#i'm feeling sick today and well in my feelings apparently

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

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ch. iv

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 3.9k

warning : adultery, cheating, medical condition (?), negative depiction of wooyoung

a/n : sorry it took a while but life is shit and I've been doing nothing but STRUGGLING. head so overly packed and yet thoughts were not thunken so i decide to finish this chapter. here's to torture ig. help a sister out, send tips so i can drown myself in bubble tea pls

buy me coffee ?

Never would you have expected to be in the exact same place in the exact same situation as before. Well, not the exact same per se, but you thought the same thing couldn't happen twice, you being called to the hospital that is. Apparently, your husband had another accident and since you were his dearest wife and emergency contact, the hospital called you up.

You were not spiteful nor bitter towards your husband, you never were until you found out that he was cheating on you. So the nagging thought in your head that convinced you that he was probably with his mistress when he got hurt again made you feel rather sick to your stomach. Perhaps you had been in some sort of denial while Wooyoung was recovering from his initial injury, thinking that maybe it was only a one-time thing or the cheating had stopped because you hadn't seen him doing anything shady or being secretive during his recovery. In all honesty, you begrudgingly and heartbrokenly expected him to cheat again because the access was just there even with the doubt.

The turmoil plus the morning sickness had taken a toll on you, not to mention the household chores and catering to the man who had broken your trust in him. It hadn't even occurred to you that you probably need to go see your OBGYN again to check up on the baby you had yet to mention to anyone. At this point, the question was whether you will or not. Considering the situation you were facing, the option of running away to Sweden to become a childcare professional seemed very enticing. You wouldn't have to worry about the money to take care of your child or their education, the government will provide and you can visit the original IKEA. But of course that was but a fantasy, you still have responsibilities and unlike some people, you stick to your words.

Arriving at the nurse's station in the emergency room, you huffed and took a moment to take a deep breath, suddenly feeling nauseated and lightheaded. Seeing this, one of the nurses walked around and went over to you, "Miss, are you okay? Do you need emergency care?" the care in her voice, be it due to nurse training or genuine worry made you crack a smile, "No, no, no, I'm- I'm here to see my husband, I got a call that," you cut yourself to swallow the bile that threatened to escape you, willing yourself to finish your sentence, "-That he was rushed here because he got hurt?" Although it was obvious that you were not there as a patient, the nurse shook her head and gently directed you towards the seats nearby, "You need to sit down first, miss," she stated but you shook your head, "No, no, please, I just need to see if he's okay and it's Mrs.," you clarified but did nothing to push back. She wouldn't listen and just sat you down and it was only then did you realized how the world had practically turned into a gyrosphere. "I will check on the name of your husband and I will bring you tea. You look very pale and I don't think we need both you and your husband sick today," she smiled but the words she let out only left a bitter taste in your tongue as the notion that you and Wooyoung were some type of team only made you more aware how much you were not. But you agreed and just smiled back at her, allowing her to return to the station to check on where Wooyoung was and to get you something.

Whilst waiting, you looked around as your mind wandered. For some reason your brain decided it would be a good idea to suddenly think of what's to come. Surely, Wooyoung realized that something had been going on with you which was the reason why he was suddenly being so attentive and tried to get you to speak to him which you had been so adamantly avoid. The thought of Wooyoung potentially badgering you even more because he'll be stuck in the house due to whatever condition he was in made you feel anxious. For the first time ever in your life, you realized that you both wanted your husband to be contained in your house so he would stop his affair but also resented the idea of being stuck there with him.

You stood up and started walked towards the exit, not knowing if you need a breather or to just leave the hospital and deal with Wooyoung later.

Your plan to leave the premises was halted when the curtain to one of the areas was pulled back and a very familiar face stepped out. The face you came to resent despite being fond of it in the first place, when you saw it around 3 years ago when she first came to the company.

For some reason, your legs seemed to freeze and your hands felt cold. At that moment, you truly wanted to leave, run past her and simply leave the premises and maybe just leave your husband because the conversation that happened in front of you was something you didn't want to handle.

Your eyes followed as Harin went over to the nurse's station, smiling to one of the other nurses who was sitting there. "Hi, can you please keep an eye in case the patient in bed number 4 woke up? I'm going to go get something for him to drink. Poor guy left home in a rush to meet me," she said sheepishly but there was a slight bragging undertone that made the nurse cooed slightly. "Don't you worry, Mrs Jung, I'll make sure your husband knows where you are," she smiled. Two times this had happened in the same hospital and it made you sick to your stomach when you saw her beam proudly and thank the nurse before sauntering off.

At that moment you felt numb. It wasn't like you didn't know there was an affair going on, you just never expected to have seen the relationship yourself. Have they talked about commitment? Was that why the little homewrecker thought she was or would be Wooyoung's wife? Was Wooyoung planning on leaving you all along? Had your children slipped Wooyoung's mind for some reason? If you were unsure before, the uncertainty left your body completely as you made up your mind that you had to protect your children and yourself. If Wooyoung was going to leave and start another family with some dumb 20-something with no redeeming value nor moral compass, then you're going to make sure he does it without affecting your children. As redundant as that sounded.

In a blink of an eye, you found yourself next to Wooyoung who was resting. You looked over his body and for once in your life, you suddenly didn't care that he was right there nor what his injuries might be. It didn't matter to you all of a sudden because looking at him only made you aware that he had allowed someone to touch him the way he had once promised only you would be able to. The last time he was hurt on her watch turned out was because of his bad back and with the power of cynical assumption and logical thinking, you imagine he was in some sort of sexual activity with her and this time was no better.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't even realize that Wooyoung had opened his eyes and was staring at you from his position on the bed.

"(y/n)?" he called you, eyes soft as he gazed at the worried look on your face, mistaking it as worry over him, "When did you get here?" he asked, the tone didn't indicate any panic which could be assumed as him not wanting you to see his mistress. Perhaps he was unaware of the particular situation.

The turmoil in your head hadn't died down, it only amplified when Wooyoung talked. Your heart ached to see him looking at you so softly as he had been nothing short of detached from you for a long while. It had to go to this point for him to show you any semblance of closeness or even just a tiny showcase of care. The Wooyoung you were seeing was the Wooyoung you fell in love with, even if it's just a glimpse. The acknowledgement hurt, it hurt you so much and it hurt you deeply.

How surprised you were when your body moved to sit next to him on the bed, quietly taking in his attention on you. "I... I got a call from the hospital saying you got hurt again. Are you okay?" You could see Wooyoung trying to sit up but you held him back, shaking your head because in this position, you felt like you had the upper hand. In this situation, you felt like you could see how small he was. On the other hand, Wooyoung took this as you not wanting him to get hurt again so he laid back down and sighed, "I'm okay I guess," he shrugged. "What happened?" you couldn't help but ask, though you weren't entirely sure if you wanted to know because what if he told you that he was in the middle of doing the nasty with his side bitch and he broke his... equipment or something? "Not sure," he exhaled sharply, "I was talking one moment and when I turned around to leave, I hit my back and I just... Fell."

Lies.

Well, it was the truth from Wooyoung's side at least.

Sure, he completely skipped over the fact that he was in the middle of telling Harin that they should not meet each other for a while and it was because of her trying to stop him that he hurt his back yet again. The moment he fell down was the moment he realized he should've said that he was taking a break from her indefinitely, possibly breaking up with her completely. As if that would make things any better.

"You just... Fell?" you repeated, not sure if you were just echoing, or trying to test him and see if he told you what you thought was the truth, or if you were trying to convince yourself. But Wooyoung nodded, looking sure of his answer too. "Yeah and it hurt so much I think I passed out in the ambulance like a wimp," he chuckled to himself, not knowing that you completely agreed that he was being a wimp but for a whole other reason.

"But you know what," all of a sudden, Wooyoung slinked his hand to hold yours and your body immediately froze be it due to the heavy unsurety or shock, you weren't sure. But you were pretty sure his touch no longer had the effect it once had on you because though this felt like your old Wooyoung genuinely coming back, all you wanted to do was to push him away.

"Though I was scared, though I was in pain, all I could think about was you. I was thinking about how if I was injured again, I would burden you even more, how it would affect you and your daily function," he said, choking up slightly. You have known him long enough to know that the emotion he was showing was genuine. But all it did was piss you off.

"I'm sorry I have been such a burden to you, I've been a tool what with my work and not helping you around. These past three weeks had taught me that you have been holding us together better than I did, better than I ever did actually. And for that, I love you. I love you so much and once this is all over, I want us to return to what we were before or however way you want because you deserve it."

That was a slap to your face.

You deserve it.

It was as if he was saying that you deserved to be cheated by him.

You hadn't realized that you had shed a tear until Wooyoung tried to sit up again but he failed because his back had prevented him. So he gripped the hand in his tighter and reached a hand up to cup your face, wanting to wipe the tear away. But this time, you were the one who took his hand in yours, delightfully surprising him because he thought that you were reciprocating him.

"I..." you took a moment to clear your throat and calm yourself down, not wanting your words to fail you, "I'm so glad to hear that, Wooyoung." A huge smile broke on Wooyoung's face hearing your response to his confession. You too, had a smile on your face, but it was one of sadness, it was one of pain which Wooyoung would have noticed had it not been because he was too involved with his own feelings. "I'm so glad to know that you still cared a lot about me," you sighed.

You knew the words that were at the tip of your tongue would change everything so for the sake of the decades you spent with the man before you, you allowed yourself one final moment to take it all in again. Enjoying the reappearance of your old lover before you go back to reality, the reality he had put you in.

"I know you've been cheating on me."

In an instant, Wooyoung froze.

His smile, present, projected his internal shock and confusion.

"What?" he asked, unsure if he had heard you clearly.

The hand that held his moved to push his bangs aside, allowing him to see how eerily calm you were.

"I... I know you've been cheating on me with someone and that person is here with you. Though I'm not completely sure, I feel like you were with her when you got hurt this time and the last and she had made it a point to tell the nurses that she was your spouse," you chuckled darkly and the sound was so unfamiliar and cold that it struck fear in Wooyoung's heart. "(y/n), I-" "And, you know how she got kicked out not long after? During your first hospitalization? It was because I accidentally told the nurses that I was your wife." The more you talked, the bitter the reality became for you and yet, you can't find it in yourself to stop laughing. "I- I actually thought that you would at least have the decency to stop seeing her when you were resting these past weeks but apparently I was wrong. Just like how I was wrong about having a husband who honours our vows, right? So I'm glad that you told me that you still loved me Wooyoung, no matter how much of a bullshit it was, I'm glad you have just now realized how much I've done for you, for our children, for our family."

The mention of his kids made Wooyoung's eyes widened, thinking that maybe they knew too be it from you telling him or them seeing him with Harin themselves. To make the situation even more nerve-wracking for him, the monitor picked up on his rising heartbeat, allowing you to know just how afraid he was.

"Because as of right now, I am done. I am done being your doormat," you leaned close to him and in a flash, your eyes turned from pain to pure anger, the eyes that used to look at him with love and hope were looking at him in disgust, "As of right now, I am done being your wife," you finally spat before pushing yourself completely off him and the bed, standing up to fix your clothes, "You can go ahead and play house with that homewrecker or whichever whore you want but one thing you won't get is my children and my compassion." Instinctively, your hand fell to your stomach where your newest addition was residing as if promising it that you both would be okay despite everything. "So you take good care of yourself, Wooyoung, or you make sure whoever you choose to be with you next could take care of you, you hear me? Because hell would freeze over before I let myself serve you again."

When you turned around to leave, Wooyoung felt like his world was shaking like a massive earthquake.

"No- wait-" he tried calling for you, he tried getting up again only to wince and fail. All hopes he had that you would still come back to him was crushed when you didn't even look back at his pained cry.

His world came crumbling down when he saw you opening and closing his curtain, leaving him alone in that bed with your words weighing on him like a hundred tons of bricks. Just as he had seen the wrong he did, just as he had decided to come back, karma slapped him so hard, he was sure he wouldn't recover. So he lay there, he laid on his bed with his eyes on the ceiling and he cried silently. The tears stung his eyes but he couldn't bear to wipe them away himself, he couldn't bear to move, not when he realized how fucked he was. How stuck he was.

In a way, you were lucky to be able to leave the premises and possibly choose to just never see Wooyoung again.

Oddly, you hadn't shed a tear despite the fear, pain, sorrow, disgust, confusion, and uncertainty mixing together and creating a tornado of negativity in your head. You thought that you had to keep it all in until you didn't have to attend to your responsibilities which were your children.

Glancing at the clock, you saw that you had a good 2 hours before you had to pick Woohyun up and take him to his after-school class while Dayoung would take the bus with her friends to hakwon. Realizing the vacancy you had, you thought that you could do some good with your time. You could maybe pack your things and your children's things up so when you pick them up, you can take them straight to your parents' house. Or, since you and your children took up the majority, you could pack Wooyoung's things up, drop them at the academy and leave them for the bitty homewrecker with the note 'Have fun with my leftover, whorish bitch'. It was only at that moment did you even think of her and how the affair came to be. You were a firm believer that some feelings are just uncontrollable but ultimately, someone's actions are absolutely controllable. And that bitch and Wooyoung decided to abandon control for whatever reason there is and now they forced your children to be in a broken family. You weren't against divorce, especially if infidelity was involved, you were just against your children having to go through unimaginable pain and having to navigate through life with all sorts of uncertainty.

It astounded you that even after dropping the hammer on your husband (or is it soon-to-be-ex-husband now?), all you could care about were your children and how to help them going forward.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't realize that you were already parked in front of your house for the past 15 minutes, just glaring at the car ahead as if that car was the one who had wronged your family.

A sudden knock from the window on your side caused you to jump in surprise and of course, the official ambassador of Wooyoung's hospitalization showed up.

"Hey, don't you need to get out?" Yunho asked, raising an eyebrow and offering a smile that would've made you chuckle on a normal day. But alas, you were not in the mood.

When you finally got out of the car, you tried your best to avoid being close to Yunho or even to just see Yunho. At that moment, the grass on your lawn seemed more interesting.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, voice void of any emotions. Yunho furrowed his eyebrows and ducked, trying to find your eyes but of course, you were evading it. "Aren't you gonna look at me?" he asked but you immediately shook your head and kept your mouth shut.

There was a long pause because Yunho wanted to hear you speak but you had adamantly stuck to your ground, not wanting to say anything for absolutely no reason at all. It kind of annoyed you how Yunho was there on your most vulnerable days what with being the first to know of your awareness of your husband's infidelity and now he was probably going to be yet another first in knowing that you had just informed your husband that you basically wanted to separate from him permanently. You didn't hate Yunho as a person despite everything, you just hated his timing.

Then he surprised you yet again when he reached forward and gently took ahold of your hand, effectively causing you to look up at him though initially in annoyance but you didn't take your hand from him.

Yunho's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, struggling to find the words to use on you. Should he tell you that he had heard what you told Wooyoung at the ER? Should he tell you that he was proud that you were doing something good for yourself? What could he even say to make things better? Your marriage had just ended, there is nothing that could make that fact better because it was a devastating thing for you and you were going to have to go through all sorts of hassle and pain alone while still supporting two children. Well, three, but thankfully that little nugget of information was one that he wasn't privy to.

So rather than trying to comfort you, Yunho just smiled and nodded.

It was the availability of Yunho that broke you. One, two tears dropped down your cheek before you felt the air sucked out of you and the horrifying realization of your action was finally dropped down on you.

"Oh God," you gasped, knees buckling when you started sobbing but Yunho's reflex immediately kicked in and he pulled you into his arms, supporting your weight as you received the immense weight of reality.

Yunho didn't dare say anything, he didn't even dare to comfort you because he knew he couldn't do anything. There was nothing for him to do but to allow you to have your moment and just be there to support you because God knows without him, you wouldn't have the support you need without having to hurt not only yourself all over again, but possibly hurt more people. So at that moment, though it pained him to see such a strong person break down like that, he let things go the way they should because as hard as he was trying to keep the thought down, he knew what he was doing was a good thing.

Unfortunately, the eyes that watched you and Yunho embracing each other so freely in public- in front of the house you shared with Wooyoung, didn't think the same way. The eyes that watched you had misunderstood, thinking that it was you who was unfaithful.

A picture worth a thousand words. And how glad Dayoung was for taking two.

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[ex0rin]

You let your canary die, how you gonna know when you've gone too far?

Butcher & Hughie | The Boys S02E03

[yellowhollyhock]

gross oversharing post

So I've been swallowing? incorrectly? i hate this

agonizing these past few days because my throat hurts bad and the thing that helps is drinking much water. Which requires use of throat. Which hurts bad. I take naturally small sips anyway, and because every sip was excruciating I probably started taking even smaller sips. Without even realizing.

Well this morning. I accidentally. Took a huge gulp. And the pain was barely noticeable compared to how it's been. Still hurts when I'm not actively chugging but apparently my throat tortures me a lot less if I just fill the whole thing with water at once instead of like. Sipping. The way that I have my whole life.

Like I would never in a million years have known to ask if I was swallowing correctly, if drinking water differently would feel better on my throat. I'm so mad.

25 years.

Who the freak has to be taught how to swallow unpainfully

[gamerwoman3d]

Personal in the tags.

[luveline]

jade i am begging on my knees ….. any time you are up for it …… it would make me very greatly happy to see something with a bombshell!reader x hotch <33333

The office is hot today in the midst of a ninety degree summer, and your coworkers have been forced to strip down to their lightest layers, the women in linen blouses, men with their shirt sleeves rolled up high. Spencer has ditched his sweater vest reluctantly, cooling himself with a makeshift fan fashioned from printer paper, and Emily huffs next to you at her desk, overwhelmed. 

“How aren't you hot?” she demands to know. 

You lean back in your chair with a demure smile. “Mind over matter.”  

She rolls her eyes. “I shouldn't have asked.” 

Hotch's office door opens. You turn in your chair to watch him appear —even Unit Chief's get hot, apparently. He looks flustered in the heat, pink-cheeked and hair skewed ever so slightly, the most unmade you've ever seen him at work. 

You could get used to it. 

He feels you looking, narrowing his eyes. You'd like to think it was playful. For Hotch, it is. 

“Hot, handsome,” you say. 

“I'm fine.” 

“I wasn't asking.” You beam at him. 

“Enough. You know the rules.” 

He doesn't seem too mad, but he's right; you know the office rules. Don't flirt, don't start, and don't text him inside of work hours unless that text pertains to work itself. You'd started calling him instead —what are you wearing right now?— and he'd decided that text now meant any communication lest you find another loophole. You're pushing it. 

“Ah, the rules,” you say, throwing your arm across your eyes in mock distress, before peeking under it to see if he's watching. He always is. “You know rules aren't made for people like me, handsome.” 

“Stop it, final warning. Or I'll have you moved.” 

He makes being his girlfriend very difficult. You roll your shoulders and drop the act. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.” 

“Afterwards.” 

“No, right now. Please? It's important, I swear.” 

He gestures for you to come up. You take the stairs and cross the landing to his office, where he's already stepped back inside to open the window even further on its hinge. There isn't much wind to breeze, but there is a palpable difference between his office and the bullpen. You join him at the window and let the barely cooler air fan your face. 

“What's wrong?” he asks. 

“Can you give me a quick kiss? It would really lift my spirits.” 

He laughs somewhere deep in his chest. “No, honey. Now tell me what you wanted to tell me.” 

“I have a doctor's appointment next week, on the 13th. It's a Wednesday. I was hoping for PTO, but I can take a sick day if that's not agreeable.” 

Hotch gives you the side eye, brows gently furrowed. “Everything okay?” 

“Wouldn't you like to know.” 

“I would, actually.” 

“Yeah, well, you'll have to beg for it. Not everything in life is free, Hotchner–” You break into laughter as he grabs your waist, not expecting it, your hips tender as he squeezes. “Ouch, you're kinda handsy, you know that?” 

You sound beautiful like this, laughing as you talk, so happy it lines every word. Hotch pulls your front to his, arms crossing casually behind your back, his eyes expectant. “Tell me,” he commands smoothly. 

“Because you asked so nicely, I'm just fine, but I've been feeling a little under the weather. I think I'm anaemic.” 

“And this is the first time I'm hearing about this because…” 

“Because I'm not allowed to talk to you at work!” 

He rolls his eyes as you drop a considerable amount of your weight against his arms. Usually, Hotch would meet your eyes and say, You're punishing me for a rule created out of necessity, or something to that effect, but, despite everything that might say otherwise, he really likes you. Loves you.

“I know, honey, I'm sorry. Maybe we can… allot you a few texts a day.” He analyses your expression. “One a day.” 

You squeeze his naked forearm and lift up to kiss his cheek. He stays completely still while you do it, beside the small stroke of his thumb where it rests on your back. “Thank you. I'll leave you alone now, or we might get caught fraternising with one another and lose our jobs. Oh, wait, that's not actually going to happen–” 

You burst out laughing as Hotch once again squeezes your waist in warning, the hint of a smile on his lips. 

[youremyonlyhope]

.

[hypewinter]

Dick stared out at the snowy landscape past the window before turning back to his new baby brother. Danny was sitting in his high chair, happily munching away at some Cheerios. Looking at him now Dick thought back to how he had come to Wayne Manor just a few months prior.

Bruce had stormed into the Manor after coming back from a Justice League mission with a bundle in his hands. Dick who had stopped by the manor to steal food catch up with Alfred had been thoroughly thrown off by his father's open animosity. He could hardly recall the last time he'd seen Bruce this outwardly furious. The man's glare alone could rival Darkseid's omega beams. As Bruce sat down at the table, the two men finally got a good look at just what he was carrying. It was an infant. An infant who was fast asleep, his soft black hair falling over his eyes. Bruce quietly asked Alfred to prepare a room as well as all necessities needed for a baby. The old butler had immediately set off to just that.

Meanwhile Dick was quick to ask what had happened but Bruce didn't say. Even when the others gradually found what was happening and asked their own questions, he still refused to answer. Not even Alfred had been told where the baby had come from. The only information Bruce had offered up was that the baby's name was Danny and he would be staying at the Manor from now on. As for the rest of the details, he claimed he would tell them in due time. But Batman's "due time" was often too late to actually do anything about it so desperate for answers, the family had turned to their own investigations only to come up with nothing.

All files related to Danny were locked behind a mountain of firewalls and Oracle had apparently already been sworn to secrecy by the big man himself. Whatever it was, Bruce wanted absolutely zero interference, so for now, the family was forced to sit in their hands.

That led till now, 5 months later. It was mid-January and Dick was on babysitting duty. Everyone else was either out running errands or on a mission. Not that Dick minded though. Danny was incredibly cute and he loved taking care of him. Besides, it gave him the perfect opportunity to get Danny to see him as the favorite brother. Still, Dick couldn't help but feel couped up today. Maybe it was because it had been snowing the last few days leaving both boys alone in the giant manor all day long.

Dick stared wistfully out the window once again before an idea dawned on him. He turned back to Danny who had stuffed the last of the Cheerios into his mouth along with his entire hand.

"Hey Danny. Wanna have a snow day?" he asked cheerily. The boy cocked his head at Dick, hand still in mouth. Dick smiled wider. "I'll take that as a yes!"

Dick hoisted Danny out of his high chair and carried him upstairs to his room. After he set Danny down in his crib, he grabbed all the gear he needed. He picked out a long sleeve shirt with a cartoon star and big bold letters reading "You're a Star!" He also grabbed long socks, some elastic pants as well as jeans, a scarf, a blue beanie, and a pair of cute little mittens.

It didn't take long for Danny to be fully dressed for the outside elements. Though after Dick finished putting his shoes on, he squirmed a little and made a face.

"I know I know," Dick cooed. "But I'm pretty sure B. would make an exception to his 'no killing rule' if you got sick on my watch."

Dick admired his handy work for a minute (taking dozens of pictures as he did so) before picking his brother up and heading downstairs. After a quick pitstop at the door to grab his own jacket and gloves from the coat rack, he opened the door and greeted the chilly air outside.

Danny giggled as he reached up at the snow while Dick circled around to the side of the manor.

"Bitey! Bitey!" he squealed.

"Yep, Bitey," Dick replied with mild confusion.

Danny would say random things like that sometimes, forcing the world's greatest detectives to put their minds together in order to figure out what he was talking about. One time he just wouldn't stop saying "Em". It took everyone a whole day to realize he was referring to music. And an extra two days to figure out he was specifically referring to pop music.

Oftentimes he would call Barbara "Jazzy" and Duke "Tuck". On occasion he would even call Cass "Sammy". Every time he called something a new name, it was a race to figure out what he meant. Each time they figured out a new word, Bruce's face would darken and he'd disappear off to the Watchtower for the day. Something that was really starting to drag on Dick's nerves. It was like it was physically impossible for that man to share information.

Dick was startled out of his thoughts by a tug at his jacket and looked down to see Danny staring at him.

"Sorry sorry," he said with a smile. "Lost in my thoughts. Forgive me?"

Danny put on a pout but Dick knew by now that it was fake. One could tell by the mischievous look in the boy's eyes that he just couldn't hide. "So be it then!" Dick declared before pulling Danny close and snuggling into him. The boy shrieked as cold nose touched warm neck. "Fo-give! Fo-give!" he cried.

"Aw thanks," Dick said as he pulled away. Danny giggled again, his bright blue eyes crinkling with laughter.

The pair walked around in the snow for a bit longer before Danny started making grabby hands towards the ground. "You want down?" Dick asked. Danny nodded energetically.

"Alright."

Dick carefully set Danny down in the snow. The boy excitedly wriggled before putting his hands down to the snow. As Dick watched, there was a burst of light and suddenly there was a semi circle of ice, radiating out from their position. Dick stared at the ice in shock. Danny turned and blinked up at Dick, almost as if he were in shock too. But he very quickly went back to playing in the snow. Dick swallowed. Sure they all knew Danny had powers. It was pretty obvious when the third day there, he floated up to the ceiling. Still though, he highly doubted ice powers was up there on anyone's list of "abilities our new baby brother might manifest next."

Dick was so shocked all he could manage to utter was, "Huh. That's new."

[wittlesissyb4by]

Normalcy

"I'm so sorry! This…this never happens!!”

She drew her lips in a line and nodded, like she’d heard it a thousand times before, then went back to smacking her gum as she balled up the soggy diaper with practiced precision.

“No! I’m serious! I’m a grown man!! It’s not like I walk around pissing myself all the time!”

She scoffed, then shrugged. “Well you weren’t doing much walking—first of all—more like waddling. But you mean to tell me you never wet yourself? You’ve never wet a diaper before?”

“No…i…”

She inclined her head to the corner of the room, where a big sack of loaded diapers sat in a blue see-through bag.

“Okay…fine, I do. But only after a very long time period!! You don’t understand! My wife will leave me in them for the whole day!”

“I’ve only been here for an hour…”

“Yes but…” i wanted to tell her that was because my wife had made me drink three entire baby bottles of nasty fluids before she left. I tried to hold it. I really did. I didn’t want her little ‘babysitter’ to see me in a soggy diaper. In hindsight, i should have just let it all out with my wife and begged her to change me before she went off with that other dude. “It’s not a regular thing!”

“She told me you wet the bed.” The girl said, hardly even blinking as she taped my plump padding into a ball.

It was hard to explain that one away. Sure, there were several drunken nights where I’d blacked out and woken up with wet sheets in our marital bed. My wife was none too happy, but somehow those incidents kept happening even when I was sober, until she finally grew sick of it.

“So how long have you been in diapers?” The girl asked, setting my old one to the side and grabbing a fresh pamper. She asked it so casually, like it was a common point of conversation.

“3 months…” I said, unable to deny it anymore. “For the last two weeks it’s been 24/7. She…threw out all my underwear.”

The girl nodded as if nothing were out of the ordinary, tapping my thighs, apparently signaling for me to lift. I did so without incident, allowing her to slide the new diaper underneath.

“Do you make poo poo’s in them too?”

“No!” I said instinctively, but again she looked at me like a rugrat attempting an obvious lie.

“So if I go put your head in that bag, you won’t suffocate under a cloud of your own shit?”

Her words were cold, I had a feeling she’d do it too.

“Okay…fine. I do…”

“Do what?”

“P-poop…”

“Poop where?” She grinned, still smacking her gum, “I want you to tell me.”

I scrunched up my nose, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I poop in the diapers.”

But she wasn’t satisfied, “now tell me wike a baybee!”

She couldn’t be serious, but when her face turned stern with impatience, it told me that she probably wasn’t someone I should cross.

“Uh…i…” I felt my voice growing smaller, higher, “I make poo poo’s in my pampies!!”

She smiled wide at that. “How do you poop?”

“I…what?” I asked, voice returning to normal.

“How do you do it? Do you crouch? Get down on hour haunches and make a pushy? Or have you learned to go in any position already? All the men I babysit have a different method. It’s adorable. One of them even has to sit on the potty in order to go!“

“I just…do it…I guess. I dunno?” Usually squatting, it came out surprisingly easy that way, but I didn’t want to tell her that, and she didn’t press further, just seemed intent on making me blush.

“Well…I don’t feel like changing a poopy diaper today. So you’re going to get the plug, okay?”

P-plug?

She reached into her diaper bag that she brought herself, and pulled out a rather large silicon buttplug.

“Oh…i dunno…” I said, squirming on top of the diaper splayed out beneath me. “My wife and I don’t really do butt stuff…”

But she just smiled and squirted some lube on it, painting the glob over it with her fingers. “It’s cute that you think you have a say in the matter.” She giggled, “legs up!”

Before I knew it, my ankles were in the air. It was like she had some sort of power over me that I couldn’t resist.

I winced as she pressed the plug to my hole, gently working it in and out, in and out. I had to bite my lip to keep the squeals (and moans?) in. It felt…surprisingly good.

By the time she’d worked it all the way in, there was a little puddle leaking out of my chastity cage. It had spread onto my belly button while my legs were in the air.

“Sorry…” I said as she grabbed a baby wipe to clean up the sticky mess I’d made.

"Don't worry about it.” She smiled, amused. “It's...normal..."

“Is it?” I asked, feeling a sense of relief.

“Sure.” She shrugged, but it came off sarcastic. “Well…not normal to be a grown man in diapers. To poop said diapers. Not normal to have your wife go off and hire a babysitter to change your diapers. And definitely not normal to have another man fuck your wife. But leaking a little cum through your chastity cage while getting a plug shoved up your ass?” She tossed the sticky wipe down into my open diaper, lifting the front so she could tape it on, “yea, I guess that’s pretty ‘normal’…”

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[justporo]

The Push and the Pull (There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin)

I'm so deep in my feelings today, just sitting on the sofa being sick. So this is what you get: an angsty, fluffy, deeply corny fic of Astarion and Tav having a heart to heart. (Fueled by Taylor Swift and underlined by a Hozier lyric in the title, we really out here using all the clichés today)

And I'd really like to dedicate this to all my friendly and lovely and caring mutuals and friends here today - those I talk to almost every day now, those who created lovely art for me and those who are just all around so so lovely to me.

Summary: Since Astarion's confession, Tav and the vampire have spent every single possible moment together, getting closer, but guilt weighs on her and so she speaks her mind - about more than one thing apparently.

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: Talk about sex and past trauma

Wordcount: 2,4k

Song: This is me trying - Taylor Swift

~~~

You laid with Astarion in his tent, all entangled: your arms around his upper body, one leg hooked around his and the other mushed between his as well. And Astarion held you just as desperately. His arms always seemed to drag you in closer as to not allow just the tiniest piece of space between you. His hands were roaming your back, softly caressing it and his face burrowed in your hair, softly nuzzling you with his nose.

Your face was buried in his chest, breathing in his scent: camp fire smoke, forest pine needles and some of the scent he liked to put on with bergamot and brandy.

You wanted to hold him as closely as possible. Wanting to give him as much of this comfort as possible.

Since his confession at Moonrise Towers you had spent every single night together. At first Astarion had seemed a bit surprised when you had come over and told him you wanted to spend the evening and the night with him. Seemingly he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around the fact that you actually wanted to spend time with him – with both your clothes on. Despite you assuring him after his confession that you cared deeply for him and were more than prepared to aid him in figuring out what he needed. And waiting, waiting until he was comfortable again for other stuff – or even finding new ways altogether if that was what was required.

But soon he’d been awaiting you every evening to come over, seeming like a kid that was desperate to be allowed to finally leave the dinner table to go play whenever you and the rest set up camp for the night. And so usually during the evening when the whole party retired you spent your nights with the vampire. Talking, detangling his hair, kissing, him massaging your tensed back, joking around until you both almost cried, worrying about what the next day or battle would bring, reading, playing cards with a deck you had pickpocketed somewhere, just getting to know each other better.

At this point you both really enjoyed that your elven nature allowed you to stay up way longer than most other party members – grateful for the extra time to spend with each other.

But the thing you probably spent most of your time with was: holding each other. Laying like this, feeling each other’s bodies, delighting in the comfort to know the other one was alive and just as eager to be held.

Astarion could seemingly  never get enough of having you in his arms. Always pulling you back into his arms in the morning when you tried to crawl out of his tent to start the day. Always groaning and hugging you harder when you started to protest until you gave in – if only for five more minutes. And how could you deny him anyway – this was the bare minimum he deserved after two hundred years of torment and being stripped of the most basic needs.

And also you wanted to imprint the feeling of his arms around you and his body against yours on your mind, wanting to memorise his smell – so to be able to always conjure this sensation and the feelings that came with it: warmth, joy, love.

You hadn’t quite put that last thing in words yet, but you’d known you felt like that for some time now. Your heart swelled achingly whenever you thought about Astarion. Your dearest wish being to keep him safe, help him heal and hold him close for as long as you were able to.

But tonight, you couldn’t shake a feeling of sadness. With all the positive developments in your relationship with the vampire there was this one thing that kept gnawing on your thoughts and lay heavy on your mind. And you felt you had to get it out now.

You pushed up from your cuddling position, Astarion immediately making a displeased noise and face while you leant on your arms to hover above him and look directly into his eyes. And you saw how his facial expression changed from mocking annoyance to worry, his brows drawing together, as he looked at you and obviously saw in your face that something was the matter.

He softly cupped your face with one hand: “What is it, my love? Is something wrong? Have I done something wro-“ “I’m-I’m sorry, Astarion”, you blurted out.

Immediately Astarion’s eyes filled with shock, his lips parted slightly – he obviously immediately thought that he had messed up in some kind of way. So you quickly continued to rip him out of his spiralling negative thoughts.

“I feel like… No… I took advantage of you and for that I feel terrible, Astarion, I’m so sorry. I know this does not changed what happened, but I wanted you to know that. And I hope you can forgive me for that”, you said and sat up, suddenly feeling you needed to be in an upright position to have this conversation.

Astarion sat up as well, leaning back on his hands and looking utterly confused. His eyes weren’t full of fear anymore but now filled with worry: “Love, could you please clarify because it seems I can’t catch up with what you mean.”

“The nights we slept with each other”, you replied immediately, feeling how the words and the feelings in you were desperate to get out. Tears started to well up in your eyes which you angrily started to rub away with your hands. “I treated you just as everyone else did. I don’t want that, I don’t want to use you, you deserve better”, you continued as the tears really started flowing in hot streams over your cheeks.

Astarion sat up further until he was in a cross-legged position and could lean to you to grab your hands that kept wiping away tears you felt you weren’t allowed to shed in this moment.

“Love, you feel like you took advantage of me when I told you I manipulated you into falling for me and now feel bad that you did exactly what I wanted you to do?”, he replied with sorrow on his face and you realised he had heaps of his own guilt.

You didn’t know how to reply so you just kept looking at him. “Tav, I understand what you mean but… How were you even supposed to know at that point?” You started to shrug, trying to say something like you would have had to know better but Astarion shushed you. He moved to cup your cheek.

“My sweet, please, I can’t even say how much I appreciate you saying this but please – leave it in the past, alright? I understand you feel bad for that and so do I for seducing you with ulterior motives in mind.”

You wanted to immediately reassure him that you were over this, but again he made you stay silent with softly lifting his free hand to silence you.

“Let us just agree to leave this behind us, alright? We are here now. Let’s not burden yourself with more than we already have going on, my love. This is a hard lesson I had to learn in life: you can’t undo what has happened, so sometimes it’s better to not let your mind be consumed by it.”

You softly nodded when he looked at you with raised eyebrows awaiting your approval. The tears had slowly subsided, but Astarion’s fingers were still softly brushing over your cheeks.

“And if it’s any reconciliation: it’s been different with you, from the very beginning.” He angled his head and his crimson gaze drifted away softly as he remembered.

 “You were so eager to be held, to open your heart and give yourself to me. And more so, so eager to give back”, he whispered and absent-mindedly a warm smile crept onto his face before his brows drew together again. “And now you are with me. Every single free second you have you spend with me although I can’t… It’s…”, his words trailed off, his hand dropped from your face.

Astarion sighed and lifted his face to the ceiling of the tent. “I know you said you were willing to wait and… not have sex with me until I was ready for it. And the next time I want to fall into your arms, I want to be sure it's without fear, without a slither of doubt, with nothing on my mind but having you, but…” His words trailed off again, his gaze dropping to the floor. You cautiously reached for one of his hands, starting to softly knead it with yours.

After a few moments, Astarion sighed and looked directly at you, red eyes piercing: “The truth is… I want you, desperately. I can’t stop thinking about how your naked body felt against mine. Hells, I get aroused basically every time you’re even remotely close to me. I feel like a giddy adolescent around you at the best of times. Sometimes I can't stop thinking about burying my face between your legs, slobbering at you like a godsdamned dog until you forget anything but my name. Or about wanting to immerse myself in you, lose myself under your hands for I know I would not have to fear drowning. But it all feels so rotten. It’s so frustrating.” He withdrew his hand from yours and pressed both of them against his eyes with a sigh of frustration.

You could only sit there and listen to his speech, your cheeks heating slightly at his confession. And you realised that he was walking around with so much worry and pain and desperation.

“Would you rather I keep more of a dista-“ “NO!”, Astarion immediately exclaimed and stared at you. “Unless…”, he continued more calmly and with a tinge of worry in his voice, “I mean unless it makes you uncomfortable that I’m like a needy youth around you.” You immediately shook your head eagerly. Astarion went back to pressing his hands to his eyes.

“Astarion, I’m…” – you wanted to apologise again but Astarion shortly lifted his hands and gave you a stare that dared you to utter the words, so you just sighed and went on – “If I can do anything to help you, please tell me. But other than that: firstly, I want you too – more than is probably healthy, I’m sure you know that. But - look at me” – you grabbed his hands this time, forced him to look at you for the next words – “I love spending time with you like this. These are the best parts of my day. You’re a delight to be around, Astarion, you’re so smart and witty. I could listen to you talk for hours. If we could just stay here, laying in each other’s arms forever, you can bet your sweet ass, I would!”

You had almost shouted the last words, riling yourself up so much with your feelings for the vampire spawn. And you felt your feelings almost boil over in your chest, so you proceeded with the thought racing through your mind before you got too shy and wouldn’t put it out there:

“I love you, Astarion!”

It came out almost a little forceful and you pressed your lips together after the words had left your mouth. But you immediately were sure that it had been the right thing to do.

Astarion’s eyes widened at you, his mouth hanging open. His eyes jumped all over you, from your one eye to the other, to your lips and back again.

The silence drew out and you started to become uneasy, awkwardly starting to shift around in your sitting position as you waited for Astarion to react with something more than surprise.

“Sorry, I shouted”, you said and bit your lip “and you don’t have to say it back.” “Gods, stop apologising already, you idiot”, Astarion immediately replied and swung over to grab your face and kiss you – forcefully and passionately.

After some long moments he broke the kiss shortly: “Also I love you too, Tav.” And then he kissed you again, pulling you over until you sat in his lap. “I love you more than I ever loved anything”, he whispered in between kisses.

Somewhen, you leaned back until you were laying there again just like at the beginning of the night. Still kissing. And you stayed like this for a long time.

Much later you broke away, both your lips swollen from kissing, and just looked into each other’s eyes. You pressed your hand against Astarion’s with spread fingers – observing the differences between your hand and his.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?”, he simply hummed and kept staring at you.

“You said I didn’t have to apologise.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll have you know the same goes for you, okay? Because don’t think I didn’t realise you only spoke about me and left yourself out! I mean, yes, you manipulated you, but you fell for me in the end, you clown, and look where all that got you”, you said and couldn’t help grinning. You closed your fingers around Astarion’s hand.

Astarion grinned back: “Right in the best kind of mess I could have ever imagined. And now you’re stuck with this clown.” He moved his free hand to motion towards himself. “And I would argue a much more attractive clown than the average jester.”

You laughed softly at that and moved in to press another kiss to his lips. Then you buried your face against his chest again while he wrapped his arms around you closer.

“Would you mind saying it again?”, Astarion whispered softly.

For a moment, you were confused but then caught on. You lifted your head again to look directly into his open and shining red eyes: “I love you, Astarion.”

His eyes started to shine even more: “I love you, Tav.”

And you grinned at each other giddily until you had to press your head against his shirt and let out a little squeal of happiness and kick your feet while you heard and felt Astarion’s soft laugh rumbling through his chest.

Then you snuggled up against each other until you both lay comfortably and you both drifted off into your trance – while your hearts had yet moved a bit closer together.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Bonus Drabble 3

Summary: Morning sickness has hit you hard today but Jungkook's always there to take care of you no matter what mood you're in (A little glimpse into their future together) Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 2.3K~ (honestly got carried away with this one lmao) Warning: Talks about pregnancy and throwing up lmao. Suggestive language but I think that's it lol a/n: This was an ask I got and again I wrote soooo much for it compared to how long my drabbles usually are so I figured I would give you guys a little peek into their future together and do a longer one 🤭 (written in almost one sitting so yeah barely edited) Start from the beginning

I slump down on the floor, taking in the cool bathroom tiles under m knees as I throw up for what felt like the millionth time today and I have to will myself to not lay down, seeking comfort from this constant nausea I've been granted with these past few weeks.

"It's okay baby I got you. Let it all out" Jungkook mumbles next to me, holding back my hair with one hand while he rubs my back with the other. Trying his best to provide some sort of comfort in my darkest hours.

Okay that was a little dramatic but morning sickness sucks alright. And by the way, such a misleading name since I've been puking my guts out morning, noon and night.

I lean my arm against the rim of the toilet and lay my head on top of that, the dizziness settling in moments later leaving me hurling again.

Once I've finished after spending what felt like hours kneeling in front of that toilet I'm finally granted some solace, although that nausea had now been replaced with a splitting headache.

Jungkook had suggested I take a nice long bath. One that's a little on the chilly side so it'll hopefully help the dizziness subside.

He's made it no less relaxing though, giving me a new bathtub pillow with candles lit all around (unscented ones of course since strong smells have been another thing that has made me sick) and my regular ginger ale slushy he always makes me every time I get sick.

Although he tried to leave me be so I could relax I was able to easily convince him into the tub with me, begging him to massage my feet. Something he was honestly more than willing to do.

"Anything for the mother of my child" has been his favorite phrase to use ever since I got pregnant and it makes me melt every time he says it.

"You feeling any better?" he asks, having moved up my legs a bit to massage my calfs as well. "Yeah, thank you" I mumble since any loud sounds or bright lights are just the cherry on top of the things that are trying to prolong this headache.

"That's good" he says giving me a soft smile, a pained expression hidden behind it, wishing he could take away some of my pain. 

"Were coming up to the second trimester right? The doctor says morning sickness usually stops once you finish up the first" he tries to encourage me, hoping to give me a light to see at the end of the tunnel.

"We've got about two weeks left" I say, sinking down further into the tub, dreading the thought of living like this for the next two weeks. "I'm sorry Bunny. If I could I would take all of this away and put it all on me. I hate seeing you like this" he finally admits what's been on his mind recently, even though it's been very apparent with every look he's given me.

"You know that I love you right?" he says, moving closer to where I am and gives me a kiss before sliding in next to me and and moving me over to where I can sit between his legs, making me lay against his chest.

"I love you too" I whisper, taking one of his hands and playing with it while the other one rubs my baby bump that's getting bigger and bigger everyday. "You're so strong for doing this for us. I'm so proud of you" he mumbles against my neck, kissing the skin there and making me truly feel so loved.

I just feel so complete with him. Like there's nothing else in the world that I could possibly want. Except for this little bean that makes me puke up every single thing I dare to eat.

"How big is it right now?" he asks, referring to the pregnancy app I downloaded. "The size of a Kumquat" I giggle, thinking about the fact that a baby that small could make me so sick.

"What's a kumquat?" he chuckles right with me, confused by the unfamiliar fruit. "It's like a mini orange but...not" I say, not super confident in my answer. He laughs again and I sigh before continuing.

"It's like the size of a really big grape...but it's citrus" I say, trying to help him visualize it but he just laughs at my efforts, switching from rubbing my tummy to hugging, pulling me in as close as he can.

I pout when he still hasn't made moves to tell me that he kind of understands what I'm saying but he just trails a few more kisses down my neck instead.

"Should I go get some next time I go to the store?" he says, changing to feather light kisses making squirm at the ticklish sensation. "You want to eat our child?" I say, turning around in his embrace, breathing in the most dramatic gasp I can muster and he rolls his eyes at me.

"You know what I mean" he groans and I respond by giving him a kiss, one that's more full of life than they have been for a while.

"The bath made you feel that much better huh?" he smirks, taking in the light in my eyes again. "Yeah, also you helped me feel better. Just a little bit" I say holding up my pointer finger and thumb bringing them close together.

"Just a little bit huh?" he says, cocking a brow at me and I know I've made a mistake, or a terribly terribly delicious mistake. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Yeah just a little bit" I say, challenging him. He quickly stands up and gets me out of the tub, drying the both of us off for a few seconds before pulling me into the bedroom and throwing me on the bed. I giggle at his actions and watch as he crawls on top of me while cup the side of his face, bringing him in closer to kiss me.

"Seems like I should try a little harder huh?" he chuckles dryly and I feel butterflies in my stomach. I wonder what the baby might feel when that happens. Do they know how nervous their daddy makes me feel sometimes?

Once we kiss for a little bit I push back on his shoulder, take in a deep breath and then push him off seconds later, running back to that same place, kneeling before that porcelain throne yet again.

He trails in after me after having put on a pair of boxers, kneeling down beside me and again trying to comfort me.

"I'm sorry" I say, trying to calm my breathing after having finished and he chuckles. "It's okay it's not your fault. I guess it's just gonna be something we gotta get used to" he says and I furrow my brows, questioning his words.

"We'll have to start being careful so we don't wake up the baby once they're here" he teases and I roll my eyes, laughing along with him at the thought of being interrupted by our children late at night.

"Hopefully that won't happen too often" I breath out, starting to focus on my breathing to stop myself from retching again. "You just gotta learn to be a little more quiet" he teases, poking me in the ribs making me push his shoulder lightly but he sways right back over to me.

"It's not just me you know" I scoff and he continues to be amused at my efforts of defense. "Whatever" I grumble, standing up and flushing the toilet before cleaning myself off again and brushing my teeth.

"Come on Bunny you know I love you" he says following me back into the bedroom and over to the closet so I can pick out something to wear to bed. "I also love all those pretty little noises you make for me" he whispers in my ear, caressing my belly again but for more sensual motives this time.

I throw one of his t shirts over my head, trapping him under it for a second before he pulls away from me so I can put it on the rest of the way. 

I forego wearing anything else since I pretty much sleep naked most nights. The t shirt being a relatively new edition to provide some sort of warmth if I have to rush to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

I pull back the covers and lay in bed, him following close behind and getting in next to me, pouting from the feeling of being shut out from the silent treatment I'm giving him but he gives me time to take a breather. 

"Can I hold you?" he asks in a tentative tone, not wanting to push it but still wanting to be close to me. Instead of answering I reach my arm back and grab onto his and throw it over me, taking his hand and placing it on my belly where he immediately starts to caress it, bringing those fluttery feelings back again. 

"I love you Darling" he mumbles into my neck after having come closer, my back up against his chest again, our legs tangled together while he encompasses me in that love that is truly palpable. "I love you too Daddy" I mumble with a smile on my face and he smiles against my skin. 

"Should I start calling you Mommy?" he teases, rubbing my belly and making me laugh. "Maybe when the baby gets here" I say, and he leans down so he can be eye to eye with my bump and starts talking to the baby. 

"Hey there you little Kumquat, you better let Mommy sleep tonight you got it? She's getting cranky with me when all I wanna do is love her" he says and I wack him upside he head, leaving him groaning in fake pain and I laugh while he continues to talk to the baby. 

"See? All I was doing was telling you to treat her better and then she goes and hits me. We're gonna have a serious talking to once you get out of there missy!" he says, and I laugh again, now choosing to run my fingers through his hair instead. "And now she's rewarding me, I don't know if I should praise you for that or still scold you" he pouts. "Be nice to the baby he doesn't know better" I chuckle and then he looks up at me, shocked at what I'm insinuating. 

"You hear that? She called you a boy! How rude. You're obviously a girl" he counters, the two of us still at odds on the gender of this baby. "How are you so sure?" I question, curious as to why he's been so dead set on thinking it's a girl. "I looked it up" he says sitting up so he can state his case. "Oh really?" I say sitting up and mirroring his posture, the both of us with our arms crossed over our chests. 

"Yup it says that excessive nausea is primarily linked to girls" he says, clearly proud of himself. "Oh yeah?" I question, cocking a brow at him (a habit I've picked up since I've been with him). "Yeah" he says, leaning over me to grab my phone on the nightstand, unlocking it and looking it up before showing me an article. 

"See" he says, and I roll my eyes. "Just because one article says that doesn't mean-" I'm interrupted by him grabbing my phone out of my hand and going back to the google results page before giving it back to me. I scroll and scroll and scroll and see that a vast majority of them support his claims. 

"Ha! Look!" I say, picking out the one article that says it's linked to boys. "Grasping at straws aren't we?" he chuckles. "Whatever" I huff and lay back down.

We get back into that position we had been in before, him leaning over me to talk to be baby again. "Goodnight baby, sweet dreams. You know I love you no matter what you are" he says and places a kiss on my bump making me caress his head again, wondering how I got so lucky. "But I secretly hope you're a girl" he says, mumbling it right against my stomach as if him continuing to say it would change the outcome. 

"Alright Daddy say goodnight for real this time" I chuckle, signaling him to lay back down so we can go to sleep. "Goodnight my love. See you soon" he finishes, placing one last kiss and laying back down to hold me again. "I swear you sweet talk that baby more often than you sweet talk me" I tease and he pinches one of my nipples in response. 

"Hey! Those are sensitive" I whine and he chuckles, tapping twice on my hip telling me to calm down. "Lets go to bed grumpy" he says, pulling me closer when I try to push him away. "I swear both of you are always ganging up on me" I grumble and he chuckles. 

"It's our job isn't it?" he says moving his hand this way and that on my belly almost as if he was doing a secret handshake with them. "I swear" I breathe out and all I hear is him starting to have a conversation with the baby again.

"Love you Mommy" he teases, acting as if he was the baby and roll my eyes. He follows it up giving me a similar sentiment, this time deepening his tone and saying it right in my ear. "Goodnight Mommy, love you" he says, placing one last kiss on my neck "Goodnight" I whisper back leaving him holding me tight, finally settling down. 

I'm greeted a few moments later with the sounds of his soft snores, my forever lullaby. "Love you too Daddy" I whisper barely loud enough for anyone to hear but it brings me comfort, knowing that soon those words will be echoed throughout our home for years to come.  

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Are your requests open? I would love to request a dad!carlos fic if you feel like it ❤️ also side note, I’m not a huge Max fan but your baby fever fic literally had me kicking my feet and giggling so well done

Picture of Perfection - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 9785>

If you were being honest with yourself, you shouldn't have been in work today. You had never felt worse, and it was really putting a damper on your performance. You had been Fred Vasseur's assistant since he had replaced Binotto at Ferrari, and your job was pretty easy.

You sorted his schedule and his emails into different sections. But today, you couldn't even muster the energy to respond to the numerous unimportant emails that Fred received on a daily basis. Your head was throbbing, you felt sick to your stomach, and you wished you could shrivel up into a ball and die.

As the phone rung, the shrill ringtone felt like a nail being tapped into your skull with every note, and you were sure your head was going to explode. Picking up the call wasn't at the top of your to do list, but if it stopped the ringing, then it was worth it.

"You're speaking to Y/N, how can I help?" you said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. As long as people didn't look at you, there was no way to tell that you felt like you were dying. "I think you're the one that needs help," a voice chuckled, and relief flooded you when you heard it.

"Did you call to talk to Fred, or to make fun of me, Carlos?" You asked your oh so sympathetic fiance. "We have our fun, but I was calling to check up on you. How are you feeling, querida?" he asked, his tone changing to a slightly more soft one.

"I'm fine, just a little rough. I'll bring your lunch down in a few," you said, checking the time on your computer. "You really don't sound fine," he pressed, but he had bigger things to focus on today. Him and Charles were testing out some upgrades on the car.

"I will be after lunch, I'm sure. Can you ask Charles if he wants anything as well?" You said, walking to the canteen. Carlos knew you wouldn't be fine, but he would wait to see you to make his final decisions about what he would do with you.

You heard some muffled voices through the phone, before Carlos said, "Yeah, get him the same as me, I'll see you in a minute," he said, putting the phone down. You trudged down to the canteen and picked up the food for the pair of them.

As you walked, people cast dubious glances in your direction. You knew you felt awful, but it was apparent that you weren't looking great either. You kept your head held as high as you could as you wandered down to the garage, and found Carlos and Charles sat by their cars as the mechanics adjusted some things.

"Lunch is served," you smiled, painting on your best poker face. But, there were cracks running through from the start, and Carlos saw straight through it. They both thanked you as you handed them their lunch, and you stepped to stand back beside Carlos.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong," Carlos said, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the cars and machines that the engineers and mechanics were running. "I promise, I'm OK," you reassured him. He knew that was a lie, and so did everyone around you.

Your skin was paler and your eyes looked sunken. You were also looking more dishevelled than normal, since you were usually quite bright and bouncy. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, then I can't help you," he said, looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

His fingers slowly trailed up and down your spine as you stood next to him, and you felt a wave of nausea rush over you. The smell of the oil, the fuel and burning rubber caused your stomach to twist in knots, and you firmly gripped your hand onto Carlos' shoulder to steady yourself. You were slightly dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, hey, sit down for a second," he told you, standing up and gently pushing you towards the seat he had just vacated. Sitting down was arguably the last thing you needed right now. Your eyes darted around the garage, hunting something down that would be the best option to spill your guts into.

Nothing checked out.

Your last option was to sprint to the bathrooms at the back of the garage, and you came up with all of this in around a second. Your mind had never worked so fast. Within a blink of an eye, you had run all the way across the garage, hand firmly pressed against your mouth.

"Shit," you heard Carlos say behind you as his footsteps followed you closely. You barged through the ladies room and into the first open stall. Everything that you had eaten throughout the day exited your body in a violent wretch, and your throat was left burning and raw.

"You're OK, just let it out," Carlos said, rubbing your back and pulling your hair out of the way. You looked up at him, concern written all over his face. "You guys OK?" you heard Charles shout, confused at how fast everything had gone south.

"Could you pass me a water, please?" Carlos called back, going to the door to catch it. Throwing it might not have been the best idea, but it certainly was the quickest. He cracked it open, before handing it to you.

"Thanks," you said, your voice scratchy and hoarse as you spoke. The taste of it still lingered on your tongue and it was far from pleasant. "I'll go get your stuff, then I'll drive you home," he said, handing you some paper towels from the dispenser.

"I'll be fine, it'll pass," you said, taking a sip from the water.

"No, you need to go home," he said, taking a step towards you. You were never sick, so this was unusual. He would be more worried about you if you were at work, because you'd be more comfortable at home.

You took another sip of your water. "Honestly, Carlos, I'll be fine in-," you started, before hunching back over the toilet. It was just straight water, and your body was rejecting everything you put in it. "You were saying?" he teased, leaning against the sinks.

You just looked at him, discomfort etched onto your features. "Come on, you're going home," he said, gently taking your elbow. "I can drive myself, you've got important stuff to do," you said, not wanting to interrupt his day.

"I'm on break for an hour, that's enough time to get you home," he said, his heart aching to see you like you were. "OK, I'll go and tell Fred I'm going,"

"I'll take care of all that, you just go to the car and I'll get your stuff," he told you, leading you out of the bathroom and back through the garage. "You alright?" Charles asked, realising how much worse you looked in the pan of five minutes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," you weakly smiled at him.

"I'll be back in a bit," Carlos told him as he helped you walk out to the car. You sat in the passenger seat, actually quite glad to be going home. Carlos went to get your things, and came back to the car. "When we get home, you're going straight to bed," Carlos said.

"Sure, dad," you laughed, the motion of you giggling making your stomach churn. You closed your eyes for a minute, waiting for it to pass. "Just breathe, baby," he told you as if you hadn't already tried that.

"Easier said than done," you said, gripping your thighs to try and take the edge off, to focus your mind on something else. Without another word, Carlos took one of your hands and threaded his fingers through yours as he drove home. His thumb subconsciously ran up and down, just out of habit.

You pulled up outside your house, slowly stepping out of the car. You took another moment to steady yourself, the dizziness returning. "Take it steady, take it steady," Carlos softly instructed, looping an arm around your waist as he walked you inside.

"Couch or bed?" Carlos asked as you stood in the entrance hall.

"Couch, it's close to the kitchen and the bathroom," you said as he sat you on the couch.

"You want to get changed?" He asked. He had this compulsion inside of him to take care of you. Seeing you uncomfortable made him uncomfortable. It was like this itch inside his brain that couldn't be scratched unless you were happy.

"The less moving involved, the better," you said, flopping down on the couch and not wanting to move from your position. "I'll see what I can do," he nodded, ascending up the stairs and rooting through the drawers to find what he was looking for.

Yes, it was his hoodie, but you wore it more than him. He would wear it once, then it was yours for the taking. "Here, do you want a drink?" He said, passing you the hoodie. You slipped it over your head, not bothered to take off your clothes from work.

"No thanks, it would come back to bite me anyway," you told him, bringing your knees up to your chest as you settled against the armrest of the couch. "You need to stay hydrated, you'll feel worse if you don't," he said, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a glass of water.

"I'll try," you said. Carlos picked a blanket up from the back of the couch and draped it over you, making sure you were cosy. "You need anything else before I go?" He asked, not wanting to leave you by yourself. This was one of those days where you would benefit from his presence, from him holding you.

"I don't think so, I'll see you later," you tried to smile, not wanting him to be late for the end of lunch break. Charles would be waiting for him and so would everyone else. "OK, call me if you need me, alright?" He said, approaching you and kissing you on the forehead.

"I will," you said, picking up the TV remote and pressing the 'on' button. You shifted around for a second, before finding your comfy position. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he called, closing the door and heading back to the factory.

After around an hour, you tried sipping at the water, but it just came back up after a few minutes. As the movie you were watching came to a close, you were left in silence after the entire credits had rolled.

You were left thinking. You hadn't been feeling too great for the last few days, but this was the worst of it. It didn't take much thinking for you to come to a conclusion. There were a few factors that added to it too.

Surely not though, right? And this wasn't the time for that. You and Carlos hadn't been engaged for that long, and you weren't thinking about that now. Maybe in a few years, yes, but definitely not now.

You sat there, fighting with yourself in your mind, feeling sicker with worry than you did with nausea. You told yourself you were being silly, and that you were just jumping to the most drastic conclusion possible.

Everything was going to be fine.

Carlos, on the other hand, was worried sick about you for a whole other reason. He thought you were sick, like, sick sick. Not the kind of sick you thought you were. He thought you had a stomach bug, but not a literal one.

Him and Charles had another quick, fifteen minute break to sit and have a drink while the mechanics tinkered on some things. "Is Y/N alright?" Charles asked, glugging some more water down. "Yeah, she'll be fine. It's probably just a bug or something,"

"You sure?" Charles questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. "She's been off for what, nearly two weeks?" he said, referring to your numerous complaints about different ailments you had.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Carlos dismissed. You'd be right as rain again in a couple of days, that's what he kept telling himself. "You two have plenty of fun, just think about it," Charles smirked.

"No, no, mhm," Carlos shook his head in embarrassment, "I know what you're implying, but no," he rushed. "That you get up to a lot or what could be up with Y/N?"

"Both," Carlos said, standing and leaving Charles by himself. He couldn't think about either of those things right now.

--

"Carlos, is that you?" You called out, trying to act like everything was fine and you were feeling better. Well, you were feeling better, but you were just anxious. "Yeah, it's me," he said, walking into the living room and sitting on the couch next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel alright, but the water came straight back up when I tried drinking it," you explained, not able to meet his eyes. He could tell there was something wrong by your body language. You were stiff and your hands were fidgeting.

"Come on, what's wrong?" he pressed, and you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face. "Nothing, I feel fine," you told him, shrugging your shoulders.

"Then what's really wrong?" he asked, grabbing your chin and turning your head so that you were looking at him. You didn't want to tell him. You didn't want him to be mad. This wasn't part of the plan.

You whispered what you wanted to say, but so quietly it was unintelligible. You weren't even sure you had fully formed legible words. "Louder, querida,".

"I think I'm pregnant," you said, staring into his eyes, searching. Searching for any sense of anger, annoyance, hatred towards you. But you saw nothing but the soft brown eyes you had become so accustomed to.

"Have you done a test or anything?" he asked, not really knowing what to say to you.

"No, not yet," you muttered, averting your eyes down to your hands instead of at Carlos.

"Then I'll go to the store, pick one up, and we can see, OK?" he asked.

"Yeah, OK, sounds good," you nodded, and he was gone nearly as quickly as he came. You didn't have a clue how he felt, he was completely neutral. He didn't show any emotion.

Before you knew it, you had left the test on the bathroom counter and sat with your back against it while you waited for the time to be over. Carlos wordlessly came and sat next you, resting his hands on his knees.

"What're we going to do if I am?" you broke the silence, the question being on the tip of your tongue since he had gotten back home. "I'll support whatever decision you make, no matter what," he said, his tone dripping with sincerity.

"If I am, I want to keep it," you mumbled, waiting for him to yell at you or walk out.

"Then I'll be here every step of the way," he said, "I- I want a baby with you, Y/N, I really do," he told you, placing a calming hand on your thigh. "I feel like there's a 'but' at the end of that sentence," you nervously said.

"No, baby, no, there's no but. I mean it," he said, and a part of you felt comforted at his words. The minutes went by and they felt like hours. Long, agonizing hours. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Two minutes, I think?"

"OK, we'll give it a bit longer so the results are clear and everything," he nodded. He didn't want to tell you how much he actually wanted you to be pregnant, just in case you weren't. He didn't want you to feel like you had let him down or anything.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, turning to look at you. You were still pale, and you were still mindlessly fiddling with your fingers. "I'm scared, nervous, but excited at the same time. I'll be kind of disappointed if I'm not, but also terrified if I am,"

"Well whatever the outcome is, I'll be here. If you are, then that's great. But if you aren't, we can think about it fully and maybe start properly trying if that's what you want," he explained, and it sounded like music to your ears. "What would we do about the wedding?"

"I'd still have our wedding if you were pregnant, but if you don't want to, then we can wait. I honestly don't mind," he smiled, his fingers tracing random circles on the skin of your thigh. You were counting your lucky stars that you had ended up with a guy like Carlos.

"You think we should check?" you nervously laughed, genuinely not knowing what you wanted the outcome to be. "Do you want to do it or do you want me to do it?" he asked, wanting to make this as easy as possible for you.

"Could you go and stand outside while I do it?" you asked, and he happily nodded and stood outside the bathroom as you closed the door. You blocked out the world around you. In this moment, it was just you and your thoughts.

You took a deep breath, trying to slow your heart rate down a bit. You thought prolonging it would only make it worse, so you turned over the test on the counter and had to clap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming.

You stared at it, as if looking at it longer would change it. As if it would make that second pink line disappear. You tried to compose yourself before going to tell Carlos. You were trying to hide the joy, just incase what he said earlier was just him being supportive.

"Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?" he said, knocking on the door gently. You didn't answer, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth. "Querida? Por favor, diga algo," (please, say something). You could hear the concern and worry in his voice, but your mouth wouldn't say the words you wanted it to say.

"Can I come in?" he asked, getting really concerned at your lack of a response. He wouldn't have been surprised if he walked in and you had passed out due to your silence. Just as he turned the door handle, you opened the door.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, as you handed him the thing that would change your lives forever. You searched his face, trying to find any hints of emotion. You could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but you were certain your eyes were playing tricks on you.

You couldn't handle it anymore, so you threw your arms around his neck. "Are you happy?" he asked, not wanting to give his full reaction until he knew how you felt. "I'm ecstatic, you?"

"I'm over the moon, baby," he smiled, squeezing you back. He let you go, and you couldn't help but allow a few happy tears to slip down your cheeks."I think we're going to have to postpone the wedding," you told him, and he smiled and nodded.

"You're having my baby, your wish is my command," he said, vowing to be there through every little thing, and he was your slave for the next nine-or-so months. That was the least you deserved.

"This is amazing," you smiled, not really finding the words to express the joy you felt. It had all been so quick, but it had led to this, so you weren't going to complain. "Looks like you're stuck with me forever, now," you joked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he smiled, trailing his fingers up and down your hips. You were all he ever wanted, and now you were having his child. His child. It didn't sound real, but in the best way possible.

--

You had gotten home early, and you couldn't stop looking and touching at the small bump you had growing. You were around 4 months pregnant at this point, and you couldn't have been more excited for your impending arrival.

You had just received a text from Carlos, asking if you wanted anything from the store while he was on his way home. He did this every day, no matter the time, no matter how tired he was, no matter what.

You and your baby came before everything and anything, with no exceptions. He treat you like a princess, and sometimes he stepped around you like you were a paper-thin sheet of glass. He didn't let you do much by yourself anymore.

You didn't mind, but you had asked him to stop treating you as if you were incompetent. You replied to his text with a food combination you had been desperate to try all day. Your brain was just telling you it would be good, so you thought you would feed it what it wanted.

Carlos responded with a 'That's gross, but sure', and you couldn't help but laugh. He was back after fifteen minutes, your items in hand. "If you get ill, don't blame me, OK?" he laughed, handing you the jar of pickles as well as the peanut butter.

"I honestly hate how good this looks to me right now," you laughed as he took a seat next to you. "Y'know, the lady at the counter said, 'It's either you know someone who's pregnant, or you've got weird tastes," he told you as you cracked open the peanut butter with a pop.

"What did you say?" asked, trying to open the jar of pickles, but struggling immensely.

"I told her my fiance was pregnant, and she was relieved," he laughed, finding it very amusing to watch you struggle. "Hand it here," he said, and you passed him the jar with a huff. Effortlessly, Carlos opened the jar of pickles, and you hated the way you felt about it.

It just made you tingle all over, and you blamed the hormones for making you go crazy. It was just something about the way his arms flexed to make his muscles pop and how his knuckles went white because of how hard he was gripping the lid.

"You like what you see?" he smirked, handing you the jar again.

"Maybe I do," you replied with a grin, batting your eyelashes at him. He looked at you with the eyes, and they never failed to reduce you to mush and answer his every last little request. But you had him under your spell.

"Later, querida," he winked at you, pushing himself off the couch. "I'm going to have a shower, you think you can cope with the thought of me till them?" he teased.

"Oh I'll be fine, don't you worry," you giggled.

"But first, I want to see the disgust on your face when you realise how disgusting that combination is," he laughed, leaning over the back of the couch to look at you. You dipped the pickle into the peanut butter and took a bite out of it.

"OK that is actually really nice," you smiled, going back in for another taste. Carlos' nose scrunched up in disgust. "That is nasty, ew, no," be laughed, backing away and up the stairs. "You should try it!" you collared, and you were met with a hearty laugh.

When Carlos came back downstairs from the shower, his hair was wet and he look a lot comfier. A lot hotter too. "How were the pickles?" He asked, looking at the pickle jar that only had a quarter of the pickles left in it. And the half-empty jar of peanut butter.

"Great, you want one?" you offered, brandishing the jar in front of him. Carlos didn't like pickles on the best of days, but definitely not now. "Not a chance, that shit is nasty," he laughed, pushing the jar back towards you.

"I'll tell you what else could be nasty," you smirked, looking at him with a devilish smile on your face. "Oh, so you're being like that, baby?"

"Maybe I am," you said, leaning back and watching as that mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "I'll see what I can do for you, then," he grinned, walking towards you. You knew just what to say to make him tick, and you had done it again.

--

As much as your bump slowed you down, it didn't make you work any less hard. Fred had asked you to carry a box of some sort of documents down to the guys at the garage, and you were glad to be able to stretch your legs.

You got to the door to get out of the office, but you couldn't open it with the box in your hands. As any normal person would, you put the box on the floor to open the door, and then bent over to pick it back up.

"Hey, hey, hey, you OK?" Carlos appeared out of nowhere, pulling you back so you were stood upright. "Yeah, I'm just taking this box down to the garage," you nodded, appreciating the concern. He thought you were doubled over and in pain, but he was glad to be wrong.

"You go sit down, I've got it," he said, picking the box up.

"Carlos, I need to do something with myself, a bit of exercise is good for me," you told him, trying to pull the box off him. "No heavy lifting, that's what the doctors said, you can walk with me," he said, setting off through the door.

"You think that that box his heavy? You need to work out more, Carlos," you mocked, walking beside him. "No, but you know that's not what I mean. Minimal strain,"

"I think you pay more attention than I do," you laughed, skipping down the stairs.

"Someone has to take care of you," he playfully rolled his eyes at you, watching your every move as you hopped down the stairs. "Where do you want this?" He asked as you reached the garage.

"Just put it down there, they'll know it's there," you said, pointing to the corner Fred told you to put the box in. He had told the mechanics that it was there, and someone would come and find it later.

"What are you even doing here today?" you asked, the question suddenly dawning on you. You knew there was no testing on the car, and Fred didn't have any meetings with him or Charles today. "Just some stuff with the media people and stuff," he lied.

Well, half-lied. They did have a meeting with the media people, but that had finished an hour ago. He didn't need to be at the factory anymore, but he was compelled to keep an eye on you. It wasn't that he thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself, he just needed to be there in case anything went wrong.

If you needed him, he would be there. If something happened and he wasn't, he would never be able to forgive himself. "OK, well I'll see you in a bit," you said, seeing that something was up but not thinking too much about it.

You walked away and off to your desk to do another hour-or-so's work before you broke off for lunch. You checked Fred's calendar again, answered a lot of emails, but you felt a pair of eyes lingering on you.

You looked up from your screen, but you didn't see anyone there. But, as soon as you focused back on your work, you felt the eyes glued to you again. This time when you looked up, you saw a motion in the doorway in front of you.

Sighing to yourself, you figured you would leave Car- I mean the mystery individual to play their little games. You let him watch for a bit, let him think he had won. Then, you looked up again, catching him dashing behind the doorway.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" you called out, staring at the doorway. There was zero movement, and he clearly thought he was being slick. "Carlos, come on darling, what are you doing?" you called out again, and he slowly wandered out.

"I was just inspecting the doorframe, making sure it wasn't going to collapse or something," he rambled, leaning on your desk with his hands on the edge of the wood. "Sure you were, don't you have media stuff to be doing?" you skeptically asked.

"Yeah, actually, I have to go and do that, right now," he said, turning around and walking away as quickly as he could. It was very odd, but you just thought it was Carlos being Carlos.

Finally, lunch rolled around and you took yourself to the kitchen, where your lunch sat waiting for you in the fridge. The kitchen was empty, since you tended to take lunch later than everyone else, and it was nice to have some silence during the day.

Next to you, you heard something falling off the table, and turned to see a potted plant on the floor, with soil everywhere. Then you saw the perpetrator. "What's your excuse for sitting under a table while I'm eating my lunch, Carlos?"

"I was uh-," he stuttered, and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to churn out an excuse. "Go on, lie to me," you said, staring daggers into his soul.

"Fine, I was just making sure you were OK, that's all," he breathed, sitting down opposite you.

"I can take care of myself, Carlos. You don't need to watch over me 'secretly' like you have been all day," you told him, watching as his cheeks tinted pink and he couldn't meet your gaze. "Querida, I know that, I just want to be here if you need me,"

"If I need you, I will call you. Go home, relax, have some peace and quiet. We will be completely fine," you reassured him, and you could tell he still wasn't fully convinced. You also didn't think it would take that much, but there you were.

"Look, I really appreciate you wanting to be here for me, I really do. But you don't have to watch my every move. If I need you, I will tell you," you further pressed, taking his hand from across the table.

"Do I have to go home though? I can just sit with you at your desk, bring you snacks, talk if you get bored. You won't even know I'm there, baby, I promise," he pleaded, looking at you through those big brown eyes.

"Go home, and take some time for yourself. It's not a request, it's an order," you said sternly. Carlos looked dejected, and he had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do. "Yes ma'am," he sighed, unhooking his jacket off the rack with a sulk.

"Please?" he begged one more time, standing by the door.

"Go home." You told him one more time. He pouted, and you glared at him. He knew not to argue with you when you were being really stern with him, and he knew he had to go. Carlos didn't know what he'd do without you at home.

He literally lived to serve you, and make sure you and your child were OK. That was his life, besides racing. He hadn't been by himself in a while, and he felt kind of lost without you. But he did as he was told, and went home, by himself.

The second he got home, he couldn't resist the urge to pick up his phone and text you. 'Hey baby, how are you doing?' and you just sighed, looking at your phone. There was no way you were responding to him.

'Hey, is everything OK?' he texted back around fifteen minutes later, the show he was watching wasn't occupying his mind like he wanted it to. No matter what, every thought in his mind was replaced by panicked thoughts of you, in pain or something.

He couldn't go by a second without worrying for you if you weren't around him. You ignored this message too, thinking it would teach him a lesson. 'Querida, if you don't tell me you're OK, I will come straight back to work,' he messaged, his leg nervously bouncing up and down.

He was staring daggers into the car keys on the coffee table, almost willing them into his hand by telepathy. When you read that text, you knew he was deadly serious, so you had to text him back. 'Carlos. You come back to work and we are going to have some serious issues. I'm fine,'

Carlos almost didn't want you to respond, just so he'd have the excuse to drive back to work. But he needed to know you were alright, he just wouldn't be able to make sure of that himself. He had a secret weapon lurking up his sleeve.

He might have been sent home, but he knew someone who hadn't been. Charles was at the factory, and he was actually supposed to be there, because he actually had meetings. He would check on you between meetings, and report back to Carlos.

You were sat on your desk, when Charles walked past and smiled. Obviously, you smiled back and didn't think twice about it. Ten minutes later, he came back and stood right in front of your desk, seeming to be doing something on his phone.

You caught his eyes as they flicked up from the screen and onto you, before he walked away. "Hey, do you know if Fred had any messages for me?" Charles asked, coming over to your desk. "No, nothing," you shook your head.

"Can you check?" Charles asked, as if he were expecting something, but you knew there was nothing. "There's nothing," you told him again.

"Fine, fine," he said, knowing there was nothing he could do, "How are you feeling?" he asked, leaning over the desk. "You can tell Carlos I'm fine and that nothing is wrong," you said, instantly sussing out what he was doing.

"I'm just asking how you are," he sheepishly explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're a bad liar, I'm fine," you said, resting your head on your hands.

"But he-"

"Charles. Tell him I am fine," you instructed, glaring at him. He put his hands up defensively, backing up from the desk. "OK, OK, I get it," he said backing away and out into the hallway. He texted Carlos to tell him that you had foiled their plans.

You rolled your eyes as he walked away, but a small grin spread on your lips at the thought of him, texting Charles and asking him to watch over you.

--

"Shit," you whispered to yourself, turning over for the literal thousandth time. No position was comfortable, your overly swollen stomach got in the way at every turn. You just decided to lie there in the dark, your eyes wide open as you stared into the blackness.

There were rims of moonlight coming through the sides of the curtains, but that was it. Carlos was so tired after a day at the factory, and he had been out for hours at this point. In the end, you thought you'd lie there until you became so tired you would pass out.

No matter what, everything was aching. Your back was constantly sending uncomfortable shoots up your spine, and it made everything a challenge. Including falling asleep. This combined with the pounding in your head didn't help. Turning your head to the side, you saw that it was nearing on three am.

You turned your attention back on the ceiling as you thought about what you were going to do tomorrow. Well, later that same day. You had been on maternity leave for around two weeks, and you had already done everything you wanted to do around the house.

Time ticked agonizingly by, the silence and darkness driving you crazier by the second. And more frustrated at the lack of sleep you were getting. Just as you were going to go downstairs and do something to try and make yourself tired, the bed shifted next to you and the bathroom light flicked on.

You stayed in the same position, expecting him to just walk back to bed and not notice you. The second before he turned the light off, he notices your open eyes looking back at him. "Hey, baby, did I wake you up?" he asked in a hushed whisper, getting back into bed and shuffling as close to you as possible.

"No, don't worry. I wasn't asleep," you said, sighing.

"What, so you haven't slept?" he asked, lying on his side to face you as his fingers traced shapes on your stomach. "No, I can't," you shook your head, hoping he would just brush it off and go back to sleep, but you knew he wouldn't.

"What can I do?" he asked. You may not have been able to see him very well, but you could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of your face. "I'll fall asleep soon, I'm really tired," you told him, your right hand tangling into his dark locks.

"Well then, what can I do to help you fall asleep quicker?" he lightly chuckled, prodding you gently in the ribs. "You've had a long day, darling, go to sleep," you instructed, not wanting to make him tired later.

"You've had just as long a day as I have, querida, you need to sleep too. You not sleeping isn't good for you, it isn't good for the baby, and that therefore means it's not good for me either," he chuckled. "So you're trying to guilt trip me into letting you help me?" you asked, and you could just picture the smirk you knew was on his face.

"Yes and no, and I know it's working. We're in this together, if you're awake, I'm awake. If you need something, I am here," he told you. You weren't the biggest fan of always relying on him for things, since you liked to have some form of independence, but it was times like these where you were extremely grateful to have someone so caring and doting.

"So, do you want a tea, or an extra blanket, or we can go and do something until you get tired?" he listed, masking the yawn he was letting out. "A tea sounds great," you told him, and he was gone like a flash. "Do you want anything else while I'm downstairs?"

"Could you grab two paracetamols and my book off the coffee table?" you asked, the hall light switching on outside. "Headache?"

"No points for guessing that one," you laughed, rubbing your temples as Carlos headed downstairs. A few minutes later, he was back, with a perfectly brewed tea in one hand, and your book with the paracetamols balanced on top of it in the other.

"I didn't make it too hot so you can drink it straight away," he smiled, "Watch your eyes," he said, turning the lamp on as you screwed them shut. It took a second for them to adjust, but you were fine after a few seconds.

He handed you the mug and the white tablets, downing them in a second. "Thank you," you smiled, and you could still see the tiredness in his face. "Anything for you," he hummed, setting your book in your lap and sitting next to you.

You had nearly finished your tea, and it was already making you feel sleepy as the paracetamol seemed to be working on your headache, it turning from a pounding to a soft thumping instead. As if on cue, you and Carlos yawned in unison.

"I think we should probably try sleeping now, yeah?" you asked, shimmying back down under the covers and putting your book aside. You wouldn't need it after all. "Yeah, yeah, c'mere," he smiled, switching the lamp back off and shuffling into you. He pulled you against him, his chin resting atop your head as his hand lazily trailed across your stomach.

Even now, it was a strange sensation that he relished. Knowing that your baby was just beneath his fingertips, only separated by a few centimetres, made his heart sing with glee. It made him look forward to the impending day that they would arrive even more, and he couldn't wait to hold them and give them the best life possible.

He knew the two of you would be brilliant, loving parents to your child, no matter what. He also knew there'd be hard times, but you'd get through it together. Just like you always did.

"Goodnight, darling," you sleepily whispered, tangling his legs with yours.

"Goodnight, baby," he mumbled into your hair, trying to force himself to keep his eyes open. Unless you were asleep, he wasn't allowed to. Thankfully, he waited for around ten minutes and he was confident you were fast asleep, and nothing could harm you.

Not while his two favourite people in the whole world were at home, in his arms where he could keep you safe until the end of time. That was how it would always be, for forever and longer if the world would let him.

--

God you were tired. Well, you had every right to be. No more than an hour ago, you and Carlos had welcomed your newest family member into the world. You nearly refused to sleep so you could watch over her, but your body wouldn't let you stay awake.

"Baby, please sleep. I'll watch her, she'll be fine," Carlos had told you, even though his body was also desperate for rest after being there through every second of the 9 hour labour process. He didn't care about himself though, he could stay up for hours to make sure you got the rest you needed.

You were exhausted, and deservedly so, and he would happily wait up for longer to give you the time. Also, he couldn't take his eyes off of your sleeping daughter. She was absolutely perfect in every way, and she was currently sleeping in the corner as he watched her.

You were sleeping lightly, your parental instincts keeping you on edge, ready to strike into action at the drop of a hat. The silence was nice, as well as the lack of pain. It was like your body was floating you felt so peaceful, yet alert. Carlos was holding your hand, his habit of running his thumb up and down not being broken just yet.

His eyes were pinned on her, monitoring her every breath, searching for any tiny abnormality. She was his responsibility, and he was not going to let a single thing happen to her. He had only held her once so far, and he was so desperate to hold her again, but he couldn't wake her.

He wasn't even able to hold you right now, so his arms felt cold and empty. Every now and then, he would check the digital clock on the bedside table on the other side of you, just to see how much time had passed by.

He lost track after a while, and your girl woke up, the small beginnings of a cry escaping her lips. "Hey, hey, cariño," he said, approaching her and picking her up. One hand was under her head, the other one under her back as he handled her like she could shatter at any given time.

He held her against his chest, lightly bouncing her from side to side. His every touch was as delicate as a feather, not wanting to harm her in any way.  "You're OK, Daddy's here," he soothed, rubbing her back. She was slowly getting louder, but he didn't want to wake you up.

"Shh, don't cry, you don't want to wake Mommy, she's tired," he said as if she could understand him. It was almost as if she had, however, because her cries quietened and stopped as she fell silent against Carlos' chest. 

"Thank you, cariño," he smiled, planting a kiss atop the soft skin of her head, "Now let's sit down and wait for Momma to wake up," he told her, refusing to put her back down in her cot. He wanted to keep her tucked against his chest, where she was safe. 

She was so tiny against him, her back barely the size of the span of his hand. It felt so weird to have such a high amount of love for such a tiny someone, but she was just too perfect not to adore with every fibre that he had in his being. 

"While we have some Daddy-daughter time, there are a couple of things I want to say to you," he started, looking over at you to see if you had woken up. Your eyes were still closed, and your position hadn't shifted, so he assumed you were still asleep.

"For starters, you have no idea how excited I am to finally be able to meet you and hold you. I guess you'll only really know if you have your own kids. But I don't want you thinking about that yet, you're not allowed a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever whoever you like until you're at least twenty-one, and I'm serious about that,"

"Next up, you're going to have to work with me here, I am going to teach you Spanish so we can gossip and your Mom won't know what we're saying, since she failed miserably when I taught her Spanish. No sabía escuchar y siempre estaba distraída," (she was not a good listener and always got distracted)

You didn't have a clue what he had said to her, and you didn't like the sound of not being able to understand what they could be saying. But, you had to bite back a giggle at his comment about no romance until she was twenty-one.

"Finally, since I'm sure you're already getting bored of me talking at you, but get used to it, I promise I will love you no matter what, until the day I die. I will protect you and keep you safe, no matter how old and frail I might become,"

"I also hope you know just how lucky you are to have the best mother in the whole entire universe. I might not always be with you, since I'll be racing, but she will be. You will grow up with the best role-model you could ask for, and I know you'll be a fantastic person too. I love you, cariño,"

"Thanks for making me cry, Carlos, I appreciate it," you spoke up, wiping the tears from your eyes. You loved what he had said, and your hormones were still all over the place. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he chuckled, shifting in his seat to face you more.

"You can try and teach me Spanish again, I don't want to be left out," you smiled, looking at the perfect picture that was set out in front of you. "Sure, we can try that again," he nodded.

"Can I have her?" you asked, holding your arms out for him to put your precious girl into. Carlos just smirked and shook his head, "No, she's mine," 

"Please?" you pouted, leaning forward to try and take her away from him. You just wanted to hold your daughter, it really wasn't a big ask. "OK, baby, OK," he triedly smiled, placing her in your arms. "But move up, I want to sit with you," he said.

You made sure she was comfortable, and scooted to the side so he could sit on your hospital bed with the two of you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, not able to stop his fingers from brushing against her. 

Carlos was finally able to close his eyes and let his guard down. He was finally able to rest for a bit. Not for too long, but for a bit. "Hey darling, before you sleep, we're sticking with the name we chose, right?" you asked.

"I think it suits her," he sleepily nodded against your shoulder. You agreed, and left him to get some well-deserved rest. He had been there through every torturous second, sat through all the abuse you had hurled at him, and stuck through his hand getting crushed or his shoulder being punched. 

And he'd do it all over again. He'd do it all for his girls, he'd do anything.

--

"She's normally very talkative, but she's just pretending to be shy," you laughed with Toto as Harper giggled and buried her head in your neck. She was always the center of attention at every race, and she had grown to know a lot of people.

Toto received a text, and had to dash off. You thought it would be best to head back to the garage anyway, so you set off across the paddock. A couple of people were having interviews, and she waved at her favourites as you passed by.

She waved at a certain curly haired boy, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Sure, he was in an interview, but he just said, "Sorry, I have to go," and dashed over to the pair of you. 

"Well if it isn't my favourite little lady!" Lando exclaimed, plucking her out of your arms as she willingly let him take her. "Muppet!" was all Harper she said, since it was her way of greeting him since she had heard Carlos say it a few times. 

"Now what is this?" he asked, poking her in the stomach and making her giggle uncontrollably. "Your Daddy might race for Ferrari, but your favourite uncle Lando doesn't. This should be papaya, not red," he playfully scolded, tickling her even more. 

Her laughter was contagious, and you could see other drivers and personnel around smiling at her.  The cameras clicked as the press took some photos, and you could tell she was loving the attention.

"I also wear red, therefore she is in the perfect colour," Charles said, popping up beside you. "Carlos is just finishing up an interview, he'll be out in a few," Charles told you, as Harper held her arms out to him and did the grabby hands. 

"I have been replaced, my heart is hurting," Lando said with feigned sadness as he clutched at his heart. Thankfully, Harper was used to being passed around from person to person often, so she didn't much mind. 

"Think how I feel, she's always leaving me for one of you," you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. "You do make a good point, but you're not her favourite uncle," Lando said, folding his arms and he swayed from side to side.

"No, you're not, I am," Charles said, bouncing around with Harper on his hip as she continued to giggle at him. "We're not starting this now," you sighed, not wanting to hear the favourite uncle argument again. 

But before they could answer, Harper was on her feet, running away from Charles. Tag was their favourite game, and he could never say no to her when she asked to play. Well, he never said no to her in regards to anything, but tag was the most important. 

"Charles, be careful!" you called, not able to not worry about her running around a very crowded place. "I know!" he called back, slowly jogging to try and catch up to Harper.

"Don't worry Y/N, I'll keep an eye on them," Lando grinned, and you could see he was itching to get involved in the game. At this point, Harper was chasing Charles as fast as her little legs could carry her, but Charles was barely even walking away from her.

But, Harper saw opportunity strike when she saw Lando next to her. She hit him in the leg with a squealed, "Tag!" before turning and running away. 

"Harps, you're just too fast!" Lando laughed, trying to chase her. His sights turned on Charles, however, who was cowering away from him. As Lando set off on the hunt for Charles, Harper laughed and clapped her little hands, "Run, Charlie, run!" she shouted as Lando grappled Charles and tagged him. 

Harper started to run away again, when an arm slithered around your waist. "I have to be in an interview while you guys are all out here having fun, so unfair," Carlos smiled, pulling you into his side as he kissed you on the head.

He was so glad that his best friends were so good with his daughter, and she loved them just as much as they loved her. "I know, it's just so unfair," you laughed, smiling at him as he watched Harper, his eyes full of love and wonder.

The two of you chuckled as Charles caught Harper, picking her up as he tickled her. She squirmed in his arms, fits of giggles sounding out around the paddock. "Stop it!" she laughed, hitting him in the chest. 

"Oh hey Carlos," Lando said, breathlessly coming and standing next to you. At the mention of her Dad's name, Harper's attention turned from Charles to Carlos. "Papa!" she exclaimed, wriggling out of Charles' arms and running over to Carlos.  

She leapt into his arms as he picked her up and spun her around. "Hola, cariño, ¿qué tal?" he asked, holding her on his hip as she squished his cheeks. "Estoy bien, ¿y tú?" she smugly grinned, loving that she could show off the Spanish Carlos had been teaching her. 

"Yo también," he proudly smiled, "Eres muy inteligente, ¿lo sabías?" he said, and your understanding of his words stopped right there. "Yo no comprende," she looked at him, confusion written all over her face.

"All I said was that you're my clever girl, sweetheart," he smiled kissing her on the cheek. She let out a giggle of happiness, her smile lighting up Carlos' face. You could watch them together all day, and it was your favourite form of entertainment. 

He kissed her on the other cheek, and she scrunched her nose up. Carlos started kissing her all over her face, as she squealed and squirmed. "Daddy, stop it! That tickles!" she laughed, trying to push his head away from her.

"Does it? I hadn't noticed," he chuckled as he carried on. But he eventually stopped, leaving her breathless from laughing. Harper rested her head on Carlos' shoulder as you, Charles, Lando and him stood and talked. 

You noticed she hadn't said anything in a while, so you stepped to stand behind Carlos. "Harper? Sweetheart? Are you tired?" You asked, her eyes looking droopy as you brushed a lock of her dark hair out of her face. It was nearly as dark as Carlos'. 

"Mhm," she nodded, her face squished against Carlos' shoulder. 

"OK, do you want to go for a nap?" you asked, gently massaging her scalp. 

"Yeah," she yawned, all of that running around with Charles and Lando clearly making her tired. "Come on then," you said, she flopped out of Carlos' arms and into yours. She buried her head in the crook of your neck, her breath soft on your skin. 

"I'm going to her to your room, I'll see you guys in a bit," you said, rubbing your hand over Harper's back soothingly. "Yeah, that's fine, is she OK?" Carlos asked, instantly thinking she had fallen ill or something, "Estoy cansada, Papa," she mumbled, lifting her head to look at her Dad.

"OK, I'll see you later," he nodded, kissing Harper on the head and tugging you close to him for a kiss. "See you later, Harps, say bye to Muppet and Charlie," you told her. She smiled at the two drivers, waving them goodbye.

"Bye," she sleepily chuckled, and Charles took her hand and kissed the back of it as he smiled at her. "Sleep well, Harper," he said, and she always giggled at the charm of Charles. 

"I'll beat you in tag next time, little lady," Lando smiled, fist bumping her before you walked away. You took her all the way over to the Ferrari motorhome, and into Carlos' drivers room. It was quiet in there, and the couch was comfortable enough.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?" you quietly asked Harper as she looked up at you with those big brown eyes that were identical to Carlos', and you could see the tiredness in them. "No, I want to sit with you," she mumbled, shifting around until she was happy in your lap. 

"OK, sleep well, sweetheart," you said, planting an affectionate kiss on her head. For a while, you just sat there, Harper soundly sleeping on you. You looked at the table opposite you, and all of the pictures on there brought back the best memories in your life.

One of them was the day Harper was born, and you were sat in the hospital, sleeping with her on your chest. Another was of the three of you on a carousel when you went to a carnival the previous year. You took the picture, and Harper was smiling while sat on Carlos' knee as the horse flew up and down. 

The final one was just of you, and you remembered it was from on of your first dates with Carlos. He had offered to take a picture of you with the full moon behind you, and it instantly became his favourite photo. 

The door to the room opened, and you were initially alarmed. You were afraid that the person thought Carlos was in there and were going to wake up Harper by accident. "Hey, baby," he quietly said, slowly closing the door behind him. 

"Hi, darling," you smiled as he came to sit beside you. 

"How long has she been asleep for?" He asked, his hand moving to the back of your head and gently playing with your hair. You pushed your head into his hand, the feeling sending warm tingles through your brain. 

"Half an hour, she was asleep as soon as we sat down," you told him, slotting yourself into his side like a puzzle piece. "Do you want me to take her? Your legs are probably getting numb," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

"I'm alright, I don't want to wake her," you told him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. 

"OK, but let me know if you want me to take her," he told you, resting his head atop yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, just feeling a little sleepy. But you had what you wanted, and all you needed in your life.

Carlos looked down at his girls, both sleeping and safe with him. You had given him everything he wanted in his life, and he would never be more grateful for that. The two of you were the picture of perfection, and neither of you would have it any other way. 

A/N - This has been a long time coming, but it's here! Rest assured, all requests are being worked on! Also, I know I always give them daughters, but they're all girl dads to me, y'know? Feel free to submit any requests, I love to write them! Hope you enjoyed 💖

|masterlist|

[solarmorrigan]

If you’re still taking prompts, could I ask for “please come get me” with Steddie?

I’ve read over all your other angst prompts and just about died this morning, you’re so good at the pain!!

Hello! :D Thank you for the prompt! I'm afraid this one is a little heavier on the comfort than the hurt, so perhaps not as much pain, but if you've been binging what I've written so far, maybe that's a good thing?? But anyway, I hope this is alright!

[Warning for implied child neglect/emotional abuse. Nothing really happens in the fic, but just as a heads up]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

Eddie shouldn’t be hearing this. This isn’t a conversation meant for spectators.

“I know you just got back from a trip, I just–” Harrington says into the receiver of the payphone, clinging to the handset as he practically wilts against the useless ‘privacy wall’ next to it. “I’m sorry, I was just hoping you could give me a ride home.”

All Eddie had wanted to do was cut the pep rally like any self-respecting social outcast would, except he couldn’t just ditch and go home; it’s Friday, and he has Hellfire after this. But the last thing he’d expected while loitering around outside, waiting for the pep rally to end, had been to stumble across Steve Harrington on the phone, practically begging someone for a ride home.

“No, I drove myself here today, I’m just not sure I can drive home.” Harrington pauses, then sighs. “No, Dad, this is a pep rally, I haven’t been drinking.” Whatever comes down the line next makes his posture snap straight almost immediately, before he hunches back in on himself with a wince and a hand pressed to his forehead. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

This is weird. This is so weird. Harrington is meant to be cocky – confident and in-charge and at ease, not curled around a payphone in the same way a kicked puppy tries to protect itself even as it asks someone for more attention.

Someone who is apparently his dad.

It’s just – weird. It’s like how you know a lemon is a citrus fruit, just the same as an orange, but the second you peel off the rind, you feel like you’ve seen something forbidden. Lemons aren’t meant to be peeled that way, and Harrington isn’t meant to look close to tears while trying to get someone to drive him home.

“I – I’m sick. I mean, it’s – I have a migraine,” Harrington explains haltingly. “No, it’s not just – yeah, my head hurts, but if it was just that, I swear I wouldn’t bother you, I just – I’m dizzy, and my vision’s all blurry, so I’m not sure I can drive, and I don’t…”

Shit, that sounds kind of fucked up. Eddie frowns, leaning against the wall he’s been peering around, now definitely intentionally eavesdropping. Harrington is frowning, too, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

“Tommy and I don’t hang out anymore, we haven’t in over a year,” Harrington says, then carries on a little more quietly, a little more subdued, “and there isn’t really anyone else here I can catch a ride with, either.”

Eddie will admit he hasn’t been paying a whole lot of attention, but anyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows that Harrington’s popularity had taken a bit of a hit last year, when he’d ditched Hagan and Perkins and decided to be a bit less of a dick. And then this year – well, even if Hargrove hadn’t crowed enough about the fight between the two of them, the state of Harrington’s face back in November had spoken volumes. Still, Eddie hadn’t been aware the condition of Harrington’s social life was so dire.

“I’m not – I’m not making this up, the doctor talked to you about this, he– I’m not trying to talk back, I just– Dad, please, can you just – please, come get me,” Harrington stutters through what sounds very much like a losing argument before going silent altogether, pressing one hand over his eyes as he lets his head hang, the other still holding the handset near his ear. “I understand,” he says dully after a minute. “I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll figure it out… Yes, sir.”

It doesn’t seem like there’s much left to say after that. Harrington hangs up the phone and leans up against the adjacent wall before sliding down and sitting himself right there on the ground, knees drawn up and face in his hands.

Shit.

Eddie ducks back around the corner, gnawing on his lip, caught in indecision. He shouldn’t have overheard any of that, intentionally or otherwise, but now that he has, he can’t just – not do something.

Can he?

He tries to tell himself it’s not his problem, that Harrington’s certainly never done him any favors, even if he’d never been a dick to Eddie specifically, but it doesn’t work. All Eddie can see is the defeated slump of Harrington’s shoulders, the helpless way he’d just sort of dropped to the ground, the way he’d quietly admitted there’s no one else he can ask for a ride – Eddie’s always had a soft spot for the lonely ones.

But when he rounds the corner, prepared to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he’s out here and willing to drive Harrington home, he finds that Harrington is – gone.

Eddie glances around, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere. Poof, vanished while Eddie had been too busy trying to decide what to do.

Well, damn.

Distantly hoping that Harrington had, indeed, figured something out, Eddie tries to put the incident out of his mind. The pep rally will be over soon, and that means Hellfire will begin, and he needs to get his head in the game.

He has no real reason to think on the incident after that, and he’s fairly successful at shoving it somewhere into the back of his mind until nearly two years later, in a setting so far removed from that spring day at the school that it might as well be in another life.

Eddie has to extricate himself from a few fans (actual fans; apparently, rumors of Satanism and returning form the dead will do wonders for the reputation of your metal band) in order to get up from the table settled near the back of The Hideout. Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver are all accounted for, enjoying their drinks and chatting with whoever’s descended upon them after their set, but Steve had disappeared ten minutes ago and has yet to make a reappearance.

Ten minutes isn’t all that long, Eddie knows logically, but after last year, after everything, it still feels a little too long. If he finds Steve and Steve tells him he’s fine, then that’s great, Eddie will leave him be. But he just wants to check.

The bathroom is a bust, empty but for one drunk swaying precariously in front of a urinal, so Eddie heads outside, where, around the side of the building, settled on the ground in a triangle of sodium-glow orange thrown off by a nearby streetlight, he finds his quarry.

Steve is sitting with his back to the rough wood façade of the bar, his knees drawn up in front of him and his head leaned back against the wall behind him. His eyes are closed, but there’s a little pinch of tension between his brows, and Eddie is abruptly reminded of that day, eons ago and not really that long ago at all, when all Steve had wanted was for someone to care enough to give him a ride home when he’d been sick.

Eddie finds his ass on the concrete right next to Steve before he even has the conscious thought to go over and sit down.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, picking up one of Steve’s hands from where it’s resting on his own knee (it’s safe enough right here, Eddie knows; someone would have to actively be looking for them to spot them where they’re tucked away).

If Steve is surprised to find Eddie beside him, he doesn’t show it. He turns to look at Eddie in the low light, offering him a fond little smile.

“I’m good. It was just getting to be a little much in there, so I came out here for a break,” he says.

Things like excessive noise and heat—say, the likes of which might be experienced at a concert in a crowded bar (or maybe a high school pep rally)—tend to be migraine triggers for Steve, so why he continues attending shows at The Hideout is beyond Eddie. He’s tried telling him that he doesn’t have to come, but Steve still insists he wants to make it to every performance that he can.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand. “You wanna head out?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re having a good time. I don’t want to take you away from that.”

“I’m not going to be having a good time if you’re miserable.” Eddie reaches up and cups Steve’s cheek in his hand, keeping him facing in Eddie’s direction. “You’re a priority for me, you know that, right? Say the word, and we’ll go home.”

It doesn’t seem like Steve has anything to say to that; instead, he just stares at Eddie with something like wonder, as if Eddie’s just done anything more amazing than promise Steve that he’ll never have to beg for basic consideration.

“Besides,” Eddie goes on, if for no other reason than to shift the sudden weight of Steve’s reverence, “it’s not like it would be a hardship.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to Steve’s willing mouth before he continues, speaking so close that their lips are brushing. “Getting to take you home, take you to bed, lie there in the dark, just the two of us…”

Steve presses in for another kiss, long and lingering, before pulling away.

“Let’s stay a little longer,” he says. “Jeff owes me a beer, anyway.”

“Y’know,” Eddie pauses with a grunt of effort as Steve stands and uses their joined hands to pull Eddie up after him, “the only reason you knew the movie he was referencing—and, thus, the only reason he owes you a beer—is because I made you watch it.”

“And? What do you want, a medal?” Steve snarks.

“Well,” Eddie drawls, glancing Steve up and down, “some token of appreciation wouldn’t be remiss.”

Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Eddie. “It would be if we did it in the alley next to a bar.”

“Wow, Harrington, mind in the gutter much? I only meant a beer,” Eddie sniffs, all exaggerated offense.

“Sure you did,” Steve says. “Now c’mon; one more beer, and then… home?”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, offering one more quick kiss in hopes of putting any hesitation out of Steve’s mind. “One more beer, and then home.”

[undercoverpena]

iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more. 

to you or to my pop 

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me. 

you sure about that 

I’d bet my next paycheck on it. 

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it. 

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you 

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will. 

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.  

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up 

You haven’t seen me, remember 

statement still stands 

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail. 

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream. 

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from. 

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again. 

“Fuck.” 

Folding it, he swallows. 

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you. 

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it. 

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone. 

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly  Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it? 

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips. 

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.  

yes just didn’t expect it  I had my phone bill the other day. I get it.  did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month.  We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much.  would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you  You’re such a flirt. 

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined 

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie.  I remember don’t worry 

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted. 

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been. 

Nice things do usually come with a tag. 

you decided on sweet or salty  Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword?  if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day  You sure? more than sure have a great time 

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t. 

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised. 

 “Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?” 

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?” 

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads. 

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks. 

It’s performative. 

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place. 

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too. 

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway. 

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it. 

That is until his phone vibrated. 

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird. 

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly. 

I’m sure they won’t mind 

Depends on the length of my nails I guess. 

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi? 

if the situation is right, yes 

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease 

I’m learning so much tonight. 

and your putting images in my head 

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful 

My face is burning. 

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough. 

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi. 

four letters, begins with f 

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword 

baby, cmon 

Fuck?

fork 

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue. 

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say. 

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before. 

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies. 

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone.  shit hermosa, you scared me.  almost called you.  Really? yeah  Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined  I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets. 

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us. 

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate. 

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing. 

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook. 

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.” 

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead. 

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.” 

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?” 

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.” 

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…” 

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.” 

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

[masonm19]

when two became three - mason mount x reader

Your eyes snapped open as you felt your stomach start to churn. Remaining still, you tried to see if you could wait out the horrible feeling, hoping it would pass. It was a quiet morning, and the intention was that you could remain wrapped in your lovers arms as long as you liked that day. But your stomach had a different idea, and it apparently wasn't going away, evidenced by the nausea that was quickly overwhelming you.

Trying to be gentle as possible, you wiggled out of Mason's arms and started heading, sprinting actually, to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. You could barely wait for the door to open before getting down on your knees and leaving over the toilet and emptying everything you had in your stomach. You hadn't realised that Mason had followed you; apparently you made more noise than you originally intended. He squatted down behind you before softly pulling your hair back and out of your face, murmuring soft things to you as you heaved.

"You're sick again," he observed quietly as you finally finished being sick and sat down on the floor, wiping your mouth with a tissue. He sat next to you, pausing only for a moment before pulling you into his lap, giving the side of your head a kiss, "Are you all right?"

"I think so," you sighed as you rested your head against his chest, "must have been something I ate. I don't see what else it could be, or it's just some kind of stomach bug."

"It's been happening a lot lately," he said softly, and you knew he was right. More often than not lately had you found yourself running and throwing up in the mornings, all kinds of different things causing your stomach to sour. "Maybe it's something you should get checked out?" Mason said softly before hugging me from behind, nuzzling his face into my shoulder before placing a kiss on my neck.

"I'm sure it's nothing," you tried to reassure him, looking up at him and nuzzling your noses against his, "it's probably something that's just hanging on and will clear up on its own."

"Y/N, my love, I don't want to take the chance that it is nothing," he insisted, putting his hand under your chin so you were looking up at him, seeing that there was nothing but concern in his soft brown eyes, "please promise me that you'll get it checked out. If not for your sake, then do it for mine."

"How can I say no to you?" You decided it was easier to give in to his simple request than try and fight him on it. Perhaps he had a point anyway, maybe it was something more to it than you originally thought, "I promise that I'll go and get it checked out and we'll see what's going on."

The following afternoon you found yourself getting through the crowded city in London making your way to the doctors. You walked up to the counter where you found the receptionist sitting there, setting your hands on the counter anxiously, "hi I was wondering if it was possible to see a doctor?"

"Of course! You've come at a good time, we're actually slow today," she smiled at you. Part of you wouldn't have minded if you were turned away and could return to Mason and pretend you'd got checked out and that nothing was wrong. But you knew he would be able to see right through you either way, he knows you too well.

"What's been going on?" The doctor asked, "I've been getting sick a lot lately," you started to explain, "mostly in the mornings, sometimes throughout the day. Just general nausea. I just want to make sure it's nothing serious. My husband was getting concerned too."

"Oh," the woman smiled at you, almost in a knowing way as she scribbled down a few notes, "go ahead and take a seat. I'll have someone with you in a few minutes."

Before you knew it, you were sitting on an examination table, swinging your legs back and forth as y Ou waited for the doctor to return. She'd spent a few minutes talking to you before performing an examination that didn't last long. It was a most as she, just as the receptionist at the front, already knew what was going on. Part you felt like it was just going to be something obvious, that should've easily been able to fig Ure on your own.

"Y/N," the doctor came back in, a smile on your face as she clutched her clipboard to her chest. She didn't seem worried, but rather happy, and you felt a bit of relief wash through your body, "You don't have anything to worry about. But I have one question for you."

"Go ahead."

"What is the date of your last menstrual cycle?" You were taken aback for a moment before trying to think of the date, racking your brain. That's when you realised you couldn't remember. It hadn't been last month, the month before that.

"Ermm," you said as you hung your head, "I honestly don't remember. It must have been at least-"

"Three months?" She asked and you nodded in response. How had it been that long and you hadn't noticed? It had always come like clockwork every month, except recently. You should've noticed, this was deal to miss, "Which I think you know what this means."

"Huh?" You asked as you still didn't manage to put two and two together, "I don't-"

"You're pregnant," she said as your jaw dropped at her announcement, "your about three months pregnant."

"Pregnant," you repeated, the word bouncing around in your head. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant, "I can't be pregnant."

"Well, I'm here to tell you that you are," she pulled a few papers from her clipboard and handed them to, "this has all the details and information you need. There's going to be a lot of changes happening so there is plenty of information on that, and different options. I know you might be scared right now, but it'll be okay. You'll always have someone by your side to help you with whatever decision you make."

"Thank you," you hadn't realised that tears were welling in your eyes, from fear, excitement and relief now that you had your answer. You should have known all the signs that would lead up to this, how could you be stupid? The doctor put a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle, but reassuring squeeze,

"It's a lot. I feel like this is really obvious but I had no clue."

"Don't worry," she said with a wink, "a lot of people don't. It may seem obvious, but in the moment when it's happening to you, it's not obvious at all."

"Thank goodness," you said with a nervous laugh, "it's a lot to take in."

"Congratulations," she beamed at you, "I'm sure you must be excited to tell your husband."

"My husband," you repeated as realisation set in and you'd have to actually tell Mason. Besides, it wasn't something that you were just going to be able to ignore for much longer, and he's know anyway, he was perceptive as could be, "yes, that should be interesting."

"Is this your first?"

"Yes, it is our first, so all the emotions are kicking in right now."

"I'm sure you and your husband have so much to be excited for!" She said as she made a few notes on her chart, "well you're free to go, and make sure to come back and see us soon, to make sure to set appointments for regular check ups."

"Of course," you were still feeling shell-shocked as you tried to process everything, "I'll be sure to do that."

You got home to Mason startling you from behind.

"Y/N?" He asked as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, "you're home."

"I'm home," you smiled at the sound of his familiar voice, "where were you?"

"Just went out," he spun you around so you were facing him. He reached behind him on the counter and showed you a blooming bouquet of bright flowers, "getting you these. I figured they might help cheer you up since you haven't been feeling well.

You felt your heart melt before you kiss Mason and give him a tight hug, "my handsome. Thank you so much, seriously. You have no idea what it this means to me."

"It's because I love you so much," Mason reached over and brushed a lock of hair out of your face.

"I love you too," you said as you leaned into his touch, having rested his hand on your cheek.

"How did it go with the doctor? Did you find out what's been going on?" He asked and you nodded in response. Of course he was going to ask right away, he was probably more concerned than you were. You thought about lying to him so you could surprise him, but didn't have it in your heart, knowing he would call you out about it right away.

"I did, yeah," you answered, giving him a small nod,"it's nothing bad."

"What's going on then?" He asked, trying to get you to look at him, "what happened, sweetheart?"

You suddenly felt nervous, unsure of how to spit it out and just tell him the news. It was just two simple words, but you somehow they seemed like the hardest ones, "it's just that I'm...."

"What is it?" He asked softly, as he gave you a smile, his dark eyes soft. You loved everything about him, but in that moment it all seemed intensified; Mason really was your everything. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned over and pecked his lips, lingering against them for just a moment. He chuckled as he put an arm around your waist, "come on, tell me, you've got me on pins and needless here!"

"I'm pregnant," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, a hand going to your mouth in surprise.

Mason looked at you stunned for a moment for a moment, his brow furrowing as a look of confusion crossed his features. He remained silent for a moment as he went through about ten different emotions all at once.

"Pregnant," he repeated as he tested the word out, seeing how it sounded coming from his own lips, "pregnant? You're pregnant."

"Yes," you said as you tried to figure out whether or not he was happy, "please tell me you're not upset."

"Upset?" He asked quietly as you gave him a small nod, the back of your eyes stinging with tears, "I'm not upset, not in the slightest. I'm happy, my love, so fucking happy."

"You are?" You asked as a single tear rolled down your cheeks, only to be quickly wiped away by Mason, "I'm so scared."

"It's okay to be scared," he said as his own eyes started to get glassy, "I"m scared too, but it'll be okay. Everything will be perfect, because we're having a baby. We're having a baby. I love you so much, Y/N."

Mason pulled you close to him and rested his forehead against yours, one of his favourite signs of affection, "I can't believe this is happening. Everything is perfect, I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"I'm glad you're happy, Mason," you said quietly, "I love you so much."

"I am and I love you," he whispered back, "more than anything else in the world. The two of you, referring to the unborn baby in your stomach"

[captain-mj]

The Journal

I don't know. Cw: Ghost's backstory

Soap found the unassuming book on his desk. The edges of the paper had turned slightly yellow and they were clearly flipped through quite often. He frowned at it, wondering who went into his room and set this there. It felt... almost threatening.

Soap gently opened the book to look at the first page.

I'm writing this journal as a "therapy" exercise. Frankly I think it's fucking bollocks. I'm fine. I dream about nothing.

Well. That wasn't very helpful. The handwriting was odd. Almost scrawling, like the person who was writing had shaky hands but also couldn't be bothered to hold the pen properly.

Soap frowned. This seemed a rather personal thing to give to a person. But it was in his room.

Just one more page.

Apparently I'm supposed to introduce myself. Fine. My name is Simon Riley. I belong to the SAS. I was a POW for a couple of months. I keep hearing numbers but none of them feel right. I think parts of me are still down there.

I hurt. Everywhere. Especially when people touch me. I can't sleep. Can barely eat. My mum is worried. So does Tommy. I want to tell them to fuck off. I have. But they keep worrying. I wonder if this is how Beth felt.

On the page was a polaroid. A baby faced Simon with nasty scars on his face, still fresh and angry. He looked half dead. Dark circles under his eyes and an expression nothing like his usual. Someone had their hand on his shoulder, but he could only see their arm.

Soap sucked in a breath. There was no way Ghost gave this to him. No fucking way.

He got up and grabbed the book, going straight for Ghost's quarters, planning on returning it immediately and pretending he had found it and couldn't find Price to turn it in.

Ghost's quarters were empty. His knives were missing, but his clothes were still there, meaning he was on a mission.

Fuck.

Soap paused and tapped his foot. He wasn't sure if Price was around. How did someone get this? If he left it in his room, he was worried someone would find it. He'd have to keep it. Just to be sure.

Soap set it back on his desk. When he saw Price, he'd talk to him.

After a minute of staring at it, Soap shoved the book into a drawer and closed it tight. He left to talk to Gaz to distract himself for a few hours.

Gaz was nice enough to tell him that Ghost and Price were on a mission together and that they wouldn't be back for a few days.

No big deal.

A few days with a book that potentially had a lot of answers to some questions he had about Ghost.

Soap didn't make it the night before he was reading more pages. He never claimed to have great self control.

Good morning. I feel like a teen, writing in a diary. I've been put on new medication today. Supposed to help. It makes me dizzy for some reason.

My mum keeps making me tea. She wants to make sure I'm real. I see her hands hovering around me. If I wasn't such a shit son, I'd tell her she can hug me. The thought makes my skin crawl. I see her dead body in my dreams. I see the skull they said was hers. I want to tell her I'm okay, but I don't want to lie.

Soap felt sick. There was a drawing. It was crude, clearly done out of boredom and with no real care behind it. Soap was pretty sure it was a skull that was dripping something. Maybe blood. The ink was all black so there was no way to tell. "Mum" was written several times around it.

I dreamed about her again.

That caught Soap's attention. Her? Was Ghost into women? That seemed unlikely.

She used to speak so soothingly in spanish to me. I wonder if she was like me. Did Roba rape her too?

Soap shut the book and shoved it under his pillow. Enough of that. Nope. He didn't want to think of those words and what they meant.

Fucking too.

No.

No...

No!

The idea of something like that happening to his Lieutenant was... It just... didn't happen.

Soap pulled the book out and kept reading. Just... to prove it wasn't real.

I don't know. It's not a nice thought. Maybe I want someone else to hurt too. I tried to jack off the other day and ended up scrubbing myself raw afterward from how it made me feel. How pathetic right?

Not sure what this is doing. What benefit this has. I'm writing my thoughts. Trying to feel better. Tommy joked about me buying a hooker. I had a panic attack. it was like i was back in high school again. fucking baby.

There was a picture of someone, presumably Tommy, and Simon hanging out. They were both smoking and Tommy was making a sign with his hands. He had a giant grin on his face. Simon had a carved out Glasgow smile that looked like it hurt. Raw. it looked to be after the earlier polaroid. The dark circles hadn't gotten better, but there was more color and flesh in his face.

My mum wants me to talk to my dad. I don't know why. I don't know want to see him. Can't let him see me right now. Maybe when I'm recovered. Last time I saw him, I beat his ass. Doubt he's going to forgive me.

Bastard is pure evil. He gets off on hurting people. Got off on hurting me. I think he's trying to use the cancer as an excuse to get close to my mum again. I'll beat his ass again. I'm putting on more weight. I'll fucking do it.

There was a little stick man drawing labeled 'Simon' and 'Bitch' with Simon beating him to death. Soap thought the blood was rather well drawn, even if the stick figures wasn't.

As the week went on, he kept reading a few pages at a time. He learned... things.

Ghost liked Vanilla tea.

Ghost had been assaulted by more than one person.

Ghost's father had beaten him. A lot.

Ghost was scared of snakes.

Ghost loved his Mum.

Ghost hated most mystery movies.

Tommy was Ghost's brother and was the second most important in his life.

And that they were all dead. All of them.

He wrote an explanation of everything there. In a clinical, harsh detail.

I wish I had died down there in Mexico. I wish I had laid down in that grave and died. It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.

It kept repeating and then he had just started over and wrote over the first layer.

Soap was crying. He couldn't help it. Tommy was so... young. Not to mention the descriptions Ghost gave of his family in general. The pages after that were mostly drawings or scribbles, all made with heavy hands.

Simon knocked. He could tell by the sound he made when he knocked. "Johnny?"

"When did you get back?"

"...Just now. Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Soap wiped his face so he'd look... normal. "Yeah come in."

Ghost stepped inside and saw the book. "Enjoy it?"

"What?"

"I left it for you."

"Why?"

Ghost hummed. "Thought it would be the easiest way to let you in."

Soap swallowed. "You don't do anything half assed do you?"

Ghost's eyes stared at him. Answer enough right there.

[astraystayyh]

I was hoping if maybe you could write a one shot with chris coming home from work to his girl sick on the couch 👉👈

P.s im not feeling well and fluff oneshots always make me feel better

Enough

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

genre: fluff (a sprinkle of angst?) [mention of period and cramps]

You didn't move all day from your spot on the couch. Not because you didn't want to, but because you physically couldn't; you were sick and your entire body ached. It was a miracle you managed to take some medicine right when you woke up.

The hours waiting for Chan to come back home felt like an eternity to you, and when you finally heard the front door open, tears of relief prickled at the corner of your eyes. You needed him, badly.

"Chan..." you call out weakly as soon as your eyes land on him. He's quick to your side, kneeling before your body and grabbing your hand in his, "Sweetheart, hey, hey. What's wrong?"

"It hurts," you slur out and he frowns, his eyes frantically racking through your body for a sign of any apparent injury. "What hurts, baby? Talk to me."

"My throat hurts, I can't swallow anything, my limbs hurt too I feel like someone beat me up. My period will start soon but I already have cramps and I feel sweaty and disgusting," you complain, teary eyes looking into his compassionate ones.

"Why didn't you call me, sweetheart?"

"You were busy, I didn't want to disturb you," you explain and he gently grazes your cheek with the back of his hand, "I'm never too busy for you, yn."

Your eyes flutter closed at the contact, the feel of his cold hand against your scorching skin offering you great solace.

"Did you eat, hum? Take any medicine?"

"Took some in the morning, couldn't move all day." Chan bites the inside of his cheek to stop his 'you need to take care of yourself better' rant from coming out. He knew that the last thing you needed right now was for someone to scold you.

"So, here's what we will do," he starts off as he picks you up bridal style and heads towards the bathroom. You loosely loop your hands around his neck, trusting that he will never let you fall.

"You will take a nice warm bath, while I make you a very delicious soup," he gently places you on the toilet lid and starts filling up the bath with water, "and then, we will cuddle until my girl feels better. How does that sound?"

"Perfect"," you smile, looking up at him as if he was an angel sent from heaven. And in a way, he was, your personal angel.

"Need me to help you undress?" he asks softly.

"Please," you whisper and he nods, peeling your clothes off one by one until you are bare in front of him. He helps you into the bath and you place a gentle kiss on his palm- your silent thank you.

Twenty minutes later, you are dressed and feeling slightly better. You head into the kitchen to find Chan stirring soup on the stove. You wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your cheek against his back.

"Feeling better, baby?" he questions and you hum in reply. "Here," he turns around handing you a steaming cup, "warm milk with honey and lemon, for your throat."

"Thank you… For the drink and for taking care of me."

"That's what I'm here for," he grins, bopping your nose with his finger. “Now go wait for me in the living room, I'll be there shortly."

True to his words, Chan joins you on the couch a few minutes later. He feeds you the soup carefully, blowing on it so it wouldn't burn your tongue. You feel yourself grow warm, partially because of the hearty stew, but mostly because of his affection for you.

As soon as you finish eating, Chan gently guides your head onto his lap and begins playing with your hair- just how you like it.

"You did well today, my yn," he speaks softly and you giggle, "What did I do well? Breathe?"

"Yes. You exist and that is enough for me to be proud of you."