#‘well the doctor never told you this. but *i* will.’ part of him still convinced despite evidence that he can explain it and it’ll go over

[quietwingsinthesky]

and that was a lot of words to justify the scenario in my mind of the master (<- currently salvaging a broken-down and half-dead tardis for them to use) getting increasingly frustrated that even just. knows what he’s talking about. that if he sends them searching the wrecked guts of other ships and weapons and worse for parts, they’ll come back with what he needs and if he rejects it for not being in good enough shape, they’ll ignore him and make it work anyway. as well as begrudgingly finding them useful, because this really isn’t a one-person job, and he doesn’t have to explain why for the most part, just what he needs done and they figure it out. Allowing for a few reconfigurations of things they did wrong, it benefits him more to keep them around than to ditch them. and so it begins.

[whateveriwant]

I just read your pregnant wife with 141 but that got me thinking. What about horny pregnant wife with 141

Feel free to ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing it 

-🍱 (if it’s not taken)

I haven't written smut in ages so forgive me if I'm a little rusty. 18+ only pls and thx (vaginal sex, cunnilingus)

Soap

Hooo boy! Alrighty, here we go

So for starters, that man is PENT UP. Like seriously, he's so backed up, he thinks he can feel it all the way to his esophagus

Since you first got pregnant, it's been nothing but morning sickness, aches and pains, and a total and utter lack of desire on your part

Trust him, he's tried taking care of himself in the meantime, but it's never really gotten the job done since it wasn't with you

But once you enter your second trimester and the desire has come back, it takes everything in him not to ravage you the moment you give him the green light

Why? Well, truth be told, he's scared about potentially hurting you or the baby

You know how he can get in the sack. What if he dents the wee bairn’s poor head? He's knocking (more like pounding) right on the little one’s door after all

You have to assure him that he's not going to hurt you or the baby (and please, never refer to your cervix as a door again)

So he'll start slow and gentle at first, not wanting to be too harsh, but it won't take much to get him back to fucking you hard and rough like you're used to

He's got your knees up by your chest (or, as close as they can get) while he’s drilling into you from above, snarling like an animal

When he finally finishes, it's loudddd, slamming the headboard against the wall, and he pushes his hips as far forward as they'll go while he empties four months worth of cum inside you

Ghost

I'm so sorry to have to be the one to inform you, but you're not getting that man's cock while you're pregnant

It's not because he's overly rough when you make love normally; it's just that he's not willing to take any chances when you're in such a delicate state

However, the man is inherently a giver, so with just enough whining and begging and pleading from you, he'll oblige you to some degree

He'll stick mostly to his fingers or his mouth, maybe a toy or two if you're really needy, but he's generally going to rely solely on his own skill to get you where you want to be

He'll have you recline against a mountain of pillows while he settles himself between your legs, his arms looping around your hips to hold you still for him while he works

But he doesn't just dive right in, oh no siree. The man loves to tease you – kissing your thighs, the inside of your knee, the bottom of your belly first

He'll turn you into a pathetic little thing squirming desperately for his touch, before finally granting you mercy by giving you his tongue

He'll make you cum so hard with just his mouth alone that you'll temporarily lose all thought of that gorgeous dick of his

But afterwards, if you want to return the favor, you certainly won't hear him complaining about it

Oh but trust that the moment the doctor gives the okay after you’ve given birth, he's gonna be all over you, making sure you walk funny the next morning (and the following week after that)

Gaz

Like the other two, Gaz is concerned with potentially putting you and the baby in a dangerous position

But the man is a sucker for your puppy dog eyes, so it doesn't take much convincing to get him to take you to bed

But he still wants to be safe about it, so he researches the best positions for couples to have sex while pregnant

That's how you find yourself in his lap, naked back to his chest, as he sits in one of the chairs he dragged in from the dining room

You're bouncing on his dick, hands braced on his thighs, ass smacking off the hard plane of his lower stomach as you lift up and down

His hands on your hips are more of a placeholder than a guide as he lets you set the pace, just sitting back while you take what you need from him

It doesn't even matter if he cums or not, that's honestly the farthest thing from his mind. All he cares about is making sure you're satisfied in the end

Need him to snake his hand forward, tracing the curve of your belly down, until he's circling your clit in fast, tight motions? Gladly, love.

Your thighs may burn and your eyes may water, but there's something about this position that makes him hit so deep that it leaves you gasping for more

Ultimately, your orgasm will trigger his own (nothing gets him there faster than the sound of you cumming), and afterwards he'll help you into the bath where he'll clean and massage your aching muscles better

Price

Unlike the other three men, Price is eager to fuck you the moment you show even the smallest inkling of want

What's that? His poor baby needs him to fuck her right now? Say no more, sweetheart. Hubby's come to the rescue

That man is dicking you down anytime, anywhere he can

Just got done shopping? He'll find a deserted road to pull over on. Just stepped into the shower? Might as well kills two birds with one stone

Really, it becomes a challenge to find where in your house he hasn't had you in these last few months. The kitchen, the garage, the back porch. You name it, he's done it (multiple times, in fact)

But his favorite – oh boy, his favorite without a shadow of a doubt – is when he takes you in front of your bedroom’s full length mirror

He'll hold you up from behind, standing you both on your feet, and just watch as he fucks you nice and slow

Seeing it in profile is fun when he wants to watch his dick slide in and out of you, but he's especially fond of having you directly face the mirror

There's just something about getting to watch you – that pretty face, those juicy tits, that fucking delectable rounded belly – that makes him blow his load faster than a damn rocket launch

With the number of times he's had you like this, you swear, that man of yours is trying to knock you up a second time (But shhhh. Quiet now. Don't go giving him any bright ideas, sweetheart.)

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[starkwlkr]

fever dream | sebastian vettel

part 2 part 3

warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading!! you can read it here!

AN: THIS SAYS THAT SEB AND THE READER WERE TEAM MATES FOR 2014 AND 2015 THATS A MISTAKE SORRY I ONLY MEANT TO PUT 2014 😭

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yourusername a short trip back home 🤍

lewishamilton enjoy it!

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lewishamilton roscoe and i miss you more

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“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”

but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.

“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.

“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.

“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.

“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”

“alison!”

the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.

“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.

“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”

“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.

“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.

“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.

“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”

or a mother.

only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.

you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.

“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”

you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.

“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.

“hello?”

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[imagineshere-forall]

- staying with mom pt. 2 ✰ e. diaz

Summary/Request: For a part 2 to Staying With Mom, maybe they’re at the hospital getting Mom checked out and both Chris and Eddie keep calling her mom. The reader is just having all the feels and she just loves it and Eddie loves it too. If you need more detail just let me know.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: poor medical knowledge and tooth rotting fluff

Pairing:  Eddie Diaz x fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Not super happy with how this turned out, but oh well, I missed writing and wanted to write some more. Please send requests im up to s7 of the walking dead, so am also taking requests for that! Also in this Shannon never came back, she left and Chris has no memory of her.

part one

The journey in the ambulance had been uneventful, despite there being a paramedic in the back of the van with you and your boys, Eddie had taken over your care. The paramedic that had been accompanying in the van had mostly just sat back and let him take over, occasionally pointing out where some bits of equipment were.

The pain in your leg was still excruciating, and it didn’t help that Eddie was shining a light in your pupils every few minutes to check the reactions. Once he realised your leg injury was not your only injury, and you had been knocked unconscious by debris, he had become frenzied urging the driver to go faster while he kept checking your vitals. You hadn't even told him you hit his head, but when he helped you to get a bit more comfortable on the stretcher he noticed the blood that stained his hand after he held your head.

“Eddie, I’m fine, my leg is just hurting” You said, pushing the torch away from your face after Eddie started checking your eyes again.

“Fine? Babe your head is bleeding and your leg is looking a bit squashed,” Eddie sighed. He was clearly worried about you. 

Chris had remained curled up to your side on the stretcher, clutching your middle, scared to let go. Despite the stressful situation, his heart had warmed at the sight in front of him. 

Once you had arrived at the hospital you were placed in the urgent waiting room. As you were still conscious and talking, people who had been more injured in the earthquake had taken priority over you. Due to the state of your leg the ambulance staff had placed you in a wheelchair and disinfected the stretcher before they headed back out to help more people. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked, once again. 

“Chris, your dad is crazy,” You said, ignoring Eddie looking at the boy slouched over the arm of your wheelchair. Eddie rolled his eyes and smirked at this. 

It wasn’t much longer until you were called to be seen by a doctor, and your boys quickly stood up and wheeled you into the room with the doctor. Chris held onto your hand and walked alongside you as Eddie pushed you.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asked as soon as she shut the door to the private room.

“Mom got hurt in the earthquake,” Chris spoke first. He was so quick that you hadn’t had the chance to speak yet. 

“Well, we better check mom out then,” The doctor said, smiling at Chris.

For the rest of the appointment, you were referred to as mom as the doctor tried to reassure Chris, and it just warmed something in your heart. Unknown to you but it also made Eddie’s heart swell. 

Despite you feeling fine, the doctor wanted to keep you for observation overnight and you had managed to convince her to let Eddie and Chris stay with you. Chris went back to being snuggled into your side once you were given a bed, and promptly fell asleep. 

“How are you feeling, mom?” Eddie whispered, putting emphasis on the last word. 

“Apart from the broken leg, I feel amazing,” you whispered looking down at the sleeping boy tightly curled into you. “I can’t believe he called me mom.”

“He loves you so much, as do I.” Eddie smiled as he leant forward to give you a small kiss “Which I guess means I've got to do something.”

You looked puzzled as Eddie leant over and shook Chris awake. 

“Eddie, he was asleep, what are you doing?” you ask, very confused, but your question was ignored.

“Chris, do you remember that thing I said I was going to ask mom one day, it’s time.” Upon hearing this Chris shot up, filled with so much energy and sat up at the end of your bed.

“Your jacket is over there dad” Chris pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. Eddie quickly stood up, and hurried over to the chair, almost slipping over on the clean hospital floors.

“Be careful Eddie, we don’t want both of us injured,” you sighed.

“It’s all good mom, don’t you worry,” he smiled.

Eddie sat down in the chair next to your head, jacket folded over on his lap, and took your hands in his.

“What are you doing?” You sit up a bit more in your bed, confused as to what was happening.

“It’s okay mom,” Chris said. It was hard to feel worried when he called you mom, it made you so happy. You turn back to Eddie who has your hands in his. 

“y/n, you have made both mine and Chris’s life so much better. There isn’t anyone I’d rather be Chris’s mom, and my wife.” Eddie paused, reaching into the inside zip pocket of his jacket. You wanted to ask what was happening, but you were in such shock you were speechless. In Eddie’s hand was a small velvet box. While holding the box, he went back to cradling your hand. 

“y/n will you do me the absolute pleasure of being my wife” Eddie’s voice started to crack. 

“And my mom!” Chris shouted.

“Yes, and Chris’ mom. Will you please marry me?” At this point, Eddie’s voice was wobbling while he awaited your answer. 

You struggled to speak, eyes streaming, your spare hand over your mouth in shock. Unable to get the words out you just nodded. 

“Yes?” Eddie questioned.

“Yes.” you nodded. 

Eddie quickly grabbed your hand and placed the sparkling ring that was once in the box on your ring finger, and then kissed your face all over before placing on last kiss on your lips while cradling your face in his hands. 

“Eddie, have you just been carrying around this gorgeous ring?” you asked as you began to admire the jewellery adorning your finger. 

“For about a year and a half,” he shrugged looking down at your hand. 

“We’ve only been together a little over 2 years,” you laughed. 

“I would’ve had it sooner, but it was really hard to get your ring size without being obvious.” he smiled.

“You are crazy Edmundo,” you laughed.

“Crazy for you, and now you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I wouldn’t want anything else, now get your butt on this bed, I want to have a cuddle with my boys,” you said as you shuffled making space for the three of you. Once Eddie was on the bed, you helped Chris get in the middle of you, it was tight and uncomfortable, but you didnt want to be anywhere else. 

“I love you guys, and now you’re my boys, forever.” you smiled as you placed a kissed on each of their heads.

“I love you mom” 

[miniwheat77]

Brat. (dbf!Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, oral sex (f receiving), using worms as bait, age gap, (sorry if I missed any)

Your body feels warm, the hot sun beating down on you as you swam with one of your friends in her swimming pool. You had one as well but her parents weren't as strict as yours so you spent most of your time there.

You had just turned 18 but since you still lived with them for the time being you had no other choice but to follow their rules. You still had a curfew, had to tell them when and where you were going and what time you would be home. They still had to approve of it of course. Although they rarely ever told you no anymore since you were 18.

Your dad sat at an old wooden bar in and old dive bar him and his best friend, John Price liked to hang out in. They've been neighbors for years and years and it's essentially how their friendship started. They spent every holiday, game day, barbecue, and family get together with each other since then. They got along well, never fought. John was invited to everything and since he didn't have a family of his own it wasn't too hard for him to show. He wasn't married, had no kids, and lived too far away from his parents and siblings to plan the flights. He also didn't know when he'd be deployed but since he took on a job on the base and was only backup for missions, he was always home. Usually worked a 9-5 on the base. It was out of the ordinary for him and apart of him felt useless but it paid the bills. He was still there if they needed him anyways.

You dad was tipping the whiskey back like it was water which only meant one thing. Something was stressing him out.

John smiles after drinking some of his own bourbon. "Something going on mate?" He asks your dad. "Ah yeah. Y/N has been driving me crazy lately." He groans. "Me and her mom." He laughs. John tilts his head in confusion. "What's been going on?" He asks. "If you don't mind me asking of course."

"To be honest? I don't know. She's just been a real grouch lately. Has an attitude, doesn't listen, complains all the time. We've given her much more freedom since she turned 18 so I'm not sure where it's coming from." He shrugs. John nods his head. He's still listening. "I mean.. we convinced her to go to the doctor to get a few scans and blood work done, thinking maybe it was hormone imbalance or a mood disorder but those all came back fine and seemed to piss her off even more to be honest." He shrugs. "She got something going on in her personal life? Maybe she's fighting with a friend or boyfriend?" John asks. Your dad shakes his head. "She hates guys her age. Hates pretty much everyone she isn't close with anyways. She always said she won't date until she's older after her first boyfriend but I mean. She was like 12 so it was stupid anyways. She's only got a couple close friends and that's where she is right now. I don't know what it is." He tips back another shot of whiskey.

"Must just be moody. Maybe you guys should come out to the lake with me this weekend. I’m taking the boat out.” He shrugs. “Yeah that sounds good.” Your dad smiles. “Maybe getting out of the house will help her out.” He shrugs.

“I don’t know, I just know she’s in my damn nerves.” He laughs. Once they finish up their drinks, they part ways. Driving down the same roads to get home since they were neighbors. They’d usually carpool together but they’d met after work. When your dad arrives home, you’re home already. Watching a show on the couch. He closes the door behind him as he steps inside, smiling when he sees you. “Hey. John invited us out to go fishin this weekend. I said we’d go.” He smiles. “Do I have to?” You mumble. “Yes.” A grumble leaves your lips. “I’m not sure what the attitude is but it better quit young lady.” You roll your eyes, going upstairs to your room. Throwing yourself back on your bed with a groan.

—

John smiles at your dad, he’s sitting up at the front of the boat. You’re laying on your stomach, bikini leaving little to the eyes, you’ve got a pair of sunglasses on and you haven’t spoken much the entire trip. “John, you mind letting me off at the doc? I’m gonna go get another case of beer.” He nods his head, starting up the boat and making his way to shore. He lets your dad off, letting him know he’s going to go back out with you and to let him know when to come get him. When he’s back out on the lake and the anchor is down, he flips his hat around. Scooping up some water with his hand and flicking it all over you. He draws a gasp from your lips and you turn around, “John what the hell!” You gasp. Wiping the water down. “Cmon kid. You’re driving your poor ol’ man nuts. What’s with the attitude?” He crosses his arms, lazy smile playing at his lips. “I don’t have an attitude. Why does everyone keep saying that?” You roll your eyes. “Oh come on. The eye rolling, talking back, ignoring people when they talk to you. Being a real brat little lady.” He teases. You grumble, laying back down. “Nope. Cmon. You’re gonna try fishing. You’ll have fun.” He picks up a fishing pole. “We’re using worms. I mean.. you can use power bait but the stocked fished are smaller than natural spawn fish. It’s up to you.” He shrugs, holding out the styrofoam container that has the worms in it. You sigh, taking it from him. “You want me to show you how to put a worm on?” He asks. “Yeah sure.” You mumble. “Alright, here. You basically just thread it through the top.” You watch him hook the worm and thread it on, watching as it squirms. You take the pole from him, casting it out into the water and waiting.

Pretty soon, there’s a boat full of younger guys creeping up near you. They cat call you, yelling out obscenities at you. You ignore them, rolling your eyes. John is a little amused because he knows what your dad has said about guys your age and how you hate dating. They leave just as quickly as they come. “Can we just home? This is boring.” You roll your eyes. “No, not until we catch some fish.” He laughs.

This is where he starts to see it.

When you think he’s not paying attention, you’re adjusting yourself. Sliding awkwardly on the seat, rubbing up against your fishing pole for any sort of friction. Acting more and more bratty as the time ticks on. It’s amusing to John really, to see just how frustrated you are. “Where is my dad? He’s been gone a long time.” John shrugs. He pulls out his phone. He notices a text from your dad, seeing that he’s received a text from him a few minutes before.

You mind giving Y/N a lift home? Her mom texted me and said she took a bad fall at work and is in the ER.

Yeah no problem at all, see you later mate.

“He said your mum fell at work so he’s going to go see if she’s okay. It’s just me and you kid.” John sits down. “So we can go home now?” You ask. “No.” He laughs. You mutter something under your breath. He laughs. Your fishing pole bobbing startles you and John perks up. "You got a fish!" You set the hook, yanking the fishing pole and starting to reel it in. The fish puts up a pretty good fight and when you reel it closer to the boat, John scoops it up with the fishing net for you. Helping you get it off the hook. "Look at that darling." He smiles as you pick it up. "Good girl, see? This is fun." He smiles. His statement takes you off guard, cheeks heating up. "Uh.. Yeah. Whatever." You shut down quickly. He thinks it's odd at first. Once you've thrown the fish back into the water, he sits down across from you at the front of the boat.

He looks around, making sure no one else is around. “Look. I know what’s going on.” He smiles. “Yeah? And what’s that?” You look at him. “Well.. I’m putting two and two together here. The attitude, the never wanting to go out.” He smirks. You look up at him. “I mean.. you’ve been grinding up against your fishing pole since I gave it to you. Rubbing your thighs together when that boat full of guys came by.” Your lips part slightly, cheeks going red. "And when I called you a good girl." He chuckles, seeing how you start to squirm from his watchful eyes on you. “Do you not know how to make yourself cum sweetheart?” He laughs. "T-that's inappropriate John." You look away from his gaze, thankful your sunglasses help conceal your embarrassment. He laughs. "Oh come on, what your dad doesn't know won't hurt him, besides. You've been on his nerves lately and if I help you out, maybe he won't be so stressed out. So talk to me." He smiles. You stay quiet and he moves across the boat, sitting right next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "You can talk to me darling. I can help you." Your heart rate picks up, it's racing in your chest. "I.. I don't know what you want me to say." You breathe. You're one step away from panting at his close proximity. The only thing you can think about are his hands on you. "Have you ever had sex before?" He asks. You shake your head. "Have you.. done anything at all?" You shake your head again. "I've tried to it myself but it makes it worse." You look down at your hands nervously playing with them.

He smiles. Right now, John is thankful there is a room below on his boat. "I can show you." He rests his hand on your thigh, feeling you stiffen up under his touch. "O-okay." You breathe. "Come on." He grasps your hand. There aren't many boats left on the water, it's getting late in the day and everyone is going home thankfully, you might get a little loud. He pulls you down the small set of stairs into the cabin of the boat. It's really small. He makes sure to wash his hands before he touches you, having you do the same.

There's a small bed and a table and chairs and that's it. "Lay on your back." You swallow hard, getting up onto the bed. His deep voice has your clit throbbing at the attention it knows it's about to get. You're sure you've soaked through your panties. He leans onto the bed, helping you remove your bathing suit. When your bottom half is exposed to him, he wants to drool. "God you're beautiful." He groans. He glides his hands down your exposed thighs, causing chills to rise on your skin. You're panting now, small gasps leaving your lips. "Relax." He chuckles. "I'm going to help you, try to calm down sweetheart. You're too eager." He runs his fingertips over your skin, his touch is searing, it burns your skin as his fingers move across you. You want his hands on you. You want them inside of you. He takes a deep breath of his own, trying to ignore the way his cock throbs against his cargo shorts. "Start slow. Little circles on your clit." He reaches forward. "Like this." He breathes. He uses his thumb, rubbing circles over you. Your lips part slightly, a whimper leaving your lips. It’s different when he’s touching you. You can feel your lower stomach swirling, something is building already. “You try.” He draws his hand away. Resting your hand over your mound, rubbing circles over your clit just as he said. The sensation is gone just as fast as it came, causing you to whimper out at the loss, your touch feels like nothing. You draw your hand away. “This isn’t going to work John, it doesn’t work.” You blush.

You try to sit up but he pushes you back. “Have you ever cum before?” He asks. You shake your head. “Oh darling.. no wonder you’re so bratty.” He smiles. “All of that sexual tension and no way to release it. Poor thing.” He’s teasing you, but at the same time actually feels really bad. He knows it’s harder for you to cum. “Stop it John.” You try to push him off, tears gathering in your eyes from frustration. “I’m just teasing darling, let me help you.” He moves himself up further, grasping your thighs and pulling you down on the bed further, you let your head rest back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. The boat rocks back and fourth over the water. You’re nervous. You don’t know what he’s going to do to you. He moves himself between your legs, and you don’t understand what's going on until you feel something warm and wet against your entrance. You lift your head up, jumping at the sensation. “Oh f-fuck!” You gasp. He glances up at you. He’s still got his hat on, but he’s flipped it backward by now. Giving himself room to devour you. He moans into your opening, you taste sweet. You’re breathing hard, clutching at the sheets as he flicks his tongue over your clit. He starts slow, letting your sensitive nub get used to the sensation of his tongue, not wanting to overwhelm you. You clutch at the sheets, melting further and further into him as he laps at your entrance with his tongue. It's clear that he's had a fair share of experience. You feel something building in your stomach and you know you're about to cum.

You're getting louder and louder, crying out his name and he's never imagined himself in such a position.

This is just to help her dad, so that he isn't so stressed out.

That's all.

John rocks his hips into the bed, cock hard and throbbing against his shorts. Begging for some kind of friction. He imagines your pretty lips around his cock, maybe your pretty eyes looking up at him as you take him further down your throat. He groans into you earning another moan from your lips. When you're wet enough from his spit and your arousal, he slides a couple of his fingers into you. Feeling you tense up around him, all of the air leaving your lungs, you've never had anything inside before and he can't help but smile into you.

He sucks against your clit, swirling his tongue around it, you're squirming, struggling to stay still beneath him, even his grip on you doesn't keep you completely still. He sucks your clit into his mouth one more time, lapping his tongue over you, his fingers curling into the sweet spot inside of you and you lose it, lips parting as moans leave your lips. A mewl leave your lips and you squirm out of his grasp as he desperately laps up your arousal from your orgasm. You push him away, closing your legs. You're looking at him with a look of pure shock, panting, a little sweaty. The look you're giving him it's unsettling how fucked out you look. He wipes his lips of you, looking up at you. "Do you feel better?" He laughs. You nod your head. "Good. Try to relax." He smiles. "Still got about an hour of light left, let's make it worth while and try to catch some fish yeah?" He smiles, standing up. When he's out of your line of sight, he sucks the taste of you off of his fingers. Groaning at himself.

What has he just gotten himself into?

[steddieas-shegoes]

Part 2 to this post

When gay marriage became legal, everyone expected Steve and Eddie to run to the courthouse and get it done.

They’d waited long enough.

But they were watching the news on a hospital room television instead of their home, keeping Wayne company while he received his last chemo treatment.

It had been a really rough six months, Eddie taking the brunt of caring for Wayne so Steve could work and pay the bills for all of them. But they wanted to.

Wayne had done so much for both of them, he deserved to be taken care of now.

The doctors had said he was getting to an age where the chemo would most likely only extend his life by a few years at most, that the cancer growing in his body would only be stopped temporarily by this drug that made him weaker than any cancer could.

At first, he didn’t want it. He told them both it wasn’t worth putting his body through it at his age, but Eddie convinced him through tears that he wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

And Wayne always did have a soft spot for Eddie’s tears.

Every other Friday, Wayne was brought to the hospital by Eddie, sometimes accompanied by Steve if his day off lined up right, hooked up to an IV of fluids and a harsh chemo mix, and kept for observation for 8 hours to ensure it didn’t cause any major issues on his frailer than he’d like to admit body.

The last treatment hadn’t gone well. Wayne ended up having low oxygen levels and high blood pressure, so they kept him overnight. Overnight turned into 3 nights, four days, which is sort of like a cruise to the Bahamas if you take out the fact they were in a hospital in Indiana.

Steve was holding Eddie’s hand as they all watched the tv, their silver wedding bands from a decade ago resting on their ring fingers.

It didn’t have to be legal to mean something to them.

Wayne had been much livelier over the last 24 hours, his blood pressure back at a normal for him level, though his oxygen level still fluctuated between too low and normal.

“Would ya look at that? They did it.”

Steve looked over at where he was sitting up in bed, smiling at the tv.

“They did.”

Eddie was wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Took them long enough.”

Everyone in the room huffed out an unamused laugh.

It did take way too long.

“Steve.”

Steve looked back over to Wayne and noticed he was looking tired again, like the news was the only reason he’d been forcing himself to be awake.

“You remember that bet?”

They’d made a lot of bets over the years, usually during March Madness. Wayne purposely bet against Steve because it was an easy win, even though they liked the same teams and often had similar brackets.

So no, he didn’t really remember whatever bet he was talking about now.

“Oh come on. I’m the old one here. You’re supposed to have great memory.”

“I’ve had like, eight concussions. My memory is like a goldfish.”

Eddie snorted next to him and nodded in agreement. Just this morning Eddie had to remind him that it was trash day despite it being the same day every week for the last 17 years they’d lived in their house.

“You owe me $5.”

“I’d remember that.”

“Eddie asked for you.”

Steve and Eddie looked at each other with concern. Was Wayne having a stroke? Was he slowly losing lucidity? He’d never shown any signs of memory problems, but sometimes being in the hospital had a lot of negative effects.

“When Eddie woke up in ‘86. I told you he’d ask for ya first and he did. Never collected on the bet because you two were too much.”

Steve suddenly remembered everything from that day, tears pooling in his eyes at how all of this started.

If he hadn’t stayed to hold Eddie’s hand then, would he be holding it now? Would they be husbands in every way but legally?

Steve looked at Eddie with a smile.

Then he turned to Wayne and smirked.

“Bet you $5 I propose right now.”

Wayne smirked back at him.

“Bet you won’t.”

Steve gave him the look that said ‘just watch me’ and stood up, dropping to one knee slowly.

“Eddie Munson. We already wear rings. We’ve lived together as husbands for so long, I can’t even believe we aren’t actually married. But I want to be. I want to fill out the stupid paperwork at the courthouse and maybe plan a little wedding with our kids and family. I want to have a honeymoon and be young and in love even though we aren’t young anymore. I want to be yours in every way starting right now. How does that sound?”

Eddie was crying. He was always more emotional than Steve, he just hid it better. Usually.

“You wanna be mine?”

“I’m already yours. I just want us to have everything.”

“Then I wanna be yours.”

“Good.”

Eddie leaned forward and kissed him, more passionately than they usually ever did in public or around Wayne. It was a special occasion, though, what choice did they really have?

After a minute, Steve pulled away and looked over to Wayne.

“Sorry about your $5.”

“I’m not.”

Wayne had never been more pleased to not be able to collect on a bet.

[denaliwrites]

Don't Turn Your Back

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: If you never see a Weeping Angel again as long as you live, it'll be too soon.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

When the Doctor said "Let's find out why this Weeping Angel is stalking and torturing you," you weren't exactly sure how he intended to do that.

You were not expecting him to propose establishing a psychic link between you and the Angel in question.

"Absolutely not," you'd said, adamantly. "Find another way -- I won't have that thing inside my head."

"It's the only way," he'd said, and damn if he wasn't a bloody good liar.

"I hate you," you'd said.

To which he'd smiled and replied, "You know you're dying to know." And damn if you weren't convinced he couldn't read your mind, sometimes.

So now, here you sat, with some odd machine he'd fashioned out of scraps sitting atop your head. "I don't like this," you told him nervously.

"Oh, but you look great," he told you with a smile. Despite his blasé attitude, you remained unconvinced. He was a little too casual, yet for some reason he wouldn't meet your eye.

"What's wrong Doctor?" you finally asked as he adjusted the machine you wore. "Why won't you tell me the other options?"

"Because there aren't any," he said, yet again.

"Doctor, I know when you're lying."

"Because the only other option is to let you die," he snapped, voice broken and movements suddenly jerky as he was overcome with emotion. "And I will not let you die."

"Oh."

You regretted asking. And yet, you persisted.

"So this is safe?"

"No," he replied with a sigh. "But you have a better chance if we do this than if we do nothing. If we do nothing... the Angel will get bored, and..."

"It may not send me back... like the other Angels do."

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Starting on the count of three."

He counted down, turned the machine on... and then everything went black.

You could tell something was off even before you opened your eyes, but opening them certainly confirmed your suspicions. You found yourself back in your flat, but the world around you was strangely dark and covered in thick mist -- even though you were inside.

Not a fan of that, you decided.

Walking through your flat didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary, besides the darkness and the fog. There were no ghosts, no angels, no Doctor, no... anything.

You were alone.

How were you supposed to tell him? How would he know to pull you out? Those thoughts, among others, ran through your head as you made your way outside to look around the garden. Finding more nothing, you moved on to the street.

You saw the TARDIS on the other side of the road, its light dim and ominous in the oppressive dark of whatever Hell this was.

You wanted to run towards it, and into the safety of the TARDIS, but movement to your left caught your attention.

Oh.

The Angel.

You sucked in a steadying breath and walked towards it.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked as you neared. You hadn't expected your voice to echo. It freaked you out a little. This whole place did. The situation, too.

The Angel didn't answer you.

"Oh. Do I need to turn away?" you asked, genuinely. You blinked and when your eyes opened you could've sworn the Angel's lips were slightly more upturned. "Okay. I'm here to talk. I'm here in good faith. Please don't kill me... I... I'm trusting you."

It was a terrible decision, really, but what choice did you have?

So you turned -- and closed your eyes for good measure.

"Why are you doing this?" you repeated.

A voice not unlike two rocks grinding against each other whispered in your ear, "Revenge." And as quiet as that single word was, it still echoed around you.

"But I've never seen a Weeping Angel before," you whimpered. "How could I have done anything to you worth revenging over?"

"Not you," the voice whispered.

Oh. Well, the only other person that left was the Doctor.

"What did he do?" you asked, even though you didn't actually want to know.

"He killed my sisters."

"I... I'm very sorry," you started, swallowing thickly. "That must've been... terrible. I can't imagine."

"He took something from me," the voice continued, "something I loved. So now I will take from him something he loves."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your throat. "The Doctor doesn't love me."

"Foolish human," the voice said, and there was just enough threat in those words for you to instinctively open your eyes and turn around.

The Weeping Angel was gone.

Nerves alight and mind about a hundred times more exhausted than it was when you first entered this place, you sighed and wearily turned to the TARDIS. Walking inside revealed that it was just as dark, misty, and creepy as everywhere else.

But you could see yourself sitting in one of the seats by the console, unconscious. The Doctor hovered beside you, his hands clutching yours desperately. He kept whispering to himself, but in this place they echoed right over to you, clear as day --

"Come on, come on, come on."

Over and over, just those two words.

You watched sadly for a moment before you made your way to... well, yourself. You weren't really sure how to wake yourself up, but were willing to try anything and everything that came to mind.

Which was how you found yourself going through a series of ridiculous attempts that included yanking on wires, chanting in Latin, screaming in your face, slapping your face, and dancing the hula.

After everything you tried failed, you dropped to the floor with a whimper and closed your eyes.

You awoke with a jolt, gasping desperately as if you'd been holding your breath for several minutes.

The first thing you saw was the Doctor, still hovering over you. He looked incredibly relieved to see you back, unharmed. You let him take the machine off, and though you felt incredibly heavy suddenly you let him pull you into a hug, too.

"What happened?" he asked as he pulled away. "What did it say?"

"It..." God, you were so tired. Why were you so tired? "It says it wants to kill me because you killed its sisters...?"

You could see him pondering that, eyes searching the air as he tried to recall a time he may've killed some Weeping Angels. All the while, his hands still held yours. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he remembered at all, he did a strangely good job of hiding it, though you supposed it helped that your sudden swaying drew his attention away. "Hey, hey," he cooed, pulling you up and into his chest. "Let's get you to bed, eh?"

You shook your head, pushing yourself gently away from him. "I need... to think. Erm. I'm gonna take a shower. And then I'll go to bed..." You nodded tiredly but resolutely and made your way to your bathroom.

The shower you took was long, just shy of blisteringly hot, and not nearly as productive as you'd hoped it would be. Your thoughts kept running in circles, or else running away from you altogether, and chasing them only served to wind your anxiety up like a rubber band about to snap.

And snap it did.

You hadn't even realized you were screaming until the Doctor was pulling you out of the water and gently shushing you. You only sort of quieted, your screams simmering down to sobs as you clung to him. He held you firmly, protectively, whispering such gentle words of comfort and encouragement in your ear even as your cries filled his.

"Oh, it's all right now," he soothed, petting your wet hair. "I won't let it hurt you, eh? I promised I'd keep you safe, didn't I?" He sighed when the only response he got was a sob, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Carefully, and much to your confusion, the Doctor managed to move to a stand with you cradled in his arms. You didn't protest as he carried you to your room (again), nor as he set you down and swaddled you up under the covers.

As you started to come down, you realized you were still naked -- that the Doctor had pulled you out of the shower and held you and carried you all while you were naked, but honestly dealing with that would have to wait until you weren't exhausted.

Once he was, seemingly, satisfied with the cocoon he'd surrounded you in, he leaned forward and pecked your forehead, then moved to leave.

"Doctor, please don't," you begged quietly, still sniffly.

He paused for only a moment before he turned back to face you, before he came to sit on the edge of your bed, before he scooted in next to you and laid beside you.

He didn't even need to speak for you to feel comforted. Even just turning to face him and nuzzling up to his shoulder had you feeling immensely better.

He rested his cheek against the top of your head and silently stared up at the ceiling as you yawned and sank into him. It took a long while for sleep to come for you, but when it finally did, it came hard and fast.

You were haunted by nightmares of moving statues.

[penkura]

Could you do a Trafalgar law x female where he rescued her a few years back and now is finally seeing her again but now she's a fierce doctor pirate?

Hi!! I hope this is good, I wasn't sure what to do for it so I just went with what came to me. ;3; I'd be glad to look at it again for another part in the future if you'd like!

Law wasn’t expecting to ever see you again, just like he’d never expected to meet you and save your life while he was still getting started as a pirate himself. Its strange to see you now, you look so different yet still the same, just like the day the Heart Pirates had left your little island. You must be about twenty-two at this point, it’s already been eight years since you met, right? You were fourteen back then and near death’s door, sixteen-year-old Law hadn’t ever expected to be convinced to heal a random girl on the small island his crew ended up on by accident. Your father begged them for help when he heard Law was a doctor, you were all he had left after your mother left the two of you, he couldn’t lose you too.

You were beyond lucky that it wasn’t more than a bad case of pneumonia, according to Law once he agreed to come check you. Left unchecked, you probably would have died in a few days as your sickness progressed and got worse, you and your father were grateful to Law and allowed him, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo to stay with you for the few days they needed to restock supplies and make sure you were really on the mend. You wanted to go with the Heart Pirates when they left, even talked to your dad about it and he agreed to letting you go if Law accepted tour proposal to join them, but they were gone before you ever had a chance. You didn’t even have the time to say goodbye before they left, it was so sudden you wondered if you’d done something to make them leave sooner than you expected they would.

Part of you believed you and Law were getting along well. You had told him you wanted to become a nurse one day, and thought that might lead to him accepting you joining his crew, but there was no chance of that after they left.

Now Law is surprised to see you on Sabaody, with another pirate crew. Small timers it seems, he can’t be bothered to remember your crews name, but oh does he remember you. Part of their sudden departure from your home was because Law didn’t want to get too close to you, he didn’t want to start having feelings for you, though it was a bit too late for that at the time, and now he realizes he should’ve brought you along.

Law doesn’t think you notice him at first, you’re a bit busy reprimanding one of your crewmates for being reckless as you tend to his wounds, the man swearing that it was the fault of a Celestial Dragon that he’d been injured. The surgeon of death completely ignores your crewmate while he watches you dress the wounds, you really are good at it. You were serious back then after all, when you told him you wanted to be a nurse.  It looks like you’ve become the actual doctor for your crew though, in just the little bit of time he’s watched you.

You don’t notice him for a few minutes more, until one of your crewmates points out that you’re being stared at, and it makes you happy to see Law again. You’re about to go over and say hello, see how he’s been the last eight years, before your captain calls for you, so you simply give him a grin and a wave, which Law returns with the slightest wave himself as you go off with your crew, hearing you shout back at your captain that you were busy because someone else was an idiot.

Maybe, Law thinks, he’ll get the chance to catch up with you later on. If you’re not too attached to your crew, perhaps you’ll want to go along with him instead.

[spooklies]

# Legacy

♡ ... › Yandere Ethan Winters as your Father

— Warning(s): childbirth death. slight manipulation of a child(?). stalking. things will get worse after this.

♡ ... › Written in HC format

— Part I - Part II

— His obsession with his child began the moment he learned his beloved wife was pregnant.

His mind went rampant with the possibilities of who his child would become and the kinds of traits they’d inherit from the both of them. Would they have hair like his? Or would their hair turn out to be more like their mothers? He was hoping they’d inherit their mother’s beautiful one of a kind smile, a blessing for everyone who happened to come into contact with them.

But Ethan knows that no matter what his child turns out to look like, he’d love them unconditionally because they were just as much his as he was theirs.

— The months leading up to your birth was like living through a real life fairytale.

Ethan was determined to make each day better than the last and he started doing that by showering his wife and unborn child with as much affection as possible. That started with making his meals more extravagant. While the meals he cooked didn’t even begin to compare to the restaurants he insisted he and his wife go to whenever they had free time, the gesture was still well-received and as the saying goes, “Happy wife, happy life!”

Ethan during this time researched which foods would benefit his pregnant wife and which ones she should steer clear of. While he may have come off as controlling initially, he’d managed to convince his wife that this was for the benefit of not only her, but their unborn child as well.

After all, he wanted nothing but the best for his two favorite people in the whole wide world.

—  Despite how cautious they were, there were things they couldn’t avoid.

His wife had become sick. Sicker than he’d ever seen her before. And after the doctors warned them about the possibility of losing their child it took all of Ethan’s willpower not to break down right after his wife had. 

They’d been told that the pregnancy posed a serious risk and that the possibility of death was in the higher percentages.

Ethan did everything he could, now going above and beyond to ensure his wife’s last months of pregnancy was as comfortable as possible despite the grim conclusions each doctor gave them after each appointment.

There had to be something he could do. There had to be. He couldn’t lose his family, he loved them too much and it would be unfair if he lost them right as their family was just beginning.

— The beginning of his child’s life would ultimately bring about the end of another.

Ethan never blamed his child for the death of their mother nor would he ever dare to. What happened was entirely out of their control and he hoped someday he could explain that to them as he was sure there would be a form of guilt over the absence of their mother.

As he held them in his arms he could no longer contain the tears he’d fought with so valiantly to keep at bay. You were perfect – everything he’d imagined you to be and more. 

— Ethan loved to spoil his child rotten.

Much like he did with his wife when she’d been pregnant with them, Ethan made sure to feed his kid the best of foods his salary could afford and to provide them with whatever toys they made grabby hands at whenever they walked through the toy aisle. 

Only the best for his baby, after all.

— As a result of grief, Ethan became overprotective of his child after a while.

While already protective of his child, it had quickly begun to spiral after he’d caught them crawling way too close to the stairs without the safety gate being properly latched. In that moment he picked them up with a gasp, holding them close to his chest with tears brimming at the corners of his eyes as he began to imagine the worst outcome becoming reality.

He couldn’t lose them, he’d already gone through that grief once before with the loss of his wife and it would have drowned him completely if it weren’t for his wife’s legacy keeping him afloat. 

— When his child began to grow older, he made sure to monitor what it was they watched and came off as strict as a result.

If he hears one bad thing about a show they liked to watch from another parent, or possible rumors about his baby’s show being a bad influence for the youth, then the show or movie would be banned in its entirety. If there were paraphernalia laying around the house then that would be thrown out just as swiftly. 

“I’m sorry baby, don’t cry. You know I only want the best for you.”

— Ethan became paranoid of other people, not trusting anyone with his baby.

When it neared the years for his baby to start daycare he worried himself sick over how well his kid would do when put with others their age. He would tell his kid to tell him if any of the other kids ever bothered them, and that if they ever hurt them then he’d make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

All his kid did was laugh, agreeing to tell him if another kid bothered her. And, well, as a kid a lot of things happened to bother them. From not wanting to share your toys to not liking how you were tagged during the game called, ‘tag’. 

Really, he should’ve known better. But it was better to be safe than sorry he reasons. Not every kid went without a mother, so he was waiting for the days his kid would ask him what happened to their mother. He’d already shown them pictures, but they’d never had much of an interest in learning about them. He hoped that would change as they grew older.

— Ethan liked to keep his child by his sides at all times.

More often than not the two of them were falling asleep next to each other or with his child resting comfortably in his arms as he did his best not to fall asleep so he could see the end of their movie/show. 

And when in public Ethan held onto their hand at all times, not daring to let go of their hand for a second with the fear of them wandering off somewhere he couldn’t see them or worse, far enough for them to get snatched.

— Ethan was hardly ready for his child’s time away from home to increase.

At daycare, he only had to be away from his child for a few hours. He’d signed up for the half-day schedule, meaning he was able to pick them up the moment it turned noon. But with the year ending just as fast as it had begun, that had also meant his child’s longer days of school.

He just wanted his baby to stay home all the time. To be beside him as he worked from home, or to help him cook as much as he allowed them to after careful consideration of how dangerous the kitchen is for a toddler. 

Whenever his child was away from home for too long the silence was maddening. He’d keep himself grounded with pictures and videos he’d taken at every milestone of his child’s life so far. From when they’d said their first words, “Dada!”, and when they’d first started to crawl. His favorite video so far was when they’d taken their first steps, the recording showing them walking towards him with a giant smile on their face, waiting to be picked up the moment they finished their short and wobbly journey. 

Everything was recorded.

— His baby’s first real day of school was bittersweet.

It was one thing sending them off to daycare, but entirely something else walking them to their classroom and introducing himself to his child’s teacher. He’d already done a background check of sorts, learning her history as a teacher, possible scandals, and later he’d trail her home to see what kind of home life she lived to ensure he wasn’t sending his kid off to some abuser of children. 

He’d done the same to the daycare assistants his child had previous to this year, and he’d continue to do so going forward. 

He drew the line when it came to other children and their parents, only feeling the need to if he hears word about a kid giving his kid trouble. 

— There’s no such thing as “being too careful” in Ethan’s eyes. 

Ethan prided himself at how well he managed his kids’ life so far. But sometimes he worried he’d been sheltering his kid too much. And in those moments he’d ask himself what his late wife would have done differently, if there was anything she would have done differently. But without her being around anymore to knock some sense into his spiraling mind, he’d continue to do just that – spiral.

And as his kid grew older, so did his need for control.

[wonderlandwalker]

One Day at a Time | Finnick Odair x Reader

Previous Part / THG Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: a short collection of sweet moments shared between you and Finnick as you recover, reminding the both of you of the love you share

(part 4 of the remember series but could also be read on its own I think, you can find the other parts in my masterlist)

Content Warnings / Tags: Fluff, no use of y/n, mentions of punching, I really think that's it.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry it took so long my only excuse is that I am an absolute mess of a human being which is a terrible one but oh well. This will be the final part of the series, hope the fluff makes up for all the heartbreak I've put you through <3

It's been a week now, one week of blissful moments spend with Finnick while recovering from the attack within district 13. After all that had happened you were in need of some peace, and the universe granted it.

On the first day you were still in the hospital wing, an IV dripping steady fluids into your system. You woke up to Finnick sitting next to you, one of his hands holding onto yours while the other was holding up a book. It was one of your favourites, and you had been pestering him about reading it so you could talk about it with him, but he had always brushed you off, saying he'd get around to it eventually. It seems eventually finally came around. You coaxed him into getting in the bed with you, he was hesitant at first, not wanting to hurt you, but he wasn't above your charms either, your eyes pleading with him in a way he couldn't resist. He had settled in behind you, letting you lean against him, ignoring the dirty look the nurse gave you. You had asked him to read to you, and even though you already knew it by heart, his sweet voice added a whole new element to the story so beloved.

The second day was spent trying to convince the nurse to let you leave the hospital room, if only for a few hours, she didn't initially want to agree, but Finnick simply wouldn't drop the subject. So you walked together towards the dinner hall, feeling like little children sneaking out past the curfew.

Supper had already finished, but Finnick was friends with one of the cooks who let him into the kitchens. He told you to sit down on the table in the middle of the room and gave you a quick peck on the lips before moving over to the fridge. It was simple, it wasn't much, but it was perfect. He would let you taste the dish in-between steps, always forgetting one ingredient or another, but you didn't mind reminding him. At some point you could have sworn he was doing it on purpose, but maybe he was just too caught up in having you there with him again. You offered to help with meting the butter, dicing the vegetables, stirring the sauce, but each and every time he would insist you stayed right where you were, accentuated with a quick kiss, his hands on your face smearing flour all over your jaw, not that you minded. He claimed he was the better cook anyway, that you'd only hold him back, now that one you both knew was a lie, but it was a precious one, one that didn't need to be disturbed.

Day three consisted of a slow day back in your room, having been cleared by the doctor and finally being in your own space again. You and Finnick hadn't shared a room in a while now with everything that had gone down, but you had immediately decided to spend your nights together again, not wanting to spend more time apart than necessary. You hadn't fully recovered yet, still needing your rest, but Finnick had set his mind on moving your things back into his room today.

So there you were, sitting crossed legged on his bed absentmindedly sipping on some coffee he had brought you as you watched him bustle about. He was only gone a few minutes at a time, but you never failed to produce a smile when you saw him approaching again, hands full with some of your books, the collection of flowers he had given you over the years that you had dried and pressed in-between the pages were sticking out slightly, but he handled them with care. Even while you weren't together you couldn't find it ins yourself to get rid of them, and you're glad of it now. He goes back and forth for a while, collecting your pillow, your skin care products, your small radio that barely managed to get a reception down here, but you couldn't bare to part with. Each time he'd ask you where you wanted him to put it down, carefully creating a space that consisted of the both of you.

On day four you had finally woken up in his arms again, wondering how you could have ever forgotten this feeling. When he noticed you were awake he had moved to place a delicate kiss on your lips, basking in the simplicity of the fact that he could. He had told you he had a surprise for you today, and you couldn't help how giddy you already got from the mere thought of what it could be. But it was oh so much better than you could have imagined, because today Finnick took you to the surface. How he managed to get you past all the checkpoints was beyond you, and when you asked he had simply said he had friends in all the right places.

It was a bit of a walk to the spot he wanted to take you, but you revelled in the sunlight against your face, needing to squint your eyes to see properly with how bright the sun was but too blissed to care. The high grass rustled against your bare legs as you continued to walk, and the tickling sensation brought back so many fond memories. When you finally made it to the clearing it was a sight from a dream. The tree next to the lake provided a shadow you could both comfortably lay in as the smell of the fresh water blessed your senses once more. The wildflowers adorning the space around you were once you could recall from back home, with a few others you couldn't identify. Finnick had picked a few, placing them behind your ear as he talked about what the flower meant. A myosotis, he had called it, representing true love and dedication. He told you about the myth behind the forget-me-nots, how they had been afraid of being forgotten by the gods, and you had vowed in return to never spend a day without thinking of him again.

During the fifth day you didn't do much of anything special, but you supposed that depends on your definition of the word. Finnick had made dandelion tea from flowers he had collected yesterday, the familiar taste bringing back a sense of nostalgia for a time that you wouldn't be able to return to. You had once told him your mother used to make it when you were sick, and ever since he would go collect them by the cliffs for you. You had insisted it was too much work that he didn't need to worry himself with, he had countered that he enjoyed the view where they grew anyway, and really, he was going for himself as much as for you. Maybe he had simply been trying to get you to stop fussing over the subject, maybe it had really been true.

You spend the day talking to your friends, reminiscing in regained memories and filling in gaps that you couldn't on your own. As you sat next to Johanna she talked on about the days Finnick spent longing after you, claiming he was alright wirh being just friends, but she was convinced that if any of her friends looked at her the way he looked at you she would have suckerpunched them.

On the sixth day you had begged Finnick train with you, saying how you wanted to get your strength back, how you missed the exercise and the content feeling of aching muscles. He had been reluctant, of course he had been, but once you had managed to drag him onto the training mat he revelled in it. He couldn't deny he had missed sparring with you, the action so effortless with you. He had made fun of how you threw your punches, saying you had to extent your arms further to complete the motion, but he was the one not protection his core properly while fixating on you. It had been good to feel your body in motion again, he was still stronger than you, knocking the breath out of your lungs once be stopped holding back, but you were still faster, getting the drop on him in the split seconds he was distracted. The manner in which your muscle memory still held up, the way in which you still used the same techniques without meaning to, it was good to know there are some things people can't take from you.

The seventh day you picked your routine back up. Waking up to an empty bed but not lonely, his side was still warm as you rolled over. Once you opened your eyes you saw the cup of coffee and the note on the bedside table. Finnick knew you never slept for long after he left, somehow he still knew. He had been given some time off during your recovery, but district 13 didn't stand still and they had needed his help. You weren't expected back yet, but the sense of purpose was one that you were always glad to have. You drank the coffee he left you as you got dressed, smiling as he had made it exactly to your liking, even if he used to complain you couldn't even call it coffee anymore with that much sugar in it. And so you went back to work, moving to scribble a quick message on the back of the note if he came back looking for you, not that he needed it, somehow he would always know where you were.

In the past week you had learned that a love as great as the one you shared with Finnick could never be forgotten, not really, because no matter how many memories faded, there would always come new ones. And soon, even though you didn't know it yet, Finnick would give you his mother's ring once more, and this time you would remember everything that led you here, and you would remember saying yes.

[whateveriwant]

I know it's a little late but this Father's Day, I'm thinking about childhood best friend Simon who's secretly in love with you.

You've known Simon since forever – long before the emergence of “Ghost”, his enlistment in the military, or, hell, even before his voice dropped three octaves. To you, Simon Riley was your best friend, the one person in life you could always count on to be there for you. And to Simon, the feeling was mutual, but his feelings towards you also extended well beyond that sentiment, far surpassing what you ever realized.

From an early age, Simon knew you were the love of his life, but he could never bring himself to admit that to you. He was always too shy, too self-conscious, too scared to fuck up everything you two had if he told you the truth. So instead, he kept his love for you a secret, and just focused on being the best friend any girl could ask for.

For a while, it was nice simply being your friend, and Simon played the part with ease. But once you entered the dating scene, everything seemed to change. Now, not only did Simon have to hide his feelings for you, he was forced to sit back and watch as you gave your love to another. Though it tore him up inside to witness, Simon still chose to stick by you anyway. He was your friend first and foremost, and so your friend he'd continue to be.

Through every new relationship, every whirlwind romance, and every eventual heartbreak you endured, Simon was always right there beside you, lending himself over in whatever manner you needed. Even as one came along that you swore was different from the others, Simon was skeptical, but he supported you regardless. And now, nearly five years into your marriage, he supposes you were right after all.

So color Simon surprised when you wind up beside him on his couch one night, crying your eyes out, trying to drown your sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. You explain how, for almost a year, you and your husband have been trying for a baby, to no success. You've done everything; ovulation tracking, fertility tests, a revolving door of doctors to try finding out what the issue is. By all accounts, there doesn't appear to be any physical concerns preventing you from conceiving. As for your husband, well, he hasn't been as diligent in determining his role in this.

You're now at a point in your life where you feel like time is working against you. You want nothing more than to have a baby of your own, and if you and your husband aren't capable of doing that, you're not sure what there is that's left for you.

As you sob into the crook of Simon's neck, he finds his neurons begin firing at an alarming rate. Quicker than he'd like, an idea takes root in his mind, and though it's bad – fucking heinous is what it is – it burrows itself into his grey matter until it's all he can focus on. While he hates himself for thinking of it (hates himself more for the way his stomach flips at the thought), there's nothing that hurts him more right now than having you in his arms so utterly distraught.

So before he can convince himself of another idea, Simon raises your head from his shoulder and tenderly cups your face between his palms. When he leans in to kiss you, a moment he's dreamed about for years, he's not surprised as you startle against him. But he holds steady, melding his lips to yours, until he feels you gradually melt into it. As he hushes the voices in his head, he plucks up his last bit of courage, and finds no resistance as he slowly guides you onto your back.

It's alright, sweetheart. He's here for you. He's going to help you out.

He'll give you the baby you so desperately desire, because that's what best friends are for, right?

[gardenofnoah]

it was never ending (pt. 1)

wc: 5.3k (pt. 1 only) tags (whole series): bakugou x reader, oc character death (not reader), grief, healing, found family, getting together, slow (medium?) burn, child rearing, descriptions of pregnancy, morning sickness, friends to lovers, confessions, eventual smut

notes: i've had the idea for this in my drafts for the last 82 years. i blacked out and wrote this whole thing in like 12 hours. fingers crossed for the same motivation demon to visit me in my sleep for part 2.

summary: when the father of your child passes away suddenly, you get by with a little help from your friends (and a really intense Bakugou).

There was a part of you that already knew, as soon as the phone rang. At 7pm, there was no reason to assume it wasn't benign, like your mother calling to confirm what you'd already told her you'd bring to brunch the following weekend.

It wasn't, though. You knew it wouldn't be.

The drive is something that happens to someone else. You see it in flashes. Distantly, you think that it's probably not safe, driving in this state with an infant in the backseat. But you don't really have another option—or at least not one that occurs to you.

A nurse—a young woman, who can't be any older than early twenties—meets you in the lobby. She's practiced in her stoicism. There is no forced smile, no apologies—just a quiet invitation to follow her. She leads you with a hand on your elbow, like she's expecting you, too, to collapse, down a series of hallways that you don't bother to notice. You wonder how long she's been doing this, and what the impact of it might be on someone so young.

A doctor is waiting for you in the room. He immediately launches into a lengthy, medical term-laden explanation of the two hours prior to your arrival. You hear none of it, and you're not even looking at him.

Behind him, a thin sheet covers the body of the father of the child in your arms.

-

You turn your phone off.

You have to, really. The barrage of well-intentioned but poorly timed (and often poorly worded) texts and calls and emails renders the thing unusable.

The number of days that've passed between today and the hospital are of little consequence to you. You've survived on autopilot for however many have passed but the bone-deep exhaustion you feel has spread deeper still. Through the wall, Kaede cries, but there's nothing left in you to get your body to move. Kaede, named so at her father's request.

She was an angry thing, born with no small amount of indignancy at the act of bringing her earthside, against her will. She was red and raging for the first several months of her life, and while it exhausted you, Takeshi had taken it in stride.

"My darling girl," you'd hear him through the monitor, cooing to your daughter as she pitched a fit for the umpteenth time that night, "it won't always be so bad."

How would you convince her of the truth in that now?

The sound of knuckles against your front door jars you out of your half-consciousness. It seems it's only a courtesy, though, because you hear it open immediately after. It dawns on you that you haven't thought to check if it was locked since you've been home. Regrettable, especially now. Some distant alarm ringing in your mind tells you that should be concerned that someone has just entered your home, but there's a wall up right now. In an effort to keep you safe, your brain has blocked out everything.

Through the wall, a voice coos to your daughter. You recognize it as Mina's, and you let out a quiet breath. You brain loosens its grasp for an instant and relief floods you. You'll get up and thank her, when you can.

There is a chorus of voices, telling you that there is more than one person in your house right now, but in the absence of a threat, your eyes flutter closed. The door to your bedroom opens, and you blink hard at the light that seeps in over the massive body in your doorway.

The door closes just as quickly, and in the darkness, the body moves around the room to the other side of the bed—the empty one. There is a weight—your body dips with it minutely, and then settles again. You close your eyes, this time to relieve the sting you feel for the first time since getting home. With another breathing body as its witness, the grief hits you so suddenly you can taste it.

"Katsuki," you whimper, feeling him at your back. Familiar arms reach for you, pull you in.

"Y'r alright," he murmurs, pressing the underside of his jaw into your hair. The pressure on all sides squeezes something loose in you. You suck in a gasping breath, and then it leaves you—broken apart and limp. He holds you while you cry—keeps you there, tethered only to him in this storm.

_

Once the hurt comes, it lingers.

You suppose you can be grateful for that. People do crazy things under the burden of pent up emotion, and you can't afford to come unglued. Not like that, anyway. But while grief pulls you apart in different directions, your friends flit around your peripheral. You'd feel guilty if you could—for not being able to do what you should be able to—but few things get past the mountain of mourning that keeps you pinned to your bed.

They seem to have worked out shifts among themselves. Mina in the morning to get Kaede up and fed, Kirishima and Denki in the evening to get her bathed and ready for bed. Izuku comes around most afternoons with rattle toys and books to keep her engaged, talking and playing to keep her brain developing in your absence. Shielding her from this.

Katsuki doesn't leave.

He sleeps on the couch. Or you assume he does—you've not ventured out of your bed for much of anything. He's in and out of your room during the day, always with little meals or water or reminding you to shower, to get up and walk around the room if you can. It's hard and you cry often, but right now he's not his brash, abrasive self. He's gentler than you've ever seen him, a hand at your back to steady you, his voice low and grounding.

Your relationship with Katsuki is complicated, but not in a bad way. You'd met him, along with the rest of the group, in college. The civilian track at UA landed you a cushy office job—one you promptly turned down due to Katsuki's outrage at you working anywhere that wasn't with him. He'd gotten you a job as a resource coordinator at Jeanist's agency—which was something you found you really enjoyed. Your quirk was less than impressive—similar to Shouto's but not nearly as powerful, you could really only bring tea just shy of a boil. It certainly wouldn't be saving anyone's life, but in this role, you could help. Displaced families needed temporary housing, victims of violence needed access to affordable counseling, the injured needed connected to hearing aids and wheelchairs and prosthetics, ongoing care.

It was hard work, but you felt a certain privilege in being the one to do it. It was an honor to walk along side someone in their most vulnerable moments, and you tried to do it with as much grace and compassion as you could. When Katsuki was big enough to start his own agency, you followed him there. He gave you room to grow, and now, you head a team of community crisis response workers.

You haven't thought about work since the hospital. It's fascinating, how quickly something that matters so deeply to you can leave your mind. Katsuki hasn't mentioned it—in fact, he's not said much of anything, aside from his quiet prompting every few hours. You know that he's only doing what seems so inherent to him, and if you had the energy to, you'd tell him to go home—to take a break. The energy isn't there, though—all you can do is follow his directives to keep yourself alive.

Katsuki has always been protective of you. You're not sure when it started. You'd always been drawn to him, and there was seldom a time when you were somewhere that he wasn't. Your mother took to making up the spare bed for him when you'd come home for weekends and holidays, because it was a guarantee that he'd follow you through the screen door like a shadow. In your third year, she started asking, not so in jest, when the wedding would be.

When you met Takeshi, it was a surprise to everyone. But he was kind, and personable, and the newly-pro heroes adopted him into the fold.

Takeshi knew what Katsuki meant to you, and you were grateful for his patience. While his relationship with you was neatly defined, a specific box in your heart with his name on it—Katsuki was not. He was in everything that you were, and it was something that Takeshi chose not to interfere with. You're certain it was difficult, but he took it in stride.

He really was a kind man.

Within a year of being together, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—but what news filled you with terror, Takeshi received with utter delight. You were only a year out of college and in no way financially stable, but his joy left an impression on you. With each day, your child grew, and so did your tentative excitement. Takeshi was through the roof—as were your heroes.

Katsuki was the one to figure it out first. You'd been absent from a few of the group's weekly dinners at the bar in town. When you finally showed up, dressed in a big hoodie that covered most of you, you'd politely declined all offers of beer and stuck to stealing fries off of his plate.

"You pregnant?" he'd asked, not bothering to lower his voice. You blinked up at him, caught of guard.

"I—uh. Yeah."

You could've heard a pin drop, with how silent the table had fallen. You lowered your eyes—uncomfortable, unsure how to proceed—and reached for another fry. Mina broke the silence first.

"Oh my god!" she'd shrieked, already in tears. The rest of your friends followed in suit, cheering and reaching for you across the table in some strange attempt at a hug, at comfort.

You'd looked back up to Katsuki, who'd been strangely quiet. His eyes held a question—something undeniably concerned.

"It's okay," you told him, smiling softly. Squeezing his knee under the table, you couldn't miss how tense the muscle felt under your hand. "Honest."

_

A month crawls by, and you find that you can't sleep in your bed anymore.

After a few, agonizing hours of tossing and turning, and pointedly avoiding the other side of the bed, enough is enough. You stumble in the dark to the living room, trying your hardest to be quiet. It's your sniffling that wakes him up.

"Y'alright?" slurred, endearing. It would make you smile if you weren't crying. You shake your head, though his eyes aren't open to see it.

"Move over," you whisper, already pulling the blanket out from under his hip. Katsuki shifts, rolling to his side and lifting an arm for you to slot yourself underneath.

His heart beat, steady and slow, taps against your temple. You close your eyes and imagine the shape of it—the chambers that expand and contract and keep him alive. The wave of gratitude is immense and sudden and brings another sting to your eyes.

He doesn't go back to sleep—you can tell by his breathing.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, watery and broken. The arm around your waist tightens.

"Enough." His voice is gravely with sleep, but that's not all that's there. There's an edge to it, and you know that he's worried. "Try t'sleep."

_

Takeshi had made it a habit to talk with Kaede before she was born.

Each night, he would shuffle down the bed and speak softly to your growing stomach, filling her in on the events of the day.

"We wanted to go on a picnic today, but you made your mother sick." He'd pat your belly, shaking his head with a tsk. "That wasn't very nice, little girl."

Pregnancy was hard. You'd wished to be like those women that glow—that love being pregnant, that feel all connected to their bodies and the earth and the universe and whatever—but it was awful. Your ankles swelled and your back ached and you were sick all of the time.

Takeshi worked a 9-5 job outside the city, so Katsuki would stop by to check on you. It became something like a routine. You'd spend all morning throwing up, and then Katsuki would stop by and spend most of the afternoon here, feeding you anti-nausea medication and small bites of food (you'd really only wanted toast, which would launch Katsuki into a several minute tirade about how you'd kill yourself and the baby if you didn't eat a god damned vegetable. This was also part of your routine).

Katsuki's quirk was surprisingly helpful. It took some convincing ("You're not going to fry the baby Katsuki, Jesus Christ,"), but you found that if you had a layer between you, his hands could act as a high-powered heating pad. He'd sit behind you on the floor, one hand on your lower back, the other scrolling through his phone. You'd keep your head between your knees to stave of the nausea.

"You nervous?"

It was the first time he'd really asked. You rested your cheek on your knee, looking back to catch the blonde spikes of his hair in your peripheral.

"Honestly? Yeah. Really nervous."

He'd hummed, something noncommittal and gruff. You let the silence stretch on for another moment before breaking it again.

"I'm worried I'm going to poop on the table."

He'd snorted, and you could feel the eye roll from behind you. "That's what y'r worried about?"

"I mean, yeah. And the possibility of irreparably fucking up my child, I guess."

He'd gone quiet again, and you'd let your eyes close. Content for the moment.

"You'll do fine," he'd said, too quiet for him. The heat spread wider, his other hand joining the first at the small of your back. Kneading softly. "Kid's got a good mom."

_

She sits in front of you now, her chunky legs kicking wildly inside the cloth seat of her jumper. You watch her little toes feel out the ridged bottom, curling around the textures. It might be the first time since Takeshi died that you have really spent time with your child.

Kaeda grunts around the teething ring in her mouth, gurgling happily as Mina sits next to her—pink fingers pressing light up buttons on the tray to catch your daughter's eye. It works for a few seconds, but you sniff, and Kaeda's eyes find you.

"Dah!" the teething ring goes flying as she reaches for you, her head not quite catching up to the jerky movements of her body.

You smile at her, and the stretch of it feels foreign. "Hi, my baby."

It's effort, but you stand, reaching to grab under her armpits and hoist her out of her seat. Her fingers tangle in the strands of your hair. She seems bigger—heavier than she was before. It makes your chest ache. She sits on your hip as you spin her slowly, a sort of sashay around the perimeter of the rug.

"My big girl. Have you had fun with Mina?"

Katsuki watches you with lazy interest from his spot on the couch. Mina immediately busies herself with another task—folding blankets, cleaning up toys. You don't waste your breath telling her she doesn't have to. You'd already tried once, and she waved you off like a pesky fly.

"I'm not doing this because I have to, honey," she reminded you, not bothering to look up from pulling clothes out of the washing machine. "I want to."

At seven months, Kaeda has started to crawl. Or, sort of. It's more like an army crawl, with her little legs propelling her, in a way, across the ground. She gets antsy in your arms, and fusses to be put down.

"I hear ya, I hear ya," you murmur softly, bending to guide her to the soft ground. "Go nuts."

She does, squirming her way across the rug—right to Katsuki. She reaches where his arm hangs over the edge of the couch—and gives it a good, solid smack, her little palm splayed open across his skin.

"What th—y'little brat—"

He peers over the couch at her, and she squeals, clearly enamored by the game she's forced him into. She tries it again—winds up, determined, with her arm up by her head—but he snatches it up before it lands. This time it's a screech that leaves her, all of the air pushed out of her lungs to make room for the belly laugh that she dissolves into when he makes a big show of eating her grubby little fingers.

It was never a surprise to you that Katsuki was so good with Kaede. It was unexpected, though, how much he wanted to be around her. You'd asked about it once, after spending several moments watching him carry her around like a football and seemingly enjoying it, and he'd only shrugged.

"She's cooler than you, so."

You'd laughed, only a little indignant, shoving him lightly. He'd hissed at you to be careful, don't you see the fuckin' baby here, which made you laugh harder. It was absurd, this wall of a man toting around a tiny, slobbering infant.

She was just as enamored with him. She would seek him out anytime he was in her line of vision, often fighting her way out of your grasp to get to him. It reminded you of the way cats seem to flock to the one person that doesn't like cats—she'd picked the meanest looking man in the room and latched on.

Like mother, like daughter, you suppose.

_

"Do you have a name picked out?"

It was late—your head hung off the edge of the bed, which seemed to be the only position that didn't send acid reflux straight up your throat, oddly enough. Takeshi sat up at the other end, your feet in his lap while he pressed his thumbs into the soles of them.

"No," you told him honestly, "truthfully, I'm drawing a blank."

He'd hummed, hands moving up to get at your swollen ankles. "What about Kaede?"

"Kaede," you rolled the syllables around in your mouth, testing the shape of it. It felt nice. "How come?"

"I just—want her to be strong." It was thoughtful as it left him, hanging around in the air above your heads. "I want her to be like a maple tree."

"Like a tree," you repeated dryly, making him snort.

"You know! Like, rooted and strong. But able to change and sway in the wind, all that."

"Wow," you breathed, smiling, "you are so corny."

He sputtered, trying to defend himself, "It's not corny—!"

"Alright, alright," you reached down to pat the duvet, trying to placate him from afar, "Kaede. I like it."

_

Katsuki was the first one in the room after Kaede was born.

It was—unconventional—and you were made well aware of that by the open gawking of the nurses, but Takeshi didn't mind. You felt some guilt, fueled by the reaction of those around you, and told him as much.

"I'll have the rest of my life to hold her," he'd said. "I'll go grab him."

How sad it was to remember that moment now.

You'd closed your eyes for only a moment before you were stirred by a familiar hand on the crown of your head. You'd blinked and were startled to find him visibly concerned.

"You look like shit," he'd said, tilting your head to each side, as if to check for injury. It made you smile.

"Yeah, well, you push a watermelon out of the smallest orifice in your body and let me know how you feel."

He'd gagged, which made you laugh, which hurt.

"Oh, don't do that," you exhaled, long and controlled, "Everything hurts."

He'd gone quiet for a moment, watching you shift and settle back into the bed, wires and leads twisting and clanging off the plastic railing.

"Y'r okay?"

It made you smile. "I am. She's so beautiful, Kat. I can almost forgive her for totally wrecking me on the way out."

As if on queue, the child in question let out a grunt from her spot in the little plastic cradle—moving like a grub, swaddled. He looked at you for another long moment before rising to see for himself. He stopped, too far from the crib, and bent at the waist for a better view. You snorted.

"You can get closer, Katsuki. It's fine."

Another step toward her and he'd stopped again, clearly maxed out on his own comfort. The smile pulled at your cheeks so tightly that it ached.

He looked back at you, and then again to her. It was comical, how fascinated he'd seemed by the tiny person in front of him. And then, over his shoulder—

"You shit the bed?"

You groaned, bringing your hand up to cover your face, mindful of the IV. "I think I did."

His laugh was a crackling thing, echoing around the sterile walls of your room, and Kaede didn't stir at all.

_

When you step foot outside, it's immediately apparent how long it'd been since you last did.

It's a sort of sensory overload—the bright light and the birds and the passing cars and the knowledge that someone has been keeping up with your lawn while you rotted away inside.

From the shaky lines that cut into the grass at odd angles, you have a hunch it was Denki.

Mina accompanies you to the mailbox, as requested. Her arm, strong and assuring, looped through yours as she all but drags you down the short drive to the edge of the road.

You open the box, and immediately shut it.

All of it is for Takeshi.

"Oh sh—sugar," Mina hisses, as if you were not an adult with a fully formed (and often colorful) vocabulary. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't think about that."

You shake your head. It's an inevitable thing that you don't have the energy to waste the tears on. "Will you sit with me?"

You end up on the porch swing, the metal springs above your head creaking with each suspended shove of your toe off the porch. It's a nice day, you think, trying hard not to find that particularly egregious.

Inside, you hear the squeal of your daughter, followed by the grumbling of Katsuki. It sounds a bit like a lecture that Kaede seems to think is hilarious. Another laugh—this time Denki.

"I'm really glad you're all here," you say eventually, quiet under the buzz of the world around you. "I know it's hard to put your own lives on hold."

She reaches for you, threading your fingers together and pulling them into her lap. "It's not hard at all. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. I know the boys feel the same."

You lean your head against her shoulder, the gentle swaying lulling you somewhere else—on a beach, maybe. With the wind in your hair and salt on your lips. Anywhere but the home that your child's dead father haunts.

"Has Bakugou left at all?"

You snort. "I don't think so."

She sighs, shaking her head. You can hear the smile in it. "He's a real mother hen, that one."

You smile, feeling fond. A mother hen, and your protector.

The breeze turns colder, and Mina shivers. You focus your quirk into the hand she holds—the first time you've used it in quite some time.

She sighs. "God, that's nice. Way better than Blasty's in there."

Her chin presses into the crown of your head when she opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it again. Suddenly she's a little tense, like she's trying to build up her nerve.

"You can say it," you offer gently.

"I was just wondering if you'd stay here."

You've thought about it. It's been hard not too, with the way you can barely get yourself to open your bedroom door at this point. You'd spent every night on the couch with Bakugou since that night.

"No." You speak quietly, as if it's a secret between you. It feels strange to say it out loud. You think, if Takeshi is lingering, you don't want him to hear this. "I just—I don't know where to go. We'd planned to raise her here."

Here, in the home that you love. In the home that you can't bear to spend one more night in.

"Did he have..." She trails off, reconsidering. "I mean, did you get a..."

"Yes," you say, already knowing what she's asking. "I was paid out last week. I put all of it away in an account for Kaede." You sigh, sitting up to straighten out the kink that now exists in your neck. "With my job, we're fine. It's more...the principle of the thing. This is her home."

Mina squeezes your hand gently. "She's a baby, honey. She won't remember it. This was your home."

You tilt your head back, willing away the sting of fresh tears and the irritation you feel at having done so well today until this point.

"Yeah," you sniff, closing your eyes, "it was."

_

Time passes in waves. Slowly, creeping, and then all at once.

The longer you're in the house, the more you realize you can't stay. You are certain of it, the first time you're left alone.

Katsuki had stepped out to grab dinner. You'd all but shoved him out the door, assuring him that you'd be fine for the 20 minutes it took to pick the food up.

"Y'need anything, you call." It was the fourth or fifth time he'd said it to you.

"Alright, alright," you tell him, trailing down the front steps behind him. "I will, I promise."

When you shut the door behind you again, there's a feeling of lethality to it—a debilitating silence that you haven't heard in four months.

You don't want to go any further into the house. You do, only to grab Kaede, and then you're right back outside. It starts to rain, and it feels fitting. You sit under the awning behind your daughter as she sticks her toes out into the drizzle, curling them with each drop that falls on her skin. You think about how overwhelming it must be as a baby—how new everything is.

It's less than 15 minutes later when Katsuki pulls into the driveway. He's out of his truck and in front of you in record time, frowning at you like he already knows something's wrong. Kaede reaches for him, and he scoops her up like it's muscle memory. He waits for you to talk. A moment passes.

"I can't be here anymore," you whisper, shaky. He looks at Kaede for a long moment, like she could have something offer on the topic.

"Alright," he says, reaching for the front door with his free hand, "pack a bag."

_

It takes you longer than you thought it would. You'll be back—you have to come back, because you can't take everything right now—but it feels final. The beginning of the true end. There's a framed picture of you and Takeshi at your baby shower on your nightstand. You consider taking it with you—instead, you turn it face down and move on.

By the time you manage to shove a hoodie, some shorts, a few pairs of underwear and your toiletries into a bag, Katsuki has already packed two bags for Kaede and put her in her carrier. You just look at him, wholly dumbfounded.

"You good?"

You look at him for another beat. "Yeah, fine."

_

The drive to Katsuki's isn't long. You follow him in your car, not wanting to leave it in your driveway. Kaede is with Katsuki, something you didn't fight him on.

You spend 10 of the 15 minute drive flipping through radio stations before you finally turn it off. You're left in silence, and you're now well and truly alone for the first time since Takeshi died.

You suck in a breath, trying to dislodge the thing that has lived in your chest everyday since.

"You knew something was wrong," you say, out loud, to no one. "You knew something was wrong, and you didn't tell me."

You picture him next you—mouth opening to respond, to defend himself. You beat him to it.

"It was preventable," your heart breaks again. "There was no reason—"

You'd tried to keep this at bay—the knowledge that Takeshi's death was meaningless. You hadn't heard a word the doctor said, but you'd read the pathologist's report. It was too hard, too much to process with everything else that needed tended to, but your brain seems to take advantage of every quiet moment you get.

"You left her without a father," your breath comes ragged, both hands gripping the steering wheel tightly to make up for the tears that threaten to block out your vision, "you—you left me,"

With impeccable timing, no sooner than you pull into Katsuki's apartment complex and park do you dissolve completely, curling in on yourself in your seat. It's crushing, this grief and this anger together inside a body that surely cannot hold all of it.

You don't see Katsuki when he approaches your driver's side door. You don't see him when he hesitates, one arm holding Kaede and the other outstretched as if you grab hold of you and pull you from your suffering himself. You don't see when he decides against it—when he turns around to leave you to do what you need to do on your own.

_

In a way, you start to feel lighter. Like something has shifted, like the boulder in your chest has fragmented just enough to let a breath through.

You get Kaede up on your own today. You let yourself linger over her, leaning on the side of the pack-n-play to watch her as she sleeps. Her little eyelashes frame her round cheeks, fluttering with whatever dream she's in the middle of.

The upturn of her nose, the slope of her forehead—these are things she gets from Takeshi. The curve of her eyes, the shape of her fingernails—those are yours. She is the most even mix of two people you’ve ever seen, and something about that makes losing Takeshi a little easier. It would’ve been a lot harder if she had simply taken his face. 

She stirs as if she’s felt your thorough examination. “Hey, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching down to pull her up. She lays her head down on your shoulder, sleepy, and something about it brings tears to your eyes so suddenly that you startle yourself. 

This tiny person that relies on you for everything. This little girl that fits so easily in your arms. She is yours, to keep safe and happy and content. She is a promise you made, both to Takeshi and yourself. She is the thing that will keep you going, even when you’re certain you cannot take another step. She is the thing you have to show up for, no matter what. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” your voice is tiny as it is watery, whispered into her hair, to her already sleeping form. You stand there, in the middle of Katsuki’s spare bedroom, rocking your child and letting the tears fall down in fat drops—and it feels like the most normal thing in the world. “I’m so sorry. I’m here.”

It’s only when you turn your head that you see Katsuki lingering in the doorway. You open your mouth to tell him that you’re alright, but you only manage something wounded, something pathetic and broken and painful. He’s in front of you in an instant, unwinding Kaede from your hold and putting her back into the pack-n-play, still sleeping. It’s only another second before he’s dragging you to him, nearly crushing you to his chest. It pulls another wave of tears from you, because it feels good. To be held, and to be held by Katsuki, who would reduce every source of your pain to ash if he could. He holds you like he means to keep you intact—to put you back together the best he can. The only person who has ever held you like this, meant it like this.

Six months, 13 days, and 11 hours after Takeshi dies, something changes.

part 2 soon. thanks for reading, love u. <3

[wooahaes]

freshly fallen

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship au. dad!jeonghan au.

word count: 0.9k~

warnings: food mentions. reader is a step-parent.

daisy's notes: i have a soft spot for this au tbh ill admit it

“Wake up! It’s snowing!” 

The last thing you expected was to feel the full weight of Ha-eun leaping onto you and Jeonghan at seven in the morning. It jolted you out of your sweet dreams, and you could hear Jeonghan stifling his yawn as he woke up, too. Ha-eun had busied herself with shaking Jeonghan’s arm, trying to wake her father up faster while you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Jeonghan warned you once that Ha-eun loved the snow back when you moved in months ago, and again when it started being a real possibility for the weather. She peeked over at you for a moment, satisfied with the fact she’d managed to wake you up easily, and turned back to Jeonghan.

“Wake up!” She said more forcefully. “We’re gonna miss the snow!” 

Jeonghan turned over to face the two of you. “It’s not going to melt for a while.”

Ha-eun just whined at him again, shaking him as she called to him. “I wanna play!” 

In a snap movement, Jeonghan scooped her up into his arms, settling back into bed as he shut his eyes. “Five more minutes,” he said, her head tucked underneath his chin as he pretended to go back to sleep.

Jeonghan was good at fooling people sometimes, but not you. Not when it came to Ha-eun. He never could hide that playful smile completely—it was the reason why he always tried to face away from her when he was teasing. 

“Noooo!” She whined again, trying to wiggle her way out of his arms. She called to you instead, reaching one arm out to try and latch onto you. “He’s crushing me!”

You knew as well as Jeonghan did that he wasn’t holding her that tight. You liked to blame it on the fact she was a Yoon, through and through, and assumed you’d rescue her if she played up the dramatics. This was still the child who once told you that you were going to die while she was giving you a “check-up” with the toy doctor’s kit that Jeonghan bought her for her birthday. She’d cried to Jeonghan over the fact she thought you were going to die despite it being her own diagnosis of your healthy heartbeat in her own game of make-believe that you were playing along with. 

God, you loved this little family you became a part of. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and you’d all seen your fair share of bad days, but it was mornings like these that made it all worth it. You remembered when Jeonghan took your hands during your third date and told you he had a daughter.

“Her mom isn’t in the picture anymore,” was all he had told you at the time, “so it’s just me and Ha-eun. I like you a lot, but if I have to choose between you and her, I’ll always choose Ha-eun.”

(Frankly, that was all you needed to hear to know that you were starting to fall hard for Jeonghan. You wouldn’t want to make him choose between the two of you, but you were thankful he wouldn’t ruin someone else’s entire life just to be with you.)

Jeonghan popped up soon enough, already peppering kisses all over Ha-eun’s face. “It’s cold out,” he said at one point when he pulled back, giggling. “You’ll have to get dressed in your winter clothes if you want to play… after breakfast.”

Ha-eun gasped, and immediately turned to you. “I’ll help!” She scrambled out of Jeonghan’s arms and across the bed, already pulling at your hand. “I can help!” 

It nearly earned a laugh out of you. You admired her drive. Jeonghan always told Ha-eun that she could do anything she wanted if she put her mind to it. Of course, that sometimes ended with her convincing Uncle Cheollie or Uncle Shua  to give her extra dessert when he was babysitting, but you had to respect her hussle. You slipped into your house slippers, letting Ha-eun guide you toward the kitchen. Jeonghan lagged behind, leaning against the open doorway as he watched Ha-eun carefully wash her hands. He met your gaze as you pulled out the eggs from the fridge, and softly smiled.

Ha-eun looked up. “Papa! You help too!”

Jeonghan chuckled, making his way into the kitchen. “I was planning on it.” 

You hid a smile as you pulled down a bowl, setting it in front of Ha-eun. “Were you?”

Ha-eun gave her dad a suspicious look. “Were you?” She parroted, mustering up the same disbelief you held in your voice.

It only earned another laugh from Jeonghan as he leaned down to peck her cheek. “You’re turning her against me,” he said when he leaned in to kiss you, soft and sweet and short. He rested a hand between your shoulder blades. “I was admiring my two favorite people,” he teased.

You passed an egg to Ha-eun, who began to carefully crack it the way you had taught her to. “And yet you’re still not helping…”

Before Ha-eun could call him out, Jeonghan pressed another kiss against your cheek before making his way over to the fridge. “I’m helping,” he said, “just give a moment…”

You couldn’t hold it against him. Not when you turned away from cooking the eggs later to see Jeonghan carefully helping Ha-eun chop veggies, voice as soft as ever as he held his hand over her own to help guide the knife. You had to admire your two favorite people, too, sometimes. 

… Even if it meant Jeonghan would tease you for nearly burning the eggs later.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

[russellsppttemplates]

So what about one of the girfriends not feeling well during the raceweeked but being stubborn about it. She ends up feeling really really poorly on race day and has to sit inside with some other wag inside hospitality or even be taken to the medical area for a bit. Maybe it's the heat or the jetlag idk,but driver ends up knowing about it after and he's worried, so he's taking care of her from them on and is grateful for their friends

Tw: sickness from heat stroke, medical visit

"I'm getting a coffee, Y/N, do you want something?", Carmen asked, "can you bring me a bottle of water, please? Cold, if possible", you asked her, seeing her nod as she got up. It was hot, that much you could say. Inside the hospitality, you were feeling okay, but the minute you set foot close to the garage, where the air outside was much more prominent, it was a different story. So, for now, you and Carmen were keeping yourselves indoor until the race started, having already wished good luck to both of your boyfriends on their race, hoping for a double Mercedes podium today.

"How did you convince Mick to let you watch the race here?", Carmen asked as she came back, handing you the cold bottle for you to place it on the nape of your neck, "I might've told him that I was fine, which I feel like I am", you said as the Spanish woman looked at you sternly, "fine-ish, but it's going to be okay, I just have to keep myself in a cooler spot, lots of water, maybe grab some ice from the catering", you joked.

Joking, however, didn't seem like such when about halfway through the race, you started having trouble in seeing the screen properly, even with your glasses on, "you're not feeling well, are you, Y/N?", Carmen asked as she got up, helping you to a cooler part of the garage, "I'm a bit dizzy", you admitted. After giving you some water and placing an ice pack on your neck and another to your wrists, you started feeling a little bit better even though you were still a bit weak.

"I think it's best if we go get you checked out", Carmen reasoned, "you're looking pale and flushed, and those two are never a good sign", she said, getting one of the media girls to help you to the medical tent hoping someone would just check if everything was fine.

"Y/N, have you been sleeping well?", the doctor asked after he took your temperature, "I've been travelling for work, and then I came here, so sleep hasn't been so easy", you clarified, "jet lag and this heat is a bad combination", he stated, "this is likely heat stroke, there's nothing else suggesting another situation, so rest up, lots of fluids, stay away from the sun as much as possible for the next few days and ice packs on your pressure and temperature points should help, too", he concluded as you nodded, thanking him.

"It looks like there might be some celebrations today, but I'd rather you stay in", he said as he showed you the final results, George and Mick getting a Mercedes 1-2 as they crossed the line.

Opting to stay in Mick's driver's room until after the podium, it didn't take long for your boyfriend to walk in, his trophy standing on Toto's counter as he checked you, "I heard what happened, are you okay?", he said, approaching you as Carmen stood back, looking for her boyfriend so she could congratulate him and give you two some privacy, "I'm fine, I just can't take the combination of hot temperatures and sleep deprivation", you smiled, hoping to soothe his worries.

Understandably, you and Mick passed on the team's dinner despite your insistence that Mick should go, "knowing Mick, he would eat very quickly and wait for the best and most polite time to come back to you, so he might as well just pass this one and we will all celebrate later when you feel better", Toto said as you smiled at his attentiveness.

"I have a bath, cool water, so we can wash the day away, I asked room service for something light for dinner and also a bucket of ice", he smiled as he helped you undress, "I know you're tired, but I promise you're going to feel better after this, liebling". Holding you with one arm under your knees and one around your back, Mick eased you into the bathtub before he got in, "don't think I won't scold you for letting me believe you were feeling better when you weren't. I'm just not going to do it now", he chuckled, kissing your shoulders as you snuggled closer to him, "thank you for looking after me", you whispered, "always, liebling, always".

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