#… I’m in crisis mode can you tell

[bobfloydsbabe]

I need the characters in the books I’m reading to be a little less relatable. First it was Teddy in Lost and Lassoed and now it’s Hazel in The Cinnamon Bun Book Store. I like seeing myself reflected in characters, but not like this. It makes me weepy and anxious.

[fluff-e-boy]

I carry so hard during family drama you would not believe

[formulawolff]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, “am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS HCS ON YOUR PERIOD ── .✦

a/n: so basically this is a request by a anon (here) and anyways I’m gonna try to be very active from now on actually and like try to post 3 times a day too and answer requests too!

Tags: ( batboys x reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The overthinker final boss: Dick keeps a stash of everything you might need pads, tampons, heating pads, chocolate, and tea. He probably Googled “best snacks for periods” and stocked up on all of them.

Mr. Optimism: He tries to cheer you up with jokes or funny stories from his day. If you’re too grumpy, he’ll settle for giving you a massage instead.

Walks it Off with You: If cramps aren’t too bad, he’ll suggest going on a short walk to “get the blood flowing” (pun not intended he swears).

Endless Compliments: “You’re glowing. No, I’m serious. Period or not, you’re stunning.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Silent Supporter: Jason isn’t the type to fuss over you, but he’ll quietly do everything to make you comfortable like bringing you your favorite snacks, handing you the remote, or lighting a candle in the room.

Cramps Battle Plan: “Heating pad or Tylenol? Pick your weapon.” He’s very no-nonsense about getting rid of your pain.

Comfort Food King: He’ll whip up your favorite comfort meal, and if he doesn’t know how to cook it, he’ll spend hours watching YouTube tutorials to get it right.

Protective Mode Activated: If anyone so much as annoys you while you’re on your period, Jason’s ready to pick a fight. “You’re messing with her today? Leave her the fuck alone.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Researcher: Tim has read every article about periods and cramp relief. He’s got tips you’ve never even heard of, like drinking tart cherry juice or lying in a specific position to ease the pain.

Sleep Enforcer: “You need rest. I’ll handle everything.” He’ll make sure you get enough sleep, even if it means carrying his laptop into the bedroom to work quietly by your side.

Subtle Humor: When you’re cranky, Tim knows how to make you laugh without crossing the line. “I guess Batman didn’t prepare me for this kind of monthly chaos.”

Midnight Run Specialist: If you casually mention craving something like fries or ice cream, he’s already putting on his shoes to go get it.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Efficient and Direct: Damian doesn’t dance around the topic. “What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll get it.” He’ll ensure you have everything from snacks to painkillers.

A Little Awkward at First: If it’s his first time dealing with your period, he might be slightly flustered but determined to be helpful. Expect a lot of practical solutions.

Healthy Solutions Advocate: He’ll try to make you herbal teas or suggest yoga stretches that can relieve cramps. “This pose is known to improve blood flow. Try it.”

Protective Little Bean: If anyone upsets you while you’re on your period, Damian will glare at them like they’ve personally offended his family. “Apologize to her. Now.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Regular guy: Bruce has handled every kind of crisis imaginable and he does have daughters/ female colleagues and close friends so he isn’t truly like clueless, so this is no different to him. He’ll make sure you’re stocked up on everything and keep the Batkids in check so they don’t annoy you.

Comfort King: He’s surprisingly good at creating a calming environment dim lighting, soothing music, and plenty of blankets. (But please never ask him to decorate for the love of god😭 h/j)

Subtle Affection: Bruce isn’t overly emotional, but he’ll quietly make sure you’re okay, checking in on you with a simple, “Do you need anything?”

[transformers-spike]

Ok but the angst of getting hurt in the bots vehicle mode is delicious.

Yea bruises suck but they’ll heal. However, what if it ended up a bit more serious? I’m only talking because my cousin had to get her pinky amputated because it got caught in a car door (she’s fine though)

I feel like both Optimus and Ultra would have an actual crisis. Bumblebee and bulkhead would honestly probably cry.

Damn we have to traumatize these guys even more with an actual war going on???? You tell them it's fine, it was a total accident - but none of them will ever be clean. They can still smell your blood, hear the bone crunching... Optimus is now ready to die for you x100 - and Ultra Magnus won't ever let you out of his sight for even a second, yet vehemently refuses to let you in his alt mode. These two are coping pretty well on a surface level, but Optimus is going through it TM - while Magnus focuses all of his energy on making sure you never get hurt again under his watch Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Smokescreen are all ugly sobbing over it because it's traumatic and OH GOD THEIR HUMAN FRIEND MUTILATED THEIR DIGIT, WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY DO Breakdown only handles this mildly better (still cries at some point) - but acting as a nurse has helped him deal with gruesome injuries. He's locked in on getting you the medical aid you need (not his own however - there's only so much he can do with his huge servos) - then has an intense dissociative episode while waiting for your recovery. Yay. He's doing better. Don't worry about it Knock Out reacts worse than Breakdown The feeling of crushing your finger scares him so bad he nearly drives off in a panic. The doctor inside of him is ready to administer first aid, but this is beyond his Cybertronian jurisdiction - so he tells you to hop in, and he breaks the sound barrier getting you to the hospital (rip to the cops that drove into a ditch). He will never be clean no matter how hard he scrubs his interior. He will never forget the sickening crunch. Wheeljack actually drives you to the ER but tells you not to tell Ratchet or Ultra Magnus about it. He's coping pretty well though, convinced you'll have a quick recovery. Even if you lose a digit, life keeps on going If you do this to Ratchet, he'll have an aneurysm

[trustmypoison]

Ateez finding out that you're pregnant

Requested? Yes!

Request: Hi! <3 I loved your ATEEZ reaction with a low maintenance partner! I was wondering if I could make a request? Either: How each member prefers to sleep with you at night/whether they like to be held or do the holding/etc. I did see the sleeping positions one but I figured this one was different enough. If not that's totally fine!! Otherwise, maybe a pregnancy one, I saw the ones planned for svt and I'd love to see ateez. tysm!! <3’

TW/CW: pregnancy and baby talk. Skip if you aren’t into that. 

Hongjoong

The picture of totally put together. There will be only a split second of shock before he’s holding you tight and telling you how happy he is about the news. If you were nervous about the news (which I think most people are at least a little), he’s putting your mind at ease immediately. No, it’s not too soon. No, he’s not worried about the group or the company. Yes, he can’t wait to start a family. 

Seonghwa

Stunned silence. You actually think you might have broken him. Once he starts talking, it’s one half-finished question only to be interrupted by another half-finished question, but you get the picture so you explain that you realized you were late and took a test. If the shock goes on so long that you feel like this whole thing is going down the drain, he’ll snap out of it to assure you he’s thrilled, he might just need some time to wrap his head around it. 

Yunho

He had a sneaking suspicion when you got a ‘stomach bug’. He doesn’t say anything right away and you’d be too busy being sick to care. So he simply takes you to the doctor. He’s totally silent when you stammer that you don’t need to take a test and the doctor assures you it’s just to eliminate potential causes. When the doctor announces your results, he’s already braced for the shock and handles it far more gracefully than you do. Please, he’d be such a steady partner, change my mind. 

Yeosang

When you tell him, he just smiles and nods. You ask if he has anything to say and he smiles and says no. This sort of questioning goes on until you really aren’t convinced he even heard you. You don’t feel good and this is a tough topic if only because it’s a surprise, and the whole thing makes you impatient. “Are you even listening? I said I’m pregnant!” The frustration will double when he just smiles and says, “I know. At least I suspected.” He pulls you in for a hug as you rage, “Then why didn’t you tell me??? I didn’t know!!!” Irritatingly calm in the face of such news. 

San

The gentlest of guys and you can’t convince me otherwise. After like the third bout of illness in one morning, he puts you back to bed and very carefully brings up the possibility. He hates the panic that flashes across your face at the mere mention of it and he decides now is a great time to tell you that he’d love it if you were expecting. It puts your mind at ease and the conversation is a slow buildup to you finally asking him to get the tests. Super sweet and supportive even before the tests are purchased. 

Mingi

Panic. I could leave it at that but I guess I won’t. He does not know what to do with this information and might not handle it gracefully. He hates that he can see how nervous and upset you are but I envision he’d need to step away. Imagine him going to an older member in crisis mode. Also, imagine Hongjoong blowing up because he just left you like that without any comfort. After some careful coaching, his older members will demand he go and make things right. When he calms down and thinks of the future, he likes it, but a big change like that is scary. 

Wooyoung

He just shows up with a couple of tests and demands that you take it. It’s so perplexing that you’re kind of waiting for the punchline (because he always has one). But he really doesn’t have one now and he’s very serious. Now, that doesn’t mean he’s not a smart ass!! He’ll say something like, “You’ve been biting my head off for weeks, you keep gagging at the food I make, and you missed your period last month. Take it so I know how offended to be.” He’s joking on that last bit because of how pale you get at the implication. He’s thrilled about the news, but he’s equally thrilled to know that you don’t just hate him!! 

Jongho 

Overjoyed. Like there’s not even a moment of shock. The way he holds you close and tells you how happy he is in an instant really smashes any doubts you might have had. Totally doting immediately. I’m serious, do not move, do not pick anything up, do not try to do anything for yourself. I think normally he would not baby his partner quite so much, but he’d do a complete 180 with this news. Prepare to be coddled for at least 9 months, or maybe forever, idk. 

[deadsetobsessions]

Her name is Drake, Tim Drake.

Except, unlike Bond, James Bond, she’s not a badass who saves queens and get the girls at the end. Well, no, she did get the very amazing woman at the end, and she had the ring to prove it. But not right now. No, right now, she’s a tiny little girl in the middle of a mental breakdown as her parents cart her away from the bodies of the flying Graysons and their wailing son.

See, Tim Drake wasn’t supposed be a girl. Tim Drake wasn’t supposed to be Theodora Janet Drake, shortened to Timmy because her air headed jackass of a father forgot her name once.

Tim Drake wasn’t supposed to be a woman shoved into a body that wasn’t hers.

By the time Timmy got out her catatonic state of existential crisis, her parental units (faulty parental units) had already left to a dig site a world away. The nanny they’d hired for the three year old had left the slip of a girl in her room, content to just make edible toddler food and spend the day casually checking in on her. The nanny had no concept of stealth, so at least Timmy could hear her thundering footsteps long before she got to Timmy’s room.

She would have been sad, had she not had a full set of memories of a well adjusted adult. In fact, all she felt was relief.

As weird as being comic book character is, Timmy supposed that she should be glad she wasn’t like the original. The dysphoria was already significant, in this tiny body, so pale and white, unlike her calloused and tanned skin she’d come to love. If she was in Tim Drake’s male body…

No, Timmy knew when to count her blessings.

Not that being beholden to Gotham was much of a blessing. Timmy could tell already that whatever had brought her here was going to make sure she stayed. How did she know?

There’s a gamer’s interface hovering on the right of her vision, blaring [WELCOME TO GOTHAM, PLAYER 1!] in annoyingly large white letters.

Timmy sighed and gave in. She tapped the ‘start’ button and the world greyed to a stop.

[ACHIEVEMENT- SO I’M IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE- MET!]

Underneath it, to Timmy’s tired mind, laid the damning and probably helpful:

[TUTORIAL UNLOCKED!]

Timmy tapped the screen again.

[Welcome to Gotham!] The informational screen started. [By now, you’ve realized that you’ve been reincarnated into the lovely and not at all depressing world of Batman!]

Timmy muttered, “Just Batman? Not DC?” She blinked as the informational screen paused its typing before replying to her.

[Right now, you’ve only got the Gotham mode unlocked. Work hard and you can unlock the rest of the world! Maybe even the universe!]

Huh. An interactive interface. Timmy wonders why she’s so calm about this.

[That will all be explained shortly! Please allow for the tutorial to continue and make sure to save your questions for the end!]

Well, Timmy doesn’t want to be rude. She nodded. Interestingly, the interface picked up on both her thoughts and her movements.

[Welcome to Gotham!] It starts again, and Timmy felt a bit of guilt in making it start over. It’s like getting cold called and the caller is just a tired person trying to make their quota for minimum wage and instead of patiently listening to the spiel, Timmy had interrupted so now they had to restart the rehearsed speech. Oof.

[You’ve been reincarnated into the body of our very own Red Robin, Timothy Drake! How exciting! The powers that be, was, and will be has selected your lucky soul to be a beta tester for their relatively new reincarnation roulette!]

See, none of that sounds particularly… “good” for Timmy. Timmy hums as she settled back on the greyed out floor, eyes fixed onto the screen.

[As such, to be the first player deposited in this universe-]

And oh, doesn’t that have some interesting implications.

[The powers that be have decided to grant you a boon! The Gamer’s Exclusive Ultra Package!]

The interface exploded with holographic confetti.

Timmy thought her wife would have loved this… had she not died months before Timmy did.

[Included is the exclusive Gamer’s Mind and Body passive status! You won’t be as traumatized by traumatizing things! A boon, in the hellscape that is Gotham!]

Timmy’s calling it. Whoever wrote this was a total troll. And had a sense of humor she could appreciate. That explained why she’s so… not freaking out about this entire thing.

[It also includes ten lucky draw tickets, with guaranteed five star skills/abilities per ticket! Wow! It’s almost worth getting killed and isekai’ed!]

Timmy snorted and tapped accept.

[And two revival tickets! These can bring any Schmuck dumb enough to get killed, right back to life, with zero drawbacks! To be used on anyone you wish, post tutorial.]

Timmy tilted her head. Useful. She tapped accept.

[Now, you might wonder: ah, why would the de oh so awesome and all powerful gods make me reincarnate here instead of allowing me to enjoy my afterlife with my beautiful wife?]

Timmy stilled, heart in her throat. That’s right… why?

The screen turned red. Ominously, smoke starts to steam out from the side.

[You’ve got blood on your hands, Timmy. That’s hard to wash away.]

The screen blinked back to its neutral blueish-white color.

[That, and it’s because the Powers that be made an oopsie and messed up this world so bad, we needed a soul from a different universe to replace Tim Drake’s. He kept dying! Which meant Batman kept dying! Which meant the entire universe went to shit! But we can’t just cut it off, it’s a main Universe! But nooo, does anyone listen to the admins? Noooo. Of course not! What does the literal administrator know in the face of an all powerful god-!]

Timmy blinked, sympathy welling for this person. This administrator. That sounded rough.

[Ahem. My apologies.] The admin apologized, somehow conveying sheepishness through a screen. Timmy got a notification.

[ACHIEVEMENT- COMMISERATING WITH A CO-WORKER- MET!]

[1,000 Shop Points Granted. Message: You’ve worked under tyrannical bosses too! Kindred Soul!]

“Yeah, it be like that. I’m sorry you had to clean up their messes.” Timmy said.

[I, too, am sorry you were dragged from your afterlife for it.]

The two overworked employees shared a solemn moment.

[Well, then! This brings us to your goal! Keep Batman from killing himself, and fulfill Timothy Drake’s Destiny!]

“And what is his destiny, exactly?”

[To keep Batman from dying, becoming a crime-fighter, get beat up by Jason Todd, and destroy Ra’s al Ghul’s work with explosions!]

“That’s… really specific. I just have to fulfill those?”

[Yes! Not in any particular order, of course. And in any way you see fit!]

That last part was italicized, like the admin knew what was brewing in Timmy’s brain. They probably did.

[And now, please direct your attention to the screen to the right. ]

Four boxes popped up.

SHOP

LUCKY DRAW

QUESTS

PROFILE

[Underneath “Quest” is all of your current objectives! For now, the Tutorial is selected and can not be put on hold!]

Timmy obligingly tapped “QUEST.”

Main Quest: Get Your Shit Together, Batman!

Main Quest: Jason Todd and His “E is rated for Everyone” Hands!

Main Quest: No Crime Under My Watch!

Main Quest: Play Bomberman With A Bunch Of Ninja Assassins Led By A Borderline Immortal Cult Leader!

Main Quest: Tutorial!

Side Quest: Level Up!

Side Quest: Learn a Skill!

Side Quest: Nanny Bye-Bye!

And so on, and so on.

“Woah. Nanny Nye-Bye?” Timmy tapped, clicking away at the reminder that Tutorial could not be paused.

[Side Quest: Nanny Bye-Bye.]

[Your nanny has been embezzling the allowance your parents gave her to feed you! Since your bourgeoisie parents have no sense of how much things should actually cost to eat, you’re stuck eating boxed food and unhealthy things while your nanny goes out for hotpot every other week! The injustice! Get her fired before the month ends!]

[Rewards: 1000 EXP. An approving nod from the scary Draconic Janet Drake. $800 per month.]

[Failure: -2 (permanent) to Health. Your status will be [Malnourished] until 17 years old. A disproving glance from the scary Draconic Janet Drake.]

…

“What the ****?”

[Language filters are unlocked at level five.]

Timmy grumbled.

“What if I need to curse to complete my missions?” She asked.

[Then Player One needs to buy herself a sense of creativity.]

Timmy scowled but moved on. She perused the shop, window shopping as one might say, while asking the Admin some more questions.

“Does the Keep Batman Alive quest have a time limit?”

[Until Damian Wayne has had at least four years of being Robin.]

Timmy nodded, brain whirring with plans.

“Hey, admin?”

[Yes, Player One?]

“If I’m player one, does that mean there will be other players?”

[Yes, Player One. There will be more! But unlike you, their abilities will be based on your feedback of the reincarnation system. Not to mention, they will not be reborn as a predetermined Main Character like yourself. This is because your existence was a result of a cosmic oopsie that had better never happen again or I’m going to rip their star-riddled hides from their cosmic bodies. Does that answer your question, Player One?]

Timmy leaned away from the screen. Intimidating.

“Yep. Thanks.”

[Anytime. Would you like to play the Lucky Draw?]

“Yes, please.”

The Luck Draw Menu was pulled up again. Timmy looked at the amount of tickets she had and shrugged. She tapped the “DRAW ONE” option.

The gacha machine spun and spun until:

[DING! DING! DING! Congratulations! You got a five star skill! Eloquence Beyond Measure!]

Timmy checked it out.

Eloquence Beyond Measure!

[As expected of a true Bristol elite (and not one of those snotty snobs of children running afoot with their parent’s money), you’ve gained the ability to spit fire and ice out of your mouth! What you want to say will always come out of your in a way that benefits you most! Diplomats kneel to your eloquence! Socialites dare not provoke you in fear of your barbed words! You’ll never sound like you don’t know what you’re doing ever again!]

Huh. Timmy grinned.

“Thanks, Administrator. Is the tutorial done? I just had an idea about that Nanny Side-Quest.”

[The last task is to check your profile, Player One.]

“Thanks. You can call me Timmy, you know? We’re in this together now.” Timmy grimaced. She just wanted to rest. Chances are, so did Admin.

[Timmy, then.]

Timmy tapped PROFILE.

Theodora “Timmy” Janet Drake

Level 1 (EXP to Next Level: 500)

Status: Healthy. Alive. Uninjured.

SKILLS: Eloquence Beyond Measure

[STATS]

Timmy sighed and exited out of the window to finish the tutorial. She could peruse the stats later. She’s kind of hungry.

[Now that you’ve finished the basics, the powers that be encourages you to try your best to live out this life and fulfill your destiny! The Prize at the completion of Tim Drake’s destiny will be a reunion! With your beloved wife! Work hard, and she’ll be placed on this earth once more!]

Timmy sat up, throat burning. She could see her wife again? To tell her how she missed her and how much she loved her?

Timmy’s heart burned once more since the death of her wife.

Determination filled her now small body. She’ll wrangle the Bats to therapy kicking and screaming if that’s what it took to meet her beloved wife again.

[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’VE FINISHED THE TUTORIAL! LEVEL UP! (1000 EXP TO LEVEL THREE)]

[REWARD: A PHONE! 100 SHOP POINTS!]

Timmy dialed the first contact she saw in the phone.

“Hello, this is Theodora Drake. Might I speak to my mother?” Her three year old voice smoothed out, suddenly eloquent and powerful in a way it simply wasn’t before. Eloquence Beyond Measure was proving useful already.

“Yes, of- of course, Miss Drake. Please hold.”

She waited.

“Theodora. What is it, daughter? You know better than to interrupt our digs.”

“Mother, it has come to my attention that my nanny is embezzling money from you. I have been eating boxed mac n’ cheese and only that for the past three days. They cost four dollars each. I would hate for my growth to be stunted.”

Two days later, Janet Drake and Jack Drake stormed into the mansion and threw out the nanny. Janet gives her an approving nod at her sudden eloquence (wow, these people had no idea what children were supposed to be like) and gave her a credit card to use freely.

Rich people. Honestly.

Timmy’s sly gaze was highlighted by the invisible glow of the congratulations banner.

[pucksandpower]

grid kids : y/n having super bad periods like bedridden and seb try’s to tell the boys they can’t visit and they go into full like code red crisis mode

Grid Kids: The Best Medicine

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids do everything they can think of to make you feel better

Series Masterlist

Max enters the room gingerly, holding a steaming mug of herbal tea. “I googled it,” he whispers to Charles, who’s setting up a little essential oil diffuser on the bedside table. “This should help.”

Charles nods, looking at the variety of oils he’s brought. “Lavender for relaxation,” he explains.

From the other side of the room, Lando and George carry in an enormous heating pad. “This helped my sister,” Lando mutters, plugging it in, while George adjusts the settings.

Lance, a bit out of his depth but wanting to contribute, tentatively offers a stack of magazines and books. “For ... distractions?”

Mick, who’s been quietly observing, pulls out a small speaker from his bag. “How about some calming music? Always helps to set a soothing environment.”

While this orchestrated chaos unfolds, you, despite your pain, can’t help but be touched by the outpouring of care and concern. You try to sit up but the discomfort is evident.

“Hey,” Sebastian gently admonishes, propping you up with more pillows, “Let them fuss over you. They want to.”

As evening falls, the room is transformed into a comforting sanctuary. The soft glow from fairy lights, the gentle hum of calming tunes, and the subtle scent of lavender fills the room.

Feeling a bit better from all the care, you whisper, “Thank you, boys. But you don’t have to stick around, you know.”

Lando pulls a funny face, “And miss out on a sleepover? No way.”

One by one, the grid kids, following Lando’s lead, find a comfy spot on your enormous bed, cocooning you protectively in the center. Some snuggled at the foot, some propped against the headboard, and others squished in the middle.

With the soft chirping of crickets outside and the rhythmic breathing of your sons on all sides, you drift into a peaceful sleep, pain momentarily forgotten in favor of burrowing deeper into the love and warmth surrounding you.

***

The morning sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. you stir, the pain still present but noticeably diminished. As your eyes flutter open, you’re greeted by the endearing sight of the grid kids sprawled all around you, each in varying poses of sleep.

Sebastian, having given up his spot on the bed last night, is asleep in the armchair, a book resting on his chest. George and Lando, squished up at the foot of the bed, are tangled in a mess of limbs, while Charles seems to have created a makeshift fort for himself with every pillow he could find.

The aroma of breakfast wafts into the room, pulling you from your thoughts. Mick, having woken up earlier, stands in the doorway with a tray. “Morning! Thought you might be hungry,” he says, a smile touching his lips.

“Oh, Mick,” you murmur, touched by the gesture. “You didn’t have to.”

He sets the tray on your lap, revealing a spread of toast with bacon and eggs, fresh fruit, and some yogurt. “We all pitched in. Well, mostly Max and Lance. They seem to think they’re on MasterChef or something.”

Laughter ripples through the room as the others start to wake, each stretching and yawning. Max, rubbing his eyes, adds, “Hey, those scrambled eggs were a work of art!”

Lance chimes in, “Don’t forget about the smoothie. That was my masterpiece.”

George, trying to subtly smooth out his bed head, quirks a brow. “If we’re being all domestic, how about a spa day? Right here, right now.”

Charles, still nestled in his pillow fort, chuckles. “In this room? With all of us? I’m sure that will end well.”

Max’s eyes light up, “I’m in! But only if someone does that cucumber thing on my eyes.”

Mick grins, “You mean a cucumber facial? I’ve got you covered.” He dashes out, only to return moments later with a stash of beauty products. “My sister left these the last time she visited. We’ve got masks, scrubs, the works!”

Amused and touched by the turn of events, you announce, “Alright then, let the spa day commence!”

Sebastian, skeptical but game, adds, “I’ve never had a mani-pedi before.”

Lando winks, “There’s a first time for everything, Seb. Give me your hands.”

As Lando starts on Sebastian while Lance gets to work on making more of his famed smoothies for everyone. Meanwhile, George and Charles, having taken over the facial department, start applying face masks, complete with cucumber slices for the eyes.

An hour later, the room is a delightful mess. Mick and Max have somehow managed to get more face mask on their shirts than on their faces. Lando’s meticulous nail painting skills are in high demand, and George is draped over the foot of the bed, a bright green face mask contrasting comically with his hair.

You, through bouts of laughter, look around at the delightful chaos. “Alright, time for the big question. Do you or do you not feel bonita?”

Lance, his fingers spread out to dry the bright pink nail polish Lando chose, grins. “I feel bonita.”

Charles, attempting to peel off his dried mask, replies with a dramatic flair, “I was born bonita but now? I’m radiant!”

Mick chimes in, “Can’t see through these cucumber slices but I’m pretty sure I’m the most bonita of all.”

The room fills with banter, laughter, and the gentle ribbing that only close friends and family can share. As the day turns into evening, the spa treatments wind down and the room settles into a comfortable quiet.

You, heart full, look around at the makeshift spa and the joy it brought. “Thank you, boys. Today was unexpected but absolutely perfect.”

Sebastian, his nails now adorned with a clear glossy finish, adds, “I think we should make this a tradition. Spa day before every race.”

Max raises his own freshly manicured hand. “All in favor?”

A chorus of “Ayes!” fills the room and so a new tradition was born.

[sinnabarmoth]

Getting Older

Pairing: Xavier x Fem|Reader

Prompt: You have an existential crisis when Xavier tells you that he is a centuries year old alien.

Length: 1200

Xavier was hiding something.

After months of officially dating him you could tell when he was trying to hide something from you. Problem is you couldn’t think about what he could possibly have to hide. You knew Xavier. There was a lot of him that was a mystery to you but ever since you got together he had been very open and honest about who he is.

So what was it that he was still keeping to himself?

You were lounging at home, you had just gotten a new video game and Xavier was over to play co-op mode with you. It was a pretty typical day until you noticed that Xavier kept glancing at you. Usually when you played video games he was zeroed in on the screen. You had tested him once just to see how focused he was while playing a video game and started stripping right next to him on the couch. The man did not so much as blink until you were completely naked and then he paused and pinned you to the couch. Apparently he had been aware of what you were doing the entire time and was just biding his time until you were bare.

But now he kept looking over and was barely paying attention to the puzzle you were trying to figure out in the game. Finally you had enough and paused. “What is it?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been stealing looks at me the entire time you’ve been here. Something is on your mind so just tell me what it is because if we get a game over on this level again I’m going to slap you.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Now tell me.”

Xavier sighed. “I…there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you but I could never find the right time. Then again, I’ve had enough time to learn that there is no perfect time for anything. There are better moments but I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”

“Xav,” you took his hand. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

“I know. I just don’t want you to freak out when I say this.” Well that was ominous.

Xavier took a deep breath and looked at you. “Do you remember when I said I had killed over 70,000 Wanderers?”

“Yeah. Still have no idea how that is possible for someone so young.” you shrugged. “Is that it? You’re gonna tell me you were exaggerating to look cool?”

“No. I wasn’t exaggerating and I’m not exactly what you would call young.” he cringed away from your inspectful gaze. “I…um…”

“Xavier?” you squeezed his hand. “It’s alright.”

He dropped his head, looking up at you through the fringe of his hair. “I’m not in my twenties like I told you, nor am I exactly human.”

You wanted to ask what he was going on about but remained silent, waiting for his explanation. “The truth is, I come from the planet Philos. The people there age very slowly and about two hundred years ago I came here with some friends. That’s why my record of Wanderer kills is so high. I’ve been around a long time and I’m going to be around for an even longer time.”

“You…” there were so many questions swirling in your head. He was from Philos? Was he really that old? How had no one realized that he had been around for two hundred years if he looks exactly the same? Who were these friends? Were they still around? Who else knew about this?

But what ended up coming out was, “Does that mean you’re still gonna look like this when I’m eighty?”

Xavier blinked at you. “I mean, I suppose. I may look a little older by then but not by much.” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Is that all you have to ask? I just told you I’m a centuries old alien.”

“I know. I just--” your brain was short circuiting. “Do you know what it is going to look like if I’m fifty and I’m walking around calling a guy that looks like he’s twenty my husband? They’re gonna think I’m a cougar or a sugar mommy or something! People are gonna think it’s weird!”

“Did you say husband?”

“Wrong thing to focus on!” you sighed, trying to rein your emotions back in. “Sorry. I know you didn’t want me to freak out but my brain is just flooding with thoughts and I can’t sort through all of them at once.”

“It’s alright. I figured this would happen when I told you.” he turned you to face him again. “But I needed to tell you. You deserved to know the truth.”

“And I’m grateful that you did. I don’t care that you’re super old--”

“I wouldn’t say super old--” he muttered.

“--or that you’re technically an alien. I still feel the same as I always did. I still love you.” you cupped his face. His two hundred year old youthful face. “But now I’m thinking about how long this is going to last.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said people on Philos age slowly, right?” Xavier nodded. “So if you age slowly and you look like this at two hundred years old, that means you’re going to be alive for a really long time. But me, I’m just a human. Our average lifespan is eighty years. By the time I’m old and dying you’re still going to be like this. You are still going to be around and me…”

You took in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Pain flashed in Xavier’s eyes, as if this hadn’t occurred to him either. He pressed his forehead to yours. “I…I don’t know what to say to make you feel better. I don’t even know if anything could. I have no answers about what may be waiting for us in the future but I do know this. I do not care how long we have together, I will cherish every single second of it. And if you leave this life while I am still here, know that I will find you in the your next one. I will always find you.”

“I’m going to get so old!” you cried. “I’m gonna be all wrinkly and slow!”

“And you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” he kissed your forehead. “But if there is a way to match our lifespans, I will find it. Because I would want nothing more than to grow old with you. Be it we are given sixty more years or six hundred. I will always love you.”

You hugged him tight. Whatever fears you had about your future you didn’t want to think about them now. Right now you were young and happy and your lives were full. That was all that mattered. And come hell or high water you would find a way to rewrite fate. You would not leave him, not for anything.

He gave you a tissue to wipe at your tear stained cheeks. Once you had calmed down he left a chaste but loving kiss on your lips. He pulled back with a small smile. “So…what did you mean exactly when you said husband?”

Your face flushed with heat all the way up to the tip of your ears. “Oh uh…about that…”

[chock-and-bates]

it is ridiculously late (early) for me, but i promised everyone a reveal.

here's who leaked max and charles sex tape in (i love you) it's ruining my life.

Most of you knew this was coming- but which Carlos is responsible? You can read the little (unedited) ficlet or scroll down for the tl;dr summary.

enjoy :)

-----------

Carlos first noticed something was off with Max and Charles in 2022. 

There had been a mounting tension between them all year, so when that tension disappeared, replaced with a light, dreamy energy as they mooned over each other- he was going to notice.

He tries very hard not to think about what’s going on between them. It’s none of his business.

*

In 2023, it only gets worse.

He sees the private smiles they shoot at each other in the paddock, the way they naturally drift together whenever possible, how they whisper together after a shared podium with something salacious in their smiles.

Carlos wonders if anyone else suspects. Try as he might, it begins to weigh on him.

He finally decides to satisfy his curiosity one night in the mid-season, and it turns out to be almost disappointingly easy to catch Verstappen sneaking into his teammate’s hotel room. 

As he watches Max pull a keycard out his pocket and use it to slip in through Charles’ suite, Carlos can’t help but think to himself that the Dutch driver truly gets everything. 

*

In 2024, he starts the season already out of a seat.

The rumors swirl, Mercedes, Red Bull, Aston, Alpine, and he drives for his life every week.

In the end, it’s Williams.

“I’m sorry,” his cousin tells him one day, after they’ve been drinking. Carlos knows he feels guilty, as his manager and as his family, like he could have found him something better. His father watches them both silently. 

Carlos tells him it’s fine.

*

This season has not been the best for him and Charles. Things are tenser than normal, and Carlos often finds himself frustrated with him.

It’s one of these nights, after another moment on track, that he and Caco are drinking again.  They’d spent the better part of an hour venting about his teammate, and even though the subject has moved on to the rest of the grid, Carlos is still feeling agitated and more than a little drunk, his mind lingering on Charles.

“Do you think Verstappen’s feeling worried about that McLaren yet,” Caco asks, continuing on their conversation.

Carlos scoffs into his drink, his agitation making him bitter, “He’ll be fine, I’m sure Charles is still rewarding him for P5 tonight.”

“What do you mean,” Caco asks, raising a brow curiously.

Carlos pauses, realizing what he’s done. There’s a stab of guilt in his gut, he’s gone two years without telling anyone about this.

But he’s also gone two years without telling anyone about this.

Pushing away his guilt, Carlos tells his cousin everything.

*

A few weeks later, Max and Charles’ sex tape is emailed to nearly the entire paddock. When he gets the email, Carlos feels sick.

Later, as the entire team goes into crisis mode around him, Carlos watches Caco engage in an intense conversation with a Ferrari executive, both of them speaking low but sternly.

Moving closer to listen, he catches a few phrases, things like “unacceptable behavior” and “horrible association for the team”.

He watches his cousin getting more and more heated as the exec keeps shaking his head, and Carlos suddenly realizes what has happened.

*

“I did it for you, Chile,” Caco insists, “We needed to try something.” 

Carlos, his father, and his cousin are tucked away in his driver’s room, suddenly in a crisis of their own.

When Carlos confronted him, Caco had confessed startling easily- yes, he had been behind the stolen phone, yes, he leaked the sex tape, no, he was not sorry.

“You sound insane,” his father is hissing, “This is a fucking disaster.”

“No! Don’t you see?” Caco says, vehemently, “Someone in the paddock will leak it online or to the media, and Leclerc will be in ruins. This video is filthy, Ferrari won’t be able to stay associated with him once it gets out. He’ll have his contract voided, and then Carlos can take his place.”

Carlos and his father stare at him, Carlos in horror, his father consideringly.

“You deserve this seat,” Caco stands firm, “I know I let you down with the Williams contract… Please, let me try this one last thing.”

Carlos is still speechless, but his father slowly nods.

“You better hope this works,” his father says, deadly serious.

*

“It’s been hours,” Carlos Sr. notes impatiently, “Why has the video not gotten beyond the paddock?”

Caco shrugs, unable to hide how frazzled he was, “People are showing more restraint than expected. It will still leak.”

Carlos says nothing, staring down at the driver’s group chat on his phone. People keep asking him for news, but Ferrari has ordered him to stay quiet. He hasn’t been able to see Charles all day… he doesn’t really know if he could face him anyway.

“If it doesn’t leak in the next hour, then I expect you to help things along,” his father tells his cousin, no room for argument, “Ferrari won’t entertain getting rid of him unless it leaks.”

*

There is a palatable explosion of panic once the TMZ article is published. Ferrari hospitality descends into chaos, and Carlos is swept up in the mayhem as his father and cousin rush to take advantage.

Carlos listens to them speaking furiously to executives and feels sick once again.

It’s a feeling that only worsens when he catches the eyes of Max Verstappen as he’s led by, and it’s the sight of his former teammate’s dazed, shell-shocked expression that finally makes Carlos retreat to his driver’s room, hiding away from it all.

He puts his head in his hands, thinking of Charles and Max, his family’s words, of how many people are seeing the video, how Charles is being so thoroughly violated today. 

This is all his fault.

*

His father curses up a storm and his cousin looks crestfallen when Ferrari and Red Bull post the announcement about the relationship, promising full support.

Carlos immediately likes the post.

He also does nothing to hide the relieved smile on his face when he sees Charles and Max walking through the building, hand in hand.

*

The rest of the season passes in a flurry of media scrutiny, constructor fights, and goodbyes.

Carlos is asked about his teammate's newly revealed relationship more times than he could count, and he offers firm words of support with each interview, no matter what others tell him to say.

Still, Charles will barely look at him, either too caught up in a lovesick daze whenever Max is around him (a new, constant occurrence) or because he seems to be acting purposely icy and suspicious towards Carlos’ side of the garage.

Carlos doesn’t blame him, he deserves it. 

Caco is nervous now, constantly looking over his shoulder, and jumping whenever someone new comes up to speak to him. His father refuses to speak about it, already looking stubbornly forward and ignoring the sins of the past.

Despite Charles seeming to come out surprisingly unscathed (so happy he’s literally glowing with it) the guilt of everything continues to sit heavily in Carlos’ conscience.

*

When the final race comes around, and his departure is suddenly all too real, Charles pauses his hostility to give Carlos a genuinely kind and thoughtful send off. 

Carlos hugs him tight, and thinks about how sorry he is.

He is sad, so sad to say goodbye to this chapter of his career. And he is so regretful there is such a dark cloud of guilt hanging over these final days.

When Charles kindly shows up at the end of season testing for a final goodbye, Carlos finally decides he can’t stand to end it like this. Not without at least trying to make things right-

Before he leaves Ferrari for the final time, he asks Charles if they can talk.

---------

tl;dr summary: Carlos realized something was up very early, but kept Max and Charles secret for two years.

One frustrated, drunken night, he reveals that secret to Carlos Oñoro (Caco) his cousin and manager, who has been feeling guilty over not landing Carlos a better contract for 2025. His cousin steals Charles' phone and leaks the video in the hopes the scandal will get Ferrari to drop Charles and Carlos can get his Ferrari seat.

Neither Carlos or Carlos Sr. knew about the plan, but while Carlos is horrified, Carlos Sr. decides to see the plan through, hoping it will work in his son's favor. He orders Oñoro to make sure the video leaks further, implying Caco is the one who went to TMZ.

Carlos is relieved when the plan doesn't work, and happy for Max and Charles, but the guilt eats away at him. On the last day of his time at Ferrari, he decides to confess to Charles.

-------

hope this offers some of you the clarity you were looking for ❤️ thanks so much for reading.

[floralpascal]

Taking Care of You

Summary: You've been stressed out and working like crazy lately. John finally has enough and devises a plan to take care of you and make you forget all about your work.

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, minors do not interact)

Warnings: stressed reader, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), orgasm denial, praise

A/N: This one goes out to all my stressed and busy babes out there! This is 100% self indulgent since I've been working day and night recently. We all need us some Price to take that stress away

You knew that you had been distant for a while. Work had been piling up on you, responsibilities pressing in from all sides. It seemed like all you did was work, work, work these days. 

Your husband, John Price, was as supportive as he always was. He, of all people, understood that sometimes you just had to put your head down and get work done. When he was home with you, he always made sure that you ate and stayed hydrated. He limited your caffeine intake. He made sure you took breaks. In all, he was the most supportive, understanding man on the planet. 

…which was why his reaction now was so surprising. 

You saw him approach the makeshift office that you had set up at your kitchen table from over your laptop screen. In a soft, even voice he ordered, “Close the computer, love.”

Continuing to type, you spared him a questioning glance as you shook your head. “I just took a break like… an hour ago.”

“Three,” he corrected. “It’s almost eleven at night.”

You whipped your head up to look at the clock that hung on the wall behind him. Sure enough, he was right. Dread spread through you, your brain already kicking into crisis mode. “Shit. God, I’ve got to get this done.”

“It’ll be there tomorrow,” he countered. “You’ve been workin’ like mad all weekend long. I’m not gonna let you run yourself into the ground. So. Shut. The. Laptop.”

He stressed each word, and suddenly you felt what it must’ve been like to have John as a Captain, calm but commanding. Your eyes met his, your mouth open to fight him on the matter, but you found him ready for it, a testing eyebrow raised. It was rare that he would ever tell you what to do, but it always came when he was worried about you and trying to take care of you. Any time you had gotten a significant injury, he had made sure that you stuck to every word of the doctor’s orders. 

You huffed and leaned back, already sensing defeat. Instead, you tried to plead with him, “John, I won’t be able to sleep unless I get this done. I’ll just keep thinking about it.”

He put one hand on the table, leaned toward you, and pushed the laptop closed with the other hand. With his face barely a breath from yours and his eyes darkening, he rumbled, “I can fix that.”

Your body reacted to his sultry insinuation immediately, your heart rate jumping in an instant. You couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “And how’s that?”

“I’ll make it so that you can barely even think anymore. I’ll wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep without even a thought about this,” he said, tapping the closed lid of your laptop. 

At times like this, you hated how easy it was for him to get you riled up. He knew exactly how to play you, exactly how to make his gravelly voice even more enticing, exactly what to say to get you squirming in your seat for him like you were now. 

You pressed your lips together, thinking for a moment. You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t want this. You were so tired of all the work and John knew exactly how to play you. But if he was going to have some fun, then so were you. With a provocative flit to your voice, you challenged, “Then prove it, Captain.”

For a moment, all he did was let a sultry smile pull at his lips. Then he was on you, his hands guiding you up from your chair and his lips finding yours. It was all fire and passion, but yet not too rushed. No, John never rushed this early. He loved to work you up slowly and leave you begging for him to just touch you already. He followed that playbook now, walking you backwards to press you up against the wall, his hand guarding your head from hitting it. 

As he tilted your head to give his lips access to your neck, he rasped against your burning skin, “Never too stressed to tease me, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive part of your neck, your hands clawing at his back and tangling in his short hair. After a moment, he moved back up to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours for a long while. 

Eventually, his hands on your hips guided you to walk with him towards your shared bedroom. You took turns pulling at the other’s clothes, leaving a trail haphazardly in your wake. By the time you both passed through the doorway, John was only in his boxers and you in your plain black bra and panties. As he laid you back onto the bed, he eyed you as hungrily as he did when you wore lingerie for him. 

“D’ya know how fuckin’ sexy you are, love?” His hands pressed against your stomach before roaming up, up, up as slowly as possible. Your eyes fluttered shut as he ghosted his hands over your bra, arching shamelessly into his touch. Still drinking the sight of you in, he rasped, “Gotta take care of you. Gotta make sure I get rid of all that stress, all those worries.”

“John…” you whined, already needy and falling for his plan. One side of his mustache raised in a smile, clearly understanding that he already had you right how he wanted you. “Just touch me, please.”

John chuckled, giving your breasts a quick squeeze before placing a kiss just over your heart. “I am touchin’ you, baby.”

“Fuck, John, you know what I mean.”

He pressed the faintest of kisses up your chest and to your neck. Against the skin of your neck, he teased, “Maybe I don’t. Tell me. Use your words, love.”

Despite his insistence, he gave you no time to answer. Instead, his lips found the sensitive column of your neck, the touch no longer feather-light like it had been before. Now, he kissed and nipped with a passion that had you gasping beneath him. 

“Hhm? I didn’t catch that. Gotta speak up,” he mumbled next to your ear, the heavy timber of it sending shivers down your spine. But you could feel the curve of his lips against your soft skin, his beard prickling you as he did. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you grumbled halfheartedly. Even now, though, you couldn’t resist him. Giving in, you begged, “God, just fuck me, John.”

He made a sound of appreciation, deep and reverberating, the kind you could feel in your own chest. Leaning up over you, his icy blue eyes came to meet yours. “Now, was that really that hard?”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing your own smile as you grabbed his neck and leaned up to give him a bruising kiss. Returning the heat immediately, he dropped the act for a moment. Lips moving in tandem with yours, urgency lacing every movement, you felt him get lost in it. Surely enough, as he adjusted over top of you, you felt his hard-on graze your lower stomach. You chased him, hooking a leg over his hip to roll your hips against him. He groaned into your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. 

“So impatient today,” John chided. He pulled away and sat up, his hands coming to unhook and discard your bra on the floor. As he went to do the same with your underwear, you breathed a sigh of relief thinking that the torture of his teasing was finally over. 

Settling between your thighs, a man in heaven, he brought his mouth close to where you needed him. However, at the last second, his breath dusting your sensitive skin, he turned and brought his lips to the inside of your thigh instead. He still couldn’t hide his smile when you groaned in frustration. 

You were in for a hell of a ride. When he got in a teasing mood like this, there was no stopping him. 

Beard and mustache picking deliciously against you, he kissed up one thigh. Then, when he almost reached your center again, your breath hitching, he switched to the other thigh. There were some days when he did this that it felt like heaven — days when you were already losing yourself to the feel of him before he even got going. While you tried to conjure up that more present, more patient version of yourself, it didn’t seem possible now. You needed him so badly it ached. 

When your fingers found their way into his hair and gave him a light tug in the direction you needed him, he finally let you have your way. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, a small chuckle shaking the broad plane of his back. As he lowered his head, his hooded eyes meeting yours, he purred, “If tha’s really what you want, love. Have it your way.”

With that, he finally brought his tongue to you. Ever so slowly, he licked into you, drawing a gasp from your chest. Sliding his hands up from your hips to hold the sides of your stomach, his tongue made a twin journey up to your clit. He flicked his tongue a few times, slowly testing you.

Though it was all too slow for your liking, he steadily built up the pace. The scrape of his beard. The flick of his tongue. The reverb of his moan as you tugged on his strands. It was a delicious cycle, speeding up each time through. 

You let your head tip back into the pillow as you finally felt that tension in your stomach — a coil winding tighter and tighter. Your breath was ragged now, your legs already bracing around John’s head. 

“Yes,” you panted, eyes squeezed shut. “Just like that. I’m so- I’m so clo-”

Right as you were about to crest that hill, John pulled away all at once. Your orgasm dissipated like a wave against the beach — there one moment and gone the next. 

You whipped your head up to look at him, disbelief and righteous fury in your eyes. You were met only with a hungry, conniving smirk from the infuriatingly sexy man between your thighs. In this moment, even with his beard and the signs of age on his face, he didn’t seem a day older than the first time you had seen this smirk. The John Price that smirked in triumph at you now was the same as the John Price who had done it for the first time nearly a decade earlier. Had you not just had euphoria ripped away from you, you probably would’ve been more sentimental about this revelation. 

“Jonathan Price, I swear to god-”

You were cut off by another one of his chuckles. He licked his lips slowly, making sure you watched as he tasted you. “Still too stressed, love. Don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“You teasing asshole,” you huffed, but the edge was lost to it. 

It only made him smirk even more. “Fine,” he acquiesced, leaning back down. “Let’s try this again.”

At the same time that his mouth found your clit again, one of his hands traveled down to slip a finger into your dripping entrance. A small moan escaped you at the new sensation. As he started to build you back up again, his mouth and finger moving in tandem, you couldn’t help but forget his past transgressions. All that mattered now was the buildup leading to the big drop, the wonder that John could work between your thighs. 

Suddenly, he slipped a second finger into you, drawing a surprised whine from your lips. “Ohh… oh, fuck…”

He groaned in approval, the vibrations of his mouth against you only upping the unbearable pleasure. 

You were there again, so close to the edge that you could practically see it. Your body tensed in anticipation of the drop like a rollercoaster. It was just-

John pulled away again, shattering the buildup to your orgasm for the second time.

You let out a pained hybrid of a groan and a whine. Now, rather than annoyance coursing its way through you, all you had was desperation. “Fuck! John, please!”

“Hmmm, there we go,” he mused. “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere.”

“Please let me come, baby,” you pleaded. “I need it so bad.”

Pushing himself up, your heart sunk at the thought that he might keep teasing you and leave you hanging. Though he was never, ever one to leave you wanting, you were too far out of it to think straight anymore. All you knew was that you needed him and he was holding that just out of reach. 

Instead, he climbed up to lean over you. With a gentle hand, he cradled your jaw, making you look at him. Your slick glistened on his chin and beard. His pupils were blown wide, the icy blue of them nearly lost to it. With how much self control he had, his eyes and the tent in his boxers were the only indications that he was as affected by this as you were. 

“D’ya think you’re ready for me, beautiful? Think you can take me?”

You nodded immediately, still breathless. “Need you so bad, baby. Please. I can take it.”

He searched your eyes for a moment before nodding. “That’s my girl.”

Finally, he stripped off his boxers, revealing his red, leaking cock. You couldn’t stop the small whine you made at the sight, your need for him overriding any coherent thought.

John pushed into you in one swift stroke, drawing your nails to scrape across his back. The stretch was delicious, tearing you apart and soothing the insatiable ache in your core at the same time.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he praised. If the feeling of him seated inside you wasn’t already enough to set you ablaze, his praise was. It always was. 

His arms came to rest by either side of your head as he leaned down and stole a heated kiss from your lips. Then, he drew himself slowly out of you before sharply driving back into you again. Your body shook with the force of it, forcing you to break from his lips as you let out the most lewd moan of the night. 

But, of course, that was just the beginning. John continued like that, fucking you harder with every quick snap of his hips until the only sound in your bedroom was the slap of skin on skin and both of your grunts and moans of pleasure.

“This what you needed, baby?” John asked, voice gravelly and breathy. “You needed to get fucked this good?”

Your voice caught in your throat, a strangled sound coming out in place of an affirmation.

He sped up his pace, his cock hitting so deep within you that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. He groaned, “My good girl. Always workin’ so bloody hard. You deserve this — deserve to just let me take care of you.”

Your pussy clenched around him at his praise, drawing groans from you both. You clawed at his back, searching for some sort of tether in the tidal wave of pleasure you were trapped in now. For the third time tonight, you could see the salvation of your orgasm on the horizon. Having been denied it so many times, its immensity and force was almost alarming. 

Though you were too lost in John to think clearly, you were able to gasp out one plea. “Don’t stop! Baby, don’t- don’t stop!”

Rhythm growing sloppy, John assured, “Not gonna stop this time. Been so fuckin’ good for me. Come for me, love.”

That’s all it took to have you falling apart on his cock, the tension in your stomach snapping in an overwhelming flood of euphoria. Breath catching in your chest as you rode out the high, John continued to fuck you through it, murmuring deep praises all the while. 

Just as you were coming back down to earth, your body finally feeling like it was yours again, John was nearing his high. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groaned, head lowered by your ear. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he was burying himself to the hilt in you, his warm cum coating your walls. You gasped at the feeling as he ground his hips into yours a little.

Still propped on his arms, he sagged down over you, his breath ragged like yours. You dragged a hand up from his shoulder blade and into his hair, letting your fingers card through the soft strands as John came back to you and pulled out. Then, he lifted up enough to meet your gaze again. He took you in for a moment before leaning down and giving you one last heated kiss. 

The two of you clearly spent, he leaned his forehead against yours after he broke away. He brought a large, calloused hand to brush against your cheek. 

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mused. “I love you.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

“Feelin’ better?”

“So much better,” you answered. The stress and pressure you had felt for days was gone now, replaced only with the feeling of John. For the first time in a long time, you truly felt relaxed. 

“I told you I could fix it,” he said triumphantly, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

After taking a moment to clean you both up, John crawled back into bed and shifted to spoon you from behind. With his strong arm over your stomach and your legs intertwined, you let him envelop you. As sleep slowly pulled you under, the only thought on your mind was him.

[saphronethaleph]

Counting Noses

“This is an interesting document,” Palpatine said, looking up from it at Senator Amidala. “But you must understand… at this critical time in the war, to change the means by which it is being waged would be a terrible mistake.”

“I must understand no such thing, Chancellor,” Padme replied. “The argument for your emergency powers was that they were necessary to cut through the gridlock of Senatorial factions. No such gridlock now exists. The Grand Army of the Republic exists and has been winning victories. The powers you have are emergency powers, and it is no longer an emergency.”

Palpatine gave her an odd look. “I was kidnapped yesterday, Senator.”

“We are quite aware,” Bail Organa agreed. “However, a move like that is…”

“Similar to what I did, during the Naboo crisis,” Padme said. “A desperation move – and one that failed. The Confederation would not have launched an attack of that nature if they were confident in bringing about a successful conclusion to the war.”

She clasped her hands. “Chancellor – this is a request, out of friendship, that you give back your emergency powers before it becomes necessary to force the issue.”

“Are you threatening me?” Palpatine asked. “Senator, I realize that your past may have given you an exaggerated view of how easy it is to replace a Chancellor, but this is a time of crisis.”

“I think our views on the crisis are different to yours, Chancellor,” Mon Mothma stated.

“Chancellor, you don’t appear to remember one of the core principles of the Republic,” Sweitt Concorkill added. “That principle is democracy. You have been taking all kinds of actions based on a single vote from the start of the war, and you are refusing the clearly expressed will of the Senate.”

“What?” Palpatine snapped. “I am doing no such thing! You don’t speak for the Senate!”

“Read the title of the document,” Padme said. “None of us would have come here to make empty threats, Chancellor. We represent two thousand Senators who are of like minds on this matter.”

“That’s eighty percent of the Senate,” Mon Mothma provided, helpfully. “Indeed, this is the most unified that the Senate has ever been on anything.”

Palpatine scowled.

“I disagree with your assessment,” he said, shortly. “And you will not use weight of numbers to bully me into doing the wrong thing.”

“Isn’t that literally the definition of democracy?” Meena Tills asked, quietly.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Bail muttered, as they left the Supreme Chancellor’s office.

“I know,” Padme replied, already on her comlink. “Hey, Ani! Just to tell you, we met with the Chancellor…”

There was a pause, during which Bail Organa leaned in to Mon Mothma.

“You know it’s not quite eighty percent?” he asked. “Thirty-six columns, seventy-two rows, it’s actually seventy-seven percent. Seventy-three if you account for junior reps.”

“I was accounting for the Senators and Representatives who’ve left their positions during the war,” Mon replied. “It’s actually eighty point five if you do that. Does Padme really think she’s being subtle?”

“All I know indicates that she’s the subtle one of their relationship,” Bail shrugged. “Maybe she should have had some body doubles pretend to be in a relationship instead.”

Padme shook her head. “...yeah, he refused because he didn’t believe he should give up the powers, like the war might still go the wrong way,” she said. “Like you guys would just stop fighting if he lost emergency powers! It’s weird… yeah, I’ll probably have to no-confidence him… I know, I know, but it’s the principle of the thing, he could get voted back in again but that would reset the emergency powers and that’s what actually matters… love you too!”

She turned the comlink off. “I intend to call a vote of no confidence in the next session tomorrow morning.”

“Wow,” Chi said, blinking. “Padme, do… do you understand that people can overhear com calls?”

“No, I’m not using speaker mode,” Padme replied, with a shrug.

“Just let it go,” Bail advised the Pantoran senator.

[pansy-picnics]

A vat7k related question.

What do you think is Hugo's gender identity? Cus I want to hear what you think Hugo's gender is and the story behind it.

EHEHEHE personally i think she’s genderfluid and uses he/she/they pronouns…….I think he was kind of an uncracked egg up until the trials though. like, he’s been in survival mode for so long that he’s never had the time or luxury to really think about himself or his identity….i think he’s had a lot of different disguises over his career though, and those personas are either male or female depending on what the situation calls for so he’s not a stranger to dressing femininely either.

but yeah…i think for a long time hugo just identified as male by default cuz like…what else would he be LOL. if he had any doubts at all they weren’t significantly hindering him or anything so he just buried them with all the other of the emotions he doesn’t want to feel. but like the closet is made of GLASS and this becomes especially obvious when she teams up with 3 other teenagers who are also transgender so sometimes she’ll just Say Shit and they all turn around and look at her like “…….🤨”

i have this very vivid scene in my head where varian comes out to the gang as trans and hes clearly really uneasy abt it. and hugo doesn’t know what to say so he just tries to relate by saying the first thing that comes to mind and goes “oh yeah i get it i mean. sometimes i wish i was a girl but like not all the time yk” and nuru and varian both just stop and stare at him

hugo, getting nervous: …Sorry that’s probably not the same thing forget i said anything

nuru: No i think we should talk about this?

anyways yeah….other than her traveling party giving her some weird looks nothing actually really came of these conversations bc hugo would refuse to think about herself even if you put a gun to her head

fast forward to post-trials though, and hugo’s been living in the castle with varian for about six months…it was REALLY messy for both of them while she was adjusting, but at this point shes finally started to let her guard down a little, and all of a sudden she has SO much free time and she has no idea what to do with any of it. she’s stealing collecting things, tinkering with all kinds of useless little gadgets, rapunzel is teaching her tons of little arts and crafts projects. overall shes pretty content despite everything. So anyways then the gender crisis hits them like a fucking freight train

honestly i’m like half joking when i say i think it started bc they just kept forgetting to cut their hair. like one day they looked in the mirror and they’re like “wow my hairs getting so long i kinda look like a girl lol. Wait”

AND AS FUNNY AS IT IS ITS SO. WILDLY UNFAMILIAR TO THEM. like all of a sudden theyre SO insecure for as far as they can tell, NO reason and it drives them CRAZY. i dont even think that hugo dislikes their masculine features after coming out, i think they embrace them if anything but its just like…going from 0 to 100 so fast and suddenly being so hyper aware of themselves in a way that they NEVER were before…having to realize that they’re definitely Not cis. it’s fucking TERRIFYING!!!

not to mention it hits him all at once during a time when he’s still frankly really paranoid about him and varian’s relationship, and he’s kinda walking on eggshells bc deep down he’s convinced that var’s just gonna get tired of him eventually and kick him out. its like he’s just waiting for the final nail in the coffin despite the fact that there is literally no coffin.

All that being said i think it takes him a while to work up the courage to talk to varian about it. and he knows he won’t like. hate him for being trans or anything (I sure hope he wouldn’t, at least, seeing as he is literally also trans) but varian’s already done SO much for him and helped him through literally everything already….he doesn’t want to burden him any more than he already has. he also cant comprehend that someone can just Like him, like, as a person, so he’s convinced himself that varian must see something specific in him right now and he’s afraid that if he changes himself drastically in any way then whatever varian saw in him just. won’t be there anymore. If that makes sense

as for who he actually goes to first- honestly i think it’d have to be lance. at least in my head lance was the first person hugo really started to bond with aside from varian….he didn’t start letting his guard down with rapunzel until quite a while after that. also i think he’s worried that if he tells rapunzel she’d end up accidentally spilling something to varian (which is like. Valid bc she’s a horrible liar) he’d definitely write a letter to nuru, too, but nuru is also in another kingdom, and that message takes a while to get to her, so it’s more something they talk about after the fact

when he finally does get a letter back after dumping this revelation on her it’s just like

“dearest hugo. upon reading your letter i desperately wanted to tell you that i told you so, but i realize that would be in poor taste, seeing as you are clearly struggling right now. Moreover,-“ /j

regardless of who she tells first, they obviously all support her and encourage her to talk to varian as well…And ofc varian hypes her up to no end when she finally does. i wanna say it’s a sweet emotional scene but i feel like varian was also under the assumption that she figured out the gender thing like a year ago /j

hugo: ,,,,so like. i don’t think i’m a guy

varian: . yeah?

hugo:

hugo: TFYM “YEAH”?????!!!!???

varian: D. DID WE NOT ALREADY KNOW THIS?

hugo: ,???? NO???!!???!

jokes aside though as soon as hugo does decide he wants to explore his presentation more varian immediately consults rapunzel who gets WAY too excited about it and it kind of scares hugo a little bit. /j like Do you want to cut your hair? Dye it? Do you want new piercings? TATTOOS????

they eventually just settle on getting her a few new pieces to add to her wardrobe and that works out fine. varian sees his girlfriend in a dress and loses his mind etc etc. All is right in the world

[bomber-grl]

Out of His Depth

Pairing: Leo Valdez x M!Reader

Word count: 1,285

Synopsis: Just Leo freaking out over liking the reader since he never considered the possibility that he could be gay.

-

Leo had never felt his heart race like this before. Seriously, it was like his pulse was trying to break the sound barrier, it was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was almost sure everyone on the Argo II could hear it. He could even feel the heat in his cheeks like he had the world's most painful sunburn. And the worst part? It was all happening because of you. Yeah, you. The guy who had just randomly appeared in Leo’s life. The audacity.

Leo’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about you and by extension could barely focus on the task at hand — which was fixing the Argo II — because all he could think about was how he felt like he was about to burst into flames every time your eyes caught his. This was ridiculous. He’d only ever felt this way around girls, right? But here he was, getting all hot and bothered (and no, not like that) just by being in the same room as you.

“Okay, calm down,” he muttered to himself, wiping his greasy hands on his pants and trying to shake the weirdness off. “This is fine. I’ve got this.” But no, he didn’t. He was falling apart. And when he thought of when you smiled at him or even complimented one of his shitty inventions, he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.

Just as he was about to lose his mind, Piper strolled in as if having been looking for him, her expression immediately turning curious when she saw his face looking like it was about to explode. (surprising that he hadn’t already)

“Uh… Leo? You good?” Piper asked, raising an eyebrow. She looked him up and down, clearly sensing the weird vibe in the air. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost or something just plain disturbing. Did you finally go insane from having to hear the Nike statue for days on end?”

“Piper!” Leo practically shouted, now in full panic mode. “I—I don’t know what's happening. I’m feeling all weird… all because of him” Totally giving Piper an idea of who he was talking about.

Piper’s eyes widened, if she was surprised by his little outburst she didn’t make it known. Then, it hit her and she smiled, “Oh, so you like y/n, huh?”

“I mean—what?! No! What I mean is—” Leo clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself for being such a mess. “Why is my heart pounding? I’ve never felt this way around a guy before. This is so messed up. How does being... gay even work?”

Piper stifled a laugh (bless Leo’s heart), and crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. “Well, Leo, I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one going through an identity crisis.”

(-- says one queer to another)

Leo sighed, then, almost as if flipping a switch, his demeanor came back to life—desperate, frantic. He grabbed onto Piper’s sleeves, his fingers digging in. “I have to go give a weapon I’ve been fixing back to y/n… can you come for moral support?”

Piper couldn’t help but actually laugh at his over-the-top dramatics this time, shaking her head in exasperation. “Can’t, Leo. You’ve got to handle this one on your own.” She waved goodbye, her voice teasing as she walked off.

Leo grabbed the weapon he’d painstakingly welded back together—just for you—and made his way up deck. There you were, standing with Annabeth, probably plotting something clever, as usual.

You must’ve felt his eyes on you, because you turned, and when you smiled that smile—that one that always made his heart skip a beat—he immediately looked away, his face flushing. He quickly shuffled toward you, the weapon clutched in his hands like it might slip away at any second.

You approached, still smiling, and took the weapon from him, running your fingers over the shiny, polished metal. “Wow, Leo…” You turned your gaze back to him, still smiling, and before he could even process it, you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

It was brief—just a soft, gentle press of your lips—but it sent Leo’s mind spinning, his heart slamming in his chest. His brain went into overdrive, too many thoughts, too many feelings, all flooding in at once.

And just like that, Leo fainted. Out like a light.

-

When Leo came to, he was lying on his bed, blinking up at the ceiling, feeling like he’d just been hit by a train. Slowly, he turned his head, only to find you sitting beside him, looking a bit guilty.

“W-What happened?” Leo groaned, his voice hoarse from his dramatic fainting incident.

“You, uh…” you scratched your head, “you passed out. After I kissed you.”

Leo blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of everything. “Wait, you kissed me?” He looked over at you, a ridiculous wave of nervousness hitting him. “Why would you—”

“Well, for starters I only kissed your cheek as a thanks,” you shrugged with a sheepish smile. “But I have a question of my own… You were hot.” Leo shot up at that then settled down when you explained the rest.

“Not like that, Leo. I meant that your cheek was hot. Like, actually hot.” You glanced at him, concern spanning across your features. “I mean, I know you’re usually working around machines or even using your fire ability, but... are you always this warm?”

Leo blinked again. “Wait, so, my actual temperature? You’re saying my cheek was hot?” He shot up into a sitting position, not even trying to hide his crush on you anymore. “Are you telling me I’m smoking hot right now??”

The way you were looking at him made his heart flutter again. Knowing you were worried about him made him feel bad. So this time, Leo tried to make light of it with another “scandalous” statement. “Don’t you mean appearance-wise?” he joked, a grin tugging at his lips.

To his shock, you actually nodded. “Yeah. You look good, Leo. Just didn’t expect your body to be a literal furnace, too.”

The air between you both seemed to freeze for a second. Leo’s heart pounded in his chest, and the red creeping up his neck was impossible to hide this time.

“You’re—You’re serious?” Leo sputtered, his voice a little higher than usual. “Okay, no, this is... this is fine. This is normal. This is totally fine!”

You laughed,Unable to think of anything except how endearing he was, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re not used to it, I can take it easy with the compliments. But Leo, I think you’ve got it all figured out by now, haven’t you?”

He did. I mean sure there was palpable thick tension capable of being cut with a knife between you two that spanned across weeks but he didn’t think it’d get this far… until now.

Leo took a deep breath, finally letting himself relax a little. “I mean, yeah. I guess I’m still processing this... feeling—but yeah. I guess this is all new to me.” He rubbed his temples, still trying to get a handle on everything. “I’ve never felt like this before, but... I don’t mind it. It feels... right. You feel right.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “I think we’ll figure this out, Leo. Together.”

Leo nodded, his smile growing wider. “Yeah. We will.”

And when you leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek again, Leo couldn’t help but laugh softly, his heart doing flips once more. “I’ll get used to this,” he murmured, his voice warm.

“Good,” you whispered back, and Leo felt that warmth all over again, this time a little more comforting than confusing.

[strangelittlestories]

My teammates tell me I’m gonna to croak on the job.

They don’t mean soon. They’re not, y’know, assholes about it. They don’t mean I’mma get myself ended because I’m not good enough. They don’t even mean I’ll bite off more than I can chew. I can chew a lot, metaphorically speaking.

(And, like, sure I’ve snuffed it once or twice in the course of a mission - but it never *sticks*. And, sure, my team would probs suggest I add ‘so far’ to that sentence. But ‘hell never sticks … so far’ is grammatically weird, I think, so I reckon I’m morally in the right.)

What they mean is: I’ll never let myself leave the job, so of course I’ll lose myself to it.

Which. Y’know. Fair.

A lot of folks in the profession have this issue, of course. When you’re in the world-saving game, it can be tough to justify quitting and letting someone else take a turn.

I call it the Heroic Paradox. The ‘Heradox’, if you will.

Paradox part 1: an apocalypse demands a ‘hero’ or ‘heroes’. If it does not find one, a hero must be created. This is rough for the hero, ‘cos they’re a normie with a normal life and the process of going hero mode will take that life away from them.

(I’m actually not a huge fan of the term ‘hero’, but ‘designated end-of-days preventer’ is lengthy.)

Paradox part 2: if an apocalypse begins and the hero(es) already exists, then job’s a good’un, just crack on with business and de-apoc the lypse.

Paradox part 3: if the hero(es) are a few apocalypses deep and now pondering retirement on a nice little island/farm/wizard tower/public office, you hit that awkward moment where a hero is called for, but not yet present. Best case scenario: some poor schmuck gets their life ruined by ‘destiny’.

Worst case? The hero refuses the call or gets snuffed out early or *there just isn’t anyone appropriate* and that situation really puts the ‘scat’ in ‘eschatology’.

So … yeah, I don’t see myself retiring.

But if I’m honest - if I peer really intensely at the squirming pile of neuroses that lurk beneath the justifications - I was this way *before* the stakes got this high. I’ve always been a ‘crisis mode’ kinda jerk.

Lurching from mission to disaster to disastrous mission has always been where I feel most *myself*.

Now you (or my team) might say: that’s no way to live. Everyone needs downtime. Rest. Enrichment.

It’s been the downfall of many a hero that they hit crisis mode so hard, they don’t bother going to *therapy*.

My answer to this is simple: if you treat self-care and self-maintenance as being *really fricking urgent*, you can roll that work into your *existing* crisis pattern.

This is actually pretty sustainable. Because first: that stuff *is* urgent and you’re a bilge-organist if you don’t realise it. And second: the best kind of therapy is always the one you’ll *actually do*.

So yeah: I’ll pass away on the job. Because even the soft fuzzy nonsense I do … it’s all for the job.

And you know what? If it means I’ll exit this world knowing who I am? I’m okay with that.

---

Ko-Fi supporters! Please submit your prompts/requests for November and any months you've missed :)

https://forms.gle/PKgyrFxfYEQosVdn8