle with the two on either sides. Half of the time you always wake up with the two fighting over you.

Just imagine Logan pulling you closer to him but before he could even do that, Wade would be quick to pull you back to his embrace despite them both being asleep.

You like to think it's their reflexes. That even when sleeping they're still fighting with each other 😭

However you absolutely adore the two.

Logan will MELT when you kiss his knuckles. Especially when you do it with your eyes locked to his. He will literally go feral for you.

And Wade? He absolutely loveloveloves it when you baby him. It's his guilty pleasure. Hold him close with his face placed against your chest and he swears the voices in his head finally quiets down. That's why you're his angel.

Also, the two really enjoy showering you with kisses. You can barely ever hold back a smile with the two smooching every surface of your face.

Will do anything to get your praise.

The competitiveness is too much.

Oh Logan got you a bouquet? Well Wade got you a bouquet made of tacos. Who's the better one now huh? 😋

To be fair Wade is Wade. There's nothing you can do about it... but that doesn't mean Logan is ever gonna let him get his way.

"Where's Wade?" You'd ask, watching Logan sink on the sofa beside you.

"Don't know... could care less..." He'd say, wrapping an arm around you to snuggle with you. In the other room Wade has been stuffed inside the closet. Completely restrained and duck taped.

All I can say is that dating them is all fun and love. Literal baby girls.

[roguerambles]

I understand the disappointment, I really do, but I think people might be blowing the whole world state thing a bit out of proportion. "This is SPITTING IN THE FACE of long-time fans" no it's not Steve, calm down.

The series has always had to compromise when it comes to the state of the world because so many of the choices (especially from the end of Origins) were so wildly different that trying to build a sequel from so many conflicting factors would be more or less impossible. It's why we've never seen the Architect again, because him being alive or dead has HUGE ripple effects that are damn near impossible to write around.

Heck, it was entirely possible for Anders to die at the end of Awakening, but the writers wrote around it by saying "oh no he actually faked his death" even though logically that made very little sense because at that point he'd have absolutely no reason to do that? But Anders was in the sequel so that had to come up with something.

Basically nothing from Dragon Age 2 was important in Inquisition - Hawke siding with Mages or Templars made no difference, Anders being alive or dead made no difference, whether Carver or Bethany were dead or Wardens or whatever made no difference. We got some flavour text and that was literally it, everything else played out exactly the same.

Hell, the Temple of Sacred Ashes gets blown to bits at the beginning of Inquisition, rendering everything to do with that quest from Origins basically moot. And we've never gone back to Orzammar, and everything we have heard from it has been kept super vague, because depending on who the King is and if Branka is still alive things would look WILDLY different. Crafting a new story there would be borderline impossible because the dozen different possible world states make the foundation shaky at best.

It's why I highly doubt we'll be able to side with Solas and help him tear down the Veil because that would result in basically a whole new world being created. Imagine them trying to make Dragon Age 5 and being like "okay 50% sided with Solas and tore the Veil down and 50% kept the Veil intact....wtf now what do we do--?"

Again, I understand the disappointment, but I just hope once the dust has settled and people calm down a bit they'll see that, realistically, very little has changed. Your saves are still there, your experiences and enjoyment of the games and the characters and the story are still there, but they were always gonna have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.

And that's not to say none of our previous choices will come back - if we get another game, or a spin off or something they'll probably do what they're doing with the Inquisitor now. They're just taking what's relevant to the story they are trying to tell, and leaving what they aren’t going to use presently ambiguous.

[roll-for-gaslight]

have to talk about Sam and Evan and Jammer and K and the genius character choices made in the previous episode because it was all so good. It was so goo. Evan Kelmp fucking died. Holy shit.

We're going to start with Evan, because he's the one who died and I can't stop thinking about the image of Shadow Evan slowly collecting his things that K threw around and putting on his nice shoes. Putting his belongings back in his backpack because even if he's dead his things matter because they were the only things he had. Brennan's acting in that moment as well, stretching his arms out to mimic a shadow's distortion in a two-dimensional space and being so confused and out of it for the first several minutes due to shock. He wants to be alive, to be good, to have friends, but he can't even consider the idea that they might want him back. He can't think too hard about whether he truly belongs to them the way they belong to him.

Sam, who loved Evan so deeply that even when he is literally a shadow of himself she smiles at him like he is the whole world. Jammer is freaking out and K can't look at him at all but Sam sees him, knows him, and loves him, any amount of him she can have because Shadow Evan is better than Dead Evan. She's scared but she knows he must be even more scared then she is so when he asks if she can carry him of course she says yes. Danielle Radford I love you and your choice to have radical compassion, such a deep kindness and care within Sam that se does everything within her power to bring Evan back, being careful and risking nothing because she can't just leave her friend like that and she can't lose him. Sam builds the community around herself through that same compassion, helps everyone, loves everyone, but in this episode the full force of that love is narrowed to only focus on Evan and getting him back no matter what.

Fucking Whitney Jammer. "We'll body it." I think about that scene from s1 every single day and that is exactly what he did. Oh, Evan died? We'll fucking fix it. That's the mission now. We'll body it. He made a promise and he's going to keep it. He's furious, and I feel like while he may not have known where to direct it in the moment he may end up having conflict with K because of what happened. Also, just the image of Jammer, not facing his friends and not wanting to turn around to see what happened because if he sees it then its real, then when he does turn around just doing the only thing he knows how to do, taking care of his team.

And K. K, my beloved... Erika Ishii is a genius in every season, every campaign, every role, but I love this new version of K who just can't deal with the idea that they are not a one-man army. They can not fix the world, they can not be as isolationist as they have always wanted to be, they can not single-handedly dole out justice in every situation. They are not the secret dark chosen one who's extra special. They need their friends, their people, need their network. They can't look at Shadow Evan because they know the whole time that it's their fault. They did it again, they broke magic, they killed Evan. They always make the wrong move. I think a lot of this season for them is going to be about slowing down, being forced to take things one step at a time, accepting help, and eventually rebuilding confidence.

[moon-ttokki-x]

Hi hi! So I’ve like been seeing edits of this one Chan look

Just image your like yapping about how annoying it is and you say something that really gets him into “watch your tone” type mode and gives you this look!

Like agghh I was wondering if I could make this a request. You make it however you like but this is just so like ahhhh.

Love you babes!

-haeso🐨

omg the LOOK... fr send me edits of this chan bc i cant find them anywhere TT

make me - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you pull a prank on chan with minsung and seungmin

genre: crack, idol! au, kind of suggestive ngl but nothing risky lol

a/n: yall are gonna have to use your imaginations for this bc i aint writing anything 18+ it's too cringy for me TT dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Y/n, have you heard of that one TikTok prank?"

You look up to where Jisung is splayed over Jeongin's lap, his wide boba eyes blinking up at you from his odd position. Jeongin doesn't look particularly happy with the position and shoves his hyung off, muttering something about a dance practice, then leaves.

Jisung lands on the studio floor with an oof and takes up a new position on Minho's lap, seemingly unfazed. He blinks like nothing happened, the conversation apparently continuing.

You tilt your head at him. "What prank?"

Jisung grins as Minho wraps his arms around his tiny waist. "The one where you purposely piss off your partner by talking smack and then film their reaction."

You shake your head, laughing. "Nope. Seen others like that though."

Minho peeks out from behind Jisung. "You should try it on Chan-hyung. It'd be funny."

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. "He won't fall for that. He's already too used to Felix being chronically online. He'll know if I try to prank him with something I saw on Tiktok."

Jisung whines and shifts off Minho's lap, kneeing him in the process. He flops down next to you, ignoring Minho's groans of pain, and pulls out his phone to show you a video.

"So basically, all you have to do is rile him up and then we'll film him," Jisung grins.

You deadpan. "Then Seungmin will be begging me for blackmail material. He's annoying when he wants something."

"Fine," he groans. "We'll just spectate."

Minho, who has recovered from Jisung's unintended attack, looks up from the floor with a pained grin. "You're gonna do it then?"

You nod and Jisung whoops loudly.

✧

The whole thing turns out quite well, it happens, as there's a whole group dance practice at the end of the day. Most of the boys are sweaty and tired within the first few minutes, with the exception of Minho, with his main dancer core, and Hyunjin, who has had too much caffeine.

You watch from the sidelines, taking note of Chan's current mood and assessing whether it'd be wise to prank him; you don't want to catch him at a bad time, since he's usually stressed. But today, he seems a little more relaxed, dancing smoothly, with his voice soft and quiet, though still authoritative. The members seem more relaxed too because of it.

Jisung makes eye contact with you halfway through the dance, his arms up as he turns to the left. A devilish grin paints his face for a split second and you nod subtly. He slips up on purpose and Minho pretends to scold him, telling everything to take five.

Minho turns away and mouths something to you.

Now's your chance.

You casually walk over to where Chan is, touching his arm as he takes a swig of water from his water bottle. He smiles at you before kissing your cheek, and you almost feel bad for what you'd about to do. But you're curious too, about what his reaction will be like, so you keep on track.

Minho, Jisung, and Seungmin all walk up too. They must have told Seungmin about the prank, because he's clearly interested, though it's carefully hidden behind a straight face. Minho is the same, though Jisung is clearly struggling to keep a poker face.

"Hey, love," Chan smiles at you. "Anything you noticed during practice?"

You shake your head. "It all looks great at the moment, I think. Very energetic."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "Nothing at all? Usually there's at least one thing you say that we could all do better."

You whine a little, smiling. Trying to rile him up, make him huff a little. "Why is it my job and not yours, Channie? You're the leader, not me."

"Because," he says, matter-of-factly, "It's easier for you to notice where we're going wrong, because you're watching. It's harder to notice when you're dancing and moving. You can miss things."

You keep smiling and nod in response. He's not being rude, just telling you how it is. That's Chan for you.

Your mind is whirring, trying to think. He doesn't miss a beat, your Chan. It's difficult to piss him off or even argue with him. Of course, if you were one of the boys, it'd be easier. But Chan talks to you on a 300% softness setting, and apparently it's permanent.

"Well," you say slowly, pretending to think. "Maybe those last few moves, the turning ones? You could have done them better."

Chan tilts his head, seeking feedback. Even though you're not a dancer, he likes seeing it from your perspective. "How so?"

It takes all your effort not to burst out giggling. "Maybe you should copy Minho's dance moves more often. And actually listen to him."

Chan's eyebrow shoots up into his hairline. Minho simply looks at his leader, Seungmin doing the same. Jisung is clearly struggling to contain his laughter, and for a second you worry he might give the prank away. But it's Jisung, so no one bats an eye, least of all Chan.

His voice is a little lower, though still playful. "Are you suggesting I don't listen to him?"

You shrug nonchalantly. "I mean, if you had, you'd be as good as him. But you're not, soo..."

You can see the glint in Chan's eyes. Something swells in your chest, a tidal wave of mischief.

It's working.

"Yeah, hyung," Seungmin adds flatly, his face expressionless. "Listen to Y/n. Maybe if you'd taken her advice to begin with, you'd be main dancer. Must be a shame to be outdone by someone younger."

Jisung loses it then, the studio reverberating with his laughter, and even Minho cracks a tiny grin. Chan, however, is unamused.

Trust Seungmin to piss him off, you scoff internally. Probably why they brought him over here.

Chan says something in Korean then, which you can't understand, and Seungmin immediately leaves, walking away with a smirk. Jisung shuts up too. Must have been a threat.

He turns to you and you almost shrink under his gaze. It's dark and challenging.

"Continue, sweetheart," he drawls, leaning one muscled arm on the long cabinet against the wall.

Minho and Jisung are quiet.

"I-I wasn't saying anything wrong," you stutter suddenly, cheeks pooling with colour.

Chan tilts his head again, slightly raising one eyebrow.

You muster up all your confidence then, feigning nonchalance as best you can. "You'd be a better dancer if you spent more time practicing than shouting at everyone to get their shit together."

You see Minho and Jisung shoot wary glances at each other and you know immediately that you've crossed a line. An unspoken apology and several pleading phrases hang on the tip of your tongue, but your eyes flit to Chan's, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes are narrowed, head tilted, half a smile hanging off his lips. It's terrifying and hot and also scary at the same time. You try your best not to shrink under the intimidating look but it's like his gaze is a laser directed straight at your face.

You can't look away.

Chan steps closer and leans in slightly, his voice dangerously low. You can almost hear the smirk in his tone. "Take that back, sweetheart. Right now."

You fight against every survival instinct you have and keep your mouth pressed shut.

Chan asks one more time, his voice ever lower, and you spit out two words.

"Make me."

Chan's eyes flash with the challenge and he lets out a little, dark laugh. Minho, meanwhile, has a hand up against Jisung's face, most likely in preparation to quickly cover his younger member's eyes if something Chan making you take it back in front of everyone happens.

Chan doesn't even have to look at Minho and Jisung; he waves them off with two fingers, his gaze never leaving yours. You're stuck in position like prey being circled by a predator, waiting for the moment you'll be struck.

"What do you think he's saying to her?" Jisung whispers as he crosses the room with Minho.

He shrugs in response, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sits down, leaning against the floor-to-ceiling mirror. "Dunno. Probably something risqué."

"Minho," Jisung slaps his arm, a hushed laugh escaping his mouth. "You can't say stuff like that."

"What?" he protests. "Technically, it's all your fault because you put Y/n up to it."

"Aw, hyung," Jisung whines. "You agreed too. Should we confess and tell Chan-hyung it was a prank?"

"Nah. I mean, we could, but only if you admit it was your idea."

"That's the highest form of betrayal-"

"CHAN-HYUNG!" Minho suddenly shouts to him from their position on the opposite side of the room. Every head in the room turns towards them, including yours. "IT WAS ALL JISUNG'S IDEA-"

Jisung claps a hand over his friend's mouth, frantically attempting to muffle him. "Minho, shut up! You traitor!"

You take the opportunity to escape, ducking behind Seungmin. He's the only member not afraid of his leader, and both of you watch as Chan apparently forgets about you, instead stalking towards Minho, who is sitting eloquently unfazed against the mirror, and Jisung, who is frantically spewing apologies and pleading phrases, clutching to his friend's arm, eyes wide.

Seungmin lets out a laugh as you watch, poking you hard in the side. He raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Might as well escape before Chan remembers he has to make you take it back."

"CHANNIE!" You shout. "IT WAS SEUNGMIN'S IDEA-"

"Shut it!"

a/n: i know exactly what was going through yalls minds 📸

[faggotbeloved]

Hiya! May I please request some Wesker headcanons?

How would he react to a Reader that has no filter?

Reader is straightforward and doesn't take nonsense from anybody. Their sass is unmatched.

Wesker: 7 minutes, 7 minutes is all I can spare to play with you.

Reader: ...Not in that slutty ass outfit.

Following the 3SA timeline! Alternate snippets from S.T.A.R.S. and chapter 1 plus a little insight on each. I put a bit of a spin on it, I am super sorry if what I wrote wasn't what you intended.

Cw: suggestive

This work does not contain smut but is 18+.

└───────────────────────┘

Wesker thought you were annoying at first. He doesn't feel guilty when thinking back to it; he loves you for it now, but by god it pissed him off when you first joined S.T.A.R.S. You were blunt and argumentative, a walking HR violation, and you had a quip for everything.

-

(WESKER walks into the S.T.A.R.S. BRIEFING ROOM, groggy and already scowling. WESKER watches the coffee pot boil, leaning on the counter with his backside facing out. READER approaches from behind, wolf whistling.)

READER: Damn, Captain! Are you trying to detain criminals or seduce them?

WESKER: (Scowling) Keep it up, and you'll be moving to Bravo team.

READER: Yeah, I'm sure. How'd you even get your pants on?

-

But once he got to know you, he found it endearing, if not sexy. He was a brat first, Captain of S.T.A.R.S. second. You knew just how to wrangle him into submission. You were also a good partner, fiercely loyal, and attractive in general.

-

(WESKER and READER are speaking over radios.)

READER: Captain, have you found somewhere out of the line of fire? Sending reinforcements. Over.

WESKER: Yes, I've found a safe area. I'm near the east exit. Over.

READER: Copy. Good boy. Over and out.

WESKER: (Spluttering) You can't say that! There's other people on the line!

-

Of course, he wasn't sure what to do about the whole... leading S.T.A.R.S. into the mansion and betraying everyone. He'd try to sneak it into conversation, just to see if his far-fetched fantasy of you joining him and spearheading research together. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen, and he ends up leaving you after the mansion incident.

For years, it's radio silence from him. You recover from the betrayal, get right back into action, and work with the BSAA to stop the likes of him. Wesker, however, thought of you constantly. Your dry humor and quick wit was refreshing, and surrounded by yes-men and suckups he longs for someone to treat him sarcastically again.

When you reunite, he's (internally) ecstatic to see you, to get another chance to recruit you, and this time it surprisingly goes well.

-

READER: Well... I did miss fucking you. And, let's be honest, your global saturation plan is kinda hard to beat. It's an uphill battle here.

WESKER: (Flushing, for the first time in years, though remaining blank-faced) Excellent.

READER: Do I get to become your coruler? That'd be pretty cool.

WESKER: (Smiling softly) ...we'll see.

-

Then, you and him would be like Good Cop, Bad Cop except for the fact you're both chaotic. The major difference is that you're funny, he's stuffy.

You do not get along with Irving, interestingly enough. He's got the kind of humor you find grating on your very soul. You don't get along much with Excella, mainly because she wanted your spot as Wesker's partner.

You never really fight with him. Your relationship is unique in that blunt nature makes you trustworthy, so when you say you're on his side he believes you. He doesn't give you the shock collar because he knows you're telling the truth, so not needing to train you skips the majority of conflict.

Overall... surprisingly healthy?

┌───────────────────────┐

I was thinking of reader speaking similarly to Gale from BG3 during this, just... without the awkwardness

Read my other Wesker works?

[sunandflame]

The Third Heart

Warnings: pregnancy

Word Count: 915

Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x Pregnant!Reader

a/n: continuation of "the wanting" and "confirmation"

crossposted on AO3

The announcement came after days of careful observation, gentle prodding, and a final, softly spoken confirmation from Law himself.

The Heart Pirates were gathered in the Polar Tang's galley, plates half-full and conversation casual. Bepo was telling a story, something about a giant crab stealing Shachi's shoe, and laughter echoed through the room. You were nestled quietly beside Law at the far end of the table, your hand resting over your belly, half-nervous, half-awed.

Law placed his chopsticks down with a deliberate clack. The shift in his posture made the crew look up. "I have an announcement," he said, voice calm but firm.

Everyone turned. Shachi's mouth was still half-full of rice. Penguin blinked.

"Y/N is pregnant."

Silence.

And then—

"WAIT, WHAT?!"

Shachi nearly knocked over his bowl. Bepo stood up so fast he bumped his head on the overhead lamp. Ikkaku gasped, hand flying to her mouth, and Clione made a strange gurgling sound somewhere between a cheer and a squeak.

"You mean—pregnant, pregnant?" Penguin stammered. "Like—with a baby?"

"That's what 'pregnant' means, idiot," Law muttered.

You couldn’t help laughing then, covering your face as the crew broke into a storm of exclamations.

"A BABY!"

"We're going to be uncles!"

"Holy crap, we need to baby-proof the ship!"

"Does that mean we'll have a nursery on the Polar Tang?!"

They swarmed you like over excited puppies, careful not to touch but buzzing with energy. Bepo especially hovered nearby, eyes wide and bright, asking a million gentle questions: How far along? Are you feeling okay? Can he bring you tea? Should he move your seat in the galley to a softer cushion?

Law stood like a quiet wall behind you, arms crossed, his usual scowl softening as he watched.

Over the next few weeks, the changes came in waves.

You started showing.

Not much, just a small swell beneath your navel. But Law noticed before anyone else. His eyes were drawn to the curve every time you changed clothes or reached for something. His hands lingered longer when he touched your waist, fingers tracing absentmindedly along your skin with the careful reverence of a man who understood how fragile things could be.

And then came the protection.

At first, it was subtle. He positioned you further from the engine room when repairs were being done. He started bringing you tea before you could ask. Then it escalated.

"You don't need to carry that."

"It’s literally a pillow, Law."

"Still. Let Bepo do it."

He began checking your vitals every night, palm pressed to your forehead, hand resting against your wrist, eyes scanning for any irregularities. He never said it aloud, but you knew. This baby was everything to him. A miracle. A chance to make something whole in the wreckage of his past.

The crew followed his lead.

If Law was protective, the Heart Pirates were fanatical. You weren’t allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup of tea. Someone was always nearby to steady you on stairs or offer a seat. Meals were catered to your cravings. At one point, Penguin hand-sewed you a maternity vest. It was hideous, but you wore it proudly for a day just to see him grin.

"Captain," Bepo whispered one night, as you dozed curled up beside Law on the sofa, "I've never seen you like this."

Law didn't look up from the medical notes he was reading. But a faint smile touched the corners of his lips.

"Neither have I."

The baby came during a quiet night near a remote island port.

You'd docked for supplies, not expecting labor for another week, but the baby had other plans. Law was a fortress of calm. He ushered you into the medical bay with practiced efficiency, ordering the crew to stay out but stay close. Bepo stationed himself right outside the door, refusing to budge.

Inside, it was just you and Law.

You remembered his hands, steady and cool, guiding you through each contraction. His voice, low and firm in your ear: "You're doing perfect. Just breathe."

And when the baby finally came—a wail, sharp and small and alive—you saw something in Law's face you'd never seen before.

Wonder.

Pure, unfiltered wonder.

He held the child like he was cradling the last piece of a broken star. Silent. Staring.

"It's a girl," he whispered.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks as you rested your head exhausted back.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

Time passed. The Polar Tang adapted.

The medical bay became a temporary nursery, its corners filled with soft blankets and handmade toys. The crew walked softer now, spoke quieter. Everyone took turns watching the baby when you needed rest. Even Law, who at first acted awkward around the tiny bundle, soon became a practiced pro at swaddling, feeding, even humming under his breath to lull her to sleep.

You caught him once in the galley, early morning, cradling her against his chest. He didn’t notice you at first. She was cooing softly, one small hand gripping the lapel of his coat. And Law—stoic, grumpy, brilliant Law—was murmuring something about how her toes were exactly like yours.

You didn't interrupt. 

You just watched. 

Because in that moment, everything he'd ever lost had made room for something new.

And he was whole again.

So were you.

And the sea? It still waited. Still called. But now, it wasn’t just the two of you braving its depths.

It was three.

And that made all the difference.

This is for @karsinthesilly and @rhuski2002 because they requested a 3rd part. And of course tagging also @stuckinthewrongworld because I know she loves Law ❤️