#Crack; Not Gonna Worry About A Serious Tag...

[sh4nksslvt]

You Kiss Like Trouble

Ace’s habit of kissing you at the worst possible moments—mid-battle or mid-party—sparks playful chaos and heartfelt moments aboard the Moby Dick.

ace x fem! reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, flirting, teasing, established relationship, kissing

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 2k

masterlist | ko-fi

The sun hung low over the horizon, painting the sea in shades of gold and crimson as the Moby Dick rocked gently on the waves. The Whitebeard Pirates were in high spirits, fresh off a successful raid against a no name crew, their laughter and clinking mugs echoing across the deck. You leaned against the railing, the salty breeze tugging at your hair, watching the chaos unfold with a fond smile. Your boyfriend, Portgas D. Ace, was at the center of it all, naturally—shirtless, as usual, his freckled chest gleaming under the fading sunlight as he arm-wrestled Thatch for the last drumstick.

“Oi, Y/N!” Ace called, his voice cutting through the din as he pinned Thatch’s arm to the table with a triumphant grin. “You gonna cheer for your man or what?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “I’d cheer if you weren’t cheating, hotshot.”

“Cheating?!” Ace gasped, clutching his chest dramatically as Thatch groaned and rubbed his sore wrist. “baby, you wound me!”

The crew roared with laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin. Ace’s theatrics were as much a part of him as his flames, and you’d long since learned to roll with them. Your relationship with the Second Division Commander was a whirlwind of teasing, affection, and chaos—a perfect match for the fiery troublemaker who’d stolen your heart.

As the celebration continued, Ace sauntered over, slinging an arm around your shoulders. His skin was warm, as always, radiating heat like a living furnace. “Miss me?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

You tilted your head to meet his dark eyes, smirking. “You were literally ten feet away, Ace.”

“And yet,” he said, leaning closer, “it felt like an eternity without you.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it.”

“Only for you,” he winked, and before you could retort, he pressed a quick, soft kiss to your forehead. It was a fleeting gesture, but it sent a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. Ace had a habit of kissing you in the most unexpected moments—forehead, cheeks, nose, wherever he could land one. It was endearing, infuriating, and entirely him.

“Get a room, you two!” Marco called from across the deck, his lazy drawl laced with amusement.

“Jealous, Marco?” Ace shot back, grinning as he pulled you closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll save a kiss for you later.”

The First Division Commander chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll pass-yoi.”

The night wore on, and as the crew’s energy mellowed, you and Ace found a quiet corner of the deck. You sat cross-legged on a crate, while Ace sprawled out beside you, his head resting on your thigh. The stars were beginning to peek through the twilight sky, and the gentle lapping of waves against the ship created a soothing backdrop.

“You ever gonna stop kissing me in front of everyone?” you asked, running your fingers through his dark hair.

Ace cracked one eye open, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Why would I? Gotta show the world you’re mine.”

You flicked his forehead lightly. “Possessive much?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Besides...you love it.”

You huffed, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. There was something about Ace’s unapologetic affection that made your heart race, even after all this time. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“Cute?” he echoed, sitting up suddenly. “I’m devastatingly handsome, thank you very much.”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that, Fire Fist.”

He gasped, clutching his heart again. “You’re brutal tonight, Y/N. I’m gonna need some serious TLC to recover from this.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Better?”

Ace’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Not quite.” Before you could react, he cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, his lips warm and firm against yours. It was slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that made the world fade away. When he finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless.

“Better now?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“Much,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek. “But I might need a few more to be sure.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t resist as he kissed you again, this time on the corner of your mouth. “You’re impossible,” you said between kisses, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.

“And you love it,” he repeated, his voice low and teasing.

The next morning, the Moby Dick was abuzz with preparations for a potential skirmish. Some pirate crew had been spotted nearby, and Whitebeard had ordered the crew to stay on high alert. You were in the armory, checking your weapons, when Ace strolled in, his trademark grin firmly in place.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

You glanced up from sharpening your dagger, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the cannons or something?”

“Probably,” he admitted, sauntering over. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

You shook your head, trying to focus on your task. “You’re gonna get us both in trouble, Ace.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he said, and before you could protest, he leaned down and kissed your cheek, his lips lingering just long enough to make your pulse jump.

“Ace!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had seen. “We’re in the middle of prep!”

“What?” he said innocently, stepping back with his hands raised. “Just giving my favorite person a little morale boost.”

You pointed your dagger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Do that again, and I’ll morale-boost you right into the sea.”

He laughed, undeterred, and blew you a kiss as he backed out of the room. “Love you too, Y/N!”

You groaned, but a smile tugged at your lips. Damn him and his charm.

The skirmish came sooner than expected. By midday, some crew’s ship was bearing down on the Moby Dick, cannons roaring. The deck erupted into controlled chaos as Whitebeard’s crew sprang into action. You were in the thick of it, wielding your weapon with precision, fending off attackers alongside your crewmates.

Ace, of course, was a whirlwind of fire and fury, his flames lighting up the battlefield as he took down enemies with ease. You caught glimpses of him through the fray, his grin as wild as ever, like he was having the time of his life.

You were locked in combat with a burly swordsman when you felt a familiar presence at your back. Before you could turn, Ace’s voice was in your ear, low and playful. “Looking good out here, Y/N.”

“Are you serious right now?!” you shouted, parrying a strike from your opponent.

“Dead serious,” he said, and then—to your absolute disbelief—he grabbed your waist, spun you around, and planted a quick kiss on your forehead before dodging a sword swing aimed at his head.

“Ace, what the hell?!” you yelled, shoving him away as you refocused on your attacker.

“Motivation!” he called, already sprinting toward another group of enemies, flames trailing in his wake.

You cursed under your breath, but there was no time to dwell on it. The battle raged on, and you fought with renewed vigor, partly fueled by exasperation at your boyfriend’s antics. By the time the no name crew retreated, their ship limping away in defeat, you were sweaty, bruised, and ready to strangle Ace.

You found him leaning against a mast, wiping soot from his face. “So,” he said, grinning as you approached, “how’d I do?”

You crossed your arms, glaring. “You kissed me. In the middle of a battle.”

He shrugged, completely unrepentant. “Kept you on your toes, didn’t it?”

“I could’ve been stabbed!”

“Nah,” he said, stepping closer. “I’d never let that happen.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off with another kiss—this one on your lips, quick and fierce. “...You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said Lillolled, pulling back.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, but your anger was already fading.

“Unbelievably charming?” he offered, wagging his eyebrows.

“...Unbelievably annoying,” you shot back, but you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.

That night, the crew celebrated their victory with a feast. The deck was alive with music, laughter, and the clatter of plates as Thatch served up a mountain of food. You sat beside Ace, who was predictably stealing bites from your plate.

“Hey! you have your own food,” you said, swatting his hand.

“Yours tastes better,” he said with a grin, popping a piece of meat into his mouth.

You sighed, but there was no real heat behind it. Ace’s arm was slung over the back of your chair, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your shoulder. Every now and then, he’d lean over to kiss your cheek or temple, each one earning a mix of groans and cheers from the crew.

“Oi, Ace, give it a rest!” Haruta called, tossing a roll at him.

Ace caught it midair, took a bite, and smirked. “Can’t help it. My girl’s too kissable.”

You elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Good,” he said, kissing your forehead again. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Marco, sitting across from you, shook his head. “You two are disgusting-yoi.”

“Says the guy who’s jealous,” Ace teased, dodging a napkin Marco threw at him.

As the night wound down, you and Ace slipped away to the bow of the ship, where the noise of the party was a distant hum. You leaned against the railing, staring out at the moonlit sea, while Ace stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You know,” you said, leaning back against him, “one of these days, your kissing habit’s gonna get us in real trouble.”

“Worth it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the side of your neck. “Every kiss with you is worth a little trouble.”

You turned in his arms, looking up at him. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. He kissed you again, slow and deep, and this time, you didn’t protest. The world could wait a little longer.

The next few days were quieter, the crew taking time to recover and repair the ship. You and Ace spent most of your free time together, whether it was sparring on the deck, sneaking into the kitchen to steal Thatch’s snacks, or just lounging in the sun. Ace’s kisses never stopped—on your cheek while you were reading, on your nose while you were tying a knot, on your lips when no one was looking. Each one was a spark, a reminder of how much he cared.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the crow’s nest, enjoying a rare moment of solitude, when Ace climbed up to join you. He plopped down beside you, his hat dangling from its string around his neck.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” he said, leaning back on his hands.

“Needed a break from your face,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Liar,” he said, grinning. He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “You can’t resist me.”

You laughed, pushing him away halfheartedly. “You’re relentless.”

“Relentlessly in love with you,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. He must’ve noticed your expression, because he softened, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah...I know.”

He kissed you again, gentle and lingering, and you melted into it. For all his teasing and chaos, moments like this reminded you of the depth of his feelings. Ace was a lot of things—reckless, wild, infuriating—but he was also yours, heart and soul.

As you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he murmured.

“Says the guy who kisses me in the middle of a fight,” you shot back.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through you. “Fair enough. Guess we’re both trouble.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Good thing I like trouble.”

The days turned into weeks, and the Moby Dick sailed on, chasing adventure and freedom. Ace’s kisses never stopped being a source of chaos—whether it was a quick peck during a card game or a stolen makeout session in the storage room—but you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was your wildfire, your trouble, your home.

And every kiss was a promise that he’d always be there, burning bright.

[robinminustherichard]

Happy Bucktommy Positivity Bingo Week! For my "Buck Leaves the 118" Bingo Square

"Uh, h-hi I'm your new transfer. I'm looking for Captain De-"

"Buckley! My office!"

Buck gulps in a way he hopes wasn't completely audible and sends a tight smile in thanks to the firefighter he didn't quite get to talk to before making his way down the hallway of the 122 station toward Captain DeLuca's office. He steels himself with a deep breath before hitching his duffle higher on his shoulder and walking in.

"Captin DeLuca, it's good to be here. And, and good to meet you." Buck stutters out, feeling his face grow red.

DeLuca is stocky and serious where he sits behind his desk--its at odds with the explosion of hand drawn crayon pictures pinned to the cork board behind him.

"Buckley, Evan. Thirty-four, been at the 118 since finishing the academy, a bit of a hot head, danger magnet..." Captain DeLuca trails off then, observing Buck. Buck tries not to let the dread in his stomach physically pull him down in his seat. So much for making a good impression--"and coming to the 122 with glowing reviews from three of the best damn firefighters I know."

That gets Buck to look up from where his gaze was slowly dropping to the desk, meeting DeLuca's eyes in surprise.

"I-what?" Buck says intelligently, cringing in his mind at his own inability to come across even a bit confident.

"Anyone ever tell you that I started at the 118? Chim says you've got the most heart he's ever seen, and that the only reason he's letting you go is because he can't stand to see it keep bleeding everywhere. Hen tells me that you're gonna be a hell of a Captain someday--leaving us all in the dust."

Buck feels his eyes stinging, not quite knowing what to do with all of this, feeling just as overwhelmed as he did when he walked out of the 118 five days ago with a voice horse from arguing with the very people who seemed to have talked so positively about him to his new captain.

"A-and the third?" Buck asks, not sure who else would have known both Captain DeLuca and Buck well enough to supply another glowing reccomendation. Lucy, maybe?

Captian DeLuca smirks and looks up at the wall to the left of his desk. Buck follows his line of sight and feels a throb of complicated emotion pulse through him. There's a picture there, of Captain DeLuca--much younger but still clearly him, with an arm around a hauntingly familiar man.

"The third is, in my personal opinion, an idiot on many fronts. But I believe him when he says you're all courage, integrity, and helping people through and through."

"I don't--"

"Yeah, he didn't actually want me to tell you that he gushed about how 'amazingly competent' you are for seventeen minutes straight. And you know, how could I break my best friend's trust like that? Even when I think he made a hell of a mistake and just needs to stop being a damn chicken and talk to this supposedly fantastic firefighter who had put in for a transfer and that I needed to fist fight Mehta for?"

Buck is stunned, eyes still catching on Tommy's younger face in the picture, they way his smile looks genuine under his gelled down curls.

"You didn't actually fist fight Captain Mehta did you?" Is all Buck can say, stupidly, "I mean--no I didn't mean that. Um. I mean, thank you. For this opportunity, Captain DeLuca."

"I metaphorically fought Mehta, but don't you worry about that. Let's get you introduced to the crew first, and after shift's over we can hit the sandwhich shop across the street and plan out how we'll corner Tommy."

Captain DeLuca gets up then, a whirlwind of words and motion that Buck is hopelessly trying to comprehend. He walks out the door at a brisk pace and Buck's eyes travel back to that picture.

"Buckley! Let's go!"

Buck scrambles to follow, heart beating fast and grin cracking across his lips.

Fic tag list (reply to this post or DM to be added!)

@bucksaiga

@loulou-land

@lbltpsmspenguin

@connected-dots

[e-therealife]

I'll Convince a Friend to Join Deep Ends

warnings: none word count: 1,805 pairing: jackie taylor x reader [platonic, romantic] description: jackie wants you to see yourself how she sees you. tags: in the wilderness, insecure!reader, comfort, best friend!jackie, friends to lovers, LOTS of fluff, first kiss between pairing

Maybe you should be worried about more "serious" things out here. Bigger fish to fry and all that. But as you squint at your reflection in the lake, you can't help but wonder how beneficial a truly all natural clay mask could be for your blemished skin.

When you lean closer to the water to see if a new scar has formed on your cheek, you're interrupted by cool water splashing in your face. You look up to see your offender—Jackie.

She squats down next to you with an awkward smile. "Sorry. Too tempting."

You don't mind anyway. You've gotten much, much worse on you out here.

It's a little unlike her, though. She wasn't the type to smush cake in someone's face at a birthday party or push someone in a pool. Jackie was pissed when some guy had jokingly spilled on Lottie's clothes at a party—much more than anyone else.

Your view of Jackie is probably the opposite of how most people see her, but you know her better than anyone. She always sees the best in people. Maybe this was another testament to that part of her, trying to distract you from looking at the water's image of you rather than her image of you.

She gently pulls your hands away when you try to dry yourself off and begins softly wiping the water from your face and onto her own shorts. Despite where you are, her skin is still so soft, nails filed and clean.

"It's okay. Feels nice, actually," you reply.

Jackie grins at that, the focus of her gaze on you growing a bit more intense. Feels, not felt. She's taking that as you talking about her hands rather than the water. If she paid even half as much attention as she gives you to school, maybe she wouldn't have nearly failed chemistry.

In this moment, there really wasn't much of a difference between her and the water, anyway—both soft and pure and refreshing.

"Your hair's wet," she notes, a sly smile growing on her face. "We might as well just get in the water."

You'd avoided joining the others in the lake plenty of times. Locker rooms were bad enough, but chicken fights in your underwear with classmates? Not happening.

When she sees you roll your eyes, she softly encourages, "It's just us. You have nothing to be embarrassed about ever, but definitely not around me. And it's fucking hot. I'm sweating and fresh out of deodorant."

"You can get in without me."

She puts on a pout, trying another way to convince you. "Are you really gonna leave me out there all alone? What if I drown?"

"You better not. Chest compressions might crack your ribs." Still, her words actually cause worry to grow in you, so you take your shoes and socks off and get up.

Jackie helps pull you up, saying, "Just chest compressions? No mouth to mouth? Do you care about me at all?"

Years ago, Jackie had begged you to go to some Summer camp with her. The begging was unnecessary—of course you'd go if it meant spending more time with her. It was just fun to see how desperately she wanted you both to be together. You remember how she refused to go if you didn't, saying something like, "It's not Summer without you."

There were safety protocols you had learned there, some form of education the camp attempted to provide. CPR was one you had learned by practicing on dummies. One night, Jackie had asked to practice mouth to mouth on you "just in case."

Based on her technique, if you were to ever actually drown with only her around, you'd be screwed.

It wasn't the only time she kissed you. A few years later, she had asked you to see how her lip gloss tasted. Once, she had leaned over her bed as you sat on the floor, giggling as she tried to mimic a Spiderman kiss.

Jackie had always been affectionate—kisses on the cheek when you said goodbye, or hello, or when the Yellowjackets won a game. A kiss on your forehead when she noticed a frown on your face, a hand tugging your wrist when she thought someone was trying to flirt with you, a head on your chest when you slept over.

Out here, Jackie only seemed to cling to you more. When she felt useless, you'd find a chore not too disgusting for her to take on, but you'd also assure her that she was a person. A teenager unexpectedly thrown to the wolves. She didn't need to be perfect.

She was still perfect to you, though. Of course you'd do anything for her. So, you calmly reply, "Yes, I care. I would do it if you needed it," brushing it off as just Jackie being your best friend Jackie, and begin to walk into the water, your clothes still on.

Jackie grabs your wrist, causing you to look back at her. "When you have to save me from the Loch Ness monster, those wet clothes'll slow you down."

"When? Did you call them here?"

Jackie laughs. "Yes. And she said she eats people who don't relax. I'm not trying to push you to do something you don't want to do, but I know you'll be more comfy with less clothes on. I can help you chill out."

After you raise your brows at her words, she clarifies with darting eyes and a wavering voice, "Like, give you a massage or something."

Conceding with a smile you try to hide by turning away from her, you start removing your top and bottoms.

Jackie quickly follows right after you begin, then drags you by your arm into the water. "See? It's nice. And you look perfect."

Jackie deadpans at you when you roll your eyes, but decides not to argue. She moves on to cupping some water in her hands, spilling it over your head and cooling your skin and scalp. "Don't want you to cook out here," she murmurs in that doting tone of hers.

Jackie walks behind you and spills some water on your exposed back and neck. You shiver slightly at the cooling sensation, then relax as Jackie runs her fingertips over your back. She presses her thumbs into the skin of your back and shoulders, rubbing out the tension.

"Feels nice," you praise.

"Told you so."

After a few minutes, an idea comes to her. If you didn't believe her more subtle attempts of showing you how she feels about you, maybe she'd just have to be more explicit. Crashing out here made her realize what she really wanted, and she was ready to admit that now.

So, Jackie pauses her movements, leans over your shoulder, and softly says "Hey. You mind if I try something?"

You turn to look at her. "Does it involve the Loch Ness monster? You sacrificing me to save yourself?"

She laughs, resting her forehead on your shoulder. God. Despite the shit you have to deal with here, getting to see Jackie like this makes you forget about it all.

"No, don't worry. She's pleased with you now. This is all me."

"Okay. Go ahead," you agree.

Jackie leans back and slides her hands down to your hips. Then, you feel a soft press against the top of your back, her lips lingering on your skin for a moment before trailing up to your shoulder. Her nose tickles you as it drags against your back lightly, causing you to stiffen.

Jackie leans over your shoulder again, pressing her front to your back and hugging you fully, arms around your stomach. She looks up at your face to see your reaction. There's something anxious and pleading in her wide-eyed expression. It's much different from her usual casual demeanor when she kissed you. This is a confession, and she's hoping for some kind of acceptance.

When you turn in her hold and slip your arms around her waist with a smile, she giggles, quickly kissing your nose before finally catching your lips.

She feels so different than how this place has treated you. Her lips are smooth, moving on yours slowly and carefully. It's not tentative, but thoughtful, as if from one of the many romance films she had you watch. Her lips slide against yours easily, some strawberry flavored lip gloss slipping into your mouth. Jackie unintentionally breaks the kiss with a grin she can't fight off, so you lean your forehead against hers.

"God. Now that's a kiss. Jeff's always practically eating my face."

You laugh lightly before kissing across her cheeks, her forehead, her nose...

Her face scrunches as she says, "Okay, maybe you are, too. But I like it when it's you."

You pull back to get a good look at Jackie and see her smiling softly, like you're the only thing she sees. It's a look you recognize from the many times you tried on clothes at the mall together, when she looked at you after helping you dress up for homecomings and proms, when she watched you opening up the birthday gifts she had given you every year since you met.

"I like everything when it's you, you know. When it's yours," she continues.

"Thanks," you reply, pulling her into a hug and hiding your face in her hair. "I like all of you, too."

"Don't hide," she chides sweetly. She turns her head to press comforting kisses on your cheek before pulling back to look at you. "I mean it. I love every part of you. Nothing's gonna change that. Not even being covered in dirt and blood and sweat."

With a small laugh, you reply, "Thanks, Jackie. I love you, too."

"You better, 'cause you're stuck with me," she responds, wrapping her arms around your waist before leaning down to suck softly on your neck. It doesn't feel sexual, but soothing. Like she's appreciating you.

Jackie pulls away with a relaxed sigh. "I needed this," she tells you, resting her head on your shoulder.

"Me too."

"I knew it," she smiles, closing her eyes and nuzzling into your neck.

"That's why you're the captain. You always know how to make people feel better."

Jackie quickly pulls back to look at you, wide eyes blinking rapidly. "You mean that?"

Nodding, you assure her, "Yeah. I mean it." You begin to lightly run your hand over her back, trying to further prove how much you value her. "I mean, I hope you'd use other ways to make the rest of the team feel better, but…"

She laughs, replying, "Don't worry. This is only for you." Returning to cuddling into your neck, she adds, "And I couldn't do it without you. I need you to make me feel better, too."

author's note: okay i need to write angst after this.

[steddieas-shegoes]

because it's yours

for @steddielovemonth using the quote prompt: "If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'd love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it's yours." - Stephen King

rated t | 1250 words | no cw | tags: post-vecna, eddie munson lives, pre-relationship, injury recovery, first kiss, getting together

▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️

Eddie’s not allowed visitors in the hospital, at least according to Wayne and Hopper. It’s for his own safety, they say.

Steve knows that’s partially bullshit. He’s good at sensing bullshit. But he plays along anyway, convinces the kids to just visit Max and they’ll plan a welcome home party for Eddie when he’s released. It gets harder by the day, especially when all the news they hear is that Eddie is healing well and should be good to go home even sooner than they thought.

No one tells them when he’s released.

Steve only finds out because he walks by the room Eddie’s been in, and instead of the door being closed, it’s wide open. There’s unfamiliar voices coming from the room. It could be doctors or nurses, but something makes him pause and peek in the doorway.

It’s an older woman and what appears to be her adult children, all of them having a very serious conversation about how she needs to be more careful while gardening.

Steve leaves before he’s caught eavesdropping.

He considers stopping by Dustin’s, see if he’s heard the news. Maybe the kids found out first.

Who is Steve to Eddie really?

Just because they gave each other looks and flirted a little and Steve carried him out of the Upside Down and-

He swallows the hurt and decides to go straight to Wayne’s new trailer. It’s just outside of town, easy to get to even with the damage done by the cracks. He’s been there a few times to check on him, even helped him set up his cable.

When Wayne opens the door, Steve knows something is off.

He doesn’t invite him in. Instead, he steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him. He gives Steve an awkward smile instead of his usual warm, comforting one.

“Is he home?” Steve asks.

“He’s sleeping,” Wayne allows. “He’s still recovering.”

“Do the kids know he’s home?”

“Son, he-“

“Why is he hiding? Everyone’s worried and just wants to make sure he’s okay. No one would keep him from resting!” Steve hates that his voice pitches higher. His hands are shaking. He’s never spoken to an adult he respects like this. “We just wanna know he’s safe.”

“He is.” Wayne sighs. “I told that boy no one was gonna stay away for long. He insisted everyone would forget him. I said no. He didn’t listen.”

Steve’s eyes dart over to the window he knows goes to Eddie’s bedroom. He’d been the one to help set it up when Wayne moved in.

“Can I please see him? I’ll be quick. I won’t even tell the kids yet. I just need to see,” Steve begs. “Please, Wayne.”

Wayne wordlessly opens the door and gestures for Steve to come inside.

He leads him to Eddie’s room, reminding him with a look to be quiet and not wake him up. Steve gives an understanding nod and walks into the room.

There’s sunlight sneaking through the blackout curtains, just enough to light up the bed that Eddie’s already wide awake in. Steve can’t help the smile blooming on his face.

Eddie looks scared, though.

His eyes are wide, and he’s pulled himself to the farthest corner of the queen sized bed. His hair’s a mess, proof that he probably was asleep just before Steve got here.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve waves. He doesn’t come any closer to the bed. “I just wanted to get eyes on you. Feeling alright?”

Wayne’s standing in the doorway behind Steve, probably trying to determine if he needs to step in or ride this out. If Eddie asks, Steve will leave. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asks.

Steve watches the way his jaw moves around the words, how his mouth twists differently, like it’s taking more effort to talk. The scar going across his cheek, up into his temple, and down to his neck seems to be the cause of it. It’s still an angry red, stitches visible in some places where the bites must’ve been deeper.

He walks forward slowly. Eddie doesn’t stop him. Neither does Wayne.

The scar is big. It’ll always be big, though Steve has plenty of experience with scars and knows it’ll fade into a paler pink than it currently is. It’ll be a reminder, every day, of how he almost died. Eddie will have this memory every time he looks in the mirror, every time his own fingers brush against the ridged skin.

Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face that’s scarless.

Eddie gulps.

“Is this why you didn’t want anyone to visit?” He whispers.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his eyes closing and head tilting down is answer enough.

“Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie opens his eyes.

“Do you really think a scar could scare any of us away? After how we found you, a scar is the least of our worries. You don’t have to hide from us.”

Steve’s not sure if Wayne’s still standing in the doorway, too focused on the way Eddie’s holding his gaze now. He’s lost weight and he’s still pale, but he’s alive. He’s still beautiful.

Maybe even more now.

“You’re alive. Everyone just wants you alive.”

“I’m gonna look even weirder now,” Eddie rasps out. Steve wonders if there’s damage to his throat, something his voice may never recover from entirely.

“I dunno. I think it’s pretty badass. Since when do you care about looking weird, anyway?” Steve smirks. “The Eddie Munson I know would find a new ridiculous story to tell every time he’s asked about something this cool.”

“I was leaning towards making people believe I got in a fight with a dragon,” Eddie shrugs one shoulder. His cheeks are red, warm underneath Steve’s touch.

“And won.”

Eddie leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Of course I won. A knight in shining armor saved me.”

“You saved everyone else first. Don’t forget that part of the story,” Steve reminds him.

“A hero’s brave sacrifice…” Eddie mumbles. Steve chuckles. “Maybe true love’s kiss?”

“Isn’t that supposed to break a curse?” Steve whispers, suddenly nervous about all the times they flirted before. Flirting is harmless until it’s not.

“You’re right. In this case, it’s the curse of never kissing a nice guy.”

“And you think I can break that curse?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

It’s a little awkward at first, mostly because parts of Eddie’s jaw are still numb from nerve damage and moving in certain ways is difficult. But once Steve adjusts, and they both giggle against each others’ lips, it’s easy. They fit.

Eddie tries to deepen the kiss, but he is still healing, and he has to pull away when his stitches tug painfully.

“Your battle scars won’t matter to any of us. They damn sure don’t make you less beautiful to me. Everyone misses you,” Steve rubs his arm, the one with no visible bandages. “Can I at least bring Dustin over later? Let him see that you’re actually alive and the hospital and government haven’t been lying?”

“Is that what everyone thinks?”

“You have to remember we’ve been through this a lot. Hopper was dead until he wasn’t. Anything can be faked.”

“That’s reassuring,” Eddie groans. “Yeah. Bring everyone by tomorrow. I’ll even shower.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Do you need help?”

“With showering? I just might, big boy.”

The way Eddie smiles is different now, but Steve loves it all the same.

[mollygrass]

This Small Corner in the Woods

Remmick x Female Reader

Summary: In the small neck of the woods in a newly found cabin, you and Remmick hide on the run from vampire hunters. One night Remmick suggests you coming hunting for blood with him and tensions arise between you two.

Tags & Warnings: Angst, violence, mentions of death, reader and Remmick is married, vampire reader, misogyny, no smut, slight fluff, over protective Remmick, vampirism elements, lots of mentions of blood, dark fanfic overall sorta, maybe a one-shot

Word count: 4k

A/N: This was only proofread once. Sorry for any grammatical errors!

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⁺‧

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⁺‧

Remmick, eyes creased with worry, he weakly smiles, blinking. He’s desperately searching for the right words to say to you. These days you’ve been looking quite paler with a pesky gloom clouding you.

“Hey, darlin, I’m gonna head out for a hunt tonight and,” his voice trails off, shoulders dropping as he sighs. Eyes closing.

Peeking up from an old, brittle book in your hands, you wait for him to finish. On a couch, you sit mermaid style, eyelids fluttering.

Silence fills the space between you two and it’s awfully loud as he swallows audibly.

Head slightly tilted, eyes squinting, you say, “why the long face, my love?”

Remmick sharply inhales before exhaling, bracing himself for what’s to come next. And he knows you’re not gonna like it.

You never do.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get out of this cooped cabin. Have some fun with me tonight, actually drink some real blood that’ll leave you more rejuvenated unlike that cow blood.”

“No,” you blurt softly. You stare at him, voice still sweeter than honey, but the look in your eyes tells a different story.

Remmick sighs, pinching his nose bridge as his other hand rests on his hip.

“Then just tag along with me, darlin. You need some fresh air anyways,” he says softly, voice serene.

Now it’s your turn to sigh, the book in your hands closing—a soft thud. You gently shake your head.

“No means no, Rem. You know I don’t like drinking human blood.”

Remmick huffs a loud sigh. “Yeah, that’s the problem!” He throws his hands in the air and they fall back to his sides.

Brows knitted, your gaze darts to him by the front door. “Excuse me?”

Lips pursed, nostrils flaring, he throws a glare back at you. “You heard me. You’re always like this. Acting like you too good for hunting, for human blood. As if you above it all, drinking only from animals.”

“That’s not true, Rem.”

Remmick’s feet are heavy on the wooden splinted floors, storming closer to you.

“Alright,” he begins, lips curling—a forced smile. “Then come with me tonight. Drink human blood. Simple.”

All you can offer is a stare. Eyes endlessly blinking as if he’s asking for you to slice the throats of thousands of innocents.

“Remmick, you can’t be serious right now,” you manage to breathe.

He nods, pursing his lips, sighing through his nose as he walks backwards. Disappointment glimmers in his round brown eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Springing to life from the couch, you throw the book somewhere on the floor.

“What? No,” you blurt, chest weighing heavy as stone.

“Then what is it, huh? I’m tired of tip-toeing around you when it comes to this. You don’t like coming hunting, okay that’s fine.” Remmick lists on his hands and continues, “I come home smelling and soaked in blood. You hate the smell even though it makes you visibly drool.”

“That’s not true. You take that back,” you snap, voice lacking any gentleness it possessed a few seconds ago.

Normally he would’ve stopped pressing this issue. He knows how it makes you feel. It’s a fragile area you hate exploring and it’ll make you crack, shattering all over the place.

But he doesn’t stop. No, Remmick keeps pushing. Scratch that, it’s no longer a push. It’s a breath stealing shove to the chest.

He takes angry strides to you and hovers your shorter stature. “I see the way you look. The hunger in your eyes. How your fangs sharpen,” he hisses, invading your personal bubble. “You deny it, acting so above it all but deep down inside you want it too just like me—blood. So for once how about we drop the little conceited act.”

Remmick looms so close, his and your noses nearly brush at the tips. Mouth sewn shut, his closeness eradicates any balance you have and you plop down on the couch’s cushion. All you can fathom is a wide eyed stare, watching his fire filled chest heave up and down on repeat.

Tears swell in your eyes as blood rushes to your face. Your lips quiver, tearing the invisible thread sealing them closed.

And when you do manage to speak you utter through a shattered voice, “I hate you. I hate this—living under the moon with you.”

The anger twisting his face falters, your words cutting deep in his heart and now it’s his turn to be wordless. He’s never heard you say such a thing, not even in the most sun scorching arguments.

“I fucking hate you!” You shove at his chest with enough force to bend steel.

Any average human would’ve gone crashing to the floor, maybe breaking a bone. Remmick on the other hand slightly becomes unbalanced on his feet, stumbling back. Eventually he grounds himself still in his tracks.

Off the couch, you're a sprinting blur to the shared bedroom. The cabin walls tremble as you slam the door, locking the knob.

“No, no. You get back here now, damn it! Tell me right now that you don’t mean that bullshit!” You hear Remmick roaring over stormy footsteps.

At the door, his fist wham, shaking the walls of the room you hide in. His broken yells continue to echo throughout the cabin. He almost sounds desperate, begging you to open the door. To say it again. In his face, direct eye contact.

He needs to know. What’s to know. If you truly mean it.

Unfortunately for him you don’t plan on unlocking the door. Crumpled in the corner, you’re wringing out a river of sobs. Not only did his words burn, but you know yours also did too. Guilt eats your heart alive and you refuse to face him. Not right now.

“Go away, Remmick! I don’t wanna talk to you right now!”

“Baby, please. Open the door. Let’s talk about it,” he rasps, forehead pressed against the door.

You sniffle between quiet sobs. “Go away.”

One last wham on the door jolts you upright, frame uncontrollably shaking. A low growl rumbles through him. A silent long pause. Then there’s a sigh from behind the door.

“Fine,” he breathes.

Loud and clearly you hear Remmick storm away before shaking the cabin whole, slamming the front door.

A shaky sigh slips past your lips, tears still flowing as everything replays itself in your brain, fresh and vividly clear.

………………..

An hour flies by and you sleep in bed. Remmick’s rich scent, fresh and calming, weighed your eyelids shut.

Another hour slips by and you rise from the short slumber. Drool, dry and flaky cakes on your chin. Faint hoots of an owl woke you. Plagued by boredom you wander from the bedroom in search of the book you read earlier.

Two more hours pass and still no sign of Remmick. Your loving husband would’ve been back, hugging you tightly in his warm embrace as he whispers heart melting apologies. You try to ignore the loud silence in his absence and continue losing yourself in the book.

A loud bang rings outside. The book in your hand crashes on the floor as a flinch drives through you. Looking around like a frantic mother in search of her lost child, you stalk towards the window in the bedroom. There’s nothing out there except for the darkness and trees dancing in the wind.

Another thundering bang rips through your ears but this time it comes from the cabin’s front door.

Remember it ain’t me knocking at the door. I never knock, ever. It’s someone else. If this happens while I’m out, hide until they leave.

If not, run. Run like the sun’s rising high to the sky and never look back. Don’t worry bout me cause I’ll find ya, darlin.

Your husband’s words echo in your brain and your heart hammers louder each passing second. In a flash on your feet, head whipping around in search of somewhere to hide.

Faint voices of men nearly drag you down to your knees. Within seconds your movements become less swift—more sloppier.

“Just kick it in. I’m sure it’s him living here anyways according to the locals,” a voice urges from behind the front door.

“Oh, no,” you mumble, tumbling into the bedroom.

The front door bolts open with a boom, hitting the wall. Ten men in a group spill into the small living room. Weapons, toxic and deadly as the sun decorate their bodies on holsters.

Stuffed under the bed, you hide, hands slapped over your lips trapping in heavy breaths. Skipping wildly, your heart hammers in your ears.

Before meeting Remmick you never ran into vampire hunters, only hearing tall tales about them in speakeasies or from friends and family. You didn’t believe them to be real because you were human and a hunter tracking down a vile blood sucking monster didn’t have anything to do with you—a human. Hell, you didn’t even believe in vampires' existence until it was too late and your neck was chomped to a bloody mess on a late midnight in a dark forest trail.

Echoing off the walls, casual banter and footfalls loom closer and closer each passing second. Their voices are guttural and gravelly as they speak nauseating threats of what they’re going to do to Remmick.

Abruptly, the bedroom door whines open. It sends you crumpling deeper where you hide, breath hitched in your throat.

Clacking on the floor are your belongings as one of the men search the room. Under his breath he rambles on, irritated. Once he finishes, you hear him huffing a sigh and strolling elsewhere into the hallway.

Relief doesn’t dare wash over your trembling body yet because you can still hear them loud and clear inside the cabin.

“Fuck, I thought you said the fucker would be here cause I ain’t seeing him nowhere in this shithole.”

Another man sighs, “he’s gotta be here. Maybe he’s out…looking for the next victim is my best bet.”

“That ain’t good.”

“Nah.”

Their shoes shuffle around scattered across the cabin any and everywhere. Endless wonders of when they’ll leave cloud your brain and in the mixture of it for a brief moment you begin regretting not going with Remmick

“Check in that room one more time boys. Y’all know how Jimmy can’t look to save his soul,” the ringleader of the hunters chuckles.”

His men as if on command laugh as well, except for one—the man who searched the room. He grumbles, cursing them all under his breath.

They flood inside the bedroom and turn the room upside down in a heartbeat. It’s like a tornado raged through the room, leaving yours and Remmick’s items unorganized all over the floor. Only one thing remains intact—the bed.

“Aye, Jim, check under the bed. I got a feeling we might find someone under it.”

Your hand catches the gasp rushing past your lips. Brain dizzy and drunk, you freeze as your heart slams against your ribcage. A pair of boots, beaten and huge, invade your line of vision.

You see what you prayed to not see all while these men raided your home—a pair of eyes staring right back at you. His eyes are blacker than the bottom of the great seas.

“Aww, look at what we got here.”

He stretches out a long arm for you, but your body recoils away. The man only smiles, teeth crooked and rotten, delighted with what he’s found.

“Jimmy, what you find?” The leader exclaims.

“A cute little mouse.”

Unable to slide back any more, your arm is yanked, nearly pulling a bone out of its socket from the fierce force. The man holds you up in the air, flaunting you like fresh meat before a pack of hungry dogs.

Some of them whistle at the sight of you while others gazes linger with an appetite for something foul and grotesque.

The leader of the bunch is a tall man with a menacing face. He steps close, leaving no room for you to breathe properly. His fingers tilts your face to meet his grim eyes.

“Hey there, little mouse. Me and my boys got some questions we wanna ask you if you don’t mind,” he says, voice calm as waves on a beach as he slips out a silver blade from his many pockets.

Your heart sinks at the sight. Remmick floods your brain and only him. You wish he was here now more than ever.

……….

Out in town laced with cloudy fog in every corner and street, Remmick barely brews up an appetite after leaving the cabin. Even the sweetest blood he drank from didn’t fulfill his stomach. Not with you plaguing his mind all night.

Tonight blood came easy, falling right into his lap and its taste was mouth watering. On a night like this he’d skip back to you with joy and embrace you in his arms, twirling round and round. He doesn’t do any of that though.

Instead, Remmick doesn’t even return home after having his meal of warm blood. He remains in town, hiding in the shadows and boredly watches the nightlife. Desperately he tries clawing you from his brain but it doesn’t work. You remain a restless spirit trapped inside his mind.

“Shit,” he hisses, gazing up at the moon.

He’s late. He should return home but he doesn’t. Stubborn as an ox, he strolls dragging each foot to a juke joint nearby in need of a fresh drink. Not the red kind either. The kind that makes you trip over your own feet and forget all your sorrows.

Easily, he slips past inside with his charming smile. At the bar he orders a drink and receives it without a beat wasted. Sipping on the bitter liquid, he listens to a duo of men beside him.

“Yeah, I heard Jim and the boys headed for the woods tonight in pursuit of a vampire.”

Remmick stiffens, his blood running icy cold. He sits the drinking glass down, brows knitted.

“How many of em going?”

One of the men laughs before gulping down the last bit of his drink. “About ten of em. Say they gonna torture the poor fella. They got all sorts of weapons. Man I hate to be the damn bastard, he in for a rude awakening.”

Remmick jolts off the stool and bolts out the establishment doors, slipping through several people. He’s a flash in the woods, dodging every tree, bush, and branch. The risk of wasting time wasn’t blessed upon him tonight.

“Please be alright,” he whispers like a broken record as his heart skips wildly.

Finally at the cabin, he pauses before the door, chest bouncing up and down. Vivid images of you flash before his eyes. In some you’re in one piece, peacefully fast asleep in bed. In others you’re tied up, mouth gagged, crying as shadowy figures hurt you.

The unknown of what lurks inside the cabin haunts him, but its whispers thread around his legs and pull him through the door. Remmick’s met with loud silence.

He calls out your name. No response. Sweat gathers on his temples as he walks deeper inside. Again, he calls for you and it’s the same as before. In a hot flash he’s inside the bedroom. At the disastrous mess his eyes grow wide, stomach sinking lower than it did at the bar.

He utters your name and drops to his knees. Your book, mixed among the mess, lies before him. It calls his gaze upon it and Remmick picks it up. Just as misery drowns him in a pit of endless pain he notices something staining your book.

Blood. It’s fresh, still a vibrant, shiny red.

Again, like a ghost in the night, images of you crystal clear invade his brain, eyes, ears. It’s everywhere in him. Screams. Begging. Cries. Your teary stained face. He’s tortured and taunted by it until he falls off the edge of sanity.

Red paints his vision.

Cabin hollow, the front door is wide open. It sways back and forward as a gentle breeze blows.

……………..

“Well, lads, we may have not found the biggest treasure of them all but we found a hidden gem,” the ringleader, you come to learn known as Mike, cheers.

His men hoot and holler gathered around logs engulfed in wild flames. They sit on wooden stoops and giant boulders collected from nearby. From flasks they drink and eat meat cooked on the dancing flames.

In Mike’s lap, you sit. A collar tightly hugs your neck and silver chains attached to it stings and scorches your skin, tearing small whimpers from your chest.

“She’s definitely a gem,” one of them chirps, licking his chapped lips.

“See, I ain’t so bad at finding things after all,” Jimmy states. “I found you a little pet to ease the painful nights away when that nagging wife of yours stirs chaos.”

The men chuckle, poking fun at Mike. He yanks the chains, forcing you uncomfortably close to his chest.

“That’s right boys, I’ve got myself a little toy to take my frustrations out on when Betty throws hissy fits.”

His words birth an acidcoats your tongue along with bile from your throat.

A toy. These filthy pigs for humans don’t even recognize you as a woman let alone a human being. You’re just an object to play with until they’ll eventually toss you aside. The very thought, no, fact pulls bile up your throat.

You want to scream. Stab your claws deep in Mike’s eyeballs, drawing out streams of blood. You don’t. You can’t. Fear won’t allow such a privilege— you being brave and daring.

With a silver dagger, he already sliced a line in your cheek that’s still slowly regenerating. It hurt like hell as he etched it in your soft flesh.

Before these men even came to the cabin you wondered of Remmick’s whereabouts since he hadn’t come home yet. After the harsh word that cut deeply in his chest, you questioned if he would come back.

I hate you.

How could you utter such a thing to him? All he’s ever done is protect you and show love that feels like millions of soft, warm kisses from the sun.

Now he’s gone and so are you. Far away in the winds.

Some small part of you thinks you deserve this hell for the heart wrenching words you stabbed him with.

“Hey,” Mike's voice says, ripping you from your lake of thoughts. “I know you hear me talking to you, girly.”

“Look at that. She’s already giving him attitude,” a man beside Jimmy teases.

Jimmy snickers, lips curving. His unpleasant facial features illuminated by the fire’s glowing light. “You best put that gal in her place before she gets ahead of herself, Mike.”

Mike's face, oily and grimy, flushes bright red. Veins protrude in his skin and his grip tightens on the chains as he jerks them.

Neck sore from his constant yanking, you pull away in protest.

“Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about. She’s got some spice to her!” One of the men chirps wildly in his spot.

The rest of Mike’s men join in the fun, laughing and teasing him about your sudden disobedience. Their mockery adds fuel to his boiling anger. He springs to life on his feet, knocking you to the ground in the process. You land with a soft thud on the patchy grass.

“Strip ‘fore I put one of these silver bullets through that stony skull of yours. I’ll teach you a lesson about respect.”

………………..

A nearby stream, the rocky trail stretching through the trees, outside around the cabin, he searches in a chaotic frenzy for you. Deadly fangs on display, claws ready for slicing skin to shreds, eyes glowing a wicked red, Remmick’s storms through the woods.

As he continues sniffing and looking around for you in every crevice, he spots several marks on the ground. Human and horse hooves. He’s a zooming bolt, dashing as he follows the endless trail of footfalls engraved in the damp patchy mud.

Reaching above the tall trees are clouds of white smoke, wispy in long streams touching the night sky. A hint. He’s no longer on his feet racing through trees. Remmick is like a fearless bird defying gravity, soaring in the air.

As he closes in to where the smoke rises, he lands on the ground lightly and continues sprinting. All his mind fathoms is you, praying to a god that no longer hears his cries and one he always defied and detested. Though the man high above in the clouds words of prayer always brought him comfort in rough times like this one.

Not too far away, he sees the men—vampire hunters. Usually he’d be quick on his heels, dashing in the opposite direction in fear of dying a miserable and painful death. Yet, now he finds himself running right into the jaws of the lions.

Springing high in the air, Remmick lands on a tree branch, light on his feet, careful not to draw their gazes his way. His eyes flicker around are until he finds you. Lusting bloodshed, he almost launches off the branch as his eyes take in the sight of you.

You’re crying, wearing only underwear and a collar with a chain for a leash as if you’re some sort of mouth foaming beast that needs taming.

“Them fucking bastards,” his snarls out a silent whisper.

He wants to tear and rip his claws through them all, not leaving any of them left breathing. But he inhales in and out, cooling the overwhelming anger he feels. He has to be smart or it’ll be his and your grave.

That’s the case and plan until the man holding the chains touches you with his filthy hands. You cry, squirming and begging him to stop. Then when you scream Remmick’s name he’s no longer on the branch.

Blood splatters everywhere. It sprinkles on the dancing flames. The fire wavers until more blood sprays out gushing, killing the flames. With the red orangish light gone all is left is the moonlight, a mere dim glow.

Mike, gurgling on blood, drops to the ground with a loud thud. His men scream his name, and scatter in circles for their gear. Unlike them, human and blind to the dark, Remmick sees clearly as if the sun was shining.

Like a lightning bolt, he blurs after each man. His talon-like claws, split flesh, opening up their throats. In the silent night all you can hear is splattering of liquid as you cower, sobbing too horrified to open your eyes.

Remmick doesn’t even gift them the opportunity to cry and beg for mercy, slaying them all in a heartbeat.

Nine men in pools of their own blood, one more to go. The man, Jimmy, crabwalks on his ass. Furious crimson glowing eyes are the last thing he sees before he’s choking on his own blood. His body rattles before going limp as thestones in the grass.

Remmick, covered in blood from head to toe, chest deflates a long heavy sigh. Relief washes over him as the smell of iron fills his senses. In the corner of his eyes he sees you crumpled on the ground. You’re a shaky mess.

“Darlin, it’s okay I’m here now. I’m here.”

He’s quick at your side, kneeling and wrapping you in his arms—bridal style.

“Remmick?” Your eyelids flutter open through tears.

“Yeah, it’s me, darlin. I’ve got you now. Let’s get you home and clean.”

You lean into his warm embrace, sniffling. A kiss of his soft lips atop your forehead calms your rapid pulse.

…………

Back home in the messy cabin, Remmick ignores it all and carries you to the bathroom. He whispers to you a myriad of apologies, voice broken to pieces.

“I’m sorry I should’ve been home when it happened. You were probably so scared, I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry too. I don’t hate you at all, Rem. I love you.”

He runs a warm bath for you and helps you discard your underwear. He places you in the water and washes you while peckering kisses on your face.

“I‘ll never let you out of my sight again. I promise.”

Part 2?????? I just wanted to write this cause like why not LMAO

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ one of me is cute, but two, though?

chapter summary: Now that you are finally pregnant, you and Logan embark on the 9 month journey.

word count: 10.9k+ (23.9k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this spans 9 months of reader's pregnancy. i didn't write every single week; i tried to hit the main milestones. i researched every stage of pregnancy, so if anything's wrong... idk man, i'm 20, i'm not gonna get pregnant just for a fic

also apparently 24k words is too much for tumblr, so this is split in 2 parts

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, a few mentions of puking, protective!logan, protective!laura, hormones, pregnancy, giving birth

series masterlist - chapter 14 → chapter 15.5

6 Weeks

You should’ve expected it, especially since it happened the past three days at the exact same time, but as soon as you finished getting dressed in the morning and right before you put your shoes on, you ran to the bathroom, kneeling down by the toilet just in time.

The nausea hit hard, a wave that left you gripping the rim of the toilet bowl like it was your lifeline. Your stomach churned, and before you knew it, you were emptying what little breakfast you’d managed to get down. The experience was far from new at this point, but it wasn’t getting any easier.

You barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching until Logan’s voice cut through the haze. “Y/N?” His tone was cautious, concerned, and so unmistakably him that it was enough to keep you grounded.

You groaned in response, resting your forehead against your arm as you waited for the nausea to subside. A moment later, Logan was crouched beside you, his large hand resting gently on your back.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, brushing your hair out of your face. “That’s the third day in a row. You alright?”

You glanced up at him, feeling pale and a little miserable. “Not really,” you admitted. “I think I hate mornings now.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes stayed serious. “You been keepin’ anything down?”

“Not much,” you murmured. “I managed half a piece of toast before…” You gestured vaguely at the toilet.

Logan sighed, his hand moving in soothing circles on your back. “Jean say this was normal?”

“Yeah,” you said, leaning back slightly. “She said morning sickness can be bad for some people, and apparently, I’m one of them. Lucky me.”

“Did she say there’s anything you can do about it?” he pressed, his brows knitting together.

“Small meals, ginger tea, crackers… all the stuff I’ve already been trying. She said it’ll probably ease up in a few weeks, though.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his worry evident despite his best efforts to mask it. He didn’t say anything right away, just reached over to grab a washcloth from the sink, running it under cool water before handing it to you.

“Here,” he said, his voice softer now. “For your face.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, pressing the cloth to your forehead. The coolness helped a little, enough that you finally managed to push yourself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” you added after a moment, avoiding his gaze.

Logan frowned. “What’re you apologizin’ for?”

You shrugged weakly. “Being a mess? Throwing up every morning? I don’t know… take your pick.”

“Y/N,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re growin’ a whole damn human in there. If throwin’ up comes with the territory, then so be it.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that. “A whole human, huh?”

“That’s right,” Logan said, his lips twitching into a smirk. “And that’s no small thing, darlin’. You’re doin’ great.”

“Even when I’m hugging a toilet?” you teased lightly, though there was a flicker of gratitude in your voice.

“Especially then,” Logan shot back, his smirk softening into something gentler. He stood, offering you a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to bed. You need rest.”

“Laura’s going to barge in the second I lie down,” you pointed out, taking his hand and letting him help you up.

“I’ll handle Laura,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You just focus on feelin’ better.”

You let him guide you back to the bed, where he tucked you in with surprising tenderness for someone as rough around the edges as Logan. He brushed a kiss against your temple before heading for the door.

“Logan,” you called softly, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned, his expression warm. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave you a small smile, the kind that was rare but always genuine. “Always, sweetheart.” And with that, he slipped out of the room, leaving you with the faintest sense of comfort despite the nausea still lingering in your stomach.

---

7 Weeks

The mansion was quiet, a rarity given the number of kids running around, but late afternoons often brought a lull. You sat at the desk in the bedroom you shared with Logan, grading papers from the physics summer course you were teaching. A warm cup of tea sat beside you, untouched and long since gone cold.

Your hand paused over the last problem on a student’s worksheet, your mind wandering for the hundredth time that day.

Logan had been right—taking it one day at a time helped. But now, in the stillness of the room, the weight of the unknown crept back in. You set down your pen and rested a hand on your stomach, the gesture automatic. There wasn’t much to feel yet, just a faint heaviness, but the knowledge of what was growing there made your chest tighten in equal parts wonder and fear.

The door creaked open, and Logan stepped inside, his broad shoulders filling the frame. He carried a small tray with what looked like a sandwich and some sliced fruit.

“Brought you something,” he said, setting it down on the desk. His gaze lingered on the untouched tea. “Figured you’d need it since you forgot about that.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Logan. I got caught up with grading.”

He nodded, leaning against the edge of the desk, his arms crossing over his chest. His sharp eyes scanned the stack of papers. “You overworkin’ again?”

“No,” you replied, a bit too quickly, earning a skeptical raise of his eyebrow. “I’m just… distracted.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he crouched down so he was eye level with you. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing the edge of the desk. “It’s nothing, really. Just… I hit seven weeks today. I guess I’m having a hard time relaxing.”

His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm. “I get it, darlin’. I do.” He reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the desk. “But you’re doin’ good. Everything’s good so far. And whatever happens, I’m here.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, his words grounding you. “I know. I just… I keep waiting for something to go wrong. Like if I let myself be happy about this, it’ll get taken away again.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, and he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Listen to me. You deserve to feel happy about this. You deserve to be excited. And I’ll be damned if I let anything make you think otherwise.”

A small, grateful smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “How do you always know what to say?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Years of practice.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, his steady presence washing over you. When you finally pulled back, Logan nudged the plate closer.

“Now, eat somethin’, will ya? You’re not just feedin’ yourself anymore.”

You rolled your eyes but picked up a slice of apple anyway. “Yes, sir.”

Logan chuckled, his rough voice warm and teasing. “If that’s what it takes to get you to listen.”

For the first time all day, you felt lighter, the knot in your chest loosening. One day at a time. Logan was right—you could do this.

---

Week 8

You closed your eyes as Jean pressed the cold, slick ultrasound wand against your stomach. The gel was cold, but it barely registered over the anxiety clawing at your chest. You had to remind yourself to breathe, to focus on the sound of Jean’s calm voice explaining the process.

“It’s not going to be much yet,” she said gently, her tone laced with understanding. “At eight weeks, we’re mostly just checking to make sure everything looks as it should.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes shut tightly. You weren’t sure if you were more afraid of opening them and seeing something wrong—or seeing something right and letting yourself hope too much. It was easier to stay in the limbo of uncertainty.

“You don’t have to look yet,” Jean added, her voice soothing. “I’ll tell you when I’ve got a good image.”

Logan’s hand found yours, his grip solid and grounding. He hadn’t said much since you’d come into the medical bay, but his presence was enough. He stood beside the exam table, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, even through your nerves.

“You’re okay, darlin’,” Logan murmured, his rough voice low and steady. “Jean’s got this. And I’m right here.”

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, and you squeezed his in return, drawing strength from the simple gesture. You wanted to believe him, to trust that everything was fine, but the memory of your first pregnancy lingered like a shadow—constant, inescapable.

Jean’s voice pulled you back. “Alright,” she said softly. “I’ve got a clear image now. Do you want to see?”

You hesitated, your hand tightening around Logan’s. For a moment, you thought about saying no. Maybe it would be safer to keep your eyes closed, to protect yourself from the possibility of another heartbreak. But Logan’s hand squeezed yours again, his presence anchoring you.

“Go on, darlin’,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You can do this.”

Slowly, you opened your eyes and turned your head toward the screen. The black-and-white image was blurry, abstract, and nothing like the clear, perfect pictures you’d seen in movies. Still, it was there—a tiny shape nestled in the center of it all.

“That’s…” Your voice faltered, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. “That’s it?”

Jean smiled, her expression warm. “That’s it. Everything looks perfect so far. The sac is measuring exactly where it should be, and the embryo looks healthy.”

You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your chest. There was a faint flicker of movement, too small to register as anything significant but enough to spark something in you—hope, tentative and fragile but real.

“You won’t hear a heartbeat yet,” Jean added, her voice soft but matter-of-fact. “That usually starts closer to ten or twelve weeks. But this…” She gestured to the screen, her smile widening. “This is a really good sign.”

Logan leaned closer, his gaze fixed on the screen. He didn’t say anything, but his hand stayed wrapped around yours, his thumb still stroking gently over your skin.

“You seein’ this?” he asked after a moment, his voice unusually quiet.

You nodded, barely able to tear your eyes away from the screen. “I see it.”

For the first time in weeks—maybe years—you felt the tight knot in your chest begin to loosen. The fear didn’t vanish entirely, but it faded enough for something else to take its place.

Hope.

---

Later that evening, you sat curled up on the couch in the living room, a blanket draped over your legs. Laura was perched on the armrest beside you, her small frame leaning against your shoulder. She’d been unusually quiet since you came back from the medical bay, her sharp eyes flicking between you and Logan as if trying to read something in your expressions.

“Is it okay?” she asked finally, her voice soft but direct.

You glanced at Logan, who was sitting in the armchair across from you, his arms resting on the sides. He gave you a small nod, leaving it to you to answer.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling down at Laura. “Everything looks good so far.”

Her face didn’t change much, but she nodded once, her small hand brushing against yours. “Good,” she said simply. Then, as if the moment had passed, she hopped down from the armrest and grabbed the TV remote. “Can we watch cartoons now?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in a long time. “Sure, kiddo. Cartoons it is.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as Laura flipped through channels with the intensity of someone searching for buried treasure. His gaze shifted back to you, warm and steady.

“You feelin’ better?” he asked, his voice low enough that Laura wouldn’t overhear.

You nodded, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I think I am.”

---

Week 9

You heard the pop before you felt it.

“What the—” Your bra fell down your arms, the clasps in the back undone. You froze for a moment, your face heating up as you struggled to process what just happened. With a groan, you grabbed the fabric and clutched it to your chest, muttering under your breath.

From the doorway of your shared bedroom, Logan’s voice rumbled. “Somethin’ wrong, darlin’?”

You whipped your head toward him, your cheeks flaming. “Uh, yeah. My bra just… it just broke.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the offending garment in your hands. His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “Broke? You sure it didn’t just give up?”

“Logan!” you hissed, though your voice cracked with laughter despite yourself. “Not helping.”

He stepped further into the room, his expression softening as he took in your flustered state. “Alright, alright. Let me see.”

You held the ruined bra up for inspection, the snapped clasps dangling uselessly. Logan leaned in, squinting at it like it was some kind of malfunctioning machinery. “Guess it couldn’t handle all the changes, huh?”

“Don’t,” you warned, pointing at him with your free hand. “I’m already hormonal. Don’t make me cry over a bra.”

Logan chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, sweetheart. No jokes. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Your body’s goin’ through a lot. It’s probably time to pick up some new stuff.”

You sighed, tossing the broken bra onto the bed. “I know. Jean mentioned this might happen, but I didn’t think I’d outgrow my clothes this fast.”

Logan moved closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you gently into his chest. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “How ‘bout we take a trip into town tomorrow? Pick up whatever you need.”

You leaned into him, letting his warmth calm the frustration bubbling beneath your skin. “You’re gonna come with me? To shop for bras?”

“Why not?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Ain’t like I haven’t seen you in ‘em before.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening again. “But I’m yours. And you need new stuff, so we’ll get it.”

You let out a small laugh, looking up at him. “Thanks, Logan.”

He brushed a kiss against your temple. “Always, darlin’. Now, why don’t you grab somethin’ else to wear, and I’ll meet you downstairs for dinner? Laura’s already pokin’ around the kitchen lookin’ for snacks.”

You smiled at the mention of Laura, the protective little girl who had taken to shadowing you more and more since your pregnancy was revealed. “Alright. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Logan gave your waist a gentle squeeze before releasing you and heading for the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’,” he said over his shoulder. “Kid’s got no patience.”

---

Later that evening, you were curled up on the couch in the living room, wearing one of Logan’s oversized flannels over your tank top. Laura was nestled beside you, her small hands busy with a coloring book while Logan sat in his usual chair, a beer in hand.

Laura glanced up from her work, her sharp eyes narrowing on you. “You still look tired,” she said bluntly.

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her observation. “Well, thanks for pointing that out, Laura.”

Logan snorted, hiding a smirk behind his beer. “Kid’s got a point,” he muttered.

Laura ignored him, her focus still on you. “Are you sick again?”

“No,” you assured her quickly, not wanting her to worry. “I’m just tired from growing the baby. It takes a lot of energy.”

She nodded, her expression serious. “So you have to eat more. And sleep more. That’s what Jean said.”

You exchanged a glance with Logan, who was clearly trying not to laugh. “Jean’s right,” you said, reaching out to ruffle Laura’s hair. “I’ll try to rest more, okay?”

Laura seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to her coloring, but not before scooting just a little closer to you. Logan caught the movement and raised an eyebrow, his gaze softening as he looked between the two of you.

“You’re doin’ fine, darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice meant just for you. “Better than fine.”

You smiled at him, the familiar warmth of his presence chasing away any lingering worries. One day at a time, you reminded yourself. And with Logan and Laura by your side, you felt like you could handle anything.

---

The next day, you and Logan made it into town to look for new bras, specifically in the maternity section. The store wasn’t too busy, which was a relief. It meant fewer awkward stares as Logan stood beside you, thoroughly inspecting every single rack like a man on a mission. At one point, he grabbed a maternity shirt and held it up by the hanger, studying it with an almost comical intensity.

"This thing’s big enough to camp in," he muttered, stretching the fabric experimentally.

You stifled a laugh, tugging the shirt from his hands. "That’s the point, Logan. They’re supposed to be loose and comfy."

"Still," he replied, raising an eyebrow, "how much bigger are these clothes gonna get? You gonna need a damn tarp by the end of this?"

You playfully smacked his arm with the hanger you were holding. "Don’t tempt fate."

Logan smirked but didn’t push further, letting his hand rest lightly on your lower back as you moved toward the bras. It wasn’t lost on you how protective he was, his touch constant but unobtrusive. The two of you had waited so long for this—he wasn’t about to take any chances.

The maternity bras sat in neat rows, a variety of soft fabrics and bland colors. You bit your lip, feeling oddly embarrassed even though you were literally shopping for a necessity. Logan, of course, noticed your hesitation.

"Y’need help pickin’ one out?" he asked, his voice low enough to keep the conversation between the two of you.

"No," you said quickly, your cheeks heating. Then you softened. "Maybe."

Logan nodded, reaching over to examine a plain beige bra, holding it like it was some kind of alien artifact. "This one looks soft," he said.

"That’s a nursing bra," you informed him with a tiny laugh. "It’s for after the baby comes."

"Oh." He shrugged and put it back, unbothered. "So what kinda bra are we lookin’ for here, then?"

You covered your face with both hands, overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. "I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in public."

"Darlin'," Logan said, amused but patient, "you’ve been throwin’ up in front of me for weeks, and we’re havin’ a baby together. You think I care if people overhear us talkin’ about bras?"

He had a point, damn him. Lowering your hands, you gave him a sheepish smile and started thumbing through the racks. He stood there silently, just a steady presence beside you, only stepping in to lift something off a higher rack when you needed it.

"How about this one?" he asked, holding up a pale blue option with some lace detail at the top.

You gave it a quick look and nodded. "That works."

He raised an eyebrow. "Just ‘works’? That ain’t much enthusiasm."

"Logan," you whispered, giving him a sharp look, "I don’t need it to spark joy. I just need it to fit."

That earned a chuckle from him. "Fair enough."

With a small pile of options in hand, you made your way to the fitting room. Logan stood just outside, arms crossed, looking as intimidating as ever and thoroughly discouraging anyone from approaching. You tried a couple on before stepping out to show him one that actually felt comfortable.

"How’s this?" you asked, feeling weirdly self-conscious.

Logan’s eyes moved briefly to the bra before meeting your gaze. "Looks good," he said simply, his tone free of teasing this time. "Fits alright?"

You nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"Then we’re good," he said. "Grab a couple of those."

"Just one or two," you corrected him. "I’ll probably need different ones as I get bigger."

Logan raised a brow but didn’t argue. "Fine, but if it gets too tight, you tell me, and we’ll come back. No arguments."

"Deal," you agreed, retreating into the fitting room to finish up.

---

Back at the mansion that evening, you walked into the kitchen to find Laura perched on a stool at the counter, munching on a slice of apple. She looked up as you entered, her sharp gaze immediately landing on the shopping bag in your hand.

"What's that?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Clothes," you said, setting the bag down. "I needed a couple of new things."

Laura frowned slightly, as though processing this information. "Because the baby’s making you bigger?"

"Exactly," you said, impressed by how quickly she’d pieced it together.

Laura chewed her apple thoughtfully. "Jean said you might not feel good sometimes. Do you feel better now?"

"I do," you said, smiling at her. "Thanks for asking, Laura."

"Good," she said firmly, hopping off the stool. Then she grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the living room. "You should sit down. Jean says that helps."

Logan, already in the room flipping through the TV channels, looked up and smirked. "You got a bossy little nurse there, darlin’."

"I’m looking after her," Laura said matter-of-factly, settling beside you on the couch and leaning into your side.

"I can see that," Logan said with a chuckle, settling into his armchair.

You glanced down at Laura, your heart warming at her seriousness. It might’ve taken a long time to get here, but this—Logan’s quiet love, Laura’s fierce protectiveness—was more than worth the wait.

---

Week 10

You could feel tears coming on at the predicament right in front of you. Your jeans weren’t fitting. And all you could think about was how you should’ve gotten them when you went last week.

Logan found you standing in the closet, glaring down at the waistband of your jeans as though sheer force of will could make them zip.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

You huffed, tossing your hands up in defeat. “No! I’m not alright. My jeans won’t zip, and now I’m realizing I should’ve bought maternity ones last week, but noooo, I had to be stubborn and say, ‘Oh, I’ll be fine for another month.’” Your voice wavered, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Logan stepped into the room, his brows furrowing as he took in the situation. “Hey, it’s no big deal. We’ll go back into town and get you some new ones.”

“That’s not the point!” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t want to need them yet. I wanted to be able to wear my regular clothes for a little longer. I just—I feel ridiculous for crying over jeans.”

“C’mere,” Logan said softly, pulling you into his arms. You melted into his chest, letting out a shaky breath as his steady heartbeat anchored you. “It’s not ridiculous. Your body’s changin’ a lot, and it’s a lot to take in. You’re allowed to feel however you need to.”

You sniffled, your face pressed against his flannel. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been all over the place lately.”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back. “You’re growin’ a whole person, Y/N. You think I don’t get that’s a big deal? You’ve been strong for years, darlin’. Let me take some of that weight for a while.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, his rugged face soft with affection. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

Logan smirked, his thumb brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “I think it’s the other way around, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, feeling a little lighter. “Okay, fine. Let’s go back to town. But you’re carrying the bags this time.”

“Deal,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Now, how about you wear somethin’ comfortable, and we’ll head out?”

You nodded, grabbing one of his oversized flannels to throw on over a stretchy pair of leggings.

---

At the store, Logan fell into his usual rhythm of standing nearby with his arms crossed, a quiet force of nature who somehow made the maternity section feel safer. He didn’t rush you or make any comments about the overwhelming selection, but he was there every time you needed help reaching something or an opinion on the fit.

As you held up a pair of maternity jeans to inspect them, Logan quirked an eyebrow. “Those look like they could stretch to fit the Hulk.”

“They’re supposed to,” you said, half-laughing. “They have a stretchy waistband so they grow with you.”

“Smart,” he muttered, then glanced down the aisle where a couple of women were watching him. “Why do I feel like I’m the main attraction here?”

“Because you’re a grumpy-looking man in the maternity section,” you teased, smirking as you added the jeans to your cart. “They’re probably wondering if you got lost.”

Logan gave you a dry look. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” you said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

---

Back at the mansion, you were folding your new clothes in the bedroom when Laura appeared in the doorway.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Clothes,” you replied, holding up the new jeans. “For when the baby keeps growing.”

Laura frowned thoughtfully. “Your old ones didn’t fit anymore?”

“Not really,” you said. “But that’s okay. These will be a lot more comfortable.”

Laura climbed onto the bed and picked up one of your shirts, running her small fingers over the fabric. “Jean said your body is working hard because of the baby. Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” you said, sitting beside her. “Sometimes it’s uncomfortable, but it’s worth it. You’ll get to meet them soon enough.”

Laura’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she placed the shirt back into the pile. “Jean said I should look after you. So if you need help, you have to tell me.”

Your heart swelled at her earnestness. “Deal. Thanks, Laura.”

She nodded seriously, then hopped off the bed. “Logan’s downstairs. He said you should eat something.”

You chuckled. “Of course he did. I’ll be down in a minute.”

As Laura scampered off, you shook your head, a fond smile on your face. Between Logan’s unwavering support and Laura’s fierce determination to take care of you, you knew you were in good hands.

---

Week 11

“I’m just a little worried about my age, Jean. I’ve been reading up on women getting pregnant at 40 and—”

Jean looked up from her clipboard, “you’re 40?”

You blinked, “…yeah? Why do you sound so surprised? You’ve known me for like 15 years.”

Jean froze, her pen hovering over the clipboard. “Hold on a second.” She spun her chair to face the desk, typing something into the computer at lightning speed. Her expression shifted from surprise to something closer to intrigue as she clicked through files.

“Jean?” You raised an eyebrow, clutching your sweater a little tighter around yourself. “What are you looking for?”

“Give me a second,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the screen. “This is… interesting.”

You folded your arms, equal parts curious and impatient. “Interesting how?”

Jean finally turned back to you, her lips quirking into a small smile. “I don’t think your body knows how to age properly.”

“What?” you asked, laughing nervously. “What does that even mean?”

Jean gestured toward the computer. “Your time manipulation powers—they’re doing more than you think. From what I can tell, they’ve essentially slowed your aging process to a crawl. Biologically, you’re probably closer to 25 or 30.”

Your mouth opened, then shut again. “Wait… what?”

Jean chuckled softly. “I’m serious, Y/N. It explains why you don’t have the typical markers we’d expect in someone your age. Your body’s holding on in a way that’s… well, almost like Logan’s.”

You blinked, struggling to process. “You’re saying I’m… not 40?”

“You’re 40 chronologically,” Jean clarified. “But physically? Not so much.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “That’s… wild. But it does explain why I don’t have as many gray hairs as I should.”

Jean smirked. “Exactly. And hey, this is good news for the pregnancy. Your body’s in its prime for this. Strong, healthy, ready to handle anything.”

“Even another shopping trip?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Jean laughed. “Especially that. Though, if Logan’s involved, I’d call it survival training.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Jean. For, you know, all of this.”

“Of course,” she said warmly. “And hey, you’ve got this, Y/N. I’m here if you need anything.”

You nodded, letting her words sink in. It was a lot to process, but in some strange way, it was comforting. Another piece of the puzzle that was your life—and another reason Logan always seemed to look at you like you were timeless.

---

That evening, you found yourself curled up on the couch, glasses slipping down your nose as you read a book. Logan walked into the living room, holding two mugs of tea. He set one on the side table next to you and sank into the armchair across from you.

“Jean say anything interesting today?��� he asked, watching you over the rim of his mug.

You hesitated, glancing at him. “She said my powers are keeping me young.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “Apparently, my body’s been stuck in time this whole… time.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, setting his mug down. “Guess that explains why you never change. You’ve looked the same since the day I met you.”

You smiled, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Just makes sense. You’re always gonna be you, darlin’. Powers or not.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in his tone hitting you square in the heart. “You really mean that?”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he held your gaze. “Y/N, I’ve known you through lifetimes. You’ve always been you—smart, stubborn, and the strongest person I know. This doesn’t change a damn thing.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

He smirked, his eyes softening. “Someone’s gotta be.”

---

Week 12

Jean pressed the wand to your stomach, the ultrasound screen lighting up in grayscale. The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the machine. You held your breath, your fingers tightly gripping Logan's hand as you lay back on the examination table. His thumb rubbed gentle circles over your knuckles, a small, grounding gesture that helped calm your nerves.

Jean’s brow furrowed in concentration as she moved the wand around. Then, her face softened, a small smile spreading across her lips.

“There it is,” she murmured, pointing to a small flicker on the screen. “See that? That’s the heartbeat.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes welling with tears as you stared at the screen. That tiny, fluttering motion felt like the most miraculous thing you’d ever seen.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “That’s… that’s them?”

Logan’s hand tightened around yours as he leaned closer to the screen, his gaze fixed on the tiny image. “That’s them,” he echoed, his voice low and full of wonder.

Jean nodded, her smile widening. “Twelve weeks along, and everything looks perfect. Strong heartbeat, healthy growth—your baby’s doing great.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes with your free hand. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real, sweetheart,” Logan said softly, his eyes never leaving the screen. There was a quiet reverence in his tone, as if he was afraid to break the spell.

Jean glanced between the two of you, her expression warm and affectionate. “Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak. Jean adjusted the settings, and a steady, rhythmic sound filled the room. It was the most beautiful noise you’d ever heard—a strong, rapid thrum that seemed to echo in your chest.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes glistening as he listened. “That’s incredible,” he murmured.

You turned to look at him, your heart swelling at the raw emotion on his face. “Logan…”

He met your gaze, his expression softening. “You did this, darlin’. You’re amazing.”

“We did this,” you corrected, your voice thick with emotion.

Jean gave you both a moment before breaking the silence. “I’ll print some pictures for you to take home. And if you’re ready, we can start talking about the next steps—appointments, tests, all that fun stuff.”

You nodded, still a little dazed. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

As Jean moved to print the images, Logan helped you sit up, his hand resting protectively on your back. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You smiled up at him, your tears returning. “Better than okay. I’m happy. Really, really happy.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Good. You deserve that.”

Jean returned with the printed images, handing them to you with a grin. “Here you go. Something to stick on the fridge.”

You held the pictures carefully, your fingers trembling. “Thank you, Jean. For everything.”

“Of course,” she said, her voice gentle. “You know I’m always here for you.”

As you left the medical wing, Logan kept a steady hand on your lower back, his touch firm and reassuring. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the ultrasound pictures held tightly in your hands.

When you reached the living room, Laura was perched on the couch, a coloring book spread out in front of her. She looked up as you entered, her sharp eyes immediately zeroing in on the pictures.

“What’s that?” she asked, tilting her head.

You hesitated, glancing at Logan. He crouched down to her level, his tone gentle. “It’s pictures of the baby.”

Laura’s eyes widened, and she slid off the couch, padding over to you. “The baby?”

You knelt down, holding the pictures out for her to see. “Yeah, look. That little spot right there? That’s your baby brother or sister.”

Laura studied the images closely, her expression unreadable. Then, she looked up at you, her brows furrowing. “They’re really small.”

“They’re growing,” Logan said with a small smile. “They’ll get bigger.”

Laura nodded slowly, then surprised you by leaning forward and wrapping her arms around your neck. “I’m gonna help take care of them,” she said firmly, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

Your throat tightened, and you hugged her back. “I know you will, sweetie. You’re going to be an amazing big sister.”

From behind you, Logan’s voice was quiet but filled with pride. “We’re all pretty lucky, huh?”

Laura pulled back, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. We are.”

---

Week 13

The sun filtered through the windows of the mansion’s common area, casting warm streaks of light across the hardwood floor. You sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, reviewing the lesson plans for your upcoming physics class. Laura sat across from you, her coloring book open, crayons scattered around like little explosions of color. She was quiet, her tongue peeking out in concentration as she worked on her masterpiece.

Logan’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, his familiar silhouette appearing in the doorway. He held a grocery bag in one hand and a small bouquet of wildflowers in the other. His eyes met yours, and he gave you that small, crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Brought somethin’ for you,” he said, holding up the flowers.

You blinked, surprised, as he walked over to you. “Flowers? Logan, what’s the occasion?”

He set them on the table in front of you, then leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Do I need a reason?”

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the soft petals. “No, but it’s sweet. Thank you.”

Laura glanced up from her coloring, eyeing the flowers critically. “Why flowers? She doesn’t eat flowers.”

Logan snorted, ruffling her hair as he sat down at the table. “Not everything’s about food, kid.”

Laura frowned, clearly unconvinced, but went back to her coloring.

Logan leaned back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking. “How you feelin’ today?”

You shrugged, setting your lesson plans aside. “Tired, but not as bad as last week. Jean said the second trimester is supposed to be easier.”

He nodded, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Good. You need to take it easy.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I’m pregnant, Logan. Not fragile.”

He smirked. “You’re both. Humor me.”

Before you could respond, Laura spoke up, her head still bent over her coloring. “Are you gonna get fat now?”

You choked on a laugh, while Logan let out a bark of amusement. “Laura!” you said, half-laughing, half-scolding.

“What?” she asked innocently, looking up at you. “Jean said the baby makes your belly big.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Logan said, his grin widening. “You’re gonna be waddlin’ around here in no time.”

You glared at him, though your lips twitched with amusement. “Don’t you start.”

“Not sayin’ it’s a bad thing, darlin’,” he teased, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hand. “Kinda lookin’ forward to it.”

Laura tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Why?”

Logan’s expression softened as he looked at you, his voice quieter now. “’Cause it means the baby’s growin’. Means we’re gettin’ closer to meetin’ ‘em.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot all your fatigue, all your worries. You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

Laura made a face. “You’re being mushy again.”

Logan ruffled her hair. “Get used to it, kid.”

---

Week 14

You opened up the freezer, looking for your carton of strawberry ice cream—something you didn’t particularly like before getting pregnant. You moved around some of the food in the freezer, looking for the familiar carton.

As you were looking, Scott and Hank came into the kitchen, putting two small bowls in the sink.

You peeked your head around the freezer door, eyes narrowing in disbelief. The carton of strawberry ice cream you had been craving for days was nowhere to be found. Instead, there were two small bowls in the sink, both with remnants of what looked like your ice cream.

Scott and Hank were standing nearby, chatting like nothing was amiss. Your hand gripped the edge of the freezer door tighter, your jaw clenching. You had specifically labeled that carton. In big bold letters. Y/N ONLY.

“Seriously?” you said, your voice a little sharper than usual as you stepped into the kitchen. You weren’t about to let this slide. “It was labeled.”

Scott turned around, his face a picture of innocence—though you knew better. He adjusted his glasses, a little nervous. “Oh, uh… sorry, Y/N. We just figured… you know, you weren’t around and—”

You didn’t let him finish. Before you could even stop yourself, you were across the counter, right in his space. Your fingers shot out, grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging him toward you. “You figured? You figured?”

Scott's eyes widened, clearly startled. “Y/N—"

"Don't Y/N me. That was my ice cream. My craving,” you snapped, glaring at him. “This wasn’t up for negotiation. You don’t just take something that’s clearly not yours.”

Hank froze, eyes darting between you and Scott, unsure whether to intervene.

Scott, ever the diplomat, cleared his throat, his face turning a shade of red you rarely saw. “Look, I—"

“Don’t make excuses. You—” You gave his shirt one more yank, your voice lower but heated, “—you knew it was mine. And yet here we are with two empty bowls. What part of ‘Y/N ONLY’ do you not understand?”

You were so worked up, you didn’t even hear Logan's heavy footsteps approaching from down the hall. He had been coming back from the garage, his usual silent presence somehow more imposing when you were mad.

"Hey." Logan's voice cut through the tension in the room, his tone low but firm. He stepped into the kitchen, eyes narrowing when he saw the situation. He placed a hand gently on your shoulder, trying to keep you calm. “What’s going on here?”

Your hands were still gripping Scott’s shirt, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears. You didn’t want to seem ridiculous, but the irritation was bubbling over. “They took my ice cream, Logan. And not just a scoop. The whole carton.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at Scott and Hank before settling his gaze on you. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it didn’t stop him from stepping closer, his presence radiating a calm that made the air in the room feel a little less thick.

“Is that so?” he said, his voice smooth, but you could hear the slight edge of a smile in his words. He placed a hand on your back, gently guiding you away from Scott. You released the collar of Scott’s shirt, but only because Logan was there, giving you that quiet, steady presence you couldn’t resist.

Scott coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, it was,” you muttered under your breath, still glaring at the now-empty freezer.

Logan gave Scott a pointed look. “How many times have I told you, Scott? Don’t touch things that aren’t yours.” He turned to Hank, who was still silently observing the situation. “And you, too.”

Hank held up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t even know it was labeled. It wasn’t my fault. I was just—”

“—Just being an idiot?” Logan finished for him, eyes flickering over the pair of them.

Scott didn’t respond right away, clearly not prepared for Logan’s intensity. Hank, on the other hand, was nervously shifting, rubbing his neck. “I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” Hank said, his voice apologetic but unsure.

Logan's gaze flickered to Hank, then back to Scott. “You don’t get to decide that, not when it’s someone else’s. You’ve got a whole damn kitchen to raid, and you choose her craving?” He turned back to you, his hand briefly squeezing your shoulder. “You good?”

You let out a slow breath, the irritation still bubbling but mostly contained now. “I’m fine. Just… seriously. The one thing I’ve been craving for weeks, and they—”

Logan’s hand on your shoulder tightened just enough to ground you. “I know, sweetheart. I know.” He turned back to Scott and Hank, his expression hardening. “And just for the record, I’m not going to let this slide.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Scott said, though it was clear he didn’t know how to salvage the situation. He seemed genuinely remorseful, but that didn’t change what had happened.

You stared at them, your pulse still a little elevated. “You’re both lucky I’m pregnant right now and not about to throttle you.”

Logan let out a soft laugh, his anger melting into a small, more familiar smirk. He placed his hand on your back, guiding you toward the kitchen table. “I’ll handle it, darlin’.” He turned toward the two men, who were looking somewhat sheepish. “You two better make this right.”

Before either of them could respond, you shot them a pointed look. “Yeah, you can start by getting me another carton of ice cream. And this time, don’t touch it.”

Scott and Hank exchanged uneasy glances, clearly defeated. “Got it,” Scott muttered.

With a final, almost resigned sigh, you pulled out the chair and sank into it. Logan slid into the seat next to you, his hand sliding over your back in a slow, reassuring motion. He shot Scott and Hank one more look before they silently left the kitchen, no doubt off to “make things right.”

“I swear,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “I’ve got enough on my plate without having to deal with this.”

Logan chuckled quietly, leaning in to kiss the side of your head. “You’re doing fine. You’ve got a lot to handle. But don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with that familiar mix of mischief and affection. “Though, next time they touch your stuff, I’ll make sure they know what a mistake they made.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “I’m starting to think you enjoy this a little too much.”

He grinned. “Maybe a little. But only when it’s deserved.”

Just then, Laura appeared in the doorway, her small figure looking up at the two of you with a serious expression. “What happened to your ice cream?” she asked innocently, her eyes already darting between you and Logan.

You glanced at Logan, sharing a look. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We’re working on it, kid.”

Laura tilted her head, looking confused but not asking any more questions. Instead, she padded over to you, climbing into your lap with surprising ease for a five-year-old. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, her little hands resting on your stomach.

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling at the gesture. “Yeah, sweetie, I’m okay. Just a little… frustrated.”

Laura nodded solemnly, her brow furrowing. “I’ll protect your ice cream next time.”

Logan’s laugh was low, but it felt good to hear. “I’m sure you will, kiddo.” He ruffled her hair lightly, then turned back to you. “Guess we’re all looking out for each other.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

---

Week 15

You walked out of the bathroom after finishing your shower, seeing both Logan and Laura on the bed with a book in his hands.

“Hey, you two. What’re you readin’?”

Laura, who had an apple she’d barely taken a bite of, crawled to the end of the bed with all the solemnity of a child on a very important mission. She held the fruit out, lining it up with your stomach like she was conducting a scientific study. Her small face was scrunched up in concentration, her dark eyes flickering between the apple and your belly.

“It says the baby’s the size of this now,” she announced matter-of-factly, her voice a mix of curiosity and pride at having learned something new.

You blinked at her, then at Logan, who was lounging against the headboard with a well-worn pregnancy book open in his hands. His eyes met yours, the corners crinkling as a grin tugged at his lips. “She’s been real focused on this chapter,” he said, his tone warm, amused.

Laura turned back to you, still holding the apple in front of your stomach like it was a critical experiment. “Is it true? Is it really this big?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Yep, that’s about right,” you said, adjusting the towel around your shoulders as you sat on the edge of the bed. “Fifteen weeks, so it’s about the size of an apple.”

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at the fruit like she didn’t quite trust it. “That doesn’t seem very big.”

“Well, it’s gotta start small,” Logan interjected, flipping a page in the book. “Baby’s got a lotta growin’ left to do.”

Laura nodded slowly, seeming to accept that logic. She finally took a proper bite of the apple, chewing thoughtfully before climbing back up the bed to settle between the two of you. “What happens next?” she asked, craning her neck to look at the book in Logan’s hands.

Logan raised an eyebrow at you, silently asking if you were okay with the impromptu lesson. When you nodded, he shifted the book so Laura could see the page. “Next couple weeks, baby gets bigger, starts growin’ stronger. Might even start hearin’ things soon,” he explained, his voice patient in a way you’d only ever seen him use with her.

Laura’s eyes widened. “Like what?”

“Like voices. Yours, mine…” Logan paused, his gaze flickering to yours, softening. “Y/N’s.”

Her head snapped to you, her expression alight with wonder. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, your heart squeezing at the way she called you that so naturally now. “The baby will hear you too, though. So you’ll have to be careful what you say, okay?”

Laura’s face turned serious again, and she nodded like she was accepting an important mission. “I won’t say anything bad.”

Logan chuckled, setting the book aside and ruffling her hair. “Good. Don’t want the kid comin’ out with your attitude.”

Laura scowled, swatting at his hand. “I don’t have an attitude.”

“Sure you don’t, kid,” Logan teased, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help smiling at the exchange. “Alright, that’s enough,” you said, reaching over to tug Laura into your lap. She settled there easily, curling against you like she’d been doing it her whole life.

For a moment, the three of you sat there in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the mansion in the background. It was a rare, quiet moment, and you let yourself sink into it, your hand resting lightly over your stomach.

“You think the baby will like apples?” Laura asked suddenly, her head resting against your chest.

“Probably,” you said, running your fingers through her dark hair. “Especially since you’re already setting the example.”

Logan smirked, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed. “Yeah, but I bet they’ll like burgers better.”

You shot him a mock glare. “Not everything has to be about burgers, Logan.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “Just sayin’. It’s in their blood.”

Laura giggled, and you couldn’t help laughing too, the sound lightening the air around you. For all the chaos and uncertainty that life at the mansion brought, moments like this—small, quiet, filled with love—were what made it all worth it.

---

Week 17

After sitting on the couch for 30 minutes, enjoying a movie with Logan and Laura—though you had been drifting off since it started—you realized, once again, you had to go to the bathroom. Pregnancy had brought on all kinds of changes, but the constant bathroom trips were quickly climbing your personal list of “most inconvenient side effects.”

You stretched as you stood, steadying yourself by placing a hand on Logan’s shoulder. He glanced up at you, concern flickering in his eyes the moment he noticed the hesitation in your movement.

“You alright, sweetheart?” His voice was low, the same roughness that usually made your heart flutter, now laced with worry.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a faint smile, adjusting your glasses. You hated when your body betrayed your independence, even in these little ways. “Just the baby crowding everything.”

As you stepped away, a faint dizziness made your vision swim. You instinctively reached out for support, clutching the side of the couch as the world wavered for a moment.

Logan was on his feet before you could take another breath, his hands steadying you with the kind of ease that came from years of knowing exactly how to support you. “Whoa there, take it easy,” he murmured, his strong arm curling around your waist.

Laura, who had been leaning against Logan moments before, looked over with wide, concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, exhaling slowly as the dizziness passed. “Yeah, just stood up too fast.” You looked at Logan, who wasn’t quite convinced, his hand still resting on the small of your back. “I’m fine, really. It’s nothing Jean didn’t warn me about.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop worryin’,” Logan said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve gotta be more careful.”

Laura jumped off the couch and padded over to you, her small hand slipping into yours. “Do you need me to get Jean?” she asked seriously, her forehead creased with concern.

Your heart melted a little at her earnestness. “I don’t think Jean needs to know about every time I get dizzy,” you said gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t mean it ain’t somethin’ to keep an eye on,” Logan interjected. “You want me to go with you?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “To the bathroom? I think I can handle that, Logan.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t fully relax. “Alright, but if it happens again, you’re tellin’ Jean.”

“Deal,” you said, though you knew he’d end up telling her himself if it came to that.

Laura tugged your hand gently, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll stay here, but if you need anything, yell. I’ll come running.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

As you shuffled off to the bathroom, Logan’s voice floated after you. “Take it slow, darlin’. No rush.”

You could hear Laura whispering something to Logan as you made your way down the hall. She was probably asking if you were going to be okay or demanding to know how she could help. Her protective streak, much like Logan’s, was something you’d grown to love more than you ever thought possible.

When you returned, Logan had coaxed Laura back onto the couch, but both their eyes snapped to you the moment you stepped into the room.

“Back in one piece,” you announced, trying to lighten the mood.

Laura crawled into your lap the moment you sat down, her tiny frame settling against your growing belly like it was the most natural thing in the world. She laid her head against your chest and muttered, “You scared me.”

You kissed the top of her head softly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll be more careful.”

Logan pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his arm draping along the back of the couch. The flickering light of the TV reflected in his warm eyes as he tilted his head to look at you. “You sure you’re good?”

“I’m sure,” you said softly, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “But thanks for looking out for me. Both of you.”

“Always,” he said simply, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before resting back against the couch.

Laura’s tiny hand curled over your bump as if guarding the baby herself. “No more dizzy,” she mumbled sleepily.

“I’ll try my best,” you whispered, your heart swelling. Moments like this—wrapped in warmth, family close—reminded you just how much you had to look forward to.

---

Week 18

Jean glanced up from the monitor, her expression warm as she held the ultrasound wand steady. “Do you want to know the gender?” she asked, her voice gentle but curious. Her gaze flicked between you and Logan, her best attempt at gauging your reaction.

You glanced over at Logan, who was standing beside you with his arms crossed, his usual tough exterior softened by the faintest of smiles as he watched the monitor. The rhythmic whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, and for a moment, it was the only sound.

Logan’s eyes shifted to you, his brow quirking slightly. “Your call, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and steady.

You bit your lip, considering it for a moment, but the decision had already been made in your heart. “I think… I’d like to be surprised,” you said, looking back at Jean with a small, shy smile. “We’ve waited this long. What’s a few more months?”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Yeah, I’m with her. Let’s keep it a surprise.”

Jean grinned, clearly amused. “A surprise it is, then,” she said, setting the wand aside. “You’re officially stronger-willed than most.”

You smirked, adjusting your glasses as you shifted slightly on the exam table. “Well, we’re used to waiting. What’s another milestone?”

Jean’s expression softened at that, the unspoken weight of your journey hanging in the air. “The baby looks perfect,” she assured you, her tone quiet but firm. “Healthy, strong heartbeat, and measuring right on track. You’re doing great.”

Logan rested a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your shirt. “Told you,” he murmured, his voice warm and proud.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was genuine. “I never said I wasn’t doing great.”

Jean laughed softly, leaning back against the counter as she made a few notes in your chart. “You’re both doing great,” she said, glancing at Logan. “Even if one of you is a little overprotective.”

Logan shrugged, unbothered by the comment. “Can’t help it. She’s carrying my kid.”

“Your kid and her kid,” Jean teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. He turned his attention back to you, his hand lingering on your shoulder as if grounding himself in the moment. “You ready to head back?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding as you adjusted your shirt. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Anytime,” she said, her tone warm and sincere. “And remember, Y/N—if you need anything, you’ve got me on speed dial. Don’t hesitate to call.”

You nodded, sliding off the table with Logan’s steadying hand at your elbow. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised.

As you made your way back to the mansion’s main hall, Logan’s hand remained at the small of your back, a protective presence that you’d grown to cherish. The sound of children’s laughter echoed down the hall, a reminder of how much life the mansion now held.

Laura was the first to spot you as you stepped into the living room, her dark eyes lighting up as she ran over to meet you. “Did you find out?” she asked eagerly, her small hands tugging at yours.

You crouched down, meeting her gaze with a smile. “We decided to wait,” you said softly. “It’ll be a surprise when the baby’s born.”

Laura’s face scrunched up in thought before she nodded firmly. “Okay. But I still think it’s a girl.”

Logan ruffled her hair as he passed by, his grin widening. “We’ll see, kiddo.”

One of the other children peeked out from behind the couch, their curiosity evident. “When’s the baby gonna be here?” they asked.

You smiled, settling onto the couch with Laura climbing into your lap. “Not for a while yet,” you said. “But I promise, you’ll all be the first to know when it’s time.”

As the children gathered around, peppering you with questions and theories about the baby, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the moment settle over you. Logan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a rare softness in his expression as he watched the scene unfold.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

---

Week 20

You were in the kitchen, eating some mango slices when Ororo came in, holding a few grocery bags. “Here ya go. You’re really going through them, huh?”

You grabbed the four-pack of tissue boxes, sighing as you placed them on the counter. “Yeah, they’ll all be gone in less than a week though.” You opened one of the boxes, pulling out a tissue to dab at your nose. “Pregnancy perk number… what are we on now? Five hundred? Congestion, my old friend.”

Ororo laughed softly as she began unpacking groceries. “I read that happens to a lot of pregnant women. Something about hormones making your nasal passages swell?”

You nodded, tossing the used tissue into the nearby trash can. “Exactly. It’s called pregnancy rhinitis. Apparently, it’s totally normal, but nobody warned me I’d feel like I had a permanent cold for nine months.”

“Well,” Ororo said, placing a carton of eggs in the fridge, “at least it’s not one of the really awful side effects. And hey, your sense of humor’s still intact.”

You smirked, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but Logan’s probably going to start buying tissues in bulk soon. He caught me trying to steal one of his bandanas the other day.”

Ororo shook her head with a smile. “He’d let you use every bandana he owns if it made you feel better.”

“True,” you admitted, warmth spreading through your chest. Logan’s overprotectiveness could be exhausting at times, but it came from such a genuine place that it was hard not to appreciate it.

As Ororo started chatting about the latest drama among the students—something involving Bobby accidentally freezing the pool—you were reaching for another tissue when it happened. A sudden, fluttery sensation deep in your belly, like the faint brush of butterfly wings. You froze, your hand resting on your abdomen as a quiet gasp escaped your lips.

“What’s wrong?” Ororo asked immediately, her brow furrowing in concern.

Before you could answer, Logan appeared in the doorway, his expression tense and alert. “What happened?” His eyes darted to you, then to Ororo, searching for any sign of trouble.

You blinked up at him, your heart racing—not from fear, but from the realization of what you’d just felt. “I think… the baby just kicked.”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, and he was at your side in an instant. “You sure?” His hand moved hesitantly toward your stomach, stopping just short as if waiting for permission.

You nodded, taking his hand and guiding it to the spot where you’d felt the movement. “Right here,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion.

For a moment, the three of you stood in silence, the anticipation almost tangible. Then, faint but unmistakable, the flutter came again. Logan’s fingers twitched slightly against your belly, his eyes softening as a rare, unguarded smile spread across his face.

“There it is,” he said quietly, awe evident in his voice. “That’s our kid.”

Ororo’s expression melted into one of pure joy as she stepped closer. “That’s amazing, Y/N. And so early—you’re what, twenty weeks?”

You nodded, your hand still resting over Logan’s. “Yeah, twenty weeks today. Jean said it could happen anytime now, but I wasn’t expecting it to feel… like this.”

Logan chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly over your stomach. “What’d you think it’d feel like? A punch?”

“Honestly? Kind of,” you admitted with a laugh. “But this is… wow.”

Ororo grinned, picking up her empty grocery bags. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy the moment. But let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Ororo,” you said, your voice warm with gratitude.

As she left, Logan leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“More than alright,” you said, tilting your head to look up at him. “I’m… I can’t even put it into words.”

Logan’s hand lingered on your belly, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and tenderness. “Our kid’s got some timing, huh? Knew I’d be right here when it happened.”

You chuckled softly. “They’re already showing off, just like their dad.”

He smirked at that, but the teasing look in his eyes gave way to something deeper as he met your gaze. “I still can’t believe this is real sometimes,” he said, his voice low and rough. “After everything…”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. “It’s real, Logan. We’re here. We’re doing this.”

He covered your hand with his, leaning into your touch. “Yeah. We are.”

The baby kicked again, and Logan’s grin widened as he gave your stomach a playful, protective pat. “Already makin’ sure we don’t forget they’re here.”

“As if we ever could,” you said with a laugh, your heart full. Moments like this made every struggle, every tear, worth it. This was the life you’d fought for, and you weren’t taking a single second of it for granted.

go read part 2 for the complete chapter!!

also, i know i kinda brushed over reader not really aging because of her time powers, but i found those two scenes really hard to write for some reason so just go with it, lol

[playstation-dreamcast]

This came to me in a dream. Anyway:

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Choose Your Character: Albert Wesker

Summary: For the sake of the mission, Albert Wesker is willing to do just about anything within reason to gain the trust of his S.T.A.R.S members. Apparently, building a snowman with his favorite new rookie is within reason.

Tags: Fluff, S.T.A.R.S Wesker, Nicotine use, Crack treated so serious none of my beta readers thought it was crack, Noncanon compliant RPD, Gender Neutral Reader.

Word count: 3k

It all started with that stupid fucking snowman.

A childish game he played to indulge his subordinate and gain their trust late one night after the S.T.A.R.S office had closed. He knew better even then, that it was an absolute waste of time. But, he complied, because it was you who asked.

Okay, maybe it didn't start with The Snowman. Maybe it started with the cigarette you shared. Sitting on the snow covered sidewalk, passing the smoke between the two of you while you talked. It came so easy to him, just talking with you. It was never that easy with anyone else.

He could still smell the smoke when he closed his eyes. He could see the snow caught in your lashes, and the fog of your breath. He could still feel how tight his chest got, and the roller coaster feeling of his stomach dropping when he finally had to admit to himself that he was sweet on you. And that he couldn’t keep lying to himself about it.

And you had no idea. You smiled like it was any other night. 

"Hey, can I bum a cigarette off you?" You asked him that at least twice a week since you started working as a member of S.T.A.R.S. It got to the point that he started to plan for it. Sadly, he was late to work this morning and didn't have time to buy another pack.

"Sure," he said, simply handing you the one he had just lit. You took it gratefully and smiled.

"Thanks Captain, you save me once again," you teased as you sat down next to him, taking a drag off the smoke. "You gonna light one?"

"That was my last one," he confessed with a shrug; chin resting in his hand, elbow resting on his knee. He thought about leaving, it wasn’t like he had anything left to do here. But he stayed anyway. He’d regret it later.

"What? Then why'd you give it to me dude?"  you scoffed.

He looked at you out of the corners of narrowed eyes. "Don't call me 'dude,'" he, half-heartedly at best, reprimanded as you rolled your eyes, "and because you asked for it. As your captain it's my job to take care of you." He didn't mean for it to come out like that, but he wasn't going to backtrack now and make it weird.

"Ah yes, taking care of me by giving me cancer. Truly, so selfless of you." You giggled as you handed him the smoke. 

He took it without thinking, easily taking a puff off it. "If I was worried about that, I'd have to fight a losing war with half the team- myself included." He took another drag to prove his point, "I like to think I pick my battles more wisely than that."

You hummed as you nodded, taking the cigarette back and putting it to your lips. You huddled closer to your captain, watching the snow fall and seeking his warmth in the cold. "It's pretty out." You smiled.

"It's nothing we don't see every winter." He took the smoke back.

You playfully pushed him, "Oh sorry Oscar didn't realize you fell out of your can."

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm calling you a grouch, Wesker." He nodded in acknowledgement of your clarification, and didn't try to argue. Just took a particularly long drag and handed the cigarette back to you. 

You took your turn with it and continued. "You gotta be able to still see the beauty in the small things, and the wonder in the world. Or else you just become old and bitter, and nobody wants that." He didn't have the heart to tell you he was already there. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, watching as new snow covered the old. It had become a ritual between the two of you – one Wesker had grown quite fond of. Every night when the two of you closed the S.T.A.R.S office together, you took the time to share a smoke break before going your separate ways for the night.

Wekser looked forward to them more than he cared to admit. At first it was just another thing he did to ensure all members of S.T.A.R.S trusted him. Fifteen minutes at the end of a shift was a small price to pay for the confidence of his team, and as long as they had confidence in him they wouldn’t doubt him. 

He wasn’t quite sure when he started looking forward to your quiet conversations, just like he wasn’t really sure when he started buying two packs of cigarettes to accommodate them. Or how he wasn’t sure when he started looking for little excuses throughout the day to touch you, to talk to you, to have your attention. At some point you had wormed your way into his mind and made your home there. He would have resented you for it if he could find it in him to do so.

He almost jumped when you finally broke the silence. "You know, when I was a kid, my dad would always let me stay home for the first snow of the season- didn't matter if school was canceled or not."

Wekser took the cigarette from your hand. "Sounds like irresponsible parenting to me, keeping a child from their education." He finally killed the smoke, flicking it off into the abyss.

"Maybe!" you admitted, "but, those days were important to me. We'd always go out and make a giant snowman – as big as we could – and try to keep him alive for the season." You smiled at your warm childhood memories. "It was fun."

"I've never built a snowman before." Wesker confessed. He wasn't sure why he did, it's not like you were asking. It just fell out of him. You had a way of pulling things out of him without even trying, something he should have been more wary about than he was- all things considered. 

You looked at him shocked. "What?! No way! Not even when you were a little kid?"

He looked back at you and shook his head, "The boys home where I grew up had no time for such frivolous things. As long as the power was on, we were in school. And on the rare occasions it was knocked out, well. We had other priorities." It felt so natural, being so open with you. Maybe it was because you were always so open with him. Or maybe you were one of the few people that treated him like a person with vulnerabilities. It used to scare him, on some deeper level. It still did in a lot of ways.

Lately though, he's just grateful to have someone other than Birkin to talk to. "Captain, that's one of the saddest things I've ever heard. That's like, a super villain's backstory."

He finally turned his head to you. "What? Not being able to build a snowman?" He scoffed. You were blowing this out of proportion.

"Being a child and not being allowed to play," you clarified. Oh. He had never thought of it that way. It's not that you were wrong, he wasn’t allowed to play as a child – not really. It's just… he never really took the time to think about his childhood. He didn't like the feeling it gave him.

So he shrugged again, brushing off the memories before they had a chance to linger. "The past is the past. There's no use dwelling on it."

"Fuck that, come on!" You grabbed his hand and pulled him off the steps. He didn't even have time to fully comprehend just what was happening before you pulled him to the patch of grass the RPD called a lawn. "We're building a snowman.”

He huffed out a sorry excuse for a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You can’t be serious Rookie,” He said as he watched you gather the starting snowball.

“As serious as a heart attack, Captain,” you said, handing him the growing ball, “And I’m not a rookie anymore, I’ve been with S.T.A.R.S for six months now!”

He fought a small smile back at your insistence that you were – in fact – a highly trained soldier after a mere six months. “That’s still rookie status, dear.” The pet name came out so easily he hardly registered it, but you clearly did. He could tell by how you froze, your eyes widening ever so slightly. He needed a distraction. He held up the snowball, “And what do you want me to do with this?”

You relaxed as you remembered the task at hand. “Roll it around in the snow, I’m working on the base, so you work on the middle.” 

He made no move to hide his annoyance. “This is ridiculous, I want you to know this.”

“Then go home,” you shrugged. “No one’s keeping you here by force, no ones putting a gun to your head. If you don’t wanna help, you're free to go.” You acted so unbothered when you said it, focusing on growing the snowman's base. It hit a nerve in his heart he didn’t even know he had. You made it so blatantly clear that you didn’t need him there. Suddenly, the only thing he could think about was proving to you that you did need him there. 

He started wordlessly working on the middle of the snowman, trying to focus on the smile on your face and not on how ridiculous he surely looked. “That should be good,” you said, pointing to the ball he was working on. “Go ahead and put it on the base.” 

He took a second to look at the base you’d made, and the progress he made on the middle part, then got right back to adding snow. “No.”

“No, what do you mean no?” you scoffed, trying to sound offended but failing to hide your giggle.

He easily hid his smile. “It’s still too small. It would look awkward on the base, and even more so once we add the head. It needs more snow.”

“Weren’t you the one calling this all a waste of time?” you teased as you started the head.

Without missing a beat he looked at you, “It is. I stand by that. But if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right.” Finally, he was satisfied with the ball of snow he’d been put in charge of, and carefully placed it on the base. 

You giggled softly, “That’s such a dad thing to say.”

“It’s just how things should be done.” He shrugged, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth putting the effort into doing it right.”

“So you admit this is worth doing?”

“What? I didn’t say that.”

“But ya kinda did,” you pointed out. “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. And you’re trying to build this snowman right, so therefore – it’s worth doing.”

Wesker took the time to think of his next words carefully. He couldn’t just say outright it was worth doing because it made you happy. Because these small moments of connection built a trust between you. One he would inevitably betray one day. 

There was that horrible tight feeling in his chest again. The one he only got when he thought about how he would have to hurt you in the future. He pressed forward, “Somethings, as frivolous as they are, can be worth doing for the greater impact they have.” You nodded sagely at his words, as if you understood perfectly. Which, was genuinely shocking because even he wasn’t entirely sure what the fuck he just said. 

Finally, you put the head on the snowman. “Well! What do you think?” You smiled, making passionate jazz hands at the snowy creation the two of you had made.

He cocked his head to the side. “Something’s missing.”

You nodded. “Yeah, we’re missing a face.”

“What do you normally use for a face?”

You shrugged, “Traditionally, kids used coal and a carrot for the face. Sticks for the arms, maybe a scarf, you get it. You’ve seen Frosty the Snowman.”

He hadn’t, but that was a battle for a different day. “Seems like a waste of a carrot. And we don’t have any coal.”

You nodded again. “Yeah, sadly. Guess our little guy will just have to remain faceless.”

No, that wasn’t good enough. Not for Wesker. If he was going to make anything, it was going to be perfect. He’d accept nothing less. He quickly looked around, searching for a suitable substitute for coal. He quickly spotted what the RPD once called a garden that was now mostly filled with snow covered rocks and made his way there. You picked up on his thought process and went to go pull sticks off of a nearby tree for the arms. 

“Hey, I found a pine cone!” You called to him as you returned.

“Excellent, we’ll use it for the nose.” He replied as you reconvened at the snowman. The two of you argued briefly about the facial expression – you insisting the snowman should be happy and him arguing it should be miserable because who wouldn’t be miserable stuck out in the snow? You countered with a snowman wouldn’t, because he’s literally made of snow and probably can’t feel cold. You won the argument. This time. 

You assembled the final touches together, then stepped back to look at your handiwork. He smiled smugly, placing his hand on your lower back to hold you closer. “Not bad for a rookie.” He said, looking at you.

You smiled back at him. “Not at all,” you said as you rested your head on his shoulder. It was the closest the two of you had ever been to each other at that point. And the closest Wesker had been to anyone in a long time. It should have felt wrong, the way it tended to when he made contact with others. Instead, it felt comfortable. Natural. Like you were always meant to be right there on his shoulder.

He looked down at you resting on him. At your snow bitten cheeks and soft, content smile. You weren’t scared, or even nervous. You weren't going out of your way to impress him, or try to demean him for an ego boost. You weren’t looking at him with unrealistic expectations he’d still manage to reach, only to remain unsatisfied with him. You were just there. Content, and smiling in his arms, happy to be with him.

You looked ethereal in the soft moonlight, the streetlights of the city encasing you in a halo. He was suddenly overtaken with the overwhelming desire to kiss you. To take you home and hold you forever. And met with the blood cooling realization that he was more than just attached to you. He was… infatuated with you. He refused to use the L word for this.

He couldn’t do that to himself. He moved away from you, a sudden movement that caught your attention. His heart sank looking at your wide questioning eyes. “Thank you, for the experience Soldier.”

You smirked, noting that he didn’t call you rookie. “Thank you for indulging me Captain.”

He nodded and patted your shoulder. “It’s late. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Bright and early,” you confirmed. The two of you lingered for a second longer, the cold silence loud with everything the two of you wanted to say. He slowly slid his hand off your shoulder, and the two of you went your separate ways.

He spiraled for a good two hours when he got home. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. How natural it was to talk to you, how nice you felt in his arms, how breathtaking you looked even covered in snow. He dreamt of you that night, and when he woke up he could still feel the warmth of your lips pressed against his. He had to take a cold shower to get his head together. 

He had never felt like this before. His entire life he was too focused on other things for crushes. On being the best student, on graduating early and getting his doctorate, on researching the virus, on surviving. He’d had lovers, sure. But he never felt anything for them, aside from sometimes lust. He never felt tight in his chest, he never dreamed of them, never in a hundred years would have entertained the thought of building a fucking snowman with them. 

What the hell did you do to him? 

He spent the next eight months obsessing over you. Meticulously observing you like he would any other specimen. He found out how you managed your workflow, the gun you preferred to use at target practice, who you got along with at the RPD and who you only tolerated, how you took your coffee in the morning. 

He noticed all the small details. He noticed the way you chewed on your lower lip when concentrating, what kind of jokes made you laugh the loudest, the way your eyes crinkled when you were genuinely smiling. He noticed that you didn’t brush his hand away when he rested it on you, unlike how you did when Brad did the same thing. How you also went out of your way to be around him, and that you were always the first to act when he gave an order. 

He knew he shouldn’t do this to himself. He knew that he should have taken a massive step back and kept your relationship strictly professional. No more late night smoke breaks, or easy conversations in the break room. If he really wanted to do himself a favor he should have found a reason to fire you, or at least have you removed from the S.T.A.R.S team. 

He never tried to do any of that, because for the first time in his life he was scared he wouldn’t be able to do something. And where did that get him?

Here. Staring at the sinking ship that was Umbrella, and knowing he needed to get off before he was dragged down with it. He needed to send the S.T.A.R.S team to the Spencer Mansion to get the combat data he needed so he could do just that. The issue was, that meant the team was probably going to die. A sacrifice he thought he was willing to make. And he was, before you happened. Now the thought of sending you into that made his jaw clench. As brilliant as he was, he couldn’t think of a way to keep you out of the situation. 

Send you home? That would never work, Bravo team was in danger. You would never just sit idly at home while your team was in trouble – an annoyingly admirable trait of yours. Order you to keep watch at the office? Nope, that wouldn’t work either. That would be the first place Umbrella went when they realized he had gone rogue. So where did that leave him? 

Sending you into the mansion. But, maybe you didn’t have to die. You were just as capable as any other member of the team- if not more. As long as he could keep you alive until it was time for the mansion to go up in smoke, he knew he could get you out of there- and come out looking like the hero in the process. 

He didn’t have time to come up with a definitive plan, this was going to have to do. As unorganized as it was, he was confident it would work. It had to work.

He didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t.

[hehe-69]

Bonfire Part 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Time for the Wolfpack on crack. I hope you enjoy this lil palette cleanser. Because it’s going to get rough in the future. (This is short af because it’s just me writing more Wolfpack)

Tag list: @coldonez

—————

“You’re kidding me,” you say shock filling your voice. “You’re telling me that vampires turn into fucking disco balls in the sunlight!” The frustration in your voice makes Jacob throw his head back and laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jacob will protect you.” Jared teases and immediately gets horrified as Jacob glares at him. “Dude, quit stirring the pot before you get your ass beat.” Amusement fills Embry’s voice as he speaks. “Yeah no kidding, you’re lucky (Y/N) is here or else you’d be Jacob’s new chew toy.” Seth adds through a mouth full of marshmallows.

“I’d pay to see that.” Leah grins as she speaks, she still hasn’t forgiven Jared for drinking all of Seth’s Capri Suns.

-

“Oh Paul is 100% Squidward.” Seth says as you and him take turns assigning each member of the group sponge bob characters. “Embry is SpongeBob without a doubt.” You announced and hear Embry say ‘YUSSSSS!’

“QUILL IS PACTRICK BECAUSE HES MY LOVER!” Embry shouts out joining in. “DUDE WHAT THE FUCK?!!” Quill laughs out.

“Wait, Jared would be doodle bob.” You say and start pointing at him making doodle bob noises and you start wheezing laughing. “WHY DOES IT MAKE SO MUCH SENSE!” Seth gets out through fits of laughter.

-

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to take a nap.” Jacob tells you, you’ve been laughing for at least 15 minutes. “Yeahhhhh I think so too.” You are literally crying laughing and Seth is still wheezing. Everyone else has begun laughing either from the doodlebob joke or from how unhinged you and Seth’s laughter has become.

-

Now that things have calmed down, you all sit by the fire and just talk. For hours, just enjoying each others company. And you can’t help but notice, that Quill and Embry’s legs are pressed against each other.

—————

Weeks after the bone fire, at Emily’s house

“Hey guys!” Seth’s voice is filled with excitement, finally he was going to be involved with the boys. Quill and Embry had told Seth to come talk to them after helping Emily clean up supper. “You wanted to tell me something?”

“Me and Quill are together.” Embry says straight faced and Seth laughs. “Okay I’m not falling for another one of your pranks.” Seth laugh fades as he realizes how dead serious the two boys look. “This is a prank…right?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Quill says cryptically, and then Embry grins widely, pure evil shines from within his eyes. “Why tell me this?” Seth asks, and he fears the answer. “Because either way…no one will ever believe you.” Embry chuckles as he finishs Quill’s sentence. And the two boys walk away. Seth is left in the dark, horrified. They’re right, no one will ever believe him. Seth makes the saddest hurt puppy face known to man and slowly walks back to Jacob’s truck.

No one will ever know the truth…or will they heheheheheh.

————————

Tis a short but sweet fill part, I have much work to do😈😈😈😈

Here’s a hint, it has to do with two bffs falling in love. ITS QUILL AND EMBRY IM SOLD ON THIS UNINTENTIONAL LOVE STORY. EMBRY X QUIL

So ummm yeah, small break from (Y/N) and Jacob but they will be back. Part 8 will on hold. I’m gonna make a one shot about Embry and Quill about them getting together in this universe. If you don’t like them together as more then bros in love you can just ignore it.

Jacob and reader are side characters in it toooooo

Tanks for reading. Part 9 will involve Bell’s wedding sooo angst and so on will be in the forecast.

Id like to restate that I will not abandon this long fic till it is done I’m just taking a bit of a break from it because I’ve made 7 Parts so far and it’s not even been a week since the first part.

Enjoy your peace while it last WUHAHAHAHAHA

Also as always feel free to request something you would like to see in future parts

Love ya🫶

Part 8

[basicinstinctmacher]

Grumpy!Ethan x Sunshine!Reader

I’ve been feeling really motivated lately to write and I’m trying to get as many fics posted as possible while I have this burst of creativity. SO this is another crack fic based off an actual dream I had and could not stop laughing about when I woke up.

Warnings: none unless you hate sunshine girls

He was dreaming of peace. Warm skin pressed to his. Soft lips. The scent of your shampoo. Until he was rudely, well more like…softly, awakened by a weight on his chest.

It was sudden and sharp. Your small hands came up pinning his shoulders. His eyes cracked open at that.

You were sitting on him. Straddling his chest in your cute little ruffled socks, one of his t-shirts, and a very determined look in your eyes that definitely should've worried him more than it did.

For a split second he was sure he was still dreaming, "Baby?" His voice was laced with sleep, making it deeper than it usually was.

You leaned in slowly, your nose barely touching his as you spoke. "I had a dream."

"....Okay?"

The expression on your face was not clueing Ethan in on anything that was happening right now. "We had a garden full of ladybugs. Like, hundreds of thousands. They had their own tiny helmets. And a flag."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "A flag." "Uh huh. Our faces were on it. And they were trained to follow orders. My orders."

"Your bug militia?" His voice was flat. "An army of ladybugs, Ethan!" You sat up straighter, still determined look in your eyes, "And now we have to make it real." He groaned and dropped his head back on to the pillow. "It's barely 7am."

"They're waiting for us, Ethan! In the bushes. Ready to serve!" He stares at you for a long, slow beat.

"You're mentally unsound." "Yeah well you chose me." You shrugged.

He sighed, knowing he was not getting out of this. "Are you gonna let me up or..." "Nope. Not until you agree to help me train the ladybugs!" "Oh my god- Fine, baby. I'll help." You let out a squeal of happiness at that, even though you and Ethan both knew he never really had a choice to begin with.

"General Grump of the 7th Bug Battalion, sworn to protect the sacred garden kingdom and its beloved princess commander of sunshine, me!" It was taking a lot of strength from Ethan not to laugh. "I would say I can't believe you woke me up to catch ladybugs for an army, but I can believe it." "Yep. I also made them little name tags." "Of course you did."

He couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed if he tried. You were just so serious, yet deranged in your little sunshine mission. He couldn't do anything but love you even more than he already did.

"Alright, baby, let's go start your war." You squealed again and jumped off of his chest. "Meet me outside! I'm gonna lay out the bug bins!"

Ethan softly sighs as he drags himself up. Shirtless, still half asleep, but still fully yours and fully in love with you.

A few moments later, he's in the backyard with you. Armed with a mason jar, and his hair still sticking up in all directions from sleep. He looked way too dreamy for someone whose sleep was just interrupted for such a deranged task. Meanwhile, you explained bug ranks and gave a very passionate speech about defending the honey bees land.

"You know normal couples just get brunch." He muttered as he gently coaxed a ladybug into the mason jar.

With a silly smile, you hand him a stick with a little red flag taped to it, "I don't think we've ever been a normal couple, honey." You then take the mason jar from his hands and study it. And Ethan study's you. Radiant, barefoot, talking to your jar of ladybugs like they were tiny knights, and he just sighs in content before placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. "Normal is boring anyway."

And then a leaf rustled.

A new recruit arrived.

And the ladybug legion grew stronger.

[sealofarchives]

Could you create a headcanon for ‘Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ about what kind of fathers Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey would be? I find this idea fun. :3

Headcanon: Rise!Turtles being dads and sweetest husband to the reader (Separate) (Requested prompt)

A/N: I'm still uncomfortable with the idea of aging up the guys towards "mature content."

However, this idea was really cute. It only made sense for this prompt where the guys are aged up with some reference to their bad end!future selves. I went with around early 30's when the turtle of your choice and the reader are in a committed relationship and currently raising a kid at the moment.

So please have common sense and think before typing some snarky response with 'oh aged up content is bad lol' (Because I will put those ideas on the 'do not write list' if people get too weird about it...)

Raph

You know how he has the habit of that one baby voice with Mayhem. (and a bit of the hey buddy tone towards Mikey or Donnie)

- His kid is never gonna escape from it. (even by the time the kid is a grown up)

He definitely panicked for a bit when his kid (during the energetic toddler phase) enjoyed climbing over a big guy like him.

- So he had to ask Donnie to make a battle shell specifically as a soft cushion. So the spiky shell doesn't accidentally scratch the kid.

Part of him is worried anytime he has to scold his kid. And only when you're around is when he feels okay to do so.

- He definitely does the "Did you ask (Y/N) if you could have another cookie?" sort of question. (Sometimes willing to go along with what his kid wants or following (Y/N) if he got caught spoiling the kid)

You're getting at least one peck on the cheek by the end of the day.

- Or earlier in the day if he accidentally woke you up.

Compared to his younger self who slightly whined about chores, he grew to enjoy it when both of you worked on it together.

- Laundry being one example where you're usually folding clothing fresh from the dryer. And he stacks a pile back into the clean basket/hamper.

His eyesight in the right eye has gotten a bit worse. (not as bad as his bad end counterpart where he needs an eyepatch) But, you often act as his extra set of eyes and call out to any surprise attacks.

- Which earned the title of you two with a tag team couple and he still blushes thinking about it.

Leo

Every few hours before a night patrol, he always checks in to see what his kid is up to and often gives a hug before leaving.

Often gives bedtime stories through retellings of Lou Jitsu's movies or Jupiter Jim's comics.

- Even acting out of some of the scenes before a yawn decides its time to sleep.

Gave one of his spare bandana scarves to his kid.

- Had the biggest grin on his face when the kid realized "Oh hey! We're matching!!!"

Almost similar to the night patrol part, but if you can't make it because of work or some other boring life detour.

- Its a portal away for a light hang out sesh. For both of you to take a breather away from the grown up life.

Late night conversations are just a regular thing between the two of you.

- Especially when he couldn't sleep. By the time he almost dozes off to sleep in your arms, he still playfully teases you that your voice is soothing to him.

When light conversations about the bad end future was brought up during a casual match of video games, he was never used to the idea that he had a prosthetic arm.

- You instantly hugged his right arm, jokingly reassuring him.

"As long as you can crack a joke in the most serious moment. I'll still know that its you Leo."

"Even in a timeline where, me and the guys were raised by Draxum?"

You gave the red slider turtle a 'really?' pout before he hugged you into his lap.

"Nah I'm just kidding, but for real though. Draxum's former henchmen are still goofballs that know their way around the city. I'm pretty sure that Leo could get a couple of one liners and maybe from you as well."

Donnie

Almost went into a frenzy trying to child-proof the lair. (Especially the month before the kid's arrival changed the atmosphere) But eventually settled down.

- Realizing it would have stressed his kid out by any sudden new changes (and a bit of his family and your help explaining the reasoning as well)

Leo's showboating energy transferred to him but, in a way that, the softshell turtle is very grateful. That he has you as a spouse and both of you raising a kid along side his sentient inventions. And will try to bring it up in any conversation.

- The whole wallet photo gag of him showing family pictures. You love this silly turtle but, usually lightly pinch his face if its the wrong time for that.

He lights up whenever his kid goes to him for any sort of question.

- He slightly restrains himself to avoid going overboard with the answer. But, his kid is smart enough to know that and sometimes tells you that he's not being himself again.

Cannot force himself to sleep unless you're beside him. (or if you have to drag him to bed yourself)

- The few times where he woke up while you were still sleeping. He always gives you a light hug and a kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed.

He subtly took interest in one of your hobbies. (Either an ongoing or a new one) Just so he can step away from a tedious project that was going nowhere and not bother you with the boring details about it.

- Sometimes mentioning a fun fact to impress you.

You gave into his idea of letting your kid have a similar weapon like Casey Jr's.

- Only when they reached their 13th birthday and learning the basics of: constructing it and fixing parts along side their dad. How to use it defensively, offensively, and etc.

Mikey

Considering how his future self had some hair on his head, he kept it long so he can do a few matching embarrassing baby photos to his kid.

- Like giving the kid a tiny ponytail and etc. He definitely cried a bit while having his signature grin when the kid pulled too hard on his hair, laughing at one of his jokes. And you had to step in to help him.

He knows how to work around some of his kid's picky eating habits. Usually making sure his kid is having fun or decorating the plate in an artistic manner.

- However, there are times when the kid can hide the veggie or fruit out of plain sight. Or his kid asks his uncles for help when Mikey's focused on some other thing.

Absolutely does that peek-a-boo trick with hiding his face or whole body into his shell.

- He was nervous at first, if the trick might have scared his kid but, no the kid was giggling. Curiously crawling towards him in awe of it.

Will sometimes make meals ahead of time. (often being, if you returned from work, too exhausted to greet him)

- Either leaving a note on a plastic container in the fridge of: [(Y/N)'s breakfast: DO NOT EAT unless you want an surprise session with Dr Delicate Touch </3] (this also applies to lunch as well)

On very rare occasions, he will temporary wear a cloaking brooch. If you're at an area isn't very friendly towards mutants and/or yokai.

- The one time that happened, is when you forgot to bring your lunch at a job that barely lasted a week. (Stuff that was out of your control but, he was relieved that you got out of that place before your coworkers decided to physically fight back at the manager)

Spends at least one day in the week with you to do some light meditative exercises.

- On the really bad days, he doesn't mind letting you hold his hand as a stress ball or just have a quiet moment to relax while his brothers babysit your kid.

[crowleyholmes]

Hello friends, lovers, hereditary enemies, and fellow Good-Omens-brain-rot-afflicted!

Inspired by some lengthy conversations and the need for reassurance regarding a renewal for season 3, the lovely Eena @michaelsheens and I have decided to start a little Project!

(Sorry, Crowley, we had to…)

THE NICE AND ACCURATE PROPHECIES* WEEK

Running from SEPTEMBER 25TH to OCTOBER 1ST, it’s all themed around season 3 and the assumption we’re gonna get that renewal. (Manifesting, baby.)

✨ THE PLAN ✨

Every day will focus on a theme around which everyone who wants to participate is encouraged to create any kind of content they want to! Art, fanfic, edits, playlists, speculation, meta, go nuts!

(Also please don’t worry if something doesn’t fit neatly into a day’s theme; they’re only meant to give somewhat of a prompt and structure. Ultimately it’s not that strict and serious, we just wanna see your stuff :))

✨ HOW TO PARTICIPATE ✨

Share whatever your big heart and massive brain comes up with and use the tag #gomensnaap

(It’s like a long nap or something.)

You’re also welcome to give shoutouts to other people’s work you love and want to celebrate, but please make sure to link and credit properly (!!!)

Most importantly: have fun <3

✨ THEMES ✨

(under the cut)

DAY 1: “And there will be great lamentations.”

Let’s talk the Second Coming! We start off and warm up with everything plot-related. Theories, meta, crack ideas, let’s hear your thoughts on where you think the Big Main Plot is going to go!

DAY 2: “I can make a difference!”

For day two, let’s focus on Aziraphale’s arc in season 3. Did he go to Heaven with a plan? Or is he winging it? (Pun only somewhat intended.) Was he threatened or manipulated or both or neither? Will he tell Heaven just where they can stick it or can he actually succeed? What’s in store for our favorite angel?

DAY 3: “Hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Day three is all about Crowley and what we think he’s going to get up to. Is he going to go drink himself senseless and have a good cry? Go snek and hybernate for a bit? Hang out with Muriel and do some tempting? Does he have a plan and how will he cope being on his own?

DAY 4: “There was magic abroad in the air…”

Let’s talk Ineffable Husbands! How are Crowley and Aziraphale going to resolve things between them? Will there be a massive fight? Radio silence for days/weeks/months/years? Will they learn to Actually COmmunicate? Will there be grudges, grand gestures, secret meetings, a big rescue mission from either side?

DAY 5: “Extreme sanctions.”

On day six we wanna make ourselves anxious, sad and upset. (As one does.) What thing that may or may not happen in season 3 are you most worried about? Dark/depressed/evil/etc Crowley? Memory-wiped/brain-washed/archangel Aziraphale? Book of Life? How could Neil & Co hurt us the most?

DAY 6: “Do you…want a hot chocolate?”

After day 5’s spiral, it’s time for a metaphorical treat. What are you most looking forward to in season 3? What do you really want to see? Headcanons coming true? Scenes you wish for? Things that’ll make you wanna name your cat/dog/fish/insert other pet here Neil Richard Gaiman or Sir Terence David John Pratchett?

DAY 7: “It’s starts, as it will end, with a garden.”

Finally, to finish it all up, let’s speculate about the end of season 3. How do you think we’ll leave this story? Will things just go back to how they’ve always been? Will there be peace? Earth hidden from Heaven and Hell with a big 500 Lazarii miracle? Aziraphale and Crowley turned human? Or will they get their cottage in the South Downs for the rest of eternity?

[larluce]

Merlin as Arthur's familiar/Arthur's shapeshifter falcon AU

@dsabian , @theplatanitosqueal , @stressed-but-chill , @gregre369 , @chaosofbelievers , @thelordofabsolutelynothing , @another-tblr-fangirl , @aceauthorcatqueen , tagging you since you liked the other parts ^^

LINK TO THE OTHER PARTS: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 (You're here) , PART 7

In Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: (sleeping peacefully)😴

Merlin: (flies above him, chirping and picking at him)

Arthur: (still half-asleep) Hmmm... Merlin, not now (covers himself with the blanket to go back to sleep)

Merlin: (changes to human form and falls on Arthur)

Arthur: (out of breath for a moment and shouts) What the-Merlin! 😠

Merlin: (very excited, jumping in Arthur's lap) It's happening! It's finally hapenning! 😄

Arthur: What is happening? (looks the sun isn't even up through the window) And so early? (rubs his eyes)

Merlin: The eggs! They're hatching! (gets off Arthur and runs to the window where the nest is)

Arthur: (getp up, drowsiness finally gone) What? Really? (runs to the nest too)

Merlin: (points at one egg) Look!

Chick 1: (gets out of his shell all damp with lots of bare, pink skin exposed)

Merlin: ...

Arthur: ...

Merlin: He... he is...

Arthur: Ugly?

Merlin: Was I like this when I was a chick?

Arthur: You are a magical entity, Merlin, you were never a chick.

Merlin: Oh, thank the gods!

Chick 2: (gets out of her shell)

Merlin: (smiles) Oh, this one is a female!😊

Arthur: How can you know so soon?

Merlin: Magical entity.

Arthur: Right. (waits a moment, but nothing happens) How long until the others hatch?

Merlin: It could take the entire day. (holds the eggs and the chicks carefully and puts them in Arthur's hands)

Arthur: (scared as fuck as he holds them) WOW! Wait! What are you doing?! 😨😱

Merlin: You have to keep them warm.

Arthur: (whisper yelling) I can't incubate them! I'm gonna crush them!

Merlin: You don't have to sit on them just hold them close to your body to keep them warm. Meanwhile (stretches his limbs and cracks his knuckles and neck) I'll stretch my wings for a bit. 😊

Arthur: You're leaving me with these little merlins just so you can take a fly?! 😠

Merlin: (suddenly serious) Yes, Arthur, I've been incubating them for a whole month without a single break and now I want to fly for a couple of hours. Is that too much to ask?

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (raises his voice) I said is that too much to ask?

Arthur: No, no, no, not at all. Go ahead.

Merlin: Awww, thank you 😄. I'll be back soon. (changes to bird form and flies away)

Arthur: ...

Arthur: (to the two chicks and the 3 eggs, holding them closely) Your mom is very scary, boys.

Chick 2: (chirps a little)

Arthur: And girl. Right, you're a girl. (walks to the bed very slowly, sits and yawns) There you go. Now I have to stay awake (yawns) until Merlin comes back.

3 hours later. Arthur is asleep again, the chicks and the eggs close to his bare chest.

Chick 1 and 2: (chirp loudly)

Arthur: (half asleep) Shut up, Merlin (about to move, but suddenly remembers) The chicks! (completely awake now, but doesn't dare to move and looks down fearfully, thinking) Please be alive, please be alive.

Chick 3: (comes out of his shell)

Arthur: (sighs in relief and smiles) Only two more left. (holds carefully the chicks and the eggs with his hands and sits slowly) Oh, you're fluffy now. (taps chick 1 and 2 on the head whose plumage now is white and downy) You're still ugly though. (Looks at the eggs closely, worried) Please tell me you made those cracks.

Merlin: (appears and lands on the nest holding a death bird with his beak)

Arthur: Oh, thank the gods you're back! (walks to him and puts the eggs and chicks back to the nest carefully) And you brought food.

Merlin: (sits on the eggs to keep incubating them and starts feeding the chicks)

Arthur: If you needed food you could've just told me. I would've sent my hunters for food.

Merlin: (chirps)

Arthur: But then I wouldn't let you take a fly. Very smart. (Yawns and looks through the window) Servants are going to bring my breakfast soon. You better use that invisible spell of yours before they do (yawns and goes back to bed)

3 days later, all five chicks are now out of their shell and are bigger. To Arthur, they look like fluffy little white balls with very angry faces. He takes turns with Merlin to keep them warm and to hunt for food. Today it was Arthur's turn to feed them while Merlin stretched his wings a bit.

Arthur: (scolds while he feeds the chicks raw meat using a tweezer) No! Don't steal your brother's food! Bad, bad! 😠 (someone knocks his chambers' doors and he hides the nest behind him quickly and demands) Who is it?

Morgana: (from outside) Morgana.

Arthur: (sighs relieved and relaxes) Come in.

Morgana: (enters, singing happily) Where are my favourite nephews! 🤗

Arthur: (blushes) They are not your...! or mine... I'm just helping Merlin look after them.

Morgana: (Looks at the tweezer in Arthur's hand) Is that Gaius' medical tweezer?

Arthur: They wouldn't stop pecking my fingers. Like this they won't take my fingers off when I feed them.

Morgana: (takes the tweezer) Let me help. (Starts feeding the chicks)

Arthur: Oh, not to 1. He already ate a lot.

Morgana: (confused) 1?

Arthur: Yeah, the one with a number 1 in his head.

Morgana: ...

Arthur: You know, because he came out of his shell first. And this one is 2 because she came out se-

Morgana: You named your children after numbers and put numbers on their heads with ink?! 😡

Arthur: They are not my children! 😠. They are not even 'children'! And how else was I supposed to identify them?!

Chicks: (chirp louder)

Morgana: Now you made them cry.

Arthur: They are crying because you are not feeding them. (Takes the tweezer and continues feeding them)

Morgana: I can't believe Merlin let you name them like that.

Arthur: He didn't want to name them at all.

Morgana: (Confused) What?

Arthur: He doesn't want to get too attached to them since they're gonna leave as soon as they learn how to fly. (Sighs, feeling guilty) And I guess he's afraid of getting attached again to any merlin since...

Morgana: Since you killed Claws?

Arthur: (looks at the window, frantic, and then back to Morgana) Shut up! Merlin could be back at any moment!

Morgana: Didn't it occurred to you that maybe Merlin doesn't want to get attached to them because he knows you don't want to get attached to them?

Arthur: What?

Morgana: He adopted those chicks, Arthur. For you they may be just birds but for Merlin they are more than that. How do you think a single parent feels when their current partner doesn't accept their children?

Arthur: I... didn't think of it that way.

Morgana: So you realize that if you want to be with Merlin you'll have to be their parent too, right?

Arthur: I guess... (looks at the chicks) Fuck.

Morgana: You despise the idea that much?

Arthur: Is not that. It's just... I'm barely 18! I didn't expect to be a father so soon. And I expected my children to be, you know, human.

Morgana: You also expected your one true love to be a beautiful princess and here we are. (sighs) So? Do you still want to be with Merlin?

Arthur: ...

Time skip. Merlin with Arthur in his chamabers.

Merlin: (in his human form, after trying a spell on the nest) I did it! (jumps happily)

Arthur: (gets closer, curious) What did you do?

Merlin: Oh, I improved the invisible spell on the nest, now no one who isn't us or Morgana can see the chicks while they are there.

Arthur: That's great!

Merlin: Yeah, I don't have to make the spell constantly anymore and you won't get caught by your father. They are even save from other raptors now. It took me a while to get it right. (his smile gets sad)

Arthur: (concerned) What is it?

Merlin: Nothing, it's just... They... they don't need incubation anymore, but I... I still want to embrace them. But I can't, there's no need anymore.

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: (his eyes tearing) I know I'm not supposed to love them, I'm not really his dad or anything. I'm not even a real falcon.

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: And I know you didn't want them here in the first place, but-

Arthur: (shouts) Merlin!

Merlin: (startles)

Arthur: (extends his hand to Merlin and says softly, smiling) Would you dance with me?

Merlin: (blushes, confused) Wha... what? 😳

Arthur: Would you give me the honor to share a flying dance with me?

Merlin: I... (still very red and confused) but you... you don't have-

Arthur: Humans can also dance, you know? It's true I have no wings, but I can make you fly if you let me.

Merlin: (smiles widely, eyes watering) I'd love to.

And they dance. Arthur discovers that, while Merlin is very agil with his bird wings, he's very clumsy with his human legs, but he lets himself be guided by Arthur all the time. There are stomps, there are laughs, but they soon find a comfortable pace and Merlin ends up with his arms around Arthur's neck, and Arthur with his hands on Merlin's hips, dancing slowly at the rhythm of the music of their hearts.

Merlin: (still dancing with Arthur, confused) Are we supposed to mate now?

Arthur: (laughs softly) There's no rush for that. But I want you to be my partner. My mate if you want to call it that way. I love you, Merlin, and I want to be with you and have a family with you.

Merlin: Oh... (gets a little sad) But we're both male, we can't... (opens his eyes wide) Or can we? 😲

Arthur: No, two males can't.. procreate, but we don't need to worry about that. (Points at the nest with his head) We already have a family together.

Merlin: (Gets so happy he might cry and kisses Arthur on the lips in a fit of joy)

Arthur: (In shock for a moment, but soon kisses back and they kiss for a long time)

Merlin: (separates the kiss, but keeps their faces close, catching his breath) Did I... Did I do it correctly? I saw some humans do that with their mates.

Arthur: (smiles wide) You did it wonderfully.

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: Yeah?

Merlin: I think I love you romantically.

...

Just so you know, this is how the chicks look:

[tinkerbelle05]

I’m Just Worried About You

Characters: Jaime Reyes x Pregnant!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angsty

Summary: Jaime being a worrywart while your in your 3rd trimester. Most days you think it’s cute and quite funny, but now your fed up.

Warnings: Pregnancy

-

“Oh, I got that for you!” Jaime said and reached above to grab the bowl you were trying to reach. “What cereal do you want?” He asked while looking at you.

You smiled, “Thank you for the bowl, Jaime. But I was gonna get some fruit actually.”

Before you could grab the bowl from Jaime, he walked over to fruit bowl. “What fruit do you want?”

You stared at him, “Jaime, I believe I’m fully capable of picking my own fruit from a bowl.”

Jaime cleared his throat, “Well yea but I wanna help you out, I don’t want you on your feet too much. Just tell me what fruit you want and you can rest on the couch.”

You sighed, this is what Jaime have been like your whole pregnancy, a curse and a blessing. Don’t get you wrong, you extremely appreciated Jaime’s willingness to help you out. Especially when you were dealing with morning sickness, fatigue, and headaches.

But did he have to do everything for you? At all times? It was like he saw you as a piece of glass, one fall and you’d shatter into several broken pieces beyond repair.

But, as annoying his overprotectiveness is, you understood it. You two were first time parents so everything was new, exciting, and downright terrifying.

Neither of you knew what anything meant. If you were tired in the mornings, was that a sign of something serious? If you were back began to ache or if you had a sore feet, that just a pregnancy symptom or something more.

And if you went to google, they’ll tell you the absolute worst of what you could have.

So you understood. Really, you did.

That being said though, you really didn’t need help when walking to the bathroom or getting a snack at night. Which was something Jaime frequently did, holding your arm and back as he guided you to your destination.

You sighed and gave him a stare, “Jaime.”

He looked up at you, “Yes?”

“I think I can manage getting on my own fruit,” you told him and attempted to grab the bowl from him.

His lips twitched in an all too familiar manner. He’s annoyed but he knew you was right so he so he didn’t how to proceed with it.

“Just let me do it,” he pleaded.

You narrowed your eyes are him, “Why?”

You watched as he fidgeted under your gaze. He was clearly hiding something but won’t tell you. Maybe it was embarrassing to talk about or he just didn’t understood his feelings to be able to voice them properly.

Either way, if this is how he’s gonna for the rest of your pregnancy, you at least would like to know why. And maybe you could work from there to get him back off a bit.

You walked closer to him and placed your hand on his arm for support, “Jaime?”

He looked up the ceiling for a second and exhaled through his nose. “I’m….I’m just worried about you, okay? I just…i don't want anything bad to happen so I thought that if I do things for you that would, I don't know, lower the risk maybe?” He covered his eyes with his hands, “I don't know it sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

You shook your head, “No, no Jaime, it’s not stupid. Just…well…”

“Annoying?” he offered and cracked a smile.

You laughed softly as you nodded your head, “Yea, you can call it that. But I get it, yea? It’s scary and new. But I can do things on my own. It might take a bit longer and be a bit more difficult but I can do it.”

Jaime nodded his head and leaned into your touch, “I understand, I’ll try to be less overbearing. But please, if you do need help, ask. Okay?”

You nodded your head and smiled.

It was nice to come to an understanding.

-

Tags: @scryarchives, @asvterias, @renaimel, @allthingsvicf, @666kpopfan, @wintersdeadd, @dcnerd98, @alexa-33, @losingmywayyyy, @bluecray0nn, @sodacatz, @louiesdaydream, @nightwingandhissquad, @shslsimpette, @herrescasper, @fhhahaha12, @starii-light, @niluuuuu, @itsyagrillkat, @conicoroahre, @fullsiinner, @zerosinterweb, @marmar-c, @xiaryye

Taglist & Masterlist & Anonlist & Request Info

[hunnymisworld]

How Haikyuu Characters would respond to you:

When you ask them for help in making the homework.

SFW | Fluff | Crack | Short AU

N E K O M A VER.

[ READ ME FIRST ]

C O N T E X T: You are a 1st year transfer student in Nekoma HIgh and you've already adjusted to your new environment as well as the new people you met whom you made friends with. You were having a hard time with a homework and decided to ask for help in your fellow classmates/seniors.

KUROO TETSURO

INTIMIDATING (he's smart and he's the captain of the vball team - WBK)

You hesitate to approach him because of his usual sly/serious facial expression.

He noticed you were trying to approach him so to your surprise he approached you instead.

"Hi Y/n, i see you've been looking at me and hesistating about something, is there something i can help you with?"

You shyly told him that you were struggling with chemistry homework and he didn't think twice in helping you.

"Sure! Here, let me see. I'll read it first then i'll explain it to you."

You see him nodding and humming as he scan through the pages of your notebook.

Believe it or not WITHIN 5 MINS. he suddenly closed the notebook and said "Alright, i see what your homework is about. Sit here beside me, i'll show you" while showing you a wide warm smile.

Mans a VISUAL LEARNER (he asked if it was okay for him to write on the back of your notebook - ofc you said yes)

He draws and writes things on the back of your note book and literally creates a framework guide for you to understand the concept of the lesson.

"Do you understand it better now?" (he won't mind to go over it again)

You easily understood what he taught you and you were amazed by how this man just made it easy like that. (Yes, effortlessly like that)

You thanked him and offered something to give him but he stopped you from there.

"No need y/n, I'm glad i was able to help you. Really, i mean it. You don't have to give anything" (but if you insist, i bet you he would agree eating ice cream with you after class - he ofc brings Kenma with him)

"If you're struggling with any homework, you can ask me or ask kenma. No worries, glad to be of help."

YOU ACED THE HOMEWORK!

KENMA KOZUME

Didn't notice you at first cause he's busy playing video games.

"Oh Y/n, sorry i was kinda busy- what can i do for you?"

He's just sitting there looking up at you, gameboy in hand.

When you told him you were gonna ask for help with regards to the homework (he tried to hide it but he was flustered & flattered that you thought he was THAT good that you asked him for help yourself) he just nodded and offered to take a look at your notebook.

He silently scanned through the pages and after a while he explained the concept to you.

The way he explained it was so detailed that you felt like your brain was overwhlemed with the information but at the same time you learned a lot from him.

"Do you understand the concept now? If not i can send you a file with a complete guide in it. I made it myself, if you need any other notes you can tell me." (he really made NOTES everytime he and kuroo studied cause he doesn't wanna ask kuroo again - best believe this man has COMPLETE notes)

He showed a small smile when you thanked him and you offered to buy him ice cream but he suggested another idea instead "An apple pie would great though, but you don't really have to give me anything. It's alright y/n"

You insisted - you ended up eating apple pie with kenma and he tagged Kuroo along (Kuroo is eating ice cream)

YOU ACED!!!

When you checked your notifications when you got home, he literally ended up sending you ALL OF HIS NOTES. He attached a message saying:

" You're welcome :)"

LEV HAIBA

You didn't have a hard time approaching him, he was approachable - But he was dumbfounded when you asked him about the homework.

"Huh?"

MANS WAS CLUELESS

"What homework?"

You were standing in front of him, (looking up - bc he was TALL) with a blank emotion in your face T.T (you thought to yourself: wDYM YOU DON'T KNOW THERE'S A HOMEWORK?!??!)

You were just in awe that he was clueless standing there (your jaw almost hit the floor) T.T

After a while of him trying to remember the homework, he was SHOCKED "RIGHT! THAT HOMEWORK!"

Asks you how to do it instead T.T

He suggested you both go to Kuroo to get help (HE REALLY SAID SOS T.T)

You both were tutored by Kuroo and both got PERFECT SCORES!! ^^

After that you became chaotic besties fr!! <3

MORISUKE YAKU

You were greeted by him with a warm smile as you approach closer.

"Hey Y/n! How are you?" (a warm ball of sunshine fr)

"I see, alright here let me see that" (HE DIDN'T THINK TWICE)

He scanned through it and let you sit beside him as he was trying to figure out at which part were you having a hard time. (He does not mind if he would go over it all again for a number of times - he would understand)

He explained the concept to you in its simplest form and you thanked him after.

He offered to get ice cream after (HE INSISTED TO PAY FOR IT)

You were flustered, you thought you were the one to buy him ice cream (he disagreed and pain immediately so that you won't pay for it)

P R I N C E S S T R E A T M E N T/?!?!?!

"I noticed you were getting anxious so i offered to eat ice cream to calm your nerves down. Cheer up y/n, you'll get through your 1st year smoothly. If you're having difficulties just message me or tell me okay?"

WORDS OFFF AFFIRMATION?????? COMFORT KING??

Pls he is so caring and a type that would know how to comfort you.

Yes, he offered to be you tutor too (FOR FREE!!!!!!!)

YOU ACED THE HOMEWORK (at this point you can graduate with flying colors bc of how good this man is in mentoring you)

E N D

note: part 2??

[uptoolateart]

Thanks to @hailqiqi for tagging me about ten thousand years ago. I just have so much to do 😩 Anyway! The original post said:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Here we go!

Breaking Free - the whole series

I'm cheating here, because I'm listing a multi-book series, but I can't help it. I'm super proud of it. It started as a one-shot of Adrien and Marinette finding Gabriel's basement, and then it spiralled hard. It begins right after Strike Back. From there, it's a complicated, twisted and very bumpy ride.

'How did you think this up?' my BF beta has asked me many times. I don't know, guys. It just seemed obvious at the time 😆

This was my 'getting back into writing' book, after a lengthy creative hiatus / identity crisis. I churned out chapters because I needed to get back in the game and rediscover myself artistically. Then I went back and edited the whole thing a couple years later, to make it better (and expand it by about 20k words).

It became a series because I had requests for sequel scenes. Again, a couple one-shot ideas spiralled, and I merged them with another premise that had been kicking around in my head - Adrien, years later, trying to heal from everything as an adult and find himself as a father with his own teenage son.

That then spiralled again, and I ended up exploring Felix in depth, too, and pushing all the sentibeing stuff to extremes. The whole concept for Book 4 intimidated the hell out of me as soon as I thought of it. I was so worried I wouldn't be able to do it justice. Writing it was sometimes physical torture. But in the end, I think Book 4 contains what might be the best chapter I've ever written for anything in my life.

Still, the saga continues! Book 5 starts posting in 4 weeks. I've set myself another crazy challenge with that one, but I am determined to pull it off. I also have ideas for a few one-shots to collect in a volume I'm calling Book 6. The series is going to be like 700k words by the time I'm done. Maybe more. Will I ever truly finish this thing? I don't know. I fell so hard into the universe I created, and it's going to be hard to let it go. I fully expect to cry when I post the epilogue to Book 5.

Book 1 was also how I really got into this fandom and started making friends. Honestly, that book changed my life. Yeah...I'm gonna cry.

Dreaming Wide Awake

This was my follow-up to the S5 finale. The show is now going its own way, but I'm still so proud of how all the tension and emotions turned out in this fic. Again, the story is complex. It's also really surreal, and I think the battle scenes are some of my best. I was soooo nervous about the reader response to one of the big moments in it, but the unanimous reaction was everything I'd hoped for.

How the Heart Learns to Beat Again

A backstory from Nathalie's POV. It starts with her at age 25, as the sole survivor of an old magical order, going on extraordinary adventures seeking legendary artefacts. Then she meets the Agrestes, loses her magic, and gets roped into a new crazy world.

The story also explores Gabriel and Emilie, Colt and Amelie, and Adrien and Felix's creation / infancy. Book 2 (covering Emilie's death and how Gabriel and Nathalie start using the butterfly and peacock) starts posting on Monday. I think these fics are possibly the most mature writing I've ever done. There's a certain 'voice' to them that stands out from my other writing.

Finding a Way (Jurassic Park AU)

This is my most successful fic, so far. It's half goofy / romantic and half tense / action - with a lot of gore. I thought it would be total crack, but it took on a life of its own and became much more serious. There was something magical about how it all came together. I'm planning a sequel, but I need to get through a few other big fics first.

Voyage! Tales of the USS Miraculous (Star Trek Crossover)

This is so far from finished, but I'm having a blast writing it. It's basically all planned out and going to be mammoth when it's done. There's a little of everything in it, and you don't need to know Star Trek to understand it. I'm loving the reader speculations over what might be going on.

Okay! That's my list. Tagging @raspberrycatapult @kuromori4 @cardiac-agreste @mysticraven20 @trinketsinthesun @hamsteriffic @jigglypuff1994 @fandomofone

[steddiebingo]

Congrats @just-my-latest-hyperfixation on completing our Kissing Booth Challenge!

--

Prompt: Lust

Dream a little dream

Rated E, wc 1,230, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Dream Sex, Or Is It?, Top Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Body Modification

“That's right, baby,” Steve murmurs, gently taking him by the shoulders and guiding him down to the floor. Somehow, Eddie only realizes that they are both naked when his bare knees hit the cold tiles and he catches sight of Steve's hard, flushed cock right in front of his face. Was he naked all this time? He doesn’t remember. “Don't worry about it. Don't worry about a thing. You've been wanting this, haven't you?”

Prompt: Love

Say it again

Rated T, wc 850, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Everybody Lives, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Fluff, Accidental Love Confessions

“Good morning,” Eddie finally whispers, a hushed and awed thing. Steve yawns and smiles. His eyes are more gold than hazel in the morning light. He murmurs something. Two sleep-slurred words, half muffled by the pillows, so low that Eddie almost doesn’t catch them over the birdsong picking up outside. Then he pauses. His eyes go huge.

Prompt: Body Swap

Some sort of hive mind thing

Rated T, wc 970, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Secret Relationship, Coming Out, POV Dustin HendersonI, Implied Sexual Content, Crack, Body Swap

“You both went to bed as usual,” Dustin says over the ensuing string of bickering, wondering not for the first time who's babysitting who here. “Then, a few hours later, you woke up to discover that you're stuck in each other's bodies.” Eddie-who-looks-like-Steve snorts a laugh and Steve-who-looks-like-Eddie elbows him. “Quit it! Be serious about this!” “I’m trying to, but he said stuck in-” “Did anything happen last night?” Dustin asks.

Prompt: Amnesia

For Safekeeping

Rated M, wc 1,017, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Fae Eddie Munson, Human Steve Harrington, Mind Control, Memory Loss, Master/Servant, Implied Sexual Content, Dubious Consent, Dark Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - Fantasy

“Sit.” He does. His tunic rides up as he kneels by His Lordship's feet, exposing most of his legs and thighs, but the mossy ground is soft and warm. His Lordship likes to wrap himself in long, billowing robes, deep black like the night sky. Him, though, he prefers in shorter and lighter garments. “You’re such a pretty thing, my sweet,” he told him once, fingers tracing the patterns of his moles on naked skin. “And pretty things should be put on display, not hidden away.”

Prompt: First Date

It's a satanist thing, you wouldn't understand

Rated T, wc 2,067, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Everybody Lives, Established Relationship, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Good Babysitter Eddie Munson, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Bullying, Implied Sexual Content, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, but she’s talking to Eddie now. “You shouldn’t still have to deal with all of that, it’s fucking horrible.” Eddie smiles, bold and brave and beautiful, lurching forward to pull her into a hug. It ends up a bit awkward since her bike is still wedged between them, but she allows it without so much as a scoff. “Aw, m’lady,” he coos, but the look he shoots at Steve over the top of her head is sharp as a blade. Steve feels a shiver run down his spine. He knows that look. It means Eddie has a plan, and neither hell and all its devils nor an overprotective boyfriend are gonna keep him from seeing it through. “Ever the valiant one, looking out for little old me and what small sliver of honor I can still call my own. However … it’s your honor that has been insulted here, and that’s the far greater slight.”

Prompt: Secret Date

Whatever it is you’ve been doing

Rated T, wc 1,307, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Omega Verse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Steve Harrington, Omega Eddie Munson, Secret Relationship, Courting Rituals, Fluff

“I wanted you to be friends!” Dustin whines. “Not- … Not whatever it is you’ve been doing! Hell, the other day at the gas station, you bought him a pen!” “Because he always steals mine and I thought he might like it,” Steve shrugs. “It was shaped like a dragon and had those little sparkly stones for eyes.” Eddie smiles at him. “It’s a very metal pen, thank you.”

Prompt: Roleplay

Right off to horny jail

Rated T, wc 1,059, Chose Not to Use Warnings, Tags: Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Everybody Lives, Established Relationship, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Steve Harrington in a cop costume, Crack, Humor, Eddie Munson is a horny shit, So is Steve Harrington

When he arrives, Eddie is crammed into a corner of the kitchen with Robin and Vickie, gesturing animatedly and laughing about something or other. He spots Steve at the door, turns to wave at him … and then he freezes. For a moment, he just stands there like a marble statue in a cheap vampire costume, face going paler by the second while his eyes rake over Steve’s outfit. The chunky boots. The khaki shorts that he last wore two summers ago and that are just shy of too tight now. The old uniform shirt that Hopper reluctantly borrowed him, and the pair of dark shades and hat that complete the whole ensemble. Then he runs.

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