#I’m so happy I finally got to be a part of this

[28harryssunflower]

Birthday boy

Harry sighed as he sank into the backseat of the car, staring out at the dark city streets passing by. His heart felt heavier than it should on his birthday. He’d woken up hopeful, checking his phone first thing, only to find a single message from you.

“Happy birthday, my love💞.”

That was it. No call. No voice message. And you hadn’t responded to any of his texts since.

The lads knew something was wrong. He hadn’t been himself all day - quieter, less engaged, going through the motions during their show but not fully there. So when they tried to convince him to join them at a bar for a few drinks to celebrate, he barely put up a fight before shaking his head.

“I just wanna head back to the hotel,” he muttered.

“Mate, come on,” Louis pressed. “It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah, Haz, a couple drinks, a bit of fun - it’ll cheer you up,” Niall added, his voice laced with concern.

Harry just sighed, shaking his head again. “I’m tired, lads. Just wanna sleep.”

The four of them exchanged looks before Liam nodded in understanding. “Alright. But if you need anything, just call, yeah?”

Harry forced a small smile as they each gave him a hug before climbing into their car. He watched them drive off before getting into his own.

By the time he reached the hotel, exhaustion weighed him down, but it wasn’t the physical kind. Normally, he’d stop to greet fans, sign autographs, maybe chat with the hotel staff - but tonight, he just kept his head down, pushing through the lobby without a word. He just wanted to crawl into bed and forget how lonely today felt.

But when he pushed open the door to his suite, he froze.

There, sitting on his bed, was you.

And you weren’t just there - you were wearing his favorite black lace lingerie, smirking at him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

His breath hitched, his brain struggling to catch up, but instead of noticing what you were wearing, all he saw was you. He let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh before rushing forward, engulfing you in his arms.

“Oh my God,” he whispered against your hair, holding you so tight it was like he feared you’d disappear. “I missed you so much.”

You giggled as he peppered kisses across your face, your hands tangling into his curls as he murmured “Missed you, missed you, missed you,” between each kiss. It wasn’t until his lips finally reached yours that his hands started to wander - and that’s when he finally realized what you were wearing.

His eyes darkened as he pulled back, scanning you from head to toe. “Oh,” he breathed, his voice dropping.

You smirked. “Surprise.”

That night, Harry got the best birthday gift he could’ve ever asked for.

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your bodies still warm from your night together, you reached over to grab a small wrapped box from the nightstand.

Harry blinked at it in confusion. “You got me something?”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Of course I did.”

“I thought you were my present,” he teased, pulling you closer.

You laughed, nudging the box toward him. “Just open it.”

Harry unwrapped it carefully, lifting the lid to find a sleek, gorgeous ring nestled inside. His lips parted in surprise as he picked it up, sliding it onto his finger without hesitation. It fit perfectly.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking back at you, his green eyes shining. “I love it.”

“I hoped you would.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, filled with so much love that it made your heart ache. You spent the rest of the night curled up together, watching movies, eating snacks, and stealing lazy kisses until sleep finally took you both.

The next morning, Harry woke with a start.

The bed beside him was cold.

For a moment, panic gripped his chest - had it all been a dream? Had he imagined you being here because he missed you so much?

But then the bathroom door opened, and there you were, a towel wrapped around your body, your wet hair dripping onto your shoulders.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, walking over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Harry exhaled in relief, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist to pull you onto the bed. “You’re really here,” he mumbled against your skin.

You chuckled, carding your fingers through his curls. “Of course I am.”

And when you handed him a tray of breakfast you’d ordered earlier, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Later that morning, you met the boys in the hotel lobby.

You were immediately met with warm hugs and cheek kisses, especially from Niall, who grinned ear to ear when he saw you.

“About time you showed up,” he teased.

You laughed. “Had to make a dramatic entrance, you know?”

Harry just held you close, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on his hand. The six of you spent the day wandering through the city until you stumbled upon a gorgeous beach.

As the others ran to the water, splashing and laughing, you and Harry sat in the sand, watching them.

You took a deep breath before turning to him. “I’m staying for the rest of the tour.”

Harry’s head snapped toward you. “Wait, what?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “I figured…it doesn’t matter where I am, as long as I’m with you.”

His eyes searched yours, almost as if he didn’t believe it. “But… you don’t like traveling.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “But I love you more than i hate traveling.”

Harry’s face broke into the biggest, brightest smile before he tackled you into the sand, kissing you breathless.

Before either of you could say anything else, a sudden splash of cold water hit Harry from behind.

He gasped loudly, whipping his head around to find Niall running back to the water, cackling loudly.

“Oh, you little-“ Harry didn’t finish his sentence before springing to his feet and sprinting toward the water.

You laughed as he ran straight into the waves, fully clothed, tackling Niall as they splashed and dunked each other under. The playful fight lasted a few minutes before Harry, still grinning, waded out of the water, his clothes dripping wet.

Then his eyes landed on you.

Before you could react, he lunged forward, scooping you up into his arms.

“Harry, no!” You shrieked, squirming in his hold. “Put me down!”

He only laughed, carrying you effortlessly toward the water.

“Harry, I swear to fucking- don’t you dare!”

But he did.

With one last smirk, he launched both of you into the water, submerging you completely. You came up spluttering, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

“You absolute-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Harry cut you off with a kiss, his arms wrapping around you, pressing you close despite the cold water.

And in that moment, soaked to the bone, standing in the ocean with him, you had never felt happier.

[emsdevs]

I’m a sucker for Angst, so a heaviest of heavy Angst will always do it for me, like I need my insides to feel like it’s being stabbed and overwhelmed with all sort of emotions. Bonus point if it’s long. Hope this isn’t too much to ask for maybe I’m getting too carried away loll Could you do it with Justin Herbert please?

No Strings?

a/n: nonnie you sent this at the perfect time! I've had justin on my schedule for a while, but couldn't figure out what to write for him, so this worked out perfectly! this does not have a happy ending but i might be open to a part two if enough people want it. enjoyyyy :)

masterlist | NFL Masterlists | Justin Herbert Masterlist

You swore you could handle casual. When you started whatever you had going on with Justin, you swore you were the kind of person who could have a casual relationship, but now you aren’t so sure. When Justin asked you out four months ago, you never would’ve expected to be where you are now. It had all been going so well. The dates had been everything you could’ve asked for and more, and Justin was the perfect gentleman. It all began to go downhill after your third date. You had invited Justin into your apartment when he dropped you off, your intentions clear, and he had followed you inside. You two had been sitting on the couch when things began to get serious, the kiss you were sharing heating up.

Justin pulled away, looking slightly guilty. “I feel like I need to be honest with you about something before this goes any further.”

“Um, yeah, okay,” you were a little confused, but you let him speak.

“Look, because of the job I have, I really can’t do anything serious right now. I know I’ve probably led you on a little bit, but I swear I’ve never had any intentions to hurt you,” he stared at you, looking nervous.

“That’s okay!” you speak up too quickly for your liking. “We don’t have to stop unless that’s what you want. I can do casual.” Surely, you could. It couldn’t be that different from a normal relationship.

“You sure? I don’t wanna overstep if casual isn’t something you’re comfortable with.”

“Yeah, of course. No strings attached. Just having fun.”

As Justin leaned back in, you were thinking that this could definitely work. Justin was great, and this would keep him in your life without overstepping any boundaries. You could do casual.

~~

Turns out, you can’t do casual. You’ve been trying to stay normal, but you realized two days ago that you were falling for Justin, hard. You’d been keeping it to yourself, not wanting to scare him away, but it’s getting more and more difficult. He’s just so sweet, and the things he tends to do for you simply cannot be casual.

Is it casual when he plays with the ends of your hair before you get out of bed in the morning? Is it casual for him, even though he keeps all your favorite snacks at his place for when you have movie nights? If it’s casual, why does he keep a drawer free so you have space to keep a few clothes at his place? If it’s casual, why does he know you better than you know yourself? Why has he gotten you your favorite flowers every two weeks since you went on that first date with him? Why does he know “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” is the perfect movie to cheer you up after a long day? If it’s casual for him, why is he acting like he’s in love with you?

Eventually, it had gotten to a point where you couldn’t stand lying to him or yourself anymore. After four months of no strings, you had to talk to him. You finally got the chance one night when he invited you over for a movie night. Before the movie got started, you decided it was time to break the news.

“Justin… I actually think we need to talk,” you wiped your hands on your pants, feeling them already starting to sweat from the nerves.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“I just really need to say this, and I know you probably won’t like it, but I need you to listen until I finish,” you pause, waiting for him to nod. “Okay, so, I just feel like we’ve definitely crossed some lines in this arrangement, ya know? Like we both have a drawer at each other’s places. We’re spending the night together, and sometimes, we hang out without even having sex. I just… this isn’t what we originally agreed to,” you were avoiding saying what you were truly feeling.

“So we’ll step back some? I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like something to be worried abou-”

“I caught feelings for you, Justin,” he just stares at you, shocked, “I know we said no feelings, but we’ve just gotten a little too close. We don’t have to stop or anything. I’m a big girl. I can handle-”

“No. No, we should stop,” he cuts you off, and it’s your turn to stare.

“Seriously?”

“We said no strings. I told you I can’t do relationships because of my job. If you have feelings for me, this needs to stop now before it can get worse.”

“Right,” you stood robotically, grabbing your things and walking out of Justin’s house with tears in your eyes. The worst part? He didn’t even try to stop you. Somehow, with one sentence, you ruined something that could’ve been so good for you, that had been so good for you.

~~

Now, it had been three months since that night, and you hadn’t spoken to Justin since. You’ve been going through the motions, just doing a fairly normal routine to make it through your day. You wake up, get dressed, go home, shower, cry while you eat your sorrows away, sleep, and then do it all again the next day. Nothing has felt right since your breakup with Justin, if that’s what you would even call. How can you break up with someone you were never really dating. 

You’ve found your confidence to be much lower recently, too. You couldn’t count the amount of time you’ve wondered where you went wrong. Why did you have to tell him? Why would he not even try? Why didn’t he follow you? Today, you found the answer.

You had decided that a day out would do you some good, so since you had the day off, you got dressed and walked around the city. You were about to go into one of your favorite coffee shops, one that you had brought Justin to many times. As you neared the door, you caught a glimpse of something that shattered your heart in a second. There sat Justin across from some girl you’ve never seen, looking too close to just be friends. You watched as she stood, kissing his cheek before she wandered off to the bathroom. A bright smile made its way onto Justin’s face, a smile you had never managed to bring out of him. With your heart broken all over again, you made your way to a close friend’s place. It was closer than yours, and you knew you didn’t want to be alone right now.

He had told you he couldn’t be in a relationship, but what he really meant was that he couldn’t be in a relationship with you. The questions began to set in again. Were you not pretty enough? Not popular enough? Did he need someone in the same tax bracket as him? Did he really just not like you? Did he think you weren’t good enough for him? Was he lying the entire time, every time he told you how special you were to him

Even with all the questions you had, you knew two things for sure. You were done with Justin Herbert, and you definitely could not do casual.

taglist: @heartsforjh @irishmanwhore @heartforherbert @jusaints @one-sweet-gubler

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Maestro’s is a nice place. Your dress feels even louder in the high-end restaurant. And you feel even more tired as the dim lighting softens the edges of your vision. Mr. Hansen looms there too, ushering you after the hostess as she leads you to your reserved booth. 

A man awaits you. He doesn’t stand or offer Lloyd a handshake. He simply finishes his martini and shoves the empty glass at the hostess, keeping the olive to chew on. 

“���Bout time,” he mutters at Hansen around the garnish. 

“Nice to see you too, Hugh,” Hansen nudges you ahead of him. You slide onto the curved bench silently. The man finally looks up from his glowing phone. He scoffs in your direction. “Who’s the grade school teacher?” 

“Assistant,” Hansen drops down and glides in close to you. “She’ll keep minutes.” 

“Really? Alright,” he snorts. 

“Well, you want an investment so... it’s business, isn’t it?” 

“Thought we were getting drinks and steak,” the other man he called Hugh sits back casually. 

“Missie, Ransom, Ransom, Missie. There, all introduced,” Hansen picks up the liquor menu and pets his mustache. You notice how he toys particular with the shining silver strand. 

“Nice to meet you, uh, Ransom,” you intone. 

“Yeah, sure,” he sniffs and rolls his eyes. You’re an intruder, if not an imposter. Not just at this table but in this restaurant. You should be with Peter getting your sandwich with extra pickles. 

The men are silent. You look between them as the tension rise. A waitress reappears with a fresh martini and puts it before Ransom. Hansen sits up and puts down the small menu.  

“Scotch, top shelf for me, and a vodka tonic for the lady. She’s watching those hips,” he orders. You don’t put in that you’d rather not drink. You doubt he’ll notice if you touch it or not. Besides, it’s a courtesy you don’t expect of him. 

“You going to the reunion?” Ransom asks over his martini. 

“Nah, stuff’s sad. Bunch of washed out legacies and stringy armed pledges.” Hansen retorts. 

“Mr. Big Stuff’s too cool for school,” Ransom chortles. “Imagine this, honey,” he gestures to you with his stemmed glass. “Big boss man used to be the frat’s treasurer. Penny pincher. Kept a fucking stranglehold over every penny. Wouldn’t even put out for cups for beer pong--” 

“Not all of have grandaddy’s trust fund to fall back on--” 

“Bro, don’t even. Your mom is loaded.” 

“Where do you think I got my good sense from?” Hansen counters. The server returns with your drinks and sets them down, offering a food menu. The men wave those away. Your stomach growls. 

Hansen slides the sparkling vodka in front of you. He sips his own dark liquor and you let yours sit on ice. He huffs and flicks the brim of your glass, “drink.” 

“Sir,” you lift the glass and take a tiny sip. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” he pushes on the bottom until you gulp. You nearly gag on the bitterness of the tonic and alcohol. 

“So what’s going on here?” Ransom leans his elbows on the table. 

“Business, talk about your damn books,” Hansen demands with the snap of his fingers. 

“New imprint. So long as I can get the backers,” Ransom shrugs. “Grandfather says I have to put work in. Mom says the same.” 

“Oh, and how is the insatiable Mrs. Thrombey?” 

“Hey,” Ransom warns. 

Hansen cackles, “now that’s a woman. Tall, domineering—you know, she still got it--” 

“Would you quit?” 

“I’m having fun,” Hansen chuckles and drains his glass. He takes out his phone and Ransom sighs, nursing his own drink in agitation. 

You squirm in the roiling air. You wet your lips as you wait for them to continue. Neither of them do. 

“That’s a nice ring...” you comment, just to ease the silence. 

Ransom twists the mother of pearl band then fidgets with his hands, “thank, er...” 

“So you went to school together?” You prompt, afraid of another simmering tension. 

“Pfft, no. Do I look old?” Ransom sneers. “I only heard the stories. After. L-Dog made quite the name for himself.” 

“Hugh,” Hansen puts his phone screen down. 

“What? I’m making conversation since you can’t be bothered,” he shrugs and leans forward, focusing on you. “What’s it like working for him? He a tight ass? I mean, he’s got you here past six. I’m thinking so.” 

“She’s here to take notes,” Hansen insists. “It’s her job.” 

“Suuuuure,” Ransom drags out the word. “Still the same as you ever were, huh.” 

“Shut up.” 

“This guy, oh, everyone knew what he liked. Really chubby ch--” 

Hansen slaps the table and it jolts as he kicks Ransom underneath, “you want me to back your nepotistic venture or what?” 

Ransom laughs and reaches to rubs his shin, “you know, this could’ve been an email.” 

“Could’ve,” Hansen signals for the server. “But I prefer to deal with you with a dash of good scotch.” He taps your glass again, “finish that.” 

The waitress reappears and Hansen orders another round for the table. You deflate just a little. You hoped you might get out early enough to meet Peter, or at least call him and explain. You’re not sure your frantic apology via text made sense. 

“You’re too nice for him,” Ransom says. “And it’s me saying so.” 

“Get on with it,” Hansen sneers. 

“Fine. Erotic thrillers. Granddad’s scandalised but I told him, times are changing. People like horny with their fear.” 

You stay quiet. You’re rather content to do so. Let them chatter. You take out your phone and take notes; trying to translate his crass explanation into business speak. Hansen gets his second drink and yawns. 

The more you transcribe there blustering chirping, the more you feel that needling in your head. You shouldn’t be here. Neither of them need you here. You know it’s punishment; because you saw your boss at his weakest, but when did you ever step a toe out of line with Hansen. You’ve ever been loyal. You are sitting at that table after all. 

“Hips, if you’re not gonna drink, don’t let it go to waste,” Hansen snatches your untouched refill and slurps it down. 

Concern tickles behind your ears. He’s drinking a lot and fast. The longer you’re here, the more he knocks back, you’re assured that you won’t be catching up with Peter tonight.  

You quickly flip out of your notes app and check your conversation. You deleted Hansen’s message but not before it was read. Even so, Peter’s response is ‘understood, we’ll do another night’. You reply to him quickly 

‘Sorry again. Boss has important stuff. Maybe this weekend?’ 

You switch back to your notes as Hansen slaps his chest and stifle a belch. Ransom sucks on the gin soaked olive and shakes his head again. Looks like you’re going to be the adult at the table. 

[lila-lou]

✨His second exception - Pt. 31/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, FLUFF

Word Count: 6981

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 31 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙

Your mom and dad had been quietly watching from across the room, but now they couldn’t resist chiming in. Your dad, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin, was the first to speak.

“Well”, he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Look at this. The mighty Soldier Boy, the man who could take on armies single-handedly, now sitting here feeding a little baby girl. Never thought I’d see the day”.

Ben glanced up from Aria, his green eyes narrowing slightly as his smirk turned sharp. “You got something to say, old man?”, he shot back, though his tone carried more humor than heat. “’Cause I can still take you in five seconds flat”.

Your dad raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just saying. Big change from the guy who used to storm into rooms and bark orders like he owned the place”.

You couldn’t help but join in, the warmth of the moment giving you just enough energy to speak up. “Oh, come on, Dad”, you said, your voice soft but teasing. “He still storms into rooms and barks orders. Now he just does it with a baby bottle in his hand”.

Ben turned his sharp green eyes on you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”, he asked, his tone flat but tinged with humor. “You’re fucking ganging up on me now?”.

You grinned weakly, resting your head back against the pillows. “What can I say? You’re too easy to tease”.

Your mom, never one to miss an opportunity, chimed in. “She’s right. You’ve got that whole tough-guy act going, but look at you now. Feeding a baby with more concentration than I’ve ever seen you give anything else”.

Ben scoffed, his smirk returning as he glanced down at Aria, who had slowed her feeding, her tiny fingers brushing against his hand. “This is more important than anything else I’ve ever done”, he said simply, his voice low but firm. “Doesn’t mean I won’t put you all in your place if you keep running your mouths”.

Your dad laughed, shaking his head. “You’re outnumbered, Ben”, he said with a grin. “You might as well just take it”.

“Oh, I’m taking it”, Ben muttered, adjusting the bottle slightly as Aria squirmed in his arms. “But don’t forget, I’ve got the kid. That means I’ve got all the leverage”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your tired body shaking slightly. “You’re really using our baby as leverage?”.

Ben smirked, finally glancing up at you, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Damn right I am”, he said. “And it’s working”.

Your mom shook her head, though she was smiling as she leaned back in her chair. “Unbelievable”, she muttered, though the affection in her voice was unmistakable. “You know, for all your bluster, you’re doing a pretty good job”.

Ben’s expression softened slightly as he looked back down at Aria, her tiny body cradled securely in his large hands. “Yeah, well”, he said gruffly, his voice quieter now. “Not like I’m gonna let her down”.

The teasing paused for a moment, the atmosphere shifting into something softer, more tender. You reached out weakly, your hand brushing against Ben’s arm. “You won’t”, you whispered, your voice full of quiet conviction. “You’re already her hero”.

Ben’s smirk faded as he glanced back down at Aria, his green eyes clouding with something heavier. He shifted slightly, adjusting her tiny frame in his arms, and you saw his jaw tighten for a moment before he muttered, almost too quietly, “I hope it stays that way”.

The weight of his words lingered in the air, cutting through the teasing warmth from earlier. You knew what he meant, even if he didn’t say it outright. Ben carried the shadows of his past with him, the weight of every mistake, every regret. Now, holding Aria in his arms, the stakes felt higher than anything he’d ever faced before.

“It will”, you said softly, your hand still resting on his arm. “Ben, look at her. She already adores you”.

Ben’s lips twitched, the heaviness in his eyes retreating as he quickly composed himself. “Yeah”, he muttered, his voice gruff but edged with his usual dry humor. “That’s ‘cause I feed her. Same with you. Give a woman a little attention and some snacks, and she’s all putty”.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you nudged his arm weakly. “Oh, is that how it works? All this time, you’ve been keeping me around with snacks?”.

Ben shrugged, smirking now as he glanced at you, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Don’t act like it’s not true. Toss you a bag of chips, rub your feet for five minutes, and suddenly I’m your favorite person”.

Your dad snorted from his chair, shaking his head as he leaned back. “Sounds about right”, he said with a grin, clearly enjoying the banter. “Though I wouldn’t go throwing that strategy around too much, Ben. Works on my daughter, but not everyone’s that easy”.

“Who said I’m looking for it to work on anyone else?”, Ben shot back smoothly, adjusting Aria in his arms as she began to squirm. “Got my hands full already”.

"You better”, you murmured, your voice soft but teasing as you leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his biceps. The gesture was small, but it carried all the affection you couldn’t quite put into words at the moment.

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing down at where your lips had just been before looking back at you, his smirk widening into something more cocky. “Oh, so now we’re kissing the muscles?”, he drawled, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Didn’t think I needed the snacks after all”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head, tough guy. It’s a one-time deal”.

“Sure it is”, he shot back, his tone as smooth as ever. “Let me guess—next time you’ll be asking me to… flex”.

Your dad groaned loudly, leaning back in his chair. “Can you two not?”, he said, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “We’re right here, you know”.

Your mom chuckled softly, shaking her head as she moved to check on the blanket around Aria. “Oh, let them have their moment”, she said lightly, her voice full of affection. “It’s not every day you see Ben being soft”.

Ben’s smirk faded just slightly, and he glanced down at Aria, her tiny body nestled against him. His hand moved instinctively to adjust her position, his large fingers brushing against her cheek with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place for someone like him.

“Not soft”, he muttered under his breath, his tone gruff but quiet. “Just… doing what needs to be done”.

A week later, the day you’d been waiting for finally arrived—you were allowed to go home. The hospital’s walls, though safe, had started to feel suffocating, and the thought of being back in your own space brought a mix of relief and excitement. The extra doses of V in your system had done their job, leaving you feeling stronger, though you were still told to take it easy and rest as much as possible. Ben, of course, had taken that advice to heart—perhaps too much.

As you stood outside the hospital, the crisp air brushing against your face, Ben hovered close. He carried Aria’s car seat in one hand, her tiny body snug inside and wrapped in the soft blanket your mom had brought. She was dressed in the onesie Ben had insisted on—Daddy’s Little Soldier scrawled across the front in bold letters. It was equal parts adorable and hilariously on-brand for him.

With his other hand, Ben steadied you, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Take it slow”, he muttered, his green eyes scanning your face like he was waiting for you to wobble or stumble. “Last thing we need is you fucking face-planting before we even get to the car”.

You rolled your eyes, though the corners of your mouth twitched into a smile. “I’m fine, Ben. I can walk, you know”.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your attempt at downplaying things. “Sure you can”, he said dryly. “Until you can’t. Humor me, sweetheart”.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning into his steady presence as you made your way to the car. The last week had been a whirlwind of checkups, adjustments, and learning how to navigate this new chapter of your lives. Both you and Aria had appointments lined up for the coming weeks—Dr. Collins wanted to monitor you closely—but for today, all that mattered was getting home.

Ben carefully secured Aria’s car seat in the back, double-checking every strap and latch like it was a bomb he was defusing. “She’s good”, he muttered after a final tug on the seatbelt. Then he turned back to you, his hand on your back as he guided you toward the passenger seat. “Alright, your turn”.

You slid into the seat carefully, watching as he shut the door with one last glance at you, his expression unreadable. By the time he climbed into the driver’s seat, he seemed a little more relaxed, though his hand still rested protectively on the center console as if he needed to stay connected to you somehow.

The drive home was quiet, the hum of the car engine and Aria’s soft breaths filling the space. You glanced back at her occasionally, your heart swelling every time you saw her tiny face nestled in the seat. Ben caught you looking in the rearview mirror and smirked. “Told you”, he said, his tone smug. “She’s got that effect”.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the sight of home made you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Ben got out first, unbuckling Aria with the same care he’d used earlier. He carried her in one hand, her car seat swinging slightly as he reached out to steady you with the other.

As you walked toward the door together, a warm sense of peace settled over you. It wasn’t going to be easy—between the constant monitoring, the sleepless nights, and your slow recovery, you knew challenges lay ahead. But standing there with Ben at your side, steady as always, and Aria cradled in his strong arms, you felt ready to face whatever came next.

“Welcome home, chicken”, Ben murmured as he stepped inside, glancing down at Aria with a faint smirk. Then, without missing a beat, he looked at you. “You too, sweetheart”.

Ben gently placed the car seat on the table, his movements careful yet efficient. Without missing a beat, he leaned over and unfastened the straps, muttering something under his breath about “overcomplicated baby gear”. In one swift motion, he scooped Aria up, her tiny body practically disappearing against his broad chest as he cradled her securely in his massive hands.

Her head rested just below his chin, and he instinctively adjusted the blanket around her, ensuring she was covered and snug. From where you sat, it was hard not to smile at the sight—Ben, the man who used to intimidate everyone in his path, now completely wrapped up in this impossibly tiny person.

“She’s barely visible”, you teased softly, watching him fuss over her like he’d been doing it for years. “It’s like you’re holding a little bird”.

“Yeah, well, this bird’s got some issues”, he grumbled, his tone low but tinged with affection. He shifted her slightly, trying to adjust her scrunched-up legs. “Look at these”, he muttered, his large hand carefully nudging at her tiny feet. “I keep trying to straighten them out, but no—she just folds ‘em right back up”.

You laughed softly, the sound warming the room. “She’s comfortable like that”, you said, leaning back against the cushions. “She spent months curled up inside me. It’s natural”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Aria’s legs as she wriggled slightly, pulling them back into that familiar scrunched-up position. “Natural, huh?”, he said, his tone laced with mock skepticism. “Looks like a lazy workout to me. She’s gonna need to start stretching eventually. Can’t walk around like this forever”.

“She’s a newborn, Ben”, you said, shaking your head with amusement. “She’s got time before she starts walking”.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t get her started early”, he shot back, his smirk widening as he carefully rocked her against his chest. “Discipline, sweetheart. Starts young”.

Aria let out a soft little coo, her tiny fists brushing against his chest, and Ben’s smirk softened instantly. His hand came up to cup her head, his thumb brushing lightly over her soft hair. “Alright, fine”, he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You can keep the legs. For now… chicken”.

Ben held Aria close, her tiny head resting snugly against his chest as he began to slowly walk through the house. His steps were steady and purposeful, like he was showing her around his kingdom. One of his large hands supported her completely, her little body barely taking up any space in his grasp.

“Alright”, he muttered, his tone gruff but oddly gentle, “let’s give you the grand tour. Don’t say I never taught you anything”.

You watched from the couch, a soft smile spreading across your face as Ben moved into the living room first. He glanced down at Aria, as though she was fully capable of understanding him, and gestured toward the room with his free hand.

“This is where your mom makes me watch her boring shows”, he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of affection and teasing. “But don’t worry, I’ll get you into the classics. Stuff that actually matters. None of that soap opera garbage”.

He moved over to the fireplace, pointing it out with a slight nod. “And this? That’s a fireplace. Not much use for it, but it looks good. One day, I’ll teach you how to build a real fire. Just don’t try it without me, alright? Don’t need you burning the place down”.

Aria let out a tiny coo, her hands twitching against his chest, and Ben’s smirk softened slightly. “Yeah, I get it. Fire’s exciting. But it’s a dad job. Got it?”.

He moved into the kitchen next, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as he glanced around. “Now, this is where the magic happens”, he said, shifting her slightly so she could ‘see’ the counters and appliances. “When I say magic, I mean snacks. Real snacks, not the mush you’re stuck with for now”.

Ben smirked as he shifted Aria slightly in his arms, his green eyes flicking to you lounging on the couch. “Now, your mom makes some pretty good food”, he began, his tone casual, but that mischievous glint in his eyes warned you he was about to say something completely inappropriate. “Well, at least when I’ve made sure she’s in a really good mood, you know… like after I’ve—”.

“Ben!”, you interrupted sharply, your cheeks instantly heating as you glared at him. “Not in front of Aria!”.

Ben rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he adjusted Aria in his arms, her tiny form cradled carefully against his chest. “If it starts like this”, he muttered, his voice dripping with mock misery, “I’m gonna have a fucking boring life now. No making out, no sex, no dirty—”.

Before he could finish, you grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his back with surprising accuracy. The soft thud interrupted him mid-sentence, and he froze for a moment before slowly turning his head to look at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Really?”, he drawled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re resorting to violence now?”.

“You deserved it”, you shot back, trying to look stern despite the grin tugging at your lips. “You can’t just say stuff like that with her right there!”.

Ben chuckled, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to Aria. “Relax, sweetheart”, he said, his tone light and teasing. “She doesn’t even know what I’m saying. Right now, she’s just focused on staying warm and waiting for her next bottle”.

You crossed your arms, still glaring at him half-heartedly. “Still, it’s the principle of the thing. And besides, I don’t want her first words to be one of your… colorful phrases”.

Ben let out a low laugh, rocking Aria slightly in his arms as she let out a soft coo. “Fine”, he said, smirking down at her. “Guess I’ll have to keep it PG, at least for now. Don’t want the chicken getting any bad habits too early”.

You couldn’t help but smile despite yourself, watching the way he cradled her with such care, his massive hands dwarfing her tiny form. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you muttered, though your voice was full of affection.

“And yet”, Ben replied, shooting you a cocky grin, “you still keep me around. Must be doing something right”.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you leaned back against the cushions. Despite his teasing and his larger-than-life personality, moments like this reminded you why you loved him—because beneath all of it, he was completely devoted to you and your daughter. Even if he couldn’t resist being a smartass about it.

Ben, still smirking, adjusted Aria in his arms and stood up straighter, resuming his slow tour of the house. “Alright”, he muttered, his voice full of mock authority, “let’s get back to it. Your mom’s already trying to ruin the fun, but I’ve got plenty more to show you”.

He started toward the hallway, his large frame moving with surprising gentleness to keep Aria comfortable. “This”, he said, pointing to the hallway closet, “is where we keep all the boring stuff. Towels, blankets, random crap your mom insists we need but never actually uses. Don’t worry about this place; you’ll have no reason to come here unless you’re hiding from me because you broke something”.

You let out a laugh from the couch. “Ben, she’s a baby, not a teenager. And I don’t hoard random crap”.

He glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve got six throw blankets in there. Who needs six throw blankets? What are we, a Bed Bath & Beyond?”.

You sighed, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless as he turned back to Aria.

Ben moved into the bathroom next, gesturing grandly at the space as though it were some kind of palace. “This is the bathroom”, he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The one place in this house where I can pretend to get some peace. But don’t worry, I know you’re gonna ruin that soon enough with bath toys and splashing everywhere. It’s fine. I’ll allow it”.

Aria let out a tiny sound, her little fists brushing against his chest, and Ben’s smirk softened. “See? She’s already planning it”, he muttered, rocking her gently. “It’s a mutiny in the making”.

When he moved into the nursery, his pace slowed slightly, and his voice dropped to something quieter, almost reverent. “And this”, he murmured, stepping inside, “is your room”.

Ben stepped further into the nursery, his eyes scanning the soft pastels and delicate decorations you’d worked so hard to perfect. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, shifting Aria slightly against his chest as he muttered, “You’re definitely not the boy I was hoping for, so I bet soon enough everything in here’s gonna be fucking pink”.

Without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her tiny head, his lips brushing over the soft, dark hair that barely covered her scalp. The touch was so light, so careful, like he was afraid to break her.

Aria reacted instantly, scrunching up her face and letting out a series of funny little noises—somewhere between a squeak and a grunt. Ben froze, his green eyes widening slightly as he looked down at her.

Then, he snorted, a rare, genuine laugh slipping out as he stared down at Aria. “What the hell was that?”, he muttered, his green eyes narrowing playfully as he adjusted her in his arms. “Did you just grunt at me, chicken? You trying to tell me something?”.

Aria squirmed again, letting out another little noise, her tiny fists flailing for a moment before settling back against his chest. Ben smirked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable”, he muttered, his tone dripping with amusement. “Not even a month old, and already got opinions”.

From the doorway, you watched the scene unfold, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Slowly, you stepped into the room, your movements careful but deliberate as you made your way toward them. “What’s going on in here?”, you asked gently, your voice light and teasing. “Is she giving you a hard time already?”.

Ben glanced up at you, his smirk widening as he met your eyes. “You didn’t tell me she made noises like that”, he said, jerking his chin toward Aria. “She’s got this little grunt thing going on. Sounds like she’s trying to talk, but all she’s got is… whatever that was”.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you moved closer. “She’s just figuring out how to use her voice”, you said, leaning against the edge of the crib for support. “She’s probably trying to tell you she doesn’t appreciate being called a chicken”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning mischievous. “Oh, no, she loves it. Don’t you, chicken?”. He kissed her head again, and Aria let out another funny little grunt, making him snort. “See? That’s her way of agreeing with me”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”.

“Damn right I do”, Ben replied, shifting Aria slightly so she was cradled more securely in his arms. “And right now, the answer is that this kid’s already got some serious attitude. Wonder where she gets it from”.

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned a little closer to him. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea”, you teased. “But I don’t think it’s from me”.

Without warning, his free hand shot out, giving your ass a quick, playful pinch.

“Hey!”, you yelped, jumping slightly, though the corners of your mouth twitched with amusement.

He raised an eyebrow, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he muttered, “Why aren’t you all cozy on the couch, like the doc told you?”.

You rolled your eyes, swatting at his hand half-heartedly. “Because I wanted to see what you were up to”, you shot back, though your voice was softened by the affection you couldn’t quite hide. “Someone’s gotta make sure you’re not teaching her bad habits already”.

Ben snorted, glancing down at Aria as she let out another tiny grunt, her little face scrunching up. “Bad habits?”, he repeated, his tone dripping with mock offense. “This kid’s got nothing but good habits so far. She eats, sleeps, and grunts. Perfect little soldier in the making”.

You shook your head, leaning against the edge of the crib for support. “She’s a baby, not a recruit”.

“She can be both”, Ben quipped, his smirk turning cocky. “Gotta start her early. Discipline, structure, and—”. He paused as Aria squirmed in his arms again, making another funny noise. “And apparently, opinions. You’ve got a lot to say, huh, chicken?”.

You smiled, watching the way he cradled her so effortlessly despite his teasing demeanor. “You know”, you said softly, “you’re a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for”.

Ben glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment before he shrugged. “Yeah, well”, he muttered, “you’re not making it easy to slack off. Always watching me like a hawk”.

“That’s my job”, you teased, reaching out to brush your fingers lightly against Aria’s tiny hand. “Just like it’s your job to make sure I actually rest”.

Ben smirked again, stepping closer and tilting his head slightly. “Then get your ass back to the couch”, he said, his voice low but full of amusement. “I’m not carrying both of you if you pass out”.

“Bossy”, you muttered, but you turned to head back to the couch, a small smile still tugging at your lips as you felt his gaze follow you the whole way.

As the evening settled in, the moment arrived for Aria’s first bath. You sat on the small bench next to the bathtub, watching as Ben crouched by the tub, his large hands fumbling with the tiny buttons and snaps of Aria’s onesie. The bathroom was warm—too warm, thanks to the extra steam from the hot water—and you noticed beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as he worked.

Aria, of course, wasn’t making it easy. Her scrunched-up legs were once again causing problems, folding up tightly every time Ben tried to stretch them out to get her undressed. He huffed under his breath, his green eyes narrowing as though trying to out-stubborn her.

“Come on, chicken”, he muttered, his voice low but strained. “You’re not making this easy. What’s with the damn legs? Just… cooperate for once”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your smile growing as you watched him struggle. “I didn’t know supes could sweat like this”, you teased, leaning forward slightly to get a better view of his efforts. “You okay there, tough guy? Need me to grab you a towel?”.

Ben shot you a glare, though it was more playful than threatening. “It’s hot as hell in here”, he grumbled, finally managing to undo the last snap. “And this kid’s got more fight in her than half the cocksucker I’ve gone up against”.

You bit back a laugh, watching as he carefully peeled the onesie off of Aria, her tiny body wriggling slightly as she let out a soft coo. “She’s just testing you”, you said, leaning back against the wall. “Making sure her dad can handle the tough stuff”.

Ben snorted, tossing the tiny onesie into the laundry pile before cradling Aria in his hands. “Tough stuff”, he muttered, glancing at her scrunched-up legs as though they were mocking him.

Aria let out a tiny squeak, her fists flailing slightly, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter this time. “You’re doing fine”, you said reassuringly.

Ben carefully lowered Aria into the warm water, his hands cradling her tiny body with surprising gentleness. The moment her skin touched the water, she let out a soft coo, her little fists waving in the air as though testing this new sensation.

But almost immediately, Ben let out a frustrated grumble, his brows furrowing. “Why the hell is she so slippery?”, he muttered, trying to keep a steady grip on her. “It’s like trying to hold onto a bar of soap”.

You bit back a laugh, watching as his large hands adjusted awkwardly to keep Aria secure. “She’s got soft skin. Add water, and yeah, she’s going to be slippery”, you said, your voice full of amusement

Ben narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not appreciating the humor in the situation. “No one warned me about this”, he grumbled, his tone edged with irritation. “They just said, ‘Oh, give her a bath, it’ll be fine’. Didn’t say a damn word about her turning into a little greased-up chicken”.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, the sound filling the warm bathroom as you watched him struggle. “Greased-up chicken?”, you echoed, wiping a tear from your eye. “Ben, you’ve fought villains, survived explosions, and dealt with God knows what else. And now you’re losing to a baby in a bathtub?”.

Ben’s green eyes snapped to yours, his glare sharp but tinged with amusement. “I’m not losing”, he shot back, though his hands shifted again as Aria squirmed slightly in the water. “I’m just… figuring it out. She’s squirmier than I expected”.

Aria let out a tiny hiccup of a sound, her legs kicking slightly against the water, splashing a bit onto Ben’s shirt. He groaned, glaring down at her. “See? Slippery and messy”, he muttered. “You’re a lot of work for someone who doesn’t even pay rent”.

“She’s your daughter”, you teased, still grinning. “You signed up for this”.

Ben sighed dramatically, one hand gently supporting Aria’s back while the other carefully poured a little water over her head with a washcloth. “Yeah, yeah”, he muttered, his tone softening as he focused on her again. “Guess I did”.

You watched as his expression shifted, the irritation melting away as he gently wiped her tiny face with the cloth, his large hands so careful it was almost mesmerizing. Despite all his grumbling, there was a tenderness in the way he handled her—a rare side of Ben that you knew was reserved for the two of you.

Eventually, the chaos of the evening began to wind down. Aria, freshly bathed and swaddled in her soft blanket, had finally drifted off to sleep. You and Ben made your way to the couch, exhaustion tugging at both of you. Ben collapsed onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, his arm slung over the back of the couch as though he’d just fought a battle—which, in a way, he had.

You nestled beside him, your body fitting perfectly into his side as his arm instinctively wrapped around your shoulders. Aria rested on your chest, her tiny body curled up and her soft breaths barely audible. She looked utterly peaceful, completely unaware of the exhaustion she’d inflicted on both of you.

Ben tilted his head back against the couch, letting out a long exhale as his eyes closed for a moment. “That kid’s got more energy than I thought was possible for something that tiny”, he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

You chuckled softly, leaning into him as your fingers brushed over Aria’s blanket. “She wore you out, didn’t she?”, you teased, glancing up at him with a small smile. “Mighty Soldier Boy, taken down by a four-pound baby”.

Ben let out a low, tired chuckle, his lips twitching into a faint smirk even as his eyes remained closed. “I’m so tired I won’t even fight you on that right now”, he muttered, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You win. Congratulations”.

You smiled, your heart swelling at the rare moment of vulnerability he allowed himself. Leaning into him, you let out a soft sigh, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “Thank you”.

His eyes cracked open, and he glanced down at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”, he asked, his tone curious but still laced with exhaustion.

“For everything”, you said simply, your fingers brushing over Aria’s tiny hand where it peeked out from the blanket. “For being here. For taking care of us. For… being you”.

Ben didn’t respond immediately, his green eyes studying your face like he was trying to figure out what to say. Finally, he shook his head slightly, his smirk returning, though it was softer this time. “Don’t get all fucking sappy on me now”, he muttered, though his hand tightened slightly around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

You ignored his teasing, your gaze steady as you whispered, “I love you, Ben”.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Yeah”, he said softly, his voice unusually gentle. “I love you too”.

The words, so simple but so weighty coming from him, settled between you like an anchor, grounding you in the moment. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as Aria shifted slightly in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her tiny lips.

As the quiet of the evening wrapped around you, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t experienced in months. Despite the chaos, the exhaustion, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, you knew one thing for sure: you were exactly where you were meant to be—with Ben and Aria, tangled together on the couch, your little family whole and complete.

Another week passed, and with it came the small victories that felt monumental after everything you’d been through. At just two weeks old, Aria was thriving, and you were finally starting to feel like yourself again—though not entirely. You were allowed to take on little tasks now, like showering by yourself and even changing Aria’s diaper, but Ben kept a close watch, ensuring you didn’t overdo it.

It was barely three in the morning when Aria’s cries echoed through the bedroom, pulling you from a light, restless sleep. Her wails were sharp and insistent, the unmistakable demand of a newborn needing something now.

You stirred, your body still heavy with exhaustion but far stronger than it had been days ago. Instinctively, you moved to sit up, but before you could even swing your legs over the side of the bed, Ben was already on his feet.

“I’ve got it”, he muttered, his voice rough with sleep as he rubbed a hand over his face. His green eyes were bleary, but his movements were steady as he crossed the room to the bassinet where Aria lay squirming and crying.

“Ben, I can—”, you began, but he shot you a look over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched in a way that silenced you instantly.

“Don’t start”, he said gruffly, leaning down to scoop Aria up with practiced ease. “You’re still on light duty. Stay fucking put”.

You sighed, sinking back against the pillows as you watched him cradle Aria against his chest. She was still crying, her tiny fists flailing as Ben swayed slightly, his large hand patting her back in a rhythm that was becoming second nature to him.

“Alright, chicken”, he murmured, his voice softer now as he paced slowly across the room. “What’s the deal this time? Hungry? Wet? Or just in the mood to torture me?”.

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled at the sight of him—shirtless, his hair mussed from sleep, and his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and adoration as he comforted your daughter. It was a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it made your heart swell every time.

“She probably needs a diaper change”, you said softly, your voice breaking the quiet hum of the moment.

Ben let out a low sigh, glancing down at the squirming bundle in his arms. “Of course she does”, he muttered. “Kid’s got perfect timing”.

He carried Aria over to the changing table, his movements surprisingly fluid for someone who looked like he’d barely slept in days. You couldn’t help but watch as he carefully laid her down, his large hands working with more patience than you’d ever seen from him.

“She’s lucky I’m a quick learner”, he grumbled, unfastening her tiny onesie with deft fingers. “I could’ve left all this to you, you know. But no, I’m here, in the trenches, dealing with the fucking chaos”.

“You love it”, you teased, your smile widening as you rested your head against the headboard.

Ben glanced at you, his smirk returning briefly before he turned back to Aria. “Yeah", he muttered under his breath, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. “Maybe I do”.

As he worked, Aria’s cries began to fade, replaced by soft little hiccups and whimpers. By the time he’d finished changing her, she was calm, her wide eyes blinking up at him as though she was sizing him up.

Ben picked her up again, cradling her against his chest as he walked back toward the bed. “There”, he said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and weariness. “Crisis averted. For now”.

You held out your arms, silently asking to hold her, and Ben hesitated for a moment before carefully placing her in your lap. “You sure you’re good?”, he asked, his tone serious despite the softness in his eyes.

You nodded, cradling Aria close as you brushed a kiss against her tiny forehead. “I’m good”, you said softly.

Ben had barely let his eyes close, his body finally relaxing into the bed, when the sound of Aria sucking on her pacifier like her life depended on it filled the room. The soft, rhythmic noise was unmistakable and persistent, her tiny mouth working furiously as though trying to send a very clear signal.

His eyes opened slowly, a low groan escaping him as he turned his head toward you and Aria. “She’s at it again”, he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. “What’s the deal this time?”.

You shifted slightly in bed, cradling Aria closer as you glanced down at her. Even in the dim light, you could see her little fists clenching, her face scrunching up as she worked the pacifier. “She’s hungry”, you murmured, already knowing the routine. “It’s time”.

Ben’s brow furrowed, but he sat up a little, glancing at you. “You sure you’re good for this? You just started back up yesterday. I can grab a bottle if you need me to”.

You smiled softly, touched by his concern, even as your body still felt the pull of exhaustion. “I’m okay”, you said quietly. “The doctor said nights are the best time for this. Less moving around for me”.

Ben still looked unconvinced, his green eyes scanning your face for any sign of strain. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Fine”, he said gruffly, though his tone carried a thread of warmth.

You carefully adjusted yourself, pulling down your bra with practiced movements, and gently guided Aria toward you. The instant she latched on, her tiny body relaxed, and the urgent sucking noises filled the quiet room. You exhaled softly, the familiar but still slightly uncomfortable sensation making you wince for just a moment.

Ben, sitting up beside you, watched the scene with a lazy smirk spreading across his face. His green eyes glinted in the dim light, and you knew exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

“Well”, he drawled, leaning back against the headboard with a smug expression, “if I’d known that’s how it works, I would’ve cried louder”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small laugh that bubbled out of you. “Ben”, you said, your tone half-scolding but mostly amused. “Really?”.

“What?”, he said, feigning innocence as his smirk widened. “I’m just saying, if I make the same noises, maybe I get the same treatment”.

"Oh shut up”, you grumbled, shooting Ben a halfhearted glare as you tried to focus on Aria. The smirk on his face only widened, and he let out a low snort of amusement.

“Touchy”, he muttered, his tone still dripping with teasing. “Guess that means no tits for me”.

Before you could retort, a sharp, unexpected pain made you gasp softly. Aria, without teeth but somehow managing to pinch your nipple with surprising force, had bitten down. “Ow, ow, ow”, you whined, shifting slightly to try to adjust her latch. “Aria, no, no biting”.

Ben’s eyebrows shot up, and his smirk morphed into something closer to a grin as he leaned closer. “She bit you?”, he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and amusement. “Already? Kid’s got a mean streak, huh?”.

You glared at him through the pain, wincing as you carefully pulled Aria off for a moment to reposition her. “It’s not funny, Ben”, you grumbled, though your flushed cheeks betrayed a touch of embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s a little funny”, he countered, leaning his head back against the headboard as he watched you.

As soon as you pulled Aria off to adjust her, her tiny face scrunched up, and within seconds, a loud wail echoed through the room. Her little fists flailed in protest, and her cries escalated as if she were starving and the world was ending simultaneously.

“Great”, you muttered, sighing as you tried to calm her down.

Ben chuckled, clearly amused by the dramatic display. “She’s got your attitude”, he said, smirking. “No patience, immediate outrage when she doesn’t get what she wants. Yeah, definitely takes after you”.

———————————

A/N: We're getting closer to saying goodbye... Please let me know what you think. 🥰

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer @urinternetmom @mochminnie @laaadygisbooornex3 @fallout-girl219 @whump-loverz

[mrsnancywheeler]

ivy // finnick odair x f. reader

masterlist

5.3k words

summary: you've loved finnick as long as you can remember, and he's loved you too, but he doesn't want the capitol to know that.

warnings: angst w/ a happy ending, friends to lovers, a slow burn to get together but not to catch feelings, underage drinking, some emotional cheating not on reader or finnick, teenagers being teenagers, finnick kind of being mean to some people, reader runs out of a wedding (her wedding), allusions to the hunger games and trafficking, no use of y/n, unedited

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The smell of the salty ocean air had always brought you comfort, happiness, anything you could have wished for. It made everything feel so worth it. Long days working, early mornings, a few hours in school, late nights trying to fill in with any freedom you could find, and the few hours of sleep crammed in. All of it was worth it to feel the breeze on your face once again.

“What are you doing out here alone?” A voice interrupted your solace, but it was a voice that you instantly recognized.

“Finnick, you’re back!” You turned to smile at him and his own smile only made you want to smile wider. He’d always had this inherent brightness to him, he was like the sun, always had been. Shining so brightly, providing so much inherent warmth.

“Yeah, you miss me?” Finnick lifted an eyebrow cockily before sitting rather unceremoniously in the sand beside you.

“In your dreams.” You give an all too playful, all too exaggerated eye roll, leaning back on your elbows.

“Oh you know it, honey.” He’s winking and you can’t help but actually roll your eyes this time. It’s been this way between the two of you as long as you can remember, the lighthearted flirting, the playful banter. It just felt so natural whenever you were with him. Finnick kept sitting up and you didn’t prop yourself up until he was putting a bottle in his mouth.

“Oh my god, is that-”

He chuckled, “You know it, snagged some extra bottles off the train when I was getting back a few days ago.” Finnick handed the bottle out and you eagerly took it. He always took a few days to himself when he got back from the Capitol, locked in that big, haunting house of his. Everyone knew better than to ask him about it, you always just counted it as part of his stay at the Capitol. So him “coming back,” was really whenever he reemerged in the streets of District 4.

This alcohol was always so much more pleasant then whatever concoctions people would make at parties, it burned, but not in a way that tasted like pure chemicals. No, this was much more enjoyable, and much more rare. “How rebellious of you, tsk tsk tsk.” You shook your head, tongue clicking as you handed the bottle back to him.

“Anything for you.” He flashed that winning smile that had everyone swooning, a smile you’d forced yourself to be immune to.

“Mmmm, I’m flattered for your crimes to be completely about me, and not you wanting to get shit faced on the beach.”

Finnick put the bottle in the sand between you two, “Of course not, I put wanting to see your shit faced on the beach way above my own needs.

“And what a gentleman you are!” You laughed, picking up the bottle and tilting it towards him before you took another drink of the bubbles.

You weren’t sure long the two of you had spent laughing about every stupid thing you could think of, but the bottle was almost gone, the sun setting. Finnick was picking up handfuls of sand and letting it sift through his fingers, you were letting the last few ways of sunlight warm your face.

“You know who I heard is desperately in love with you?” Your eyes are closed, smiling at the sun as it slowly fades away.

“You? Because I’ve known about that one for years.”

“No, asshole!” You sit up enough to shove him playfully and he’s laughing, which makes you laugh too, he’s so infectious. “Moira!”

Finnick takes what is probably the final sip from the bottle, “Who’s that?”

“You are such a dick, Finnick!” The smile hasn’t left your face though, in fact you’ve been feeling kind of floaty for a while now.

“What? I honestly don’t know, I swear! Should I?”

“Yes! You were flirting with her the other week, her parents run the, god, what do they run?”

“Don’t look at me!”

“Fuck, um, oysters! They do oysters, and you were talking to her at the market, flirting with her.”

“I was not flirting!”

“You were!” You copy his facial expressions, his defensive eyes, trying to suppress every giggle that wants to force its way out.

“That’s how I talk to everyone.”

“Well, I know that, but she doesn’t. Anyways, um…” You’re taking a second to rub your face, trying to regain your train of thought in your fuzzy brain.

“Somebody is shitfaced on the beach!” Finnick is poking at your nose.

“I am not! Oh my god, I’m not. I’m not!”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Oh, fuck off! As I was saying, Moira, thinks that the two of you are meant to be or something, that you’re gonna get married someday, I think she’s already planning out the wedding. So, I do need to know what I should be bringing, like what wedding gifts are you-”

“You think you are so funny.” Finnick rolls his eyes.

“You’re the one who’s laughing.”

“No, I am not!” He says, too defensively, and the two of you stare at each other in silence until you’re both cackling. By the time you’ve both stopped the sun is almost all the way down. A comfortable silence has settled between the two of you, “I’m never going to fall in love with anyone.” Finnick breaks the silence, throwing a pebble he found into the water. Your initial instinct is to say something snarky, but with one glance you can tell he’s being serious, the alcohol must have tricked him into being vulnerable. “I’m not going to let them hurt me through that.”

You don’t ask who ‘they’ are, you don’t really need him to say, you’d figured out for yourself what the odd cryptic things he’d mumble really meant. He didn’t need to open up like that if he didn’t want to, you could read him far too easily. “Never?” Your knees move up so you can lay your arms across them and prop up your head.

“Nope, never.” His gaze was trained steadily on the ocean before you both, but yours was on every small expression that could cross his face. You’d memorized every expression he could make.

You didn’t mention that he was only 16, an age that seemed far too young to claim to never love again when he would probably live 70 more years, a sad life to force himself into. He had his reasons though, even if he wouldn’t tell them to you, so you’d respect them. That’s what best friends are for. “Well, you better tell Moira the wedding is off, I feel like she might’ve already bought a dress though, so-”

There it is. He’s smiling again, and you’re successful. You have to make a pact to yourself too though, you can never love him anymore than you do right now, because you already love him far too much.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Don’t you dare!” You’re screaming through giggles, running away from the two boys trying to throw you into the ocean. They’re about to catch you when a very recognizable, honey-dripped voice is interrupting them.

“Don’t! It’s her birthday, Caspian just brought in a crate of white liquor.” Finnick says and the boys are off running to drink as much as they can before it runs out. As soon as they’ve moved though, Finnick is sweeping you up in his arms.

“Finnick!” You’re screeching instantly.

“What? You thought I was here to save you? Absolutely not, just wanted to do the honorary birthday girl splash myself!” He throws in some unnecessary spinning on his way to the water and you’re laughing, but not even trying to fight your way out of his arms, before being tossed into the shallow water.

You’re absolutely drenched when you sit up, and he’s trying to stifle his laughter. “You are evil, Finnick Odair! Absolutely evil.” It’s freezing, but in the best of ways, you love nights spent in the water. You brush your hands across your face, getting the water out of your eyes.

“You should’ve known better than to trust me.” His smirk is so unbelievably smug and you hate him for it, hate that you love it.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. At least help me up.” You reach out your arm and he sighs, taking it, so you quickly pull him down with you. It was far too easy, and you know he let you do it, but you laugh at him anyways. “What happened to knowing better? Takes to one to know one, I guess.” Before you can get another snarky remark in though he’s digging his fingers into your side, tickling you until you’re gasping for air, sides aching from laughter. “Fin, stop, stop it!” Splashing water at him to try and make him stop, but it does nothing.

He finally halts his actions when a rather annoyed voice is calling out to him, “Finnick!” You both look up to see Moira with her arms crossed, “You said you were only gonna be a minute!”

“Right, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, pointing at you with his free hand, “Found her!”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The way she says it is so icy it makes you want to shiver. “Come on, we should get inside, do cake and all that.”

“Yeah.” Finnick stands up, grabbing your hand to pull you up with him, and there’s a second where there’s a pause. Hand still in his as he looks at you, shining so angelic under the moonlight, he has to scold himself for it as he pulls his hand away. You scold yourself as well for even sensing a spark of something, he doesn’t want to fall in love, he won’t. So you need to be okay with that.

The walk back up to his house is quiet besides the sounds of seagulls, or the ocean waves crashing up and down the shore. You hate that you resent Moira, especially when you know she’s going to be let down just as you’ve been. Yet you are, he’s still your best friend, every moment you can have with him is so immensely precious. You don’t need anyone else hogging it up.

You’re shivering by the time you get inside of the house, still completely drenched, and the breeze hadn’t helped a bit. Finnick is quick to get you a towel the moment he looks at you, “Here you go, honey. Can’t have you getting hypothermic on me, especially on your birthday.” His hands rub up and down your arms, over the towel, trying to heat you up faster.

“Well whose fault would that be?” You jab back, but your voice is soft.

“Oh, I’ll make it up to you.” He clicks his tongue, moving a hand to softly move some of the wet hair that’s stuck to your face. His skin is somehow so warm even though he’d gotten just as soaked as you had. His thumb brushing across your face, looking into your eyes as he does it. Part of you hates him for this, he has to know what he’s doing, but you won’t tear yourself away. He’s addicting like that. His hand has just stayed still, holding the side of your face, and it’s as if neither of you can hear the rest of the party going on around you. It’s as if he’s forgotten himself to stare at you.

“Finnick, cake!” God, it’s so hard not to hate Moira nowadays. Her voice pries him away from you, out of the warmth and comfort of his touch.

“I’ve got it.” He still maintains enough eye contact though to show you the eye roll that’s pointed at her. Before he’s disappeared into the kitchen to grab said cake.

You’re sitting on the couch not long after that, fork pushing around your slice, as your eyes try not to bore into Moria’s head. Finnick is surrounded by a small group of people, leaning on the frame of a doorway, being his usual magnetic, sunshine self, and there she is. Draped all over him, laughing just a little too loudly at everything she says. It’s infuriating. You know you shouldn’t be jealous, you have no power over who does or doesn’t let that close to him, and you know he doesn’t love her. It’s still a bubbling anger though, one you try so hard to suppress, that forces itself forward, despite your own wishes. In fact, you beg it not to, but it persists. Why should she get to do that and think she’s so deserving of his love? You love him miles deeper than anybody else even knowing he’ll never love you the same. Someone is trying to talk to you, but you can’t hear a word they’re saying. Eventually you push yourself off the couch, leaving the plate, and are grabbing the last bottle of white liquor to go sit on the porch.

You’ve drunk at least half of the bottle of burning liquor when you hear the door opening behind you, “What’s wrong, honey?” Finnick is sitting right beside you, body heat already exerting off of him.

“Just needed some air.” You lie through your teeth and keep your eyes focused forward as you take another drink.

There’s a pause, he always knows when you’re lying, but he also knows how to read you the same way you’ve learned to read him. He knows better than to bring up why you’d choose to not be honest right now. “They’re looking for you to do gifts.”

You exhale, trying to breath out the negative emotions shrouding you. “I don’t need anything.” You say, finally looking at him.

“Sound the alarms, she’s 17 and too cool for the rest of us now.” He jokes, taking the bottle out of your hand to have a drink himself, shaking his head after gulping it down. “Remind me next time to smuggle more than I usually do, this is disgusting.”

You snort the smallest bit as you look down to the wooden porch, picking at it, when the door is opening again, and it’s that last voice you want to hear. “Finnick, what are you doing?” You are involuntarily grimacing at the sound of her voice, and you really know you shouldn’t, but jealousy isn’t a demon you fight off well.

“Moira?” Finnick isn’t even turning behind him.

“What?” She tries to sound somewhat sweet through the exasperated tone, honestly you’d be annoyed too if you were her, but you’re not.

“Fuck off, bother someone who cares.” He takes another drink from the bottle, and you know how much that probably hurt her, but you’re so glad she’s gone, so glad it was him who said something. Plus, isn’t this what being a teenager is supposed to be like?

“You’re such an asshole.” You say once the door has shut again, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling.

“You were jealous.” Finnick shrugs, taking yet another sip before trying to pass the bottle back to you, but you’re too stunned to speak, let alone grab it back. “What?” He chuckles, giving a cheeky smile.

“I was not!” You argue back when you’ve finally been able to regain some speech, feeling your cheeks burning up. Grabbing the bottle from his hand to chug some of the liquor down.

“I know you were, you don’t have to lie about it, it’s fine. She’s gone now.” He’s drunk, that much is abundantly clear. This is the sort of stuff that’s always remained unsaid between the two of you.

“You don’t need to do that for me.” You finally let yourself react, stop being defensive. There’s no point in hiding from a truth that you both know. It’s so mean of him though, to know you love him yet carry on playing with you as he does. Is it worse for you to let him?

“Not like her and I were going anywhere, anyways.” He cocks his head to the side.

“You knew what she wanted, Finnick, don’t be cruel.” You finish the rest of the bottle and stare into the dark night before you.

“Do you think I’m cruel?” Finnick’s voice feels so vulnerable, letting a small piece of that side of him break through.

You sigh, and you do want to reassure him, but when he’s being like this it feels more harmful to lie to him, so you divert, “Don’t think twice, it’s alright.” He might not be cruel, but that doesn’t mean that’s not how you feel deep down. He looks down at the ground, nodding, frowning a little, “Fin-” You instantly want to take it back, you’re not trying to hurt him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry.” He turns his head to look at you, and you avert your gaze forward again before standing suddenly.

“We should go inside, she’s right, we’re keeping everyone waiting.” You go to turn towards the door.

“Honey.” He’s grabbing your arm and you turn around to look at him, trying to ignore the way his touch tingles up the rest of your arm. You look at him expectantly and suddenly his lips are pressed to yours. He tastes like you’d imagined he would, like honey and saltwater. This only furthers the proof that he can’t help but be somewhat cruel, you know this will change nothing, and yet you can’t pull away. So you kiss him back, it’s really so brief, and you can taste the alcohol on both of your breaths as well, but this is the only time this can ever happen so you let it. When he finally pulls away he just rests his forehead against yours and you notice that he’s crying. So you don’t say a thing, just let him. He presses another kiss to your forehead when he’s finally been able to force the tears away, and it’s time to head back inside. With the silent acceptance that neither of you will talk about this ever again, and you keep to that promise.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I hate him.” Finnick remarks, throwing a random rock he found into the waves.

“Well, it’s a good thing you're not the one dating him then, isn’t it?” You stretch your arms out to let the wind fully engulf your body.

Finnick glowers at you, “I should have some say, you’re my best friend, I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you looking out for me, Finnick!” You say it too harshly and your laugh is much too incredulous for either of your tastes. “Sorry. Finn, I know you mean well.”

“Then just listen to me, not him, okay? Anyone, but him.” He’s turning to you, pleading, grabbing your hands in the warmth of his.

“Finnick, you said the same thing about Irving-” He’s about to cut you off with some excuse, but you don’t let him, “And Malik, you can’t do it to Lir too!”

“Don’t we have veto power? Like, with Moira!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Finnick, and it was two years ago! We’ve grown up and I have let you veto and veto, but Finnick, I- I don’t want to be alone forever!” You knew eventually this conversation would have to be had, especially now, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“You’re not alone, you’re never going to be alone.” Finnick is letting go of one of your hands to cradle your head and you don’t know why you let him when you should try to pull away.

“You know what I mean.” He does, you both do, and the waves crash as the words settle into the recesses of each of your brains. Finally he’s letting go of you completely, rubbing his face, trying to hide his emotions somehow. “Finnick, listen…” He looks up at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow in a way that feels somewhat scathing, but you have to brave it. Despite the fact that you can feel your heart beating out of your chest and that you are completely sick to your stomach, “Lir and I, we’re, we’re, um, fuck, Finnick, Lir and I are getting married.”

Whatever he expected you to say it most certainly wasn’t that and his reaction makes it seem like you’ve just shot him in the chest. You so desperately want to take it back, but you know that you can’t. You have to move on, you can’t let your life be dedicated to wishing for a love that he’ll never commit to giving you. Then you’re shocked because he’s laughing, sliding himself back into his cocky persona.

“Honey, you’re 19. This is a life commitment, don’t act out like this.” The idea that you’re ‘acting out’ makes you angrier than you’ve ever been with him in your life.

“Finnick, you know better than anyone that someone’s life can be gone like that.” You snap your fingers, “I want to live my life!”

He nods, angrily, swallowing, “So, you love him?”

“He loves me.”

This time Finnick’s laugh is cold, biting, “And that’s fair to him, how? Wow, I’d expect more from you, honey-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” The way you say it makes him still, he’s never seen you like this before, never heard your voice be so rigid. “I never said it was fair, do you think I feel like I’m doing the right thing? Because I don’t. Fuck, it keeps me up at night, I know, he deserves better, I fucking know that. And it’s so selfish, but what about me?” The tears have started slipping down your face before you can stop them, it’s like you’re trying to choke on them. “I want to be loved, really, truly loved. And maybe it will haunt me for the rest of my days, but it’s the only thing I have ever really wanted.” You take a second to let yourself breath, to wipe some of the tears away, “Finnick, I have never pushed you, or asked you, I have done exactly what you wanted because I respect your decision. You don’t even have to tell me why, you never do, but if I can’t be with the person who I love, why can’t you let me have this?”

You’ve finally calmed down your tears and your breathing has become steady once again, and Finnick is nodding slowly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re not selfish for that.” He finally says.

“Thank you.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The soft fabric of the dress is so comforting on your skin, not itchy like you’d expect a wedding dress to be. No, it’s flowy and the wind is sure to make it billow around you. One of your bridesmaids, Nerissa, is weaving flowers into your hair with the seashells that had been so carefully attached to the little pins. As always, the sound of the ocean waves through the open window relaxes any nerves that tried to approach.

“You look beautiful.” Finnick’s voice startles you and you smile at him in the mirror.

“Finnick! What are you doing here?” You ask and Nerissa tries to stick in one final pin.

“I know technically I shouldn’t sneak in before it starts, but I have something for you.” He’s got a twinkle in his eye as he approaches, and you can’t not smile back at him. Nerissa moves and suddenly he’s standing beside you, carefully moving your hair out of the way. Finnick adjusts a necklace onto your neck, glistening pearls, you notice they’re blue, the rarest color.

“Oh, Finn.” Your fingers trace across them as he clasps the necklace together/

“I got them for you last time I was in the Capitol, made me think of you.” His face is then right next to yours, warm cheek pressed to yours, “Something new and something blue.” He’s got that award-winning, cheeky smile, but there’s something sad in his eyes that makes you sad too.

“Thank you.” You turn to actually face him and say the words so softly, even though you know you shouldn’t, like you’re trying to let him know that you do still love him. Finnick looks at you, smirk turning into a soft smile.

“Of course, honey.” A nickname he definitely shouldn’t be using, but you don’t care, and he raises his hand to brush a stray hair behind your ear. His burning touch is so comforting, and yet it unearths all the anxiety about what you’re doing, all the anxiety you’ve been trying to push down. Suddenly he seems to realize what he’s doing and pulls his hand away, which you accidentally chase after. “You really do make the most beautiful bride.” Finnick straightens himself and stands up, about to walk out, “Oh, and I got you another gift, out on the table, a proper gift. And, I snuck some good bottles of champagne out onto the table.” He smiles and you can’t resist smiling and chuckling back at him.

“Thank you.” You watch him go so fondly, and then have to shake yourself off a bit. You need to remember what you’re about to do, why, you can’t get distracted. You want him so bad, but he can’t be the one you need, it’s not him.

That’s the mantra you repeat to yourself when you’re finally about to walk down the aisle. You’re so thankful that it’s on the beach, desperately wishing for the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean, the feeling of its misty breeze to give you the same comfort it always does, but it refuses. The churning of your stomach refuses to subside as you clutch onto the arm of your father to try and not fall, as your feet are starting to feel resistant. This happens to every bride though, right? Nerves are common, so is the feeling of cold feet, but you can do this. You have to do this. It’s the closest thing you’re ever going to have to the life you really want, to who you really want.

You feel almost like you’re out of your body as you walk down the seemingly infinite aisle. Lir is smiling so sweetly, he is so sweet, with his bright blue eyes, the curl of his brown hair, but you can’t stop your brain from filling all those attributes in for a sea green pigment instead, or waves of blonde. You’re scared your bouquet might break from how tight your fingernails are crushing into it. Everything feels heavy, you can’t even hear the waves anymore, just the rapid beat of your heart. You wonder if you look as terrified as you feel, that’s the last thing you need. Maybe it does just look like nerves though, if you’re really lucky.

When you finally reach the end, you’re trying not to visibly hyperventilate, and as your father lets go of you to sit down you try to look at him, to ask for some sort of help, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you okay?” Lir asks you quietly, brow furrowed. You don’t know why you nod, you do, because you need this, but you know you shouldn’t. You’ve never felt more trapped even if it’s a cage of your own making. “You look stunning.” He whispers before looking back at the officiant who is going on about something. You try to smile, but your eyes dart around the audience, looking for someone they most definitely shouldn’t be looking for. “I’ve never seen that necklace before-” Lir says something else, but you don’t hear it, your fingers trace up to it, feeling each bump.

Every movement, even your breathing suddenly freezes, “I’m so sorry.” You quickly blurt out, staring at Lir, and you really do feel bad, but that guilt isn’t nearly as terrible as the way you feel like you might suffocate. Everything has stopped, even the drone of the officiant, and you are so aware of everyone’s confused eyes being on you, so you make a run for it. Dropping the bouquet and suddenly you feel freer than a bird.

The ocean air is whipping around you and you are getting as far as you can away from all of it. Ripping off your sandals as you go, just letting your feet feel the coarse sand of the beach. Your cheeks feel frozen from the mist hitting them so harshly, but it makes you feel so alive. Most of the flowers and pins of seashells have probably been flung around the ground, the path of you. You keep running until you can’t breathe anymore, until your sides are burning and aching in the best of ways, a fire that burns so perfectly. Letting yourself stop in the water, it wades up to your knees, and you like the dress better that way too. This is what is real.

“Fuck!” You exclaim to no one but yourself as you stare at the sky, spinning in the water. Feeling the sun beat down on you, laughing at yourself, at everything, at nothing in particular.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Suddenly Finnick’s grabbing your arms, steadying you, his cheeks are bright red and you can tell he was running after you. “If it’s just nerves, he’ll understand, everyone will, you can go back, honey.” You’re smiling as you shake your head and he’s furrowing his brow in confusion. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“Oh my god, no! I thought I did, but no.” You press a hand to your forehead, and then to his chest, “And don’t think this is me trying to make you do something that you don’t want, Finn. It’s not, I respect you too much for that, I just, I thought that I needed that, that I needed someone to love me, but I can’t do that to someone. I can’t just hope to love him eventually because that’s just not going to happen, I can’t give up the only thing that might let me.”

Finnick still looks confused as you maintain your smile, your breathing finally allowing itself to go back to normal, “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes! I’ll be an old maid by the sea, I don’t care, I can’t do it!”

Finnick takes a deep breath and something about the way he does it just tells you exactly what he’s going to say, “Honey, I-”

“I know, Fin, I’ve always known, but I also know you have your reasons for what you do. It’s enough for me to just know.”

He looks at you, like he’s thinking just for a second, “No it’s not.”

“What?”

“That’s not enough. It’s not enough for you, and it’s definitely not enough for me. They can’t have all of me! Maybe it’s selfish, but I want this one thing for myself.”

“You don’t have to say it just because I-”

“I’m not! I almost let you marry another man and I realized, it wasn’t worth it. If you want this, and I want this, let’s just do it. I’ll figure everything else out, just, you should marry me. Please.”

The shock almost stops you from doing anything at all, but the excitement far overcomes that. You pull him in, kiss him, and his hands find your face. Melting into his touch, and never had life felt so right. Wind billowing around, sun shining down, and come what may, at least you have each other.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As always, thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are always much appreciated. I love you all, and I hope you enjoyed this, I really enjoyed writing it, and I cried while I did 💋

[shigarakisstalker]

short editions

aged up izuku x reader

He loved your soft features.

Your pretty hair that he could play with for days on end, your eyes that told so many stories, and you soft, pretty skin.

Easy to say Izuku absolutely adored you. He practically worshiped the grounded you walked on. Constantly telling his friends about his pretty girl, and making sure the media knew that he indeed wasn’t single. Your identity remained a secret due to privacy reasons but one thing that they did know is that Deku loved his girl.

And when he comes home to you he shows you just that.

One night he came home, absolutely filthy and bloodied up after a villain attack. He was beat and worn from the day. By the time he got home, it was well past midnight. He expected you to be asleep, he warned you he’d ben late and to not wait up for him.

Until his ears were met with your pretty, angelic voice. “Izuku? Is that you?” God, it was like music to his ears. After all the bullshit from the day he finally could come home to you.

Part of him felt bad keeping you up, but the other part was happy to see you.

“Yes honey, I’m here.” His tired, deep voice spoke from the front door. “You didn’t have to wait up for me baby, I told you Id be late.”

His dull eyes sparkled at the sight of you. Your hair in a little messy bun and your body covered in his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. No matter what you wore or how you looked, he absolutely adored you. To him, you were the most beautiful girl out there. He pitied every other girl out there because none of them could compare to you in his eyes.

“You know I cant sleep knowing your out there fighting. It makes me anxious.” You slowly walked up to him, bringing him down to hug his neck. He grabbed your waist in return and sunk into you. You could tell he was tired from the day and the villain he fought was probably one of the hardest he fought.

“Let’s go get you showered my Izu.” You grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom.

He silently stripped as you ran the shower. He then came up behind you and held your waist, “Wanna join me?”

“Hm maybe tomorrow, you need rest.”

He shook his head repeating a ‘no, no, no’, “We don’t have to do anything, I just don’t wanna be away from you.”

You nodded your head, “Okay, let me get undressed. Go ahead and hop in.”

After you two showered you got into some of his clothes again, an oversized t-shirt and his especially baggy sweatpants.

He loved you like this. So carelessly beautiful. Sure, he thought you were pretty all dolled up too. But something about you not even needing anything to he so breathtaking had him in a chokehold.

“Let’s get to bed Izu.” And he shortly followed.

Climbing in the bed, the two of you cuddled up next to each other. He laid his head on your chest as you played with his hair.

It wasn’t too long before you could hear soft snoring coming from the boy, it was obvious exhaustion overtook him from the minute he stepped through the door.

“Goodnight, Izu.”

A/n

this is unedited and i’m tired sorryyyyy

[princessmaeee]

Hi!!! May I request a GD x Fem!Reader, inspired by the skit where he played a villain/mob boss. Reader is there with him and the guys at the variety show, enjoying herself as she watches the guys play the silly games and loving how adorable her Ji-Yong is. But then she sees him come out and act all tough, her breath catches. Just when she thinks her bf can’t get any hotter. The others see her reaction and tease her relentlessly but she’s only got eyes for her man and his incredibly acting skills. How does he react when he learns that she’s all flustered by him acting all tough & possessive?

Villains Are Hots

Author's note : Hiii Sweety, thank you for the Request And sorry for the Wait ! I tried to search for G-Dragon Acting as villain. I found things, but I'm not sure If what I came with was exaclty what you wanted but I did my best ! I hope You will Enjoy it ! ♥

You were invited to a Variety show with all the other members of Big Bang and also Taeyang’s Wife, Min Hyo-Rin. The public knows you and the Leader, Ji Yong, are dating for almost a Year now and GD publicly said some weeks ago how serious this relationship is. You were more than happy he finally told you about you publicly. You didn’t rush him or even ask him this before, cause You knew how problematic it could’ve been if his fan reacted badly to the news, but happily for both of you, everyone accepted it, or almost everyone. The most recurrent criticism was about you not being an idol and just being a nobody, but you didn’t care and so did Ji Yong.

It was your first ever Tv appearance and you were sort of nervous, especially since none of the staff told you what’s gonna be about, but Hyo Rin seemed just as confused as you. She was in this industry for years and no one wanted to tell her what the show was going to be about.

When the animator called your name, you made your way on stage to your seat and the animator had a little conversation with you to introduce you a little bit more to the audience.

«-So, apparently you and G-Dragon have been dating for a moment. How is it to date a legend like him ? »

You blushed and gave a look to Hyo-Rin. You never did this before so you kinda start to feel anxious. You don’t want to say something wrong.

«-Oh, it’s … nice. I mean Ji Yong is really adorable and caring. He’s also really hard working. Sometimes I have to remind him to eat or to go sleep or even just get some rest. Otherwise he will literally work 24/24h. -And tell me how you met ? -It was three years ago. I had an Internship at YG for my work and I accidentally bumped into him on my first day. Well, in fact he bumped into me. I had an iced coffee in my hand so the impact made me spill it all over my clothes. Ji Yong apologized many times and got me a new outfit and also bought me another coffee. It was really sweet of him.-Yeah, that’s really kind. And did you recognise him when you bumped into each other ? -Not at all, I was too anxious, I barely had slept the night before so I didn’t pay attention. -And when you realised it, How did you react ? »

The animator continued to ask you questions until they switched to Hyo Rin, asking her about her relationship with Taeyang. Since she’s also an artist, she felt more comfortable with the questions. She was used to it, not like you. When question time was over, the animator introduced Big Bang and they appeared on stage, singing and dancing on their last released song. It was the first time you saw Your boyfriend performing live. You saw a lot of videos but never the live one. It made your heart beat faster and you smiled more as some sparkles lightened up in your eyes.

When they finished singing, it took place on the other side of the stage and the Animator started asking them questions about their dating life and for Taeyang and GD how they felt about having their partner on the stage today. GD smiled and answered ;

«-I’m happy she can finally see this other part of me. Performing is a big part of my life and of who I am, so having her there to see me live gives me motivation to give 110% of myself. »

You blushed and hid your face with your hand, smiling more. 

«-Congrat, GD, you made her blush, teased Taeyang. -Don’t say too much, she's gonna run away, continued Daesung. -Oh but you didn’t notice, but the camera did, when you were performing, how she reacted. Let’s watch Y/N reaction. »

On the big screen behind you, your face appeared and you could see your reaction wile looking at your boyfriend who was performing. You enjoyed it. As you look at your own reaction, you hide your face again in your hands, more embarrassed.

«-How are you feeling Y/N ? Asked the animator. -I don’t know. I’m not used to seeing myself on such a big screen. It’s kinda intimidating. -Keep an eye on her, I don’t think she’ll be ready for what’s next, said You boyfriend, with a big, to the animator.»

You gave him a confused look.

«-What have you planned ? You asked him.»

He just smiled at you and gave no answer. While the time off, you go back backstage. Ji yong passed close to you and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek before whispering in your ear.

«-You did an amazing job on stage, it seems really Natural for you. »

You smiled, happy to have given a good performance only by being yourself. You didn’t have time to answer Ji yong, he already left to go into the changing room with the other members. 

When you came back to the stage, the decor had changed. You were more and more confused about what will happen next. The staff showed you where to sit and you did. When the show restarted, the animator asked you.

«-So Y/N who’s your favorite Villain in any movies you have seen before, and Why ? -I think it’s ( Favorit’s villain name ) but I liked a lot more of the villains. Sometimes they’re not pure evil, they are just really broken. But also because I think they all have a lot of charisma. -That’s what we heard and that’s why we prepared a little sketch, with actors you will like of the ( scene name of villain you like ) from ( your favorite movie ) »

You started to make connections in your head and when the scene started, you saw your boyfriend, dressed with clothes who looked a lot like ( favorite villain name ) playing your favorite scene. You already love the character so much, but seeing your adorable Ji Yong as this evil character, playing like a pro, saying all hsi verses, it made your heart race more. You felt your cheeks becoming hot. For a moment you forget you were on stage with cameras, you just looked at GD performing with such admiration. Now you could definitely tell the difference between G-Dragon, the performer and Ji Yong, your adorable boyfriend. You can also say how much you like them both. 

Whe is performance were over, the animator looked at you and asked you something, but you didn’t pay attention, you eyes were still on your boyfriend who looked at you with a little smirk. Fuck that was hot.

«-I think you broke her, T.O.P said to his leader, when he noticed you didn’t answer the question the animator asked you. »

Your face became more red as you came back to reality, asking again what the question was.

«-What did you think of this little performance ? -It was… »

You looked at GD again and smiled at him.

«-It was hotter than the original. I’m glad to have such a talented Boyfriend. »

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Abu Dhabi GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

Returning to the paddock in the morning, I made my way over to Max, my heart swelling with a mixture of excitement and happiness for him. As I approached him, I couldn’t help but notice the proud smile on his face, a grin that could light up the whole paddock. It wasn’t just the usual confidence I’d grown accustomed to seeing on him—it was something deeper, something more personal. He’d recently announced that he was going to be a father, and it was clear that the news had changed him.

“Max,” I called out, a grin pulling at the corners of my lips.

He turned toward me, his eyes brightening when he saw me approaching. “Hey, hey! You know, I was just waiting for you to come over. You’re one of the few people I’m actually letting say congrats first,” he teased, pulling me into a brief hug.

“I’ll take that as a big compliment,” I joked, my smile wide. “Congratulations, though. I know how big of a deal this is for you.”

“Thanks. It’s... well, it’s everything,” he said, his voice softening just for a moment. Then, as if the weight of his words hit him, he gave a playful shrug. “Guess it’s a whole new chapter, huh?”

“Definitely. I’m so happy for you, Max. You’re going to be an amazing dad.” I could feel my heart swell with warmth as I said it. He deserved all the happiness in the world, and knowing that he was about to experience this new chapter of life brought a contentment I hadn’t realized I needed.

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little nervous. But hey, if I can handle a racecar, I can handle another little one, right?”

“Of course,” I chuckled, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “But seriously, you’ve got this. Just look how well you have done with P so far.”

I hung around for a bit longer, chatting with a few other drivers, congratulating them on their season’s success and the upcoming race. It was a strange feeling, moving through these conversations now. After everything that had happened, after the battle I’d fought, it felt like I had finally found a space where I truly belonged. I was part of this grid, not just as a competitor but as a person they respected. And that made all the difference.

Eventually, I excused myself from the small group and made my way to my driver’s room. The quiet space felt like a refuge, a place where I could let my thoughts settle and regain my focus before the next race.

Once inside, I took a deep breath, running my hands over the smooth surface of my helmet bag. It felt like a lifetime ago when I first started designing this helmet, trying to find the perfect way to express everything I was feeling, everything I had been through.

With a slow, deliberate motion, I unzipped the bag. The familiar smell of paint and resin greeted me, mixed with a slight trace of rubber from the tracks I’d raced on. Inside, my end-of-season helmet sat, waiting for me.

I lifted it out carefully, like it was a treasure, and set it gently on the desk. News design had always been personal, this time it was a mix of everything that had defined my season. The white background was a stark contrast to the intricate tiger stripes that adorned the sides. They weren’t just any stripes—each one was purposeful, a symbol of the tracks I’d conquered, the battles I’d fought, and the victories that had come from resilience.

Some of the stripes were just outlines, tracing the shape of the tiger’s face, while others filled in fully, their bold black lines representing the fierceness I had found in myself. The flags from each track where I’d finished first were woven into the design, carefully placed within the outline stripes. It was my way of paying homage to the races that had defined me this year—the places that had witnessed my comeback, the moments when I’d pushed through my hardest battles.

But it wasn’t just about the victories. There was a blank space at the top of the helmet, an empty void. Through it, the words “My Future is Racing” stood in bold letters, the promise of what lay ahead, what I was still striving for. It was my reminder that this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

And then, on the back, there was the large shadow of a gold turtle, the image filling the space with its quiet strength. The turtle, which had become something of a personal symbol for me over the last few months, sat there as a testament to my journey. Slow, steady, but always moving forward. Always evolving. But most importantly it was a symbol of my mother who would always be with me. 

I ran my fingers over the intricate design, feeling the raised edges where the paint had hardened, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something close to peace. This helmet wasn’t just a piece of equipment—it was my story. Every stripe, every detail, every word and image had been a part of me, and now, it felt like it was ready to tell the world who I had become.

I stood there for a while, staring at it, letting the weight of the season settle on me. I had done it. I had survived. And now, I was stronger.

I reached over and grabbed the helmet again, holding it close to my chest for a moment. I had a race to prepare for. But more than that, I had a future that was just beginning, and I was ready to face it, no matter what came next.

The tension was palpable in the paddock as the grid lined up for the final race of the season. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the track, and the sound of engines roaring to life reverberated through the air. There was something almost electrifying about this race, as if the entire season had been building toward this moment. I could feel my pulse quickening, the adrenaline already starting to course through me. This was it—my final chance to prove to everyone, and more importantly to myself, that I belonged here.

As I sat in the cockpit of my car, I could hear the roar of the engines around me, but all I could focus on was the task at hand. The past was behind me; this race was a clean slate. I had nothing to prove to anyone but myself. I was ready. The lights went out, and we were off.

The first lap was a blur of motion, tire screeching, cars jostling for position. I rocketed off the line, weaving through the pack, feeling the g-forces pushing me back into my seat as I hit the first few corners. Every instinct I had honed this season kicked into overdrive, and I could feel the momentum building within me. I was so in the zone that I barely noticed the chaos unfolding ahead.

Max Verstappen and Oscar Piastri, two cars ahead of me, were engaged in a fierce battle for position when disaster struck. As they approached a tight corner, their cars locked wheels and slid out of control. Max’s car bumped into Oscar’s, sending both of them into a spin. It was like time slowed down as I saw them coming toward me, but in a split-second decision, I veered to the right, avoiding the wreckage by inches. My heart skipped a beat, but my focus never wavered. I couldn’t let this moment slip away from me.

With the first lap behind me, the adrenaline surged even higher. I was in the midst of the battle now, dodging traffic, threading the needle between cars, and making every pass count. I could feel every turn in my bones, the weight of each corner, the rush of acceleration on the straights. This was what I lived for. This was where I thrived.

The laps ticked by, each one blurring into the next as I pushed harder and harder. I was in P5 by the midway point, but the top four were just within reach. Lando Norris was in P3, looking steady as ever, and I could see Carlos Sainz just ahead in P2. But the car beneath me was coming alive, responding to every flick of my steering wheel. I knew I could do this.

With every corner, I reeled in the pack. I was finding my rhythm, my flow. I overtook car after car, my confidence growing with every successful pass. The crowd was roaring, their cheers reaching my ears even through the helmet, spurring me on. I pushed harder, trusting in the car, trusting in myself.

By lap 50, I had made my way into P2. Lando was just ahead of me, and though he was a formidable competitor, I could see the slightest hint of pressure in his driving. I wasn’t going to hold back now. The finish line was within reach, and all I had to do was give it everything I had.

As I came up behind him on the penultimate lap, I could hear his radio crackling with instructions, the team urging him to keep his pace steady. But I wasn’t going to let up. I lined up my move, staying tight behind him as we approached the final stretch. My heart was pounding in my chest, my hands steady on the wheel, my mind laser-focused. I had one chance.

With a burst of speed, I pulled out from behind him on the final straight, going for the inside line as we approached the final corner. My tires screamed against the tarmac, and I felt the car sliding slightly, but I held it together, cutting across the apex with precision. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as I passed Lando and shot into the lead.

Crossing the finish line in P1 was like nothing I had ever experienced before. The world seemed to come to a halt as I threw my fist up in victory, my heart hammering in my chest. I had done it. I had won my final Grand Prix of the season.

Lando came in right behind me in P2, and Carlos Sainz rounded out the podium in P3. The sound of the engines dying down was replaced by the roar of the crowd, their cheers shaking the very foundation of the circuit. The celebration was already underway, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming relief. This was my moment. This was what I had fought for.

I climbed out of the car, my hands shaking from the sheer intensity of it all. I stood on the halo, the crowd erupting into cheers. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t until I saw the camera flashes and the thousands of fans shouting my name that I realized what this victory meant. 

Landon reached me with a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Without saying a word, he handed me my new all-black cowboy hat. It wasn’t just any hat; this one had been decorated with Aston Martin green gemstones, perfectly matching the team’s gear. The contrast of the black hat with the vibrant green accents made it stand out, almost like it had its own presence.

I balanced the hat carefully on my helmet, trying not to mess up the celebratory moment. My fingers were still buzzing from the victory, but I felt a surge of joy when I grabbed the flag from Landon. The US flag. It was tied tightly to a pole, and as I waved it above my head, the crowd's energy seemed to intensify. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment from every angle, and I took a few seconds to savor the moment. This was my victory, and I was going to share it with everyone who had believed in me.

As the flashes slowed, I took the flag off the pole, the fabric still rippling in the wind, and handed it back to Landon. He smiled, nodding in approval, and I felt a sense of pride wash over me. But the real fun came next.

With a cheeky grin, I jumped off of the car, the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. I unfurled the flag and draped it around myself like a cape, letting it fall over my shoulders as if I were some hero emerging from a battle. The colors of the flag were vivid and bold against the backdrop of the circuit, and I twirled a little, letting the fabric catch the breeze.

Lando came over first while I was removing my helmet and balaclava, his smile wide as he clapped me on the back. “You did it! You really did it!”

I grinned, barely able to contain my excitement. I placed the cowboy hat back on my head before responding sarcastically. “Yeah sure, I won a race again, But you my friend just won the constructors team championship!” I said, turning to give him a quick hug yet unable to contain my adrenaline as I bounced a little.

Finally we were on the podium and handed our awards. The US national Anthem echoed through the circuit before finally ending as the more exciting part came. 

Carlos and I had whispered a small plan to each other beforehand. I was super excited to put our plan into action. I grabbed the bottle, shaking it up with a grin, and before Lando could even react, I drenched him in champagne just as Carlos did the same from my left. His laughter echoed through the air as I sprayed him from head to toe, the bubbles foaming up as he tried to shield himself. “You look great in champagne, Lando!” I laughed, my heart light with joy. 

The crowd was still roaring, but there was something more important in that moment—the team had done it. McLaren had finally taken home the Constructors’ Championship, and Lando was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I can’t believe we finally did it!” he shouted, wrapping me in another hug. I laughed and quickly responded. “I am so proud of you and Oscar for finishing the fight so strong!”

Carlos joined the hug soon after, a proud smile on his face as we celebrated together. The atmosphere was electric, a mix of excitement, joy, and pride. This was what it was all about. It wasn’t just the individual victories—it was the team effort, the long road we had all traveled to get here.

I stood there, on the top step of the podium, looking out over the sea of fans who had witnessed the culmination of my rookie season. I had fought for this, and now, I was holding the trophy in my hands. It felt like the start of something incredible, the beginning of a journey that I couldn’t wait to continue.

But for now, I took a moment to let it all sink in. The cheers, the champagne, the podium—all of it. I had earned this. This was my victory, and it was only the beginning.

The post-race interview began, the energy in the room was electric. The top three finishers—Lando, Carlos, and me—sat side by side, basking in the glow of the race's excitement. The usual round of questions came through: How did you feel about the race? What was going through your mind during those final laps? It was light, easy stuff, designed to keep the mood celebratory.

But then, as expected, the big question came. The interviewer, a woman with a big smile and an even bigger curiosity, turned to me with a gleam in her eye.

"So," she began, "your helmet today was an interesting touch, hinting at something big for your future in racing. Any chance you’d like to share what’s next for you?"

The question hung in the air, and I could feel the weight of it. My eyes flicked over to my PR manager, who was standing off to the side, looking calm but focused. She gave a subtle nod, signaling that it was time.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself for the big reveal. "Yes," I said, the word hanging in the air as my heart raced. "I’ve signed a contract with Cadillac for 2026. I’ll be joining them when they enter the grid, but for the 2025 season, I’ll be loaned out to VCARB to help them finish strong in these current regulations before the big changes come. I’ll be working with them to help find the places they may want to improve while also helping train a driver they are thinking about making their reserve or 2026 driver. I can’t tell you more than that when it comes to VCARB as I don’t even know who they are basically asking me to mentor or what role I am mentoring him to do best.” That was a lie of course but I loved a little mystery and I am sure their media tema would love to keep some mystery still. “This is a huge step forward in my career, and I’m incredibly excited about what’s to come."

The moment I finished speaking, I felt a rush of emotions. There was relief in finally being able to share this chapter of my story, but there was also something else—hope, excitement, and pride.

Carlos, sitting next to me, let out a loud, joyous laugh. "Aha! That’s amazing!" he exclaimed, his usual smooth confidence replaced by genuine enthusiasm. "I’m so glad to hear that you’ll still be around! You’ve been a fierce competitor, and it’s going to be even better having you on the grid next season."

Lando, sitting on the other side of me, gave me a playful shove. "I knew you weren’t going anywhere," he teased, a grin on his face. "I would’ve missed you too much. Who else am I going to mess with during race weekends?"

I laughed, appreciating the lightheartedness they brought into the moment. "Well, now you have even more reason to train hard, huh?" I replied, smiling warmly at Lando who looked confused before I responded again. “Can’t mess with me if you aren’t on my level.” This caused laughs to erupt around the room, the most noticeably being Lando who covered his face in embarrassment. 

"But seriously," Lando added, his voice softening just a little, "I’m really happy for you. You deserve this. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you next season."

Carlos nodded in agreement, his smile genuine. "You’re going to be a real asset to VCARB. We all know how tough it’s been for them, but with you there? They’ll definitely be making waves. And then, in 2026 with Cadillac, you’ll be unstoppable."

I smiled at both of them, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie. "Thanks, guys," I said, my heart full of gratitude. "Having you both here makes all of this even more special. You’ve been such great friends, and I couldn’t have asked for better people to share this journey with."

The interviewer smiled, clearly impressed by the camaraderie among us. "Sounds like the grid is about to get a lot more exciting with you around, huh?" I nodded, feeling the excitement bubbling up once again. "Definitely. It’s going to be a wild ride, but I’m ready for it. And I can’t wait to see how everything unfolds."

As the interview wrapped up and we stood to leave, Lando gave me a quick side hug. "See you out there, future Cadillac champion," he joked, winking at me.

Carlos gave me a fist bump, his eyes filled with respect. "We’ll be seeing you, no doubt. And you better bring that fire to the grid next season." The room seemed to buzz with energy as I sat smiling, the weight of the future feeling lighter now that I’d shared it with everyone. 

The night was alive with energy, the celebrations wild and unrestrained as the entire paddock let loose. The adrenaline from the race still pumping through my veins, I couldn’t help but feel free, the weight of the past season finally starting to lift off my shoulders. People were cheering, laughing, dancing—everything was so vibrant, so alive. It felt like a world away from the intensity of the circuit, and for once, I let myself fully indulge in the freedom, the joy of it all.

Alcohol flowed like it was water, glasses clinking around me in toast after toast. I felt light, tipsy but happy, letting the music take over as I danced with my friends, lost in the excitement of the moment. I wasn’t thinking about the past. I wasn’t thinking about the things that had tried to break me. I was just living in the present, in this incredible victory.

But then, of course, as the night wore on, the crowds became a little more chaotic. People spilled out from the bars and clubs, mixing together in a sea of celebration. The music grew louder, the lights flashing in an almost hypnotic pattern. I had found Max earlier in the evening, sharing a laugh with him and a few others, but now, as I stood in the middle of the crowd, it became hard to spot him.

The buzz in the air shifted. I could feel it in my chest. My senses heightened. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe just the lingering unease that had followed me through the past season. But then I saw him.

A man—someone I didn’t recognize—was making his way through the crowd. His eyes locked onto mine, a smirk spreading across his face. Something about the way he looked at me made a shiver run down my spine. It was as if he knew something about me, something I didn’t want him to know.

His presence reminded me too much of Henry—the way he exuded a sense of control, a sense of entitlement. The way he was acting like I owed him something, like I was just another piece in a game he was playing. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my stomach twisted. I tried to brush it off, but the encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I wanted to get away from him—fast.

In the crowd, I started moving, pushing through the throngs of people, my heart pounding a little too fast for comfort. But my vision kept flickering back to him, his eyes following me like a shadow. He wasn’t going to stop, I realized. He was going to keep coming closer, keep circling until I was backed into a corner.

Panic started to rise in me, a feeling I hadn’t let myself truly experience in a long time. I pushed through the crowd again, trying to find someone—anyone—to break the tension. That’s when I finally spotted Max again, or at least I thought I did. His familiar figure was just ahead, but in the chaos, I lost sight of him before I could reach him.

The frustration bubbled up. The fear mixed with confusion, and my mind started to race. I wasn’t about to let myself spiral again. Not now, not in front of everyone.

But just as I began to panic, my phone buzzed in my pocket, a lifeline in the midst of the crowd. I pulled it out quickly to check who it was—Lando. The message was simple: Where are you?

I felt my chest loosen a little, just knowing someone was looking for me. I typed back, trying to keep myself steady: lost in the crowd, send help lmao

Before I could type any more, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, ready to react. But it wasn’t the man from before. It was Franco, a look of concern on his face as he pulled me into a quick, tight hug.

“You good?” he asked softly, his voice steady, calming, like a balm to the rising anxiety in my chest.

I nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

Franco didn’t let go of me, but his presence was grounding. I felt the tension in my body begin to ease, even if just a little. “I know something has affected you but I am here now, you don’t have to say anything, I’m just here,” he murmured into my ear as he gave me a small soft hug.

I pulled back just enough to see his face. “Thanks,” I said quietly, feeling a strange mix of relief and something else—something warm, safe.

But before I could say anything more, another voice cut in. Lando had appeared from behind Franco, his usual cheeky grin on his face, though it didn’t hide the concern in his eyes. “There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, his tone light but with an underlying edge of worry.

“I’m fine… now, I’m fine now that you two are here with me.” I replied, allowing myself to be honest with them. The past few minutes had left me feeling rattled, but now, with Franco and Lando here, I couldn’t help but feel a little more secure.

“You know we’ve got your back, right?” Lando added, his expression serious for a moment. “We’re not letting you out of our sight again.”

I smiled, the tension in my body slowly dissipating as I realized just how lucky I was to have people like them looking out for me. They didn’t have to care, didn’t have to be there for me like this. But they were.

Franco stepped back slightly, glancing between Lando and me. “We’re staying with you tonight. No arguments.”

And somehow, even though I was the one who was supposed to be strong, it was exactly what I needed to hear. It wasn’t about being strong on my own. It was about knowing I had people to lean on.

Lando wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and Franco placed his hand on the middle of my back, both offering me a kind of comfort that, despite my earlier unease, made everything feel a little bit better. We walked together through the crowd, the sounds of celebration continuing around us. And as I walked through the crowd with Franco and Lando flanking me, I realized just how far I had come—and how much further I was ready to go.

The crowd around us was cheering, music was blasting, and the air was thick with excitement. Yet, amidst all the noise and the chaos, I found myself focusing on the quiet moments between Lando and I, those small exchanges where our eyes locked just a little too long or where the corners of our mouths twitched upward at the same time.

Lando’s presence was comforting, grounding in a way I hadn’t expected. Since the Vegas crash, he had been there, providing an anchor when I needed it most. Now, celebrating together felt… different. I couldn’t help but wonder if something deeper was quietly blooming between us. I caught his eye as a slow song began, and for a second, the noise of the crowd seemed to fade. I smiled, and he returned it with that knowing grin that made my heart race. It felt almost like an unspoken connection, a quiet bond that neither of us had put words to, but one that was palpable all the same.

Before I could dwell on it for too long, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I found Franco standing there, grinning widely. "Hey, I just wanted to say, that race—was incredible," he said, his eyes alight with admiration. There was something in the way he said it, like he was seeing me in a new light.

"Thanks," I replied, my voice softening as I looked at him. "It felt like everything finally clicked today."

Franco nodded, his eyes not leaving mine. "Yeah, I could see that. You’ve come a long way." His gaze lingered a little longer, and I couldn’t help but feel the warmth between us. It wasn’t just the celebration, it wasn’t just the race—it was something unspoken that seemed to grow stronger the longer we stood there.

For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The world around us slowed, the noise dimmed, and all that mattered was the shared understanding between us. But just as I was about to say something, the spell was broken.

From behind, I heard an all-too-familiar voice—drunken and loud—"Oi! What’s going on here?" Liam stumbled into our little bubble, his eyes narrowed, and a playful but protective smirk on his face. "Don’t think I didn’t see that, Y/N. What do you think you’re doing, huh?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of possessiveness in it.

I let out a small laugh, but before I could say anything, Hannah appeared beside him, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Liam," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "you’re drunk. Let them be." She turned to me, her eyes softening. "Can you talk some sense into him? He’s been talking about you like you’re his lost puppy for the past half hour."

Liam pouted, his arms crossed over his chest. "I’m not drunk!" he protested, but his slurred speech said otherwise. "I’m just looking out for my best mate here. You can’t just steal her away, boys." He pointed to Lando and then Franco, who each raised an eyebrow in response but remained silent, clearly amused by the situation.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. "Liam, I’m not being stolen away. I’m not sure I could be stolen if I tried," I said with a playful wink. But my words only seemed to confuse him more.

Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "Just, come on. Let’s get you something to drink so you can calm down before you make a fool of yourself." She turned to me and smiled apologetically. "Sorry about this."

Liam’s pout deepened, but he finally let Hannah lead him away, though he shot me one last confused glance. As he stumbled off with her, I turned back to Lando and Franco, who were both watching me with soft smiles on their faces.

"Don’t worry," I said to them, shaking my head with a laugh. "Liam’s just protective. He’s like a big brother who doesn’t know how to share his toys."

Franco laughed, but there was a knowing look in his eyes as he added, "Well, it seems like you’ve got a lot of people looking out for you."

Lando chimed in, his voice teasing, "Guess that’s a good thing, huh? Just be careful—Liam might come back and try to hide you away in some hidden sanctuary."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile forming on my lips. "Let him try."

The moment was lighthearted, but something about it made my heart flutter. Lando, Franco, and even Liam—though drunk and ridiculous—had all been there in their own ways. It felt like more than just a victory in the race. It felt like a new chapter was unfolding in ways I hadn’t expected.

Helping Liam back to the hotel room was no easy feat. The moment we stepped into the hallway, his weight became a deadweight. Hannah and I shared a look of exasperation, but underneath it, there was an unspoken bond that made this all feel oddly familiar. We had done this before, back when Liam had first been called up to F1. His excitement and nerves had been a mixture of pure joy and overwhelming tension, and we'd found ourselves stumbling through late-night talks and drunken strolls across hotel corridors more times than I could count.

Tonight, though, the mood was different. He was drunk, but there was something behind his eyes, something deeper, that made the whole situation feel heavier than it should. We had been so used to his joking nature, the sarcasm and laughter, but tonight—well, tonight, he was different.

I smiled at Hannah as she helped support Liam's other side. "Remember when he got that call? The one to race in F1? He was practically shaking, and we couldn’t even get him to eat dinner that night."

Hannah chuckled softly, her eyes softening with the memory. "How could I forget? I thought he was going to throw up just from the excitement. He didn’t sleep for two days."

I let out a quiet laugh as we managed to shuffle him into the hotel room. Liam was mumbling, half incoherent, and definitely not in the mood for a joke now. The energy in the room had shifted, the weight of the night sinking in with the silence that followed.

When we finally got him onto the bed, we let him flop onto his back, the bed creaking under the shift of his weight. He let out a loud sigh, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to focus on the ceiling before ultimately falling onto me. But there was no humor now in his face. Only something deep and aching.

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, watching him with concern. I stood near the door, waiting, unsure of what was coming next. I was ready to laugh it off, ready to tell him that he was just drunk, and it would all be fine in the morning—but then, something in the way he stared at me stopped me.

"Liam?" I said softly, my voice low, trying to gauge where his mind was at.

He turned his head slowly, blinking at us like he was seeing us for the first time. The tears welled up in his eyes, and my heart dropped. He wasn’t drunk in a carefree way anymore. This was something deeper, something raw, and it made me uneasy.

"I… I need to say something," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I… I’m so sorry."

I frowned, stepping closer to the bed, sitting down beside Hannah. "Liam, what are you talking about?"

His face twisted, his hands trembling as he reached up to rub his eyes. "I—when I caused the crash in Vegas, I—" He let out a shaky breath. "I thought I… I thought I just—hurt you. Or worse… killed you, Y/N."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't expected this. He had always been the jokester, the guy who tried to keep everything light, but now—now I could see the weight of the guilt and fear he had been carrying for the last month. His words were slurred, but the meaning behind them cut straight to my core.

"Liam," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep the crack out of it, "It was an accident. You didn’t mean for that to happen."

His eyes locked with mine, full of guilt and pain. "But I did cause it. I never should’ve been that aggressive during a practice session. I saw you flipping… I saw you, and I thought—" His breath caught in his throat, and his voice faltered. "I thought I just ruined everything. I thought I lost you forever."

The weight of his words hung in the air like a thick fog, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. The racing world could be so harsh, but I had never realized just how much it affected the people closest to me.

I reached out, my hand gently resting on his shoulder. "Liam, listen to me. I’m here. I’m okay," I said softly, trying to reassure him even though I wasn’t sure if I was comforting him or myself in the process. "That crash—it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. Nothing more."

"But I still felt it," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Every time I see you, I’m reminded of how close I came to losing you."

Hannah sat quietly beside him, her eyes soft and full of understanding. She knew what this meant. She had been through this with Liam before. The weight of racing, the pressure of what we do, and the responsibility that came with it, often left us carrying invisible scars that nobody else could see.

"You need to forgive yourself," Hannah said gently, her hand squeezing his. "It wasn’t your fault, Liam. You’re one of the best people we know, and this is just… one of those things that happened. You can’t carry it forever."

I nodded in agreement, my voice steady now. "You’re not alone in this, Liam. You never were. You’ll never lose me. Not like that."

He closed his eyes, a few tears slipping out. He didn’t say anything more, but I could see the relief slowly washing over him. The guilt, the fear, all of it—it wasn’t going to go away in an instant, but maybe this was the first step toward healing.

"I’m sorry," he mumbled again, his voice barely a whisper. "I just didn’t want to lose you."

"You haven’t," I reassured him. "And you won’t."

We sat there for a few more minutes, letting the weight of the moment settle in. Hannah continued to comfort him, and I stayed close, watching the man who had been there for me through thick and thin slowly let go of the burden he had been carrying for far too long.

Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut, and the alcohol seemed to lull him into a fitful sleep, his body relaxing into the bed. The room was silent for a moment, save for his steady breathing.

I leaned back, letting out a soft sigh. "He’ll be okay," I said to Hannah, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or myself.

She nodded, her eyes soft. "He will be. You’ve got each other."

And in that moment, with the faint hum of the hotel air conditioning and the quiet of the night around us, I felt a sense of calm I once never thought possible. Being here with my two childhood friends, sharing a moment that reminded each of us, just how much we were willing to do for each other. "I’m here, Liam," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. "And I always will be."

[imsogonesposts]

A Night at the Grammys

|| ao3 || an: this is part of a series, but each fic can be read on its own || I'm With the Rockstar series Masterlist || steve harrington masterlist ||

summary: Steve invites you as his date to the Grammys after being nominated for Best New Artist. (wc: 1,823)

Steve had never expected to be nominated for a Grammy. He was aware that his manager, and friend, Nancy had submitted him for a handful of different nominations: best new artist, best pop vocal album, and song of the year, but he never expected to actually be nominated for them. So, when you woke up one morning to Steve yelling a “holy shit” on the day nominations were supposed to come out, you had a fair idea as to what could cause him to be so excited so early in the morning.

“Good morning,” you grumble, still half asleep as Steve pulls you into a hug, not having to use much effort as you willingly let him pull you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he mumbled as he pressed a series of kisses to the top of your head. “But I just got nominated for a Grammy,” he finishes, hugging you even tighter.

“You did? Which one?” You ask, pulling out of his embrace just enough to look at up him. His eyes were shimmering with happiness and pride.

“Best new artist,” he replied, pressing his forehead against yours with a smile. A smile you happily reciprocated as you moved to give him a proper kiss. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you say, moving to hug him, your body fully now on his as you both lie in bed. Mornings like this always made you feel just a little lighter and happier. Mornings in his warm embrace, in your soft sheets, with the sun hitting him at just the perfect angle. What more could you ask for? “You deserve it, you’ve worked so hard. Pretty soon you’re gonna be getting Artist of the Year.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your statement. You’d always been supportive of his music career from the very start, and it was evident you’d planned on staying supportive for a long time to come. “Well I don’t know about that,” he tells you, tilting your face just enough to press a kiss to your nose, a lazy smile on his face as he does so. “But let’s focus on the now,” he pauses, looking at you with a smile that you knew meant he had something important to ask. “Would you like to be my date to the Grammys?” He quietly asks as he brushes some hair out of your face, smiling at the wide grin that crosses your face. 

“The Grammy’s?” You repeat, as if not truly believing his words.

“Yes, the Grammy’s,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Who else would I take, our neighbor?” He stops to laugh at the idea. “No, no, I’m taking the girl of my dreams,” he replies, bringing your face down for another kiss. “In case it wasn’t obvious,” he whispers, “that girl is you,” and before you get a chance to respond or fully let his words sink in, he’s kissing you again.

And when the kiss finally breaks, you can’t help but request, “please don’t wear a black suit, those are always so boring.”

He laughs again. “Babe, it’s the Grammy’s, not the Met Gala.”

“I don’t care, you should still look nice. Well, nicer than usual,” you tell him as he moves a hand to cup the side of your face with a small pout. 

“I thought you always thought I looked nice,” he replies. Though, the pout is quickly wiped away when you move to kiss him again. And again and again and again. He wasn’t planning on leaving this bed any time soon. 

***

Finally, months later, it was the night of the Grammys, and yours and Steve’s shared home looked like a stampede had trampled through by the time the multiple stylists, hairdressers, and make up artists left. 

“This is going to be a mess to clean up tomorrow, and we’re going to be too hungover to do anything about it,” Steve hears you grumble, biting back a laugh as he knocks on the bedroom door. 

“Can I come in?” He asks as you reply back with a “yes.”

“You look nice,” you tell him with a wide smile. He had listened to you and opted to not wear a black suit, instead, wearing a color that looked all too familiar to you, you just couldn’t place where you’d seen that exact shade before.“Why’d you pick that color?” You ask, looking up at his face to notice his staring. 

It was like you came straight out of a movie. Your hair perfectly framed your face, your dress shaping you perfectly, your make up looked gorgeous. You looked perfect. You were perfect, and he couldn’t help but stare. “You look gorgeous,” he quietly replied, still staring at you as if he just saw the Northern Lights. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reply, tilting your head with a smile as he continued to stare at you. 

“You ignored my question,” you tease as he finally snaps out of his trance. 

“Sorry, what was your question?” He asked as he took a step towards you, arm already wrapping around your waist. 

“Why’d you choose that color?” You repeat as a lovesick smile crosses his features. 

“It’s the color of your eyes, dummy,” he answers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Oh, so that’s why the color looked so familiar. “It’s one of my favorite colors,” he mumbles against your forehead. “Let me take a picture of us, Robin’s been bugging me all day about wanting to see the ‘final results’ and whatever.” He suddenly states, pulling away from you to look for one of your phones as if he didn’t just alter your brain chemistry with a simple statement. Though, that was the thing about Steve, he always had a way of saying the absolute sweetest things to you, just to act like it was a normaleveryday sentence. Like those were normal, regular thoughts he had any time he was around you. Like loving you came to him like second nature. Like something he did unconsciously. Like breathing or blinking or scratching at an itch. Like he loved you as easily and as much as you loved him. Though, to be fair, he never made much of an effort to hide just how much love he had for you. 

“Hey, why’d you choose that color for your dress?” He asked as he finally found his phone, moving to your side to take a picture of the two of you. 

“I like the color,” you reply before kissing his cheek. 

***

“So, what do we think?” Steve asks, leaning into your side as you both sit at your designated tables, waiting for the ceremony to begin. You scan around the room, taking in the different singers and producers surrounding the two of you. The Grammy’s was nothing like you had ever seen before. 

“I’ve seen better,” you tell him in feign boredom as he laughs. 

“Better than all this?” He asks, using one hand to gesture around the room, the other moving to wrap around your shoulders. “I’m sorry, babe, but I find that hard to believe,” he jokes, smiling at your shrug. 

“I’m just saying, they could’ve done better,” you tell him as he rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. 

“Well, keep your voice down. They hear you talking smack and they might not let me win tonight,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“They’d have to be idiots to not give you that award,” you tell him, complete honesty and confidence in your voice. He couldn’t help but love how much faith you had in him. How much you truly believed in him. He knew he was lucky to have you in his life, and he was grateful for it every time he got to wake up in the morning and see your pretty face, and every night when he got to hold you in his arms. 

And award after award later, they had finally gotten to the category that meant the most to the two of you. 

“And for best new artist, the award goes to,” the presenter took a pause, opening the envelope to announce the winner. Steve took your hand, unconsciously squeezing it as you both waited for a name. It felt like hours until she finally read the name aloud: “Steve Harrington!” Applause filled the room but none of that mattered to Steve, all he could do was look at you before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Congratulations, baby!” You said as you hugged him back. You could hear him mumbling “oh my god, oh my god,” into your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but smile. He had put so much work into his last album, so much work into his music career as a whole. In your eyes, there was no one who deserved that Grammy more than him.

You wished you could stay hugging him like that forever in order to celebrate his accomplishment. But you also knew if you didn’t do anything about it, Steve might just stay in your arms forever, so as you pulled away from the hug, you gave him a quick kiss before lightly pushing him towards the stage. “Go get your award, honey,” you said with a laugh.

His steps were a little clumsy, likely due to the nerves, but you couldn’t help but smile at the big grin that overtook his face. And to think he never thought his career would go this far. 

“Wow, okay, this is crazy,” he said into the microphone after thanking the presenter and accepting his award. “I want to thank everyone that’s helped me get where I am today. My friend’s for pushing me to put my music out there and keeping me humble, the fans that helped me get where I am today, my producers who helped make this album what it is, and of course, my beautiful girlfriend. She’s been my rock this whole time, and I definitely wouldn’t be up here without her, especially since most of my songs are about her.  But she’s been with me through thick and thin, and I’m eternally grateful for her and everyone that helped me get to where I am today.” He finishes his speech by waving his Grammy up in the air,before leaving the stage, making his way back to you. 

“Sometimes I forget how sweet you are,” you whisper when he takes his seat next to you once more. 

He hands you his Grammy so you could get a look at it as he runs a hand up and down your arm. “I should write more songs about you, then,” he jokes, “that way it gets stuck in your brain.” He lightly pokes the side of your head as if to emphasize his point, before turning your face for a kiss. You had to admit, more songs did sound nice. 

[g4rvez-r3id]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You left the BAU and your boyfriend, Spencer, after a case took a hefty toll on you. You only left behind a letter, explaining yourself and why you had to leave. Four years later, you find yourself back in DC on a whim. You learn that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

Category: Angst

Warnings: NO HAPPY ENDING, mentions of a past case, mentions of trauma, case related things, reader getting kidnapped but only mentioned, reader lowkey being stalker-y, arguing, mentions of 2x15 “Revelations” but it’s brief, takes place in Season 9 but this is with the Season 7 team, angst angst angst

It’d been four years since he last saw you. You’d left the BAU after a particular case took a massive toll on you and you’d decided the best thing to do at the time was leave.

It was a case in your hometown, no less — the team had no leads and all they had to go off were three bodies tattooed with some kind of weird symbol on their bodies. Before joining the BAU, you were in the taskforce and you’d dealt with something similar. The victims had all been women and the symbol was some kind of branding initiation. You never caught the guy.

And when the team finally got a lead, you and Morgan were sent to check the place out. Unfortunately, it ended with Morgan being knocked out cold and you being kidnapped.

It took the team four days to find you. You were tortured, slashes on your body and the amount of mental trauma you endured during that time was disturbing. He managed to gather most of your team’s belongings and present them in blood as if it were proof that they were dead. You were led to believe that your team was dead for four days.

But by the fourth day, they realized that their unsub was someone who worked for the PD and luckily, they cracked it down and found you. You almost believed that they weren’t real, that everyone was a figment of your imagination. It took Spencer approaching you and actually touching you for you to realize that this was real. That your team was still alive.

And the case took a toll on you. Even after you passed your psych evals and came back to the BAU, you were still flinching at anyone touching you. And unfortunately, it just became too much in the end that you left.

The only person you explained yourself to was Spencer. You left behind a letter for him, I know, not great thinking on your part considering that’s how Gideon and his father left him. But you knew if you talked to him face to face, he would’ve talked you into staying. He was your boyfriend, he always had a way with words that no one else did. And you knew he’d try and get you to stay because this was where you belonged. But you felt totally alone. Even though the team was there for you, you still felt alone.

Four years have passed since you left. And as expected, the only person that found you was the BAU’s very own Penelope Garcia. You only allowed her to tell the team that you were okay and that you were safe but not to tell them where you were. For the last four years, you thought about the team every day.

So what exactly pursued you to come back all of a sudden? Call it homesickness, say it was only because you missed everyone dearly and started thinking about them a lot more recently. Or maybe it was because you only missed Spencer. That’s why you were standing outside of his apartment unit, right?

You were outside, staring at the tall building and you had no idea what brought you here but you were here. It was like you woke up and all of a sudden, you were here. You had no idea what brought you here. But you walked out that door and your feet took you here.

Spencer had been invading your mind as of recently. You had no idea why but it probably had to do with the fact that his birthday was recently. His thirty-second birthday. You wondered what he did, you wondered how he spent his birthday. Did he spend it with the team? Did he spend it with his mom? You wondered if showing up was a mistake. Maybe it was.

Spencer, on the other hand, was carrying about his night in his apartment. It had been one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep, so he’d started the day off at 3am. Probably not the smartest idea because he’d be tired by the end of the day, but at least there was coffee.

He’d turned on the coffee machine and got his crossword of the day ready at the kitchen table. He’d decided to bring some light in by walking towards the curtains and opening them. Granted, there wasn’t going to be a lot of light, but it would’ve helped. Plus, something told him to just open the curtains, so he did.

When he opened the curtain, he usually has a good look at the front of his building. Who’s coming, who’s going, what’s going on. And when he looks down, he sees something odd. Something that makes him question if he’s hallucinating. Have the schizophrenic symptoms finally taken over? Because there’s no way he’s seeing you, right here and right now.

And you’re staring right back at him. In the flesh. And you’re not a figment of his imagination, you can’t be. There were times after you left, where he thought about you and that other women he’d passed by were you. But this wasn’t like those other times. This was different.

Spencer was quick to scramble out of his apartment, almost toppling over his own feet as he struggles to get his slippers on and quickly rushes out of his apartment, down the stairs and towards the entrance of the building. Mind racing with questions and wanting answers as opens the door and blinks as he looks around for you. Because now you’ve disappeared.

Spencer looks around. You couldn’t have gotten far. He even opts to call out your name to the gods. There was no way you were figment of his imagination. You couldn’t have been. You were staring back at him. He’d almost forgotten what you looked like. And he doesn’t forget anything.

You’d managed to escape right when you saw him back away from his window and grabbed a taxi and ordered the driver to take you anywhere but here. You looked behind you and saw Spencer was in the middle of the street, wondering where you disappeared off to.

You had to leave. It was the only option you needed to take. You ended up getting a hotel early that morning. You still had no idea what you were doing here in DC. And it didn’t do you any good with Spencer seeing you. You hated to think it but you’d hoped that he thought that maybe you were just a figment of his imagination. You didn’t want him to go and ask Garcia where you were since she was the only person that knew. And you knew she’d give in because she wasn’t that great at keeping secrets.

Since you opted for staying for a few days, you had to be incognito. And that meant avoiding Spencer at all cost. That didn’t help when all the places you used to go to, you introduced him to.

You thought you were safe going to your local coffee shop this morning, but you walked in right when he was getting his order and you were quick to hide behind a very tall, burly man and rush out of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, to your luck, Spencer saw you. Or at least thought maybe he did. He’d spotted you the minute you hid behind that burly man and then when you practically ran out of the coffee shop.

He definitely wasn’t imagining you now. He’d seen as you ran far away from the shop and called your name, probably looking like a total lunatic as he yelled your name across the street. You were most definitely caught now. Your jig was up. You should’ve expected this to happen.

Penelope 💕: You’re in town?

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: And don’t even try and lie, Spencer blew your cover.

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: Also, he tried bribing me with a croissant to figure out where you are. I can only hold on for so long!

Sent 12:35pm

Penelope managed to spam your cell phone when you got back to the hotel after your harrowing escape. You decided to send a quick reply with a sigh falling from your lips.

You: Please please PLEASE don’t tell him where I am.

Sent 12:37pm

Penelope💕: Okay, fine. But under one condition.

Sent 12:38pm

You: Which is?

Sent 12:38pm

Penelope💕: Come out with us to O’Keefe’s tonight! It’ll be lowkey, everyone on the team will be there! And you get to straighten this whole thing out because even JJ is asking questions now!

Sent 12:39pm

Your biggest thing was that you didn’t want anyone knowing you were here. You don’t even know what sparked you even showing up in the first place. What were you going to tell them if they’d asked why you were here? There were so many questions you wanted to avoid. Because you’d just left without a trace.

You: Oh, Penny. I don’t know… :/

Sent 12:40pm

Penelope💕: Oh, just consider it! It could be fun for you!

Easy for you to say, Penelope. But she had a point. Maybe it could be fun, seeing the team again. Morgan, Rossi, Spencer. Then again, you almost wanted to avoid him because of how you left him. Was he the only thing holding you back from going tonight? Not to mention, did anyone else know exactly how you left him? They could’ve hated you just as much as you knew he hated you. Your phone dings again.

Penelope💕: I know your gears are turning but trust me, everyone really wants to see you again! Emily was literally talking about you the other day. Please! With sugar on top!

Sent 12:43pm

Okay, that made you feel a little bit better. You did miss them. Maybe Penelope would be the one to help you with your decision.

You: Fine, I’ll make an appearance. But only for an hour!

Sent 12:45pm

Penelope💕: YESSSSS 🥳 I’ll send you deets after work! 😊

Sent 12:45pm

Your plan to avoid Spencer backfired on you, oh, so greatly. Maybe you still could avoid him. Maybe he decided not to go to O’Keefe’s once he found out you were gonna be there.

He never liked the bar scene anyways. He hardly drank since what happened with Tobias Hankel. You prayed for the slight chance that he wouldn’t come drinking with the team. And you even hoped Garcia may have been so excited to tell Spencer that you were coming, she’d blurt it out to him and maybe he wouldn’t go. You hoped you were right.

I hate this already, I hate this already, I hate this already. You thought in your head as you walked to O’Keefe’s. It’s been a while since you’ve been in this area. Your mind is built with memories of walking these same streets with Spencer, arm in arm as he rambled about just about anything. Your heart broke in two as you thought about those times, so simple and delicate before they got ruined. By you.

You walked towards the bar and entered the building, scouting out to look for the team until a chippy voice shouted your name. “Y/N!” Your eyes trailed over to the bubbly blonde, “Over here!” She waves her arm over and you walk over pretty slowly as you join them.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” Morgan stands from his seat, welcoming you with a hug. “It’s good to see you.” You muffle into his shirt that it’s good to see him too and by then everyone pretty much follows with a hug and Rossi kisses both of your cheeks in welcoming. Everyone seems happy to see you. Everyone except Spencer, who keeps sipping his drink and looking anywhere but you like you don’t even exist. And he has the right to that. But he’s not gonna ruin this, tonight.

The night consists of everyone asking you how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. And not that Spencer cares but he overhears as you mention you work at a desk job in California — the place he knows you’ve always wanted to live — and that you recently got a new cat and that you don’t have a boyfriend. Again, not that he cares.

And then he catches onto something you say. About how you were sorry you left the team so abruptly. And Spencer scoffs under his breath as he spoke — “Least you’re explaining yourself in person now, right?”

Spencer met your eyes and everyone sat there awkwardly after the fact. You knew what that was. A diss at how you left him. You knew how he was. He got petty. And when he got petty, he got mean. It didn’t help that he’d been nursing his drink a bit, too.

Garcia had distracted everyone, asking to join her on the dance floor, to which Morgan, JJ, Emily and even you obliged. Spencer had declined, deciding to stay at your table and Rossi and Hotch went over to the bar to get more drinks for everyone.

Spencer’s jaw clenched as he watched you dance with the rest of his team. How can they act like you didn’t just up and leave them three years ago? Like everything was fine again? How could they just sit there and laugh with you when you broke their hearts when you left? He didn’t forget how Garcia cried for weeks, or how frustrated Morgan was when he found out, or how Emily kept turning over to your empty desk to tell you something but forgot you weren’t there and how heartbroken you left him when he read your letter over and over again.

I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He could see your handwriting in the back of his mind. The wires in his head crossing as he wrapped his head around the fact that you were here. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He told you that you two were gonna be fine, you were going to get through this together. I can’t stay here. I love you. I’m sorry. But you left. You left and you didn’t turn back. How could you leave him like that? The same way his dad did, the same way Gideon did. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry.

Finding himself growing frustrated, Spencer decides to leave. He can’t stay here. Not while you’re here, not while the team can act like they’re happy to see you. He’s infuriated. And he needs to go.

He slams a twenty down at the table and lets Hotch and Rossi know he’s leaving. They don’t even attempt to get him to say, exchanging a knowing glance at the fact it was because you were here but he wasn’t going to pay any attention to that. He heads for the door but he doesn’t realize he’s had an audience this whole time.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. You hated the way he glared at you. It pained you that you caused this. You were the reason he hated you. So, when you saw him leave, you decided that maybe you needed to talk, one on one without anyone else present.

You excused yourself to everyone, saying you going to get some water and that you’d be right back and exited the building, seeing as Spencer was about eight feet ahead of you and calling his name. “Spencer!”

Spencer scoffs, turning around as you fiddle your hands together, approaching him. You did that when you were nervous. “Can we talk, please?” Spencer turns back around and continues walking. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. And you know it.” You say as you catch up to him even if he continues walking away from you. “Spencer, I know you hate the way I left. And trust me, I did, too but you can’t blame me forever.”

“Well, I have,” Spencer turns around and faces you. “You left, or did you forget that? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Spencer—”

“You left. You wrote a letter to me, just like my dad and just like Gideon because you were a coward and couldn’t face me. We could’ve worked it out, we could’ve talked about it, Y/n!”

“I couldn’t talk to you about it!” And now here you were, shouting at him, this was the last thing you wanted when you decided to come here tonight.

“Why not?”

“Because I know you’d talk me out of leaving!” You take a deep breath. “And I didn’t want that. I needed not to be persuaded by you, I needed to think about this. And I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. And I hated that I did that to you, it haunts me every single day.” Your voice wavered when you said the last sentence. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. You have to know that I’m sorry.” You go to touch him but he’s quick to back away from you.

“Oh, and you’re making amends now?” Spencer questioned. “You’re just acting like what you didn’t matter? Well, it mattered to me, Y/n. You left and you didn’t care!”

“I did.” You argued.

“No, you didn’t. ‘I can’t do this anymore’? ‘I love you, I’m sorry’?” You furrow your brows at this. And all he can think is — how can you not remember the most painful words you’d ever written to him? “You wrote that to me in your letter. Your letter that you left behind to me, along with your badge and gun. You can’t just slam this door closed and pretend like you’re not at fault when you’re completely at fault. You hurt me, in the only way a person could. How could you do that?”

“I know, I know!” You tell him, shutting your eyes as you pull your hair back away from your face. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. But I couldn’t be there anymore. I wasn’t the same girl that you fell in love with. And you deserved better.”

“I deserved better than that.” Spencer retorted and you nod with a sniffle, “Yeah, yeah, you did.” You admit defeat, wiping your nose.

You walk closer to him as he stares at the ground. “And I’m so sorry,” You tell him. He still avoids your eyes, opting for the ground until he feels your hand on his cheek and you force him to meet his eyes. “And I’m telling the truth. I thought about you everyday. And I love you, I could never lie about that. Ever.”

Spencer looks into your eyes and you can’t make what’s in them. Anger? Sadness? Regret? All of the above? “Why did you come back?” The question lingers above your head and you try to come up with a valid reason in your head. But you can’t come with anything. Why did you come back? You could’ve left this alone, you could’ve moved on because that was the way life went. You could go on, forget anything happened. Was it some form of a guilty conscience for leaving him? Was it closure? Did you need to move on? Did you need Spencer to move on before you could? “I don’t know.” You answer.

“That’s not an answer.” Spencer tells you and you back away from with a scoff, “Well, then what do you want to hear, Spencer? I don’t know why I’m here. I just know that I am now.”

“Why? Did you expect to get back together or something? That maybe I’d just forget what happened and leave it behind in the past like nothing did?” It was obvious he couldn’t forget it.

“No, I-I didn’t expect that, at all—!”

“Then, why?”

“I don’t… know.” Maybe you did know why. Maybe you still loved him. But you couldn’t. Not in this way at least.

“You can’t just stumble your way back into my life simply because — what? You’re lonely, all of a sudden? Is that it?”

You’d had enough. This was pointless when all he was doing was arguing with you and making you feel even worse than you already did. You shake your head — “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“Maybe you need to,” He argued. “Y/n, you were cruel to me. And somehow, you were also the best thing that happened to me. I loved you, did you know that? I tried moving on, I tried — but that didn’t even work out.” It makes you wonder why. But it’s not your business. “When I saw you again, all I could think about was how you left. And how much it hurt when you did. And you’re back now and now I’m more confused than ever. I hate you for coming back. But… I… I can’t even wrap my head around this. I can’t… I can’t be around you. I need to go.”

Spencer shakes his head and begins to walk away. You watch as he does so but not before you tell him — “I knew,” You say and he stops in his tracks. “And for the record, I loved you, too.”

Spencer stands still for a moment before he continues walking. And he turns his back on you, just like you did him years ago. There was time where he would’ve spun around and forgave you and held you and kissed you until you needed a breather but that time was long gone. Because now, he couldn’t even stand to be around you. You watched as he walked away from you and you know you deserve that.

You two were on different paths and maybe that’s the way it had to be. You’d book a flight back home when you got back to your hotel tonight. Because he was right, you couldn’t stumble back into his life, begging for forgiveness when you left him the way you did. That was the way life went, you move on.

And you supposed you should start doing that now. Since Spencer was on his way to doing so, already.

[xaviesstarlight]

House Call

I got hit in the head the other day, so this fic is inspired by my injury and wishing I had a Dr. Zayne in my life. I also wrote an Xavier version.

Warnings: None, SWF

Zayne had accepted you coming home each day with minor scrapes and bruises as part of your job of being a hunter. It was normal. You fought wanderers each day and were bound to experience minor bruising on your extremities during battle. What the doctor could not stand was when those injuries, no matter how minor, appeared on your head or chest, near your vital organs. The idea of your heart, lungs, and brain being the slightest bit vulnerable to danger was enough to send chills down Zayne’s spine. That is why his knees nearly give out when you appear at his house after work with a swollen bump on your head.

“Do you take house calls?” you ask half-jokingly the moment he opens the door.

You would never forget the way Zayne’s face pales as he pulls you through the door and immediately seats you on the living room couch for a personal examination. An awning had collapsed as you were chasing a wanderer, and a metal bar landed on your head. You really weren’t hurt that bad. Except for a faint bruise where the bar made contact with your skin and a barely visible bump, no one would even notice you were injured. No one but Dr. Zayne that is. You continue to insist to Zayne that you are fine, but a lump grows in your throat as you watch his hands tremble, gently caressing your cheeks as he examines the bump, checking himself for signs of a concussion.

“I’m really okay,” you say for the umpteenth time. “But because it’s a head injury - a minor head injury - Jenna gave me the week off. Sooo… I thought I would spend it with you. I can receive personal treatment from my Dr. Zayne.” Zayne sighs, relieved that the Hunter’s Association has such a reasonable policy for injuries. He is more than happy to treat you at home during your time off. You are always welcome, encouraged even, to stay with him at his house.

“That’s for the best. I’ll keep a close eye on you during your recovery.” Satisfied with the results of his examination, Zayne’s thumb gently brushes across the bump, which causes you to wince. His brows furrow. “You are in pain.”

“Only because you touched it! I’m okay. I just need to rest, and I can only do that with you.” You pull Zayne onto the couch with you and rest your head against his chest. As you wrap your arms around his torso, you whisper, “This is exactly what I need to feel better.”

“While I’m happy you’re finally choosing to rely on me when you’re in pain, you need ice. If we apply some ice to your forehead, it will help the swelling go down.” Zayne’s voice is soft as his breath gently tickles your ear. “I’ll get you some.”

“Why get up when my snowman has ice right here?” You move Zayne’s hand to your head, completely covering your bump. Zayne chuckles.

“Very well. I’ll give you the full treatment while you’re in my care.” A cooling sensation spreads across your forehead from Zayne’s evol, soothing the pain away. You relax onto Zayne’s chest as he holds you rubbing his other hand in small circles on your arm. It isn’t long before his “treatment” lulls you to sleep. Zayne kisses the top of your head and decides then to take some days off from the hospital. A special VIP patient needs his full attention for a week.

[loquaciousquark]

you have been my #1 favorite fanfic author of all time for like 7-8 years now for your fenhawke and ive always thought "god i would give anything for quark to write solavellan" but i respected that it wasnt your thing. so imagine the pure unbridled euphoria of checking in on your blog this week to see that he finally got to you. i actually screamed. whatever you come up with i know it is going to absolutely change my life and i am so excited <3

i’m so. sad. i'm SO sad. i was so happy for a decade just being mildly annoyed every time he crossed my dash and now i am having feelings and opinions and i don’t WANT THEM and the only way to get rid of them is to write them out of me, this is why i don’t love fenris or astarion at all anymore obviously

and like, I still don’t love Solas! I still think some things he does and some goals he has are really, really stupid! but this character I created to love him really loves him, and I really love her and want her to be happy even though she lives only inside my head, and that means I need to lay down some structure around her romance to get the shape of it, to build something I can make sense of. I may not love him, but I like him much more than I did, and I certainly understand him better than I did the first time around.

And to be honest, there’s a part of me glad I’m coming to it as late as I have. I don’t think I’ve ever read a single Solavellan fic in my life (I actually had to pause here to check the spelling). I have NO idea what tropes are popular with him or what interpretations are the biggest. I have a lot of opinions on how his personality and identity work in a romance with this particular character I’ve created, but because I’ve been so siloed I have no idea if I’m bucking the grain or not, which is fine by me.

Plus, it helps I’m not going to have ten years to build up a lot of personal headcanons and jossable thoughts before playing the new game. I’m not someone who easily ignores canon when it clashes with my imagination for the major things, so I think this will (hopefully) keep me from major disappointments.

It's kinda funny; earlier today I was going back through my DAI tag and reminding myself of all my impressions from the first time I played the game. Some of them I definitely still stand by; others have completely changed. I even said twice that a Lavellan/Solas romance would be my next playthrough, which was true if ten years late.

But it's things like: apparently the first time through I loved Solas and Sera, both of which certainly were not true going into this replay. (I barely even have a memory of Solas and Priory ever being in the party together, though the historical records say I took him to Adamant.) I apparently had a lot of hopes Gideon Emery would be voicing Fenris. I originally thought Priory was going to romance Bull, which is very ?????? after all this time. (I did still, even then, know Here Lies the Abyss completely broke her as a character, and ten years on I never could fix her for good.)

I really did not expect to change my mind on Solas going into this replay, I guess is the point. I replayed because knowing the story of DAI and Solas, I felt it was a story most personalized to elves and specifically a Solas-romancing Lavellan, and that was the worldstate I wanted to take into the new game. I played it out because that's the kind of person I am (I can't just invent characters wholesale in my head) but I really thought it was going to be a perfunctory playthrough as a stepping stone to a different game and a different PC and (presumably) a different romance. I didn't expect to love this character as much as I do, and even if I don't have ten years to write her out the way I did Hawke, I feel like I still owe it to her & her doomed romance to give her a little time in the spotlight. Lucky girl!

[bennyboyfics]

Unexpected || Ben Shelton x fem!reader

Summary: you finding out you’re pregnant just as Ben has started his professional career in Tennis and being scared to tell him.

Wc: 1,301

Warnings: mention of pregnancy

A/n: if you have any requests feel free to send them thru!

MASTERLIST

-

Your hands trembled as you sat in the stands, your fingers curled tightly around the fabric of your dress. The match was nearly over, Ben battling it out in the final set, sweat dripping from his forehead as he let out a sharp grunt with each shot. The crowd roared when he hit an ace, his signature power serve sending the ball flying past his opponent. You should have been cheering, should have been celebrating every point he won.

But all you could feel was the crushing weight of the secret sitting in your chest. Pregnant. You were pregnant. The two pink lines had stared back at you this morning, and you’d felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. You and Ben were still so young. He was only just getting started on the ATP tour, making a name for himself, proving to the world that he belonged at the top.

A baby was never part of the plan—not yet, not now. Your stomach churned as you imagined telling him. Would he be upset? Would he panic? Would he see this as something that could ruin his career? The thought alone made you sick. Ben let out a victorious yell as he won the match, his fist pumping in the air as the crowd erupted. He ran to the net for a handshake before glancing up into the stands, his eyes immediately finding you.

His face lit up, that boyish grin of his breaking through the exhaustion as he pointed at you, like he always did after a win. But you couldn’t even force a smile. By the time you made it down to the player’s lounge, your legs felt unsteady. Ben was mid-interview, his damp curls sticking to his forehead, his voice animated as he spoke about the match. His energy was infectious, and usually, you loved seeing him like this—so happy, so in his element.

Tonight, though, you felt like you were on the verge of crumbling. The second he spotted you, he grinned and excused himself from the interview, striding over and wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. His skin was hot from the match, his body still buzzing with adrenaline. “Did you see that tiebreak?” he asked, still slightly breathless. “I thought I was gonna lose my damn mind out there.” You nodded weakly. “Yeah, I saw.”

Ben frowned, pulling back just enough to study your face. “What’s wrong?” His voice softened, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You look… off. You feel okay?” Your throat closed up. You wanted to tell him. You needed to. But the words felt stuck. Ben tilted his head. “Baby?” “I—I need to talk to you,” you finally managed to say. “Can we go somewhere private?” That had him looking at you more seriously.

“Of course. Let me grab my bag, and we’ll head back to the hotel.” The car ride was silent. Ben kept glancing at you, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel, but he didn’t push. He could tell something was weighing on you, but he was patient, waiting for you to be ready. By the time you got back to the hotel room, your nerves were shot. You stood by the window, staring out at the city lights, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You felt Ben’s presence before he even touched you, his warmth radiating as he stepped behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “Alright, baby,” he murmured. “Talk to me.” Your heart pounded as you turned around. His eyes—warm, brown, so full of love—searched yours, his brows furrowed in concern. You took a shaky breath. “I—I’m pregnant.” The words felt foreign coming out of your mouth, like they belonged to someone else.

Ben just stared at you. The silence stretched so long it made your stomach twist, and panic bubbled up inside you. You rushed to fill the space, your words tumbling out in a nervous ramble. “I know this wasn’t supposed to happen right now. I know you have your whole career ahead of you, and we’re still so young, and I—” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or like this was going to mess up everything you’ve worked for.”

Ben blinked, like he was trying to process everything, and your chest tightened at his lack of reaction. Then, suddenly, he exhaled a sharp breath and ran a hand through his curls. “Holy shit.” Your stomach dropped. “Ben—” “Holy shit,” he said again, before shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Then, without warning, he laughed—a short, incredulous sound—and looked at you with something unreadable in his expression.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated, like he needed to say it out loud to believe it. Tears burned in your eyes as you nodded. Ben’s face softened, and before you could react, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost knocked the air out of you. “Baby,” he murmured against your hair. “Why the hell were you so scared to tell me?” Tears slipped down your cheeks. “Because… I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.

Ben pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. “I mean, yeah, it’s a shock. And it’s scary as hell. But we’re in this together.” His thumb brushed away your tears. “I love you. That’s not changing just because this happened sooner than we expected.” Your lip trembled. “You’re not… mad?”Ben huffed a soft laugh. “Nah, baby. I mean, damn, I didn’t think I’d be a dad this soon, but…” He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you. And if we’re having a baby, then that just means I’ve got even more to fight for.” A sob escaped you, but this time, it wasn’t out of fear. It was relief. Ben kissed you deeply, his lips lingering against yours. “We’ll figure this out. Together.” And for the first time all day, you actually believed it.

[rouzys]

i was young — godlight, noah kahan

dave sandford / dave sandford / andy devlin / dave sandford / bill smith / andy devlin / bill wippert

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[kataracy]

Kataang Week 2024 DAY 1 // Cultural Sharing

“I’m nervous. Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing amazing Sweetie.”