#(of course it was nurse b who said it to me before telling me to 'just take herbs' instead)

[heartshattering]

Why do medical professionals always say "I've never heard of (thing)" when you ask for help?

"I've never heard of a house needing more than one wheelchair ramp"

"I've never heard of anyone taking that medication before"

Well then how tf do you have a job in the medical field when you know so little about disabled people and our needs lol

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 9! I had to force myself to stop editing this one, probably because this is my first Alastor fic. I hope you enjoy.

Tags/Warnings: Ace Alastor, non-sex repulsed Alastor, jealousy, fingering, p in v sex, biting, blood consumption, marking, kind of a/b/o?, reader is a deer demon, creampie, fem!reader. Word Count: 2,925

There was something about you that drew Alastor’s attention. He couldn’t care less about the sinner’s in the hotel. Only playing the part of a gracious hotelier for his own entertainment. But you. You were an intriguing sinner that drew his attention, much to his own disgust. Perhaps it was because you were also a deer demon? Whatever the reason, he disliked it.

He went back and forth on finding your presence so very grating, and craving it all the same. When he had expressed his utter annoyance to Rosie she only laughed and told him he was catching feelings. He had laughed. Him? Catching feelings? Absolutely unheard of. And Rosie herself even had the gall to sound shocked! So Alastor decided the next best course of action was to simply ignore you.

It worked. For a while, that was. Until he noticed how dejected you appeared as he sought to actively avoid you. It was almost like you…enjoyed his presence. He found himself going back to tolerating being in the same room as you, but never speaking to you. He ignored you blatantly, ignoring how the sight of your face falling pulled at his heartstrings. His smile always strained at how crestfallen you’d look. And finally, much to his relief and chagrin, you started avoiding him.

You no longer sought him out, if he was already in the room, you’d simply look away. You didn’t go to him for simple things, the trivial things that you had once sought him out for. To tell him of something funny or to ask about his day. He didn’t miss it…that’s what he told himself. He didn’t mind you turning from him, sadness shining in your eyes. He didn’t mind it when Husker or Angel Dust made you laugh and banished the sadness from your eyes. And it certainly did not bother him when Lucifer noticed your crestfallen mood one day, procuring a rubber duck for you. Alastor certainly did not dislike the smile on your face at the sight. He just disliked that it was the King of Hell who had made you smile like that.

Today was unlike any other, he was sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of neat whiskey. You return to the hotel and head towards the bar, your eyes rolling over Alastor briefly before turning your attention fully to Husk, not even sparing the Radio Demon a simple ‘Hello.’ The radio static picks up around Alastor, almost biting into your skin. Alastor’s smile strains, his eye twitching in pure annoyance at your dismissive nature. He ignored that he had been doing the same to you just a week ago. His hand flexed, his fingers tightening around the glass of whiskey.

“Hello, Husk!” You greet brightly, flashing the ex-overlord a dazzling smile.

“Hi.” The cat-sinner greets, sounding slightly grumpy, “What can I make you today?”

You hum, tilting your head slightly, the action mirroring Alastor’s own habit. “I’ll take anything you make me, Husk!”

The bartender smiled slightly, shrugging. “Well then I better not hear any complaints.”

“No complaints.” You smile, sitting one bar stool away from Alastor. “I promise.”

Alastor sipped on his whisky, his eyes never leaving you as you interact with Husk, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment Husk sets a drink in front of you earning a smile and a flick of your ear.

“Thank you, Husker.” You say, bringing the drink up to your lips.

You make a face at the taste, but don’t say anything, choosing instead to sip at the drink.

“You don’t have to pretend to like it, you know.” Husk said, chuckling at your look of disgust.

You shake your head, “You said no complaints. I’m not complaining.”

You took another sip of the horrible liquid, an involuntary shiver running through your body. Alastor watches you, watching your reaction, how you respond to Husk. He notes how your eyes shine, how you so willingly interact with Husk while ignoring him. You went as far as to sit an entire bar stool away from him. He felt weirdly jealous, though he'd never admit to that aloud. His eye twitch returned, the sound of static rising dangerously around him. And you roll your eyes at him!

A cold feeling of anger runs through Alastor as he stands up suddenly. His sudden movement draws your attention away from Husk, your eyes meeting red.

He speaks your name, his voice cold and demanding. “A word?”

You take a deep breath, standing up and catching Husk’s gaze. There was a warning there, silently urging you not to trust Alastor. You slam down the rest of your drink, cracking your neck slightly. As though you needed the liquid courage to deal with him. The thought annoyed Alastor. You take a deep breath, before turning to face the Overlord.

“Certainly.” You flash him a smile, one that he knows is fake.

It irks him to no end. But the fact that you’ve even agreed to step aside with him is a miracle in itself, especially after the way he’s been treating you. He leads you just out of Husk’s sight. Where you raise an unimpressed eyebrow and cross your arms against your chest.

“What is it, Alastor? Are you finally going to tell me what I’ve done to earn your ire?” You challenge, your eyes never leaving his.

“Earn my ire?” He echos. “My dear, you’re mistaken. You’ve done nothing of the sort!”

His voice is bright and chipper, like it always is. Your brows furrowed before you could stop them. Confusion and hurt flashing through you. You liked Alastor, you did, or… had. You felt safe near him for whatever reason, his presence was calming to a weird degree. You had, at one point, found yourself drawn to the enigmatic Overlord, wanting to know about him. But his actions, his means to ignore you, had told you loud and clear that your presence wasn’t welcome. You were obviously nothing more than an annoyance. Why else would he go through such lengths to avoid you or just blatantly ignore you? It had to have been because he didn’t like you, what other reason could there have been?

“Then why?” You ask softly, your voice full of genuine hurt.

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. “Nevermind, you won’t tell me anyway.”

Alastor found himself stepping forward, reaching out to grip your wrist. He didn't like that you turned away from him, that you were intent on walking away. The both of you melted away into shadows, reappearing a moment later in his room. You gasped at the sensation, swaying slightly.

“What the fuck!?” You gasp, turning to look at Alastor, demanding an explanation.

“Such nasty words.” He chides, “I believe, my dear, you owe me an explanation.”

“What?” You whisper, your head tilting in confusion. “About what?”

“About why you’ve been so keen on ignoring me.” He takes a step forward. “Why do you insist on giving them more attention?”

Your brows furrow again, a frown taking over your face. “You were the one ignoring me, asshole!” You snap, “Fucks sake, Alastor, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. Alastor’s eyes narrow, closing the distance between the two of you. He grabs your hand, yanking you against his body. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you close to him.

“Now, now, my dear. I cannot be jealous of what belongs to me.”

You laughed in his face again, slightly in disbelief, but mostly in frustration. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am completely serious.” He replies simply, “And perhaps it’s time I lay that stake. Make it clear just who owns you.”

His words make you shiver, your heart beating a little faster. But that doesn't stop your utter bafflement.

“You don't own me.” You roll your eyes, trying to push away from him. “And there's no way in the seven circles that I will ever give you my soul. So fuck you.”

His smile strained yet again, his eyes narrowing, betraying his discontent. “Come again?”

You understand that he's daring you to challenge him again, prompting you to step out of line.

“Two weeks!” You hiss, “First you avoided me, disappearing from every room I stepped in. Then you just blatantly ignored me. Do you understand how much that hurts? And if… if I haven't done something to earn your ire then you must just simply hate me. Regardless, I'm not going to give you my soul. Why should I? When you treat me like this?”

If his smile could fall, it would have. Instead his expression softened, a sadness entering his eyes. Something that had your heart stuttering within your chest, squeezing with unease.

“You think I hate you?” He asks softly.

“Yes!” You huff in slight aggravation, trying your best to ignore how he’d looked almost crestfallen. “Why else are you avoiding me? Ignoring me? Treating me like I’m nothing?”

“It was never my intention to hurt you, my dear-”

“Yeah?” You scoff. “Well, you did!”

“May I finish?” he asks, radio filter falling away from his voice as he pulls you closer.

You clench your teeth but nod, permitting him to finish whatever he had to say to you.

When he speaks the filter is back, “It was never my intent to make you think that I hate you, or that I was upset at you. Whatever may I do to make it up to you?” 

 You take a deep breath before deciding, “Stop ignoring me for one.”

“Am I ignoring you right now, little one?” He asked, leaning forward, his breath fanning against your neck.

You swallow, unable to stop the whimper from spilling from you at his closeness. There was no stopping how your body responded to him, though you wished it wouldn’t.

“N-No.” You begrudgingly admitted, “But you have been… and that’s hurt, Al.”

His lips brush against your neck, your eyes closing at the sensation.

“My deepest apologies, my dear. As I mentioned, it wasn't my intention. Perhaps I can make it up to you right now?” He offers, his bottom lip trailing across the skin of your neck.

His touch ignited a path of fire that burned hot at the slight contact. “H-How?” You ask, slightly breathless. 

How had he managed to turn the tables on you so fast? You were supposed to be upset at him! And you were, for the most part. But you were also aware that Alastor held you in his arms, his body pressed against yours. His soft cologne surrounded you, drew you in, made you feel calm.

“First…I think I should make my claim.” His teeth grazed against your shoulder, sending a thrill through you. “Then perhaps I can ask for your forgiveness?”

He was a charming bastard, you’d give him that. “And if I say no?”

He chuckles, the sound surprisingly deep and baritone, sending a thrill straight to your core. “Oh, my dear, I don’t believe you’ll be saying no when I’m done with you.”

His lips pressed against your neck in an almost tender kiss. “Don’t you like the idea of being mine?”

You did indeed like the idea of being his, your body did too. Arousal swirled in your core. But you were still hurt, still confused as to why he'd been acting the way he had.

Your voice wavered, “f-fuck. That’s not fair.”

He chuckled, the sound sending more heat pooling between your legs against your will.

You swallowed, looking away from him, “at least tell me why you've been acting like you have.”

Alastor tilts your chin up, drawing your gaze back to him. “I'm afraid, my dear, you've caught my attention. Earned my affection.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes meeting his. His pupils were slightly blown wide with an animalistic edge that made him look feral. And unfortunately for you, he also looked damn sexy.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve been acting like you have.” 

Alastor leans forward, his breath fanning over your face. “I was avoiding you because I didn’t want to feel like this. These feelings are… confusing.”

Your eyes flutter open again at the rawness to his tone. He sounded genuine. “And now?”

“Now…I think it’s best I don’t ignore these feelings.” His lips brushed lightly against yours.

Your heart skips a beat, a small whimper falling from your lips. “And?”

He smirks, his face dipping beneath your chin, his nose grazing along your neck. “I’m going to make you mine. What do you say?”

“O-Okay.” You whisper, your desire winning out over the bells and whistles going off in your head. “Make me yours.”

His grin spread wider, the word “Lovely” spilling from his lips with such a low growl, it nearly shook you to the core. Alastor presses a soft kiss to your neck, before sinking his teeth in without warning. You yelp in pain, your eyes widening as he sucks. His tongue laps up your blood, soothing the sharp sting into a throbbing ache.

“Come tomorrow, everyone will know who owns you.” He promises, claws effortlessly shredding your shirt.

“Fuck, Alastor!” You whine, not having expected him to do that.

You also didn’t expect him to shred your skirt or your panties. His claws glided through the fabric like butter- shredding them effortlessly. His fingers find your clit, rubbing gently. His touch is in stark contrast to the roughness he had just used to shred your clothes.

Your knees buckled beneath you, your hips rolling against his touch. How long had you dreamed about him touching you like this? How many times had you convinced yourself it would never happen? And now here you were, Alastor slipping two fingers inside you. His lips found yours, your eyes fluttering as he worked your entrance open. Soft moans fell from your mouth, almost timid in nature. He pulls his fingers from your cunt, bringing his slick covered fingers to his mouth. He popped them in, sucking your arousal from his fingers. He hums the sound almost like approval. Your face flushed with heat at the thought of him approving of how you tasted.

Alastor stepped forward, backing you up slowly until the backs of your legs hit his bed, and you crumbled beneath him. He followed you down, his mouth capturing yours in a searing kiss. After a moment he pulls away, his hands reaching for his slacks. You watch in silent fascination as he unbuttons and unzips them, before shoving them down his legs, his boxers following. The sight of his semi-hard cock has you swallowing thickly, your legs pressing together.

“At-ta-ta.” He scolds, forcing his knees in between your legs, spreading them wide. “I want to see you.”

You whine, unable to hide the pure desire running through you. You watch Alastor wrap his hand around his cock, pumping lazily until he’s completely hard.

“I thought you didn’t like sex… or anything.” You murmur, brows furrowed.

“I don’t,” Alastor confirms, shifting forward, running his cock through your slick. “But I will indulge if that means claiming you completely. Marking you as mine.”

“Marking me?” You ask softly, unfamiliar with how your own deer nature worked exactly.

“Indeed!” He replies brightly, thrusting forward, his cock slipping halfway inside you.

You gasp, your eyes widening as he continues to press inside you, never letting up for a single moment. His cock stretches you wide, the sensation burning slightly. There was a mix of pleasure and pain as he entered you, pushing forward until he was completely buried inside you.

“Alastor.” You whisper, breathless, a moan falling from your lips.

“Yes, my dear?” He murmurs, pulling out of you slowly, only to snap his hips back into you sharply.

“Oh fuck!” You moan, back arching against him.

Alastor picks up a steady pace, following your every moan and sigh. “That’s it ma chéri, you take me so well.”

He leans forward, pressing his mouth against your neck again. His pace was increasing, his thrusts hard and frenzied. You were so close, your body quivering with the rising pleasure. Alastor sunk his teeth into your neck again. The sensation had you crying out, your walls squeezing his cock tightly. He moved lower, biting again. He sucked at the wound, encouraging you to bleed, before lapping up the blood. The feeling sent you over the edge. You came hard, your walls fluttering almost painfully around Alastor’s cock. He hisses, biting your shoulder as his cock stills inside you. Hot ropes of cum splash into you, your walls squeezing around his cock, milking him for every drop. Alastor collapses against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he catches his breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, his release leaking out of your used cunt.

“Now.” He decides, a smirk on his face, “You’re mine, and everyone will know it.”

You feel slightly dazed, your eyes closing as you catch your breath.

“I’m yours.” You echo, before adding, “But you’re still not getting my soul.”

He laughed, “Trust me my dear, I just want you, not your soul.”

His words make you smile, your body relaxing into his bed. You were faintly aware of Alastor snapping, of suddenly feeling clothed. He drapes a blanket over you a moment later, shifting beside you.

“Sleep well, ma chéri.” He whispers into your ear.

His voice was the last thing you heard as you slipped into unconsciousness.

[lemon-lime-limbo]

𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖙? | 𝖆 𝖇𝖓𝖍𝖆 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn! reader

warnings: COLLEGE AU, reader does have a female roommate, reader is a nursing major, idk probably ooc bakugou ngl, soft! bakugou, bakugou has hyperhidrosis, possible tw for medical scenarios (no needles, just mentions of stuff like that), jirou and denki are dating teehee

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

note: i typed this so fast that my fingers started locking up LMAO anyway bakugou with hyperhidrosis is my guilty pleasure i love it so much and also can u tell i took medical classes... i tried to make it accessible but also flex my knowledge. enjoy!

When your professor told you about your upcoming project a few classes ago, you sighed in annoyance. You loved being a nursing major, and medical labs came easily to you. But those labs were always done with classmates, and your professor supposed you needed to work with fresh patients, ones you hadn’t gotten accustomed to. A valid suggestion, although it then tasked you with finding six willing participants. And as one can imagine, those were few and far between, and tracking down a sixth person was proving to be much more difficult than you had hoped.

You had already done the lab on your two neighbors you shared a kitchen with, your roommate, Kyoka Jirou, and also her boyfriend, Denki, who was just happy to be there. However, you were still one short. Denki offered to ask his friends to help, and although you were grateful, you couldn’t imagine any of them would be willing to be a test subject for a stranger, and you can’t say you would feel much differently in their position, so you declined. Of course, you could always fake it and just make up random data, but your professor was monitoring how many people you brought into the lab via a sign-in sheet, so you had to use real people.

After class, you went back to your dorm to mope about your future bad grade on your assignment. “Hey,” Kyoka said from her bed, back against the wall with her boyfriend’s head in her lap. 

That was when you saw him. Slouched down in your twin-sized loft bed filled to the brim with stuffed animals was Denki’s hot blonde friend, Katsuki Bakugou. You had gotten only a few chances to speak to him at Denki’s dorm parties, but from what he told you, aside from his general lack of complaisance, Bakugou was a fun person to be around. Aggressive, but still good company, apparently. He was your party crush that would sometimes talk to you. You were too scared to ask for his number, and he always disappeared promptly after every party. But while he was there, his eyes never left you.

Today, he wore an oversized black hoodie, and his baggy black pants had multiple straps hanging from them. One leg dangled over the edge of your mattress, his clunky black boots on the floor by your desk, buried in the fur of your fluffy rug. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes glued to his phone screen with his other arm casually behind his head.

You were embarrassed, both by your messy side of the room, and by all the stuffed animals on your bed. He clearly didn’t care, however, squashing quite a few plushies under his body, their plastic eyes bulging out of fluffy sockets. 

Dodging wads of clothes and cords from musical equipment, you made your way to your desk to set your backpack down, dodging his leg as you ducked under the loft bed. “You, um… You didn’t tell me we would have company��” you said to Kyoka, wishing you had dressed up a bit more for your previous class. You always expected her boyfriend to be over, but this was definitely a surprise. She knew you found him attractive, but you’re not sure she grasped the real gravity of the situation.

She laughed sheepishly. “Sorry… But I do have good news.”

“Go on.” You kicked off your own shoes onto your rug before trying to gather up some of the papers on your desk to help with the mess.

“Well, it took a bit of convincing, and a bit of bribery, but Denki found you a final person!” You turned to see her doing jazz-hands from her bed. 

Your eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”

She nodded, a devious smile on her face. “You got it. Meet Denki’s friend from high school.” If you hadn’t been staring right at her in shock, you would have missed the wink she shot at you. 

“Nice to see you,” you said after taking a moment to regain your composure, looking over the edge of your bed at him. He gave you a nod in acknowledgement, eyes snapping to yours and trailing downwards. You looked away awkwardly, feeling like a museum exhibit.

“I know you told me not to ask my friends,” Denki said, sitting up with a yawn. “But I couldn’t help myself.”

You wished you could be mad at him for going against your wishes, but you were just glad to finally be able to finish your project and to not have to scrounge campus for a semi-willing participant. Even though his choice of victim seemed to be a challenge to see how professional you can keep yourself. “Well, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” You leaned against one of the wooden posts of your bed frame. “I definitely owe you one!”

His eyes darted from yours nervously. “Let’s wait until after you do your thing to decide that…” Denki just hoped you wouldn’t kill him when you got back to your dorm. In fact, he was already running through ideas and excuses to not be there when you did get back.

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head with a suspicious squint.

An aggravated sigh drew your attention to your bed above you. “Where are we going for your little experiment?” Bakugou said.

You frowned at the thought of it being an experiment. While technically your project was science, as all nursing is, this assignment wasn’t anything more than gathering data and practicing your application of the techniques you learned. An experiment would entail a hypothesis and more focus on the science aspects. You almost made the clarification, but you lost your nerve when you looked at him again. “The lab is right by building B,” you said. “It’s open now, if you want to-”

“Fine.” He jumped off your bed before you could react and yanked his boots on. “Let’s go,” he grumbled, pulling harshly on the side zippers as you took a few seconds to process what had just occurred.

You hurried to put your own shoes on before he walked out the door, almost leaving you in the dust as you rushed to catch up to him after grabbing your backpack. Once outside, you were grateful you wore your jacket, the brisk air whipping around and stinging your cheeks as the sun went down. You walked next to each other, and you were determined to make this as transactional as possible, no matter what the heart threatening to erupt out of your ribs was saying. And it had very much to say, you found out. You didn't want to be presumptuous, and he was only supposed to help you with your assignment and be on his way, but it became increasingly difficult to keep the heat out of your face. You hardly noticed Bakugou’s soft jangling, the chains and straps on his pants rattling together, or the way his eyes occasionally fixed themselves on you, yours stuck down at the sidewalk under your feet. 

Building B was the building closest to your dorm, to which you were extremely grateful. It only took a few minutes of awkward silence to get there. You fumbled to grab your keycard out of the pocket of your jeans, the beep of the machine echoing through the small alcove as you pressed your card against it.

The large glass doors slid open soundlessly and you walked in, the stuffy room between the next set of doors so insulated from any sounds all you could hear was your own breathing. Through the second set was the medical lab, the large panels of windows casting a sunset glow over the equipment that had been left out. Community lab coats hung on a hook by the door. Several small doors lined the circular room, each door leading to a separate room for practicing medical exams. The sign-up sheet for your class was posted on a clipboard on the countertop beside a sink. 

Boxes of latex-free rubber gloves were lined up on the central counter, next to piles of stethoscopes and blood-pressure cuffs. As you signed in on the clipboard, writing your name and Bakugou’s in one of the tiny boxes, he wandered the lab, picking up random things and putting them back down after turning them in his hands a few times. You were grateful for the spray bottles of alcohol scattered about the room and in every smaller office, which you sprayed on the equipment you chose.

“Okay. Let’s see…” you said before scanning the small rooms, peeking into each one to check for other students. All of them were deserted, so you chose a random one, Bakugou following you inside. A table and a small chair were the only things in the room, aside from the counter and sink. “All I have to do is take your blood pressure and we’ll be done!” You set your backpack down and pulled out your lab sheet.

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. “You brought me all the way here, just for this?”

You nodded. “Yes. Now, please sit down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, dumbass,” he said, but he sat down anyway, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. 

Your back was to him as you put your stethoscope on, scanning your paper’s instructions. When you turned back around, your eyes immediately widened and your face went hot. “What, um… What are you doing?” you stammered. Bakugou was in the process of removing his sweatshirt, revealing a plain black tank top and a muscular frame you weren’t expecting, although you tried not to imagine what he looked like under his baggy clothes.

“What’s it look like? Can’t take my blood pressure with my sleeves in the way. I thought you, a nursing major, would’ve known that.” His snide tone and his condescending smirk made you embarrassed. Admittedly, you didn’t even think about it. It irritated you that he somehow did, and it irritated you even more that he was right. You tried not to stare, not at the way his blond hair stuck out in every direction, or the way his tank top stretched over his broad chest, or the way his hand lay relaxed in his lap, palm up and waiting for you to begin.

The velcro of the sphygmomanometer was loud in the small room as you peeled it open, nervously taking Bakugou’s arm to wrap it around the thick muscle. He was so attractive you couldn’t help but look away, busying yourself with finding the inflation bulb. From this distance, you could smell his cologne, strong and masculine, and it filled your lungs like dense smoke. You had to will yourself to stay focused, to prevent yourself from fainting where you stood. “Can you hold this for me?” 

“Fine,” he said, and you placed the pressure gauge into his other hand. When your hands brushed, you took notice of how sweaty his palms were. You also noticed how he flinched slightly when you touched him. His breathing was even, but he looked at you intensely, like he had to think about each breath to keep himself alive. It was nerve-wracking being so close to him. So many times you tried to gain the confidence to talk to him, but you always chickened out as soon as you made eye contact across the room. Sometimes, he would talk to you first, but one of his friends always ruined the moment by begging him to do a keg-stand.

Staring straight at the gauge in his hand, you filled up the cuff, rapidly squeezing until it was thirty millimeters above resting. You pressed the stethoscope into the crook of his elbow, not noticing the beads of sweat on his skin, careful to keep your fingers off the back of the stethoscope bell. 

When the heartbeat stopped, you slowly twisted the dial on the side to release a bit of air. The heartbeat resumed, and you mentally wrote down the number on the dial. It stopped again, so you released the rest of the air out of the cuff. Pulling your stethoscope out of your ears, you reached to remove the cuff, velcro ripping from itself. His eyes never left you, watching the way your hands moved to slide the cuff off.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, abruptly, fingers fiddling with the tubes of the sphygmomanometer as you took the gauge out of his hand. He shrugged. You turned to set your equipment on the counter and write your data on your paper. “Do I make you nervous?”

“What kinda stupid question is that?” he snickered.

You laughed nervously, eyes meeting his as you turned around. “Well, it’s just that… You’re really sweaty.”

His smug expression had never left so fast. His hands grabbed his hoodie, scrambling to pull it over his head with a muttered, “Shit…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything!” You scrambled to fix your mistake, but the words had already left you.

Adjusting the hood of his hoodie, he avoided your gaze. He didn’t seem like the type to feel shame, but the expression on his face made you think otherwise. “Just forget it!” 

You shook your head, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “I shouldn’t have pointed it out. I’m sorry.”

“I just… I forgot to take my medication today. I’ve got, uh… this condition…” He trailed off as you began gathering your equipment, going back into the main lab to clean it again with alcohol.

“Hyperhidrosis?”

He blinked a few times. “Yeah, how’d you-?”

“Nursing major,” you reminded him, placing your tools in their respective piles. 

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. Anyway, just don’t… Just don’t tell anybody, okay?”

You placed a hand over your heart. “Your secret is safe with me,” you swore. You looked around the lab for anything else you needed to take care of. “So anyway, what did Denki have to do to get you to help me?”

He looked at you, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “He told me you’d go out with me if I did.”

You froze. “He- He did what?” Oh, you were so going to kill him. Knowing him, he’d make himself scarce, but he couldn’t be hard to track down.

“So, how about it? I never do anything for free.” Bakugou walked backwards into the door, pushing it open for you.

You laughed. “As long as you promise to help me kill Denki afterwards.”

[xxavengingangelxx]

Like a Phoenix

Notes: This came from a request for a comfort/love fic @unicorngirly1! <3

It was inspired by this amazing, gorgeous work of art by @shadow0-1. It made me wonder if Phil would worry about his wife leaving him were he to get scarred on a mission.

Anyways, summary!: Graves is burned in an unexpected explosion and is scarred. He worries about his wife leaving him because of it but his wife more than reassures him his scars only make him more attractive to her.

Warnings for: SMUT! MDNI! No other warnings, just hot and heavy sexy times and brief descriptions of burns. Work has been insane and I was suddenly inspired to write this after a dry spell. Not much proofreading, sorry for mistakes! But I had to get it out to my buddies :)

Taglist: @bellgraves, @shepgurl, @sharksausages, @lily-lily131313, @candy616. Want on or off the tags? Let me know :)

-

You were the wife of a mercenary. Weirdly enough, you two had met in a bar. What a story to tell the son you shared, right? You’d always been attracted to soldiers and you had just finished college and you’d been having fun with soldiers coming back from deployment. You’d been hanging out there for a year while you worked a boring office job, that bar really being your only source of enjoyment in your otherwise boring life.

You’d met a couple of soldiers, some of them foreign. The ones coming off deployment were always…rough wasn’t the right word. Passionate was. But holy shit were those nights hot and heavy. There was one you hooked up with a couple of times before meeting Phil. What had been his name? Johnny? Sometimes if he was in a mood he’d have you call him Soap. Scottish men were something else.

And then, funnily enough, on fourth of July weekend, your eyes caught Phil’s. You didn’t know his name back then of course. But you caught him looking at you, his blue eyes catching the low light of the bar and glowing. He nursed a beer, typical Texan, and smirked at you. He was decked out in field gear with a vest that had an American flag, a tag that read B-23, and had wires running through it.

No name tag though. Nameless, handsome stranger.

That nameless, handsome stranger eventually excused himself from a group of men who were dressed similarly. The men had been checking you out, too and sneered at you as well. But the nameless shadow had called dibs apparently because they told him to “go for it.”

“’S your name, darlin’?”

And when he got closer that was when you realized he was tall and broad and built and he had this heat that emanated off him that was almost intimidating. He smelled like cologne, aftershave, gunpowder, and sweat. And the fear of his enemies. He’d killed people earlier that day you were sure.

So why did that make you even more attracted to him?

You stumbled over your name for the first time in your life as he eyed you up and down shamelessly.

A booth opened up near the bar and the man led you towards it before you really knew what was happening. He had to take off his vest, the Velcro ripping loudly in order to fit in the booth. As he sat across from you, you caught more of his intoxicating scent. He was all man.

You wondered what his war-torn body looked like naked and what he would taste like on your tongue. You wondered if he would stretch you when he pushed himself inside you. You pressed your thighs together under the table to ease some of the pressure.

“Caught you lookin’ and I was always raised to never leave a lady wantin,’” he said in that sexy drawl. “Names Phil. Phil Graves.”

You repeated your name, not stuttering over your words this time.

“What’d you want to drink?”

The rest was history. You stopped seeing other men and even though he had a way with the ladies he’d also stopped seeing other women. Before you knew it, he had you moved into his house in the span of a month. He’d made you quit that boring-ass office job, saying you didn’t need to work. He said no wife of him was going to work outside the home. Also, anything you wanted? It was yours.

And in the mean time? You’d fuck him, he’d fuck you, and everything in between. You hated when he went off on deployments but loved it when he got back. He had that scent that he had the first night you met him. So intoxicating.

You got married to him 6 months in. He’d said he just knew you were the one. You weren’t 100% sure but he’d certainly convinced you in the last 3 years. He was the man of your dreams and more.

He was on deployment now and you were expecting him back any day. While he was away, there were always 2 Shadows posted at the house to keep you and the son you shared with him safe.

You’d just had breakfast and had your son on your hip when one of Graves’s men approached you, satellite phone in hand and a solemn look on his face.

Your mind instantly went to the worst place.

“Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone,” you whispered. You had intended for it to come out harsher but you couldn’t. Tears prickled your eyes and your son poked at them curiously as they fell down your cheeks.

“No, thank God, it’s not that,” the Shadow reassured.

“Then what?”

“There was an unexpected explosion and—”

“And, and what?!”

“He was burned,”

“So?”

“He might have permanent scarring,”

You sighed. “I don’t give a shit. I wanna see my husband.”

-

You’d left your son in the care of a "Shadow dad." That particular Shadow was your son’s godfather so you trusted him with your son’s life.

When you stepped into the hospital room, it was warmer than you expected it to be. “Phil?” You called out softly.

No answer. Just the beeping of the machines.

You gently pushed the curtains hanging from the ceiling to the side…

And there he was.

Peacefully asleep. The left side of his face had a white translucent bandage as did his left arm. His left leg seemed to have been spared and if you guessed, his chest had been spared because of his vest.

“Phil,” you sighed, starting to cry. You cuddled up to him in bed on his right side and cried softly while you listened to him breathe.

-

The next year had been trying. Phil, the great Shadow Commander had been unable to join his soldiers in the field. He hated sending them out with him going. His men were like sons to him and losing any of them would have him sniffling while trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

Graves had healed. Skin grafts had taken and you and your husband had both come to terms with the fact that he was always going to look different.

His Shadows started calling him Phoenix because he had literally risen from the ashes of an explosion and lived.

And then suddenly, out of the blue it seemed, Phil started getting nervous about you leaving him, about his son being scared of him.

“That’s silly. Your son loves you.” You brought the now-sizeable four-year-old into the room, having picked him up out of his playpen and brought him to set next to his dad on the couch.

Father and son made eye contact, with Phil looking at his tiny (compared to adult Graves) son sitting next to him on the couch and his son looking at his hulking figure of a dad. The boy’s green-ish blue eyes met his father’s blue eyes.

The pause lasted forever and you started working up a line in your head that even if the tiny tot expressed fear, that it was nothing to worry about.

And finally, the toddler smiled and crawled into his father’s lap, running tiny hands over the left side of Phil’s face and his left arm. “You squiggwy, Daddy. Color inside the lines.”

And tears pricked your eyes as well as Phil’s when you all laughed.

-

“You should find someone better looking,” Phil said to you later than night when you came in from having put your son to bed.

“Phil, that’s ridiculous. I love you.”

You crawled in to bed with him and snuggled up to him. You then climbed on top of him. He had been lying down on his back and you straddled him.

“Phil, all this does,” you ran a gentle hand down the scars on the left side of his face and his left arm. “Is make you look hotter. You beat death. You’re a badass.”

“Can I tell you…ask you something?” Phil whispered, resting his hands on your hips.

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything about me leaving you,”

A kind smile touched his face.

“Can we have another?”

“Another—”

“Another one.”

Oh. Oh.

“You want another kid?” You asked.

“I really do,” Phil answered.

“How do we make babies again?” you teased, grinding your hips on his growing erection.

Phil easily tossed you off of him onto the side of the bed. Hard enough that you had to catch yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

“Shit, my bad,” he chuckled. “Ya’lright?” he asked, helping ease you under him, legs wrapped around his hips.

“More than alright,” you purred.

Phil had recently been able to be more active as his skin healed and he easily pulled your nightgown up and off you.

“No panties?” he smirked, eyeing you lustfully.

“Easy access,” you said coyly.

“Naughty girl,” he growled. He pushed his sweats and boxers below his cock, now hard and red and ready.

“Only for you,” you moaned arching up, feeling the hot tip of his cock kiss your entrance before Phil placed a hand over your belly button and tsked disapprovingly.

“So needy,” Phil gasped when he felt your own wet entrance touch him.

“Gotta get you ready, yeah?” Phil rumbled.

“M’ ready, m’ ready,” you pleaded, trying to arch up to his hot dick, now oozing precum.

“Could be more ready,”

And you gasped when you felt his lips on your entrance. His stubble on the right side of his face still scratched your inner thigh and you had to stop yourself from yelping at the sudden sharp sensation.

And he licked you from your vagina to your clit, making you quiver. You hands went to his hair, holding him in place. His hair had grown out slightly longer and it just made it all the easier to grasp it.

And when he sucked on your clit, and pressed his tongue against it, you moaned his name.

He withdrew suddenly, making you whimper at the loss.

“Phil,” you protested.

“I wanna be inside you when you cum,” he said darkly.

And so he pushed inside of you, slowly, so slowly that your breath caught in your throat when you tried to tell him to go faster. He suddenly bottomed out inside of you quickly, slamming home in a way that made you cry out.

“Don’t wanna wake ‘im, hush,” Phil whispered, his hot lips brushing your ear. “Don’t make me put something in there to make you be quiet.”

You moaned, softer this time.

Phil moved, pulling all the way out before again starting slowly and then pushing back in to hit your cervix.

You brought your hands up to his shoulders. You scratched his right shoulder with your nails. But not his left one. That one had just been kissed by the flames but the fire had spent enough time on that skin to scar him.

Phil groaned, grinding his hips against your clit as he hit your cervix and that gummy spot inside you. His hot lips now sucked a hickey on your neck before moving to your breasts. And that combination of sensations: his hips grinding against you, stimulating your clit, his long, thick cock hitting your cervix as his thrusts became harder, fast, and his sucking your breasts was when you surrendered to him and came.

He was quick to put his left hand over your mouth to cover any cries that might have left your mouth otherwise.

“Fuuuuck,” Phil gasped. He thrusted faster, his hips losing their rhythm as he got closer to his own high. He removed his hand from your mouth and instead used his hands to pin your wrists down on either side of your head as he chased his own climax, finally cumming inside you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum, right into your fertile womb.

Phil stayed inside you as you continued clenching around him, hearing him hiss as he was now overly sensitive.

“Never leave,” Phil whispered.

“Never will,” you promised.

[bruciemilf]

oh that's ok but batkids reacting to bruce getting hurt in general?

It's such a bizarre feeling for all of them; They all bear marks. Not one bat is without scars; You'd be more of an anomaly if you weren't hurting than if you were.

Jason has his autopsy scars. Dick has calloused hands from all those years of jumping, or deeper memories carved deep in him from his Robin days. Damian carries traces of training where someone his age shouldn't.

They all know; No one with the Wayne name is a stranger to pain.

But Bruce; Bruce has more than all of them. They know, because mending and healing wounds is a family tradition, just as tracing them when snuggling up on a huge bed is.

But they can't conjure a moment in time when Bruce's were fresh. They're all healed and pink and more memory than guests. And it's not as often as them.

It's Tim who figures it out. Those eyes were designed for detail. " You didn't think he took all those vacations to actually relax, right?"

" Bruce's idea of relaxation would send someone in a psych word, so no. So all this time, he went away to...Heal?"

" Something like that. I don't think he'll be successful with this one, thought."

Not even Bruce can walk off a coma.

It wasn't supposed to be that explosive. Bane's twisted little bombs had 5 minutes left on them when Barb checked, and they were supposed to get the hostage to safety on time, and Tim wasn't supposed to miscalculate--

" Your self-employed guilt is no help to anyone, Drake." In Damian language, this passes as It wasn't your fault, so Tim knows him, and knows better, than to put it to heart.

Dick wants the graveyard and sunrise shift, but Jason shuts that down, set in his way. Either they all look after Bruce, or none of them do.

They take turns.

Jason sits by Bruce's bed side with his feet planted deep in the carpet. Shoulders squared, posture ready and stiff for any incoming danger, gun safety off and bullets still hot in their holder. A hell hound made man.

" You're not doing it right."

Tim shoots a dagger of annoyance with his eyes alone, because he hasn't slept in hours, because he's trying to track Bane down, because he needs to send that bastard packing straight to Arkham's smallest cell.

All while maintaining some degree of calm as he tries to change Bruce's bandages, " I'm a genius, not a nurse."

" Maybe if you actually watched Grey's Anatomy like the rest of us normal people, --"

" Just because it helped Bruce get through med school--"

" If you're a selective genius, just say that."

" I'd rather be a part time genius than a full time idiot--"

" Dick!" Jason calls, but, Tim privately thinks he's hoping Bruce would answer, " Timberly's mean to me again!"

" Am not!"

" If you guys don't stop I'll tell B!"

Because he will wake up; He has to. Before Batman, there was Bruce Wayne, and if there's one dog to bet on in Gotham City, it's him.

Cass makes sure Bruce has clean sheets. That his burns are medicated and tamed and watches very closely for any sign of discomfort. Bruce winces at the small cotton ball of alcohol and there's a collective breath of relief.

Alfred makes sure they have sleep. That Jason won't wayward his way into a battle he'll regret and take Damian with him. That Dick actually has some sleep. That Duke and Cass are updated on patrol.

They're fearful. Every breath they take are like small stones stacked up on top, waiting to drop to the core of their bellies as a week passes and there's no sign of Bruce even flinching anymore.

Of course, when he does, -- because he always does, -- it's when they bicker. Tim can't remember who started it. He said something, and then Damian tossed a snarky comment because he's mean when he's scared, and --

" Can you be nice to eachother for 10 minutes?"

They all jump on him; He hisses, every numb nerve in his muscles buzzing back to life, but he's being squeezed and embraced and hugged in the ground by his kids, so it's not the worst fate in the world.

" Did I miss something?"

" Jason crushed the Batmobile."

" TIM!"

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

In Love, in War Pt. 2 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | She (the reader) comes from a wealthy family in Birmingham, England and he (Thomas Shelby) comes from a family of no-good troublemakers in Small Heath. Their worlds finally collide when Thomas lands himself in the triage tent of a nearby hospital camp during the battle of the Somme with a neck wound. Past traumas and heavy-handed words open old wounds, and yet, they always find their way back to Birmingham.

Warnings | Blood, gore, war, death, crying, and out-dated language ("Gypsies").

Before you gotta go- Courtney Barnett 🎵

Evil- Interpol 🎶

Crying lightning- Arctic Monkeys 🎵

Word count: 2073k

Not proofread- my b, folks!

Thomas was moved to the infirmary by nightfall. The tent was cold and poorly insulated so the nurses draped what extra blankets they could find over the patients. Thomas waved them off. 

“I’m fine. Give it to that bastard.” He’d say again and again as the blankets were distributed amongst them. He saw the nurse again during his 5th night in the infirmary. She had the night shift and set her things down at the nurses station. She did her rounds, checking vitals and distributing medication. He felt as though he recognized her from somewhere but with the habit-like uniform he couldn’t be sure. 

She moved on down the line until she reached Thomas, who was sitting up and smoking in bed. 

“I see they’ve discarded the bandages.” She put gentle fingers near the healing wound. 

“You must’ve stitched me up too well.” He exhaled and shifted beneath the top sheet. 

She looked down at his chart, hanging from the end of his bed and froze. Shelby. Thomas was a Shelby. She looked at the chart, her hands shaking slightly from shock. She hadn’t run into anyone from Birmingham before him, and of course, the first man she sees is a Shelby, one of the poor, troublesome families living in squalor in Small Heath.

“Are you from Birmingham, Thomas?” She cleared her throat. 

“Yeh, you?” He took out a new cigarette from the pack. 

“Yes, I am. I recognized your accent. This will be cold, sorry.” She put the stethoscope under his shirt, listening to his heart. She watched her watch and counted the beats per second. 

“Funny, I don’t recognize yours.” He tensed as the cold scope moved across his stomach, listening to his lungs. “Which neighborhood are you from, nurse?”

She removed the stethoscope and wrote down the numbers on his chart for the next nurse to read. She cleared her throat again, “Claremont.” She looked up and saw him chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ah, so you’re one of ‘em rich girls.” He observed pointedly and crossed his ankles beneath the bedsheets. She said nothing. She spread vaseline across the wound with a cotton swab. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” he continued, “must’ve seen you down at the tracks.” 

“How did you get in?” She asked a little too ignorantly and Thomas frowned slightly.  

“Poor men with money to spend will always be welcome at the tracks. I learned as much from my old man.” He looked down at the cigarette in his hand.

“I never saw you.” 

“You wouldn't have would you, eh? They put us farther back in the pubs where your-like couldn’t see us.” 

She blushed and slipped a thermometer below his tongue to record his temperature. He spoke around the thermometer, “Why’d you become a nurse? Didn’t your daddy tell you it wasn’t a hobby for the girls of your status?” 

“I wanted to help.” She answered truthfully, forgoing any mention of her fiance. 

“And was it everything you dreamed of?” He trained his cold oceanic eyes on her as she removed the thermometer. 

“No, it's much worse.” She whispered.

“Eh, imagine that. Can’t handle this can you?” He flicked the long butt of ash onto the dirt floor below. 

“I managed your stitches just fine, I think. You’re alive aren’t you?” Her face burned and she evaded his piercing eyes. 

“So I should thank you, should I?” He felt a swell of anger in his chest. “It was your lot that got us into this war in the first place and then you expect us to fight it for you.” 

“I didn’t get anyone involved in this bloody war, Shelby. I involved myself and I’m still here, aren’t I?” She fummed as she left the chart at the foot of his bed. 

“You’ll leave as soon as you get the chance, I bet.” He sucked hard on his cigarette, looking away. 

“Wouldn’t you?” She retorted angrily. 

“I don’t have a choice, love. They sent me here to die. I’ll leave when I’m dead.” 

“Excite yourself again and you may not have long to wait.” She pointed to her own neck and stomped away in her wooden-soled shoes to the nurse’s station. She heard Thomas huff loudly from his bed. She lowered the gaslight at the desk, letting the ward fall darker, and watched dutifully as the men tried to sleep. 

She was moved again to the triage tent and worked during the night shifts, restocking supplies and listening to radio calls requesting medical personnel. It was quiet that night as she ran through the stock of syringes and gauze. She came up short and approached the head nurse on duty. 

“Go to the infirmary and take from their stock then go home. We’ll get you if we need the extra hands,” the head nurse directed. 

She hurried to the infirmary tent, tripping over piles of mud and old grass. It was approaching summer again and the mud had warmed to a more bearable temperature stuck inside her stockings. She pushed aside the tent flap and approached the petite brunette behind the desk. 

“I need seven more syringes and about ten more rolls of gauze. Can you spare that?” 

“Let me check for you.” The nurse smiled and took the medical bag from her hands. She stepped into the connecting tent and disappeared behind the flap. 

She turned to the patients left in the ward and glanced over at the bed for Thomas Shelby, empty. She looked back to see if the nurse had returned before going outside. She spotted him against the side of the tent in the dark, smoking a cigarette by himself. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” She said quietly. Thomas turned towards the voice. “You may tear a stitch and die without anyone noticing.” Thomas smirked in the glow of his cigarette.

“Then join me.” 

She said nothing but stepped in closer where she could see him properly in the light of the distant moon. He was pale in the dark with iridescent eyes and soft cheekbones. She stopped beside him and pulled her cardigan closer around her chest instinctively. 

“I’m not going to touch you, yeh know.” Thomas exhaled a stream of smoke and flicked his eyes at her cardigan. 

“I never said you would.” She murmured. 

“Right.” He rolled his eyes under the cover of darkness. 

“I know you’re not like that.”  

“Like what?” He looked over at her. 

“I don’t know.” She looked away and exhaled shakily. 

“People like me? People from Small Heath? ‘Gypsies,’ petty thieves, day laborers and gangsters?” He offered sarcastically. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She dropped her arms defeatedly to her sides, “I just mean…” 

“I get it, princess. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He laughed breathily. She sighed and rested her head on her shoulder. The night noises were scattered with occasional popping sounds and squealing fireworks.  

“Do you miss it? Birmingham, I mean.” She broke the heavy silence. 

“I miss my family.” He answered and dropped the cigarette into the mud. 

“Do you have a large family?” 

“Yeh, most of them are here with me.” 

“Really?” She raised her head. 

“My brothers, yeh. John and Arthur. There’s also Danny and Johnny Doggs, not brothers by blood but they’re still kin.” He looked down at his chest and hissed from the movement pulling at his stitches. 

“Were your brothers out there with you before you were hurt?” 

“Mhm, they’re all still out there.” He gestured to the distant battleland shrouded in gray clouds and smoke. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. 

“Yeh well it’s our duty in service to the crown, ain’t it?” He laughed stiffly. 

“It's a massive sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” He laughed, “What sacrifices have you made, eh? Stop talking as if you understand what it’s like for us. We die out there, in the factories, in our homes and your lives never change.” He spat. 

She forced back the tears stinging in her eyes. 

“Hello? I have the things you requested! Where are you?” The nurse called from inside the tent. She turned back to Thomas, angry tears flooding her eyes. 

“What sacrifices have I known? What have I given in my duty to the crown and to this country? You have no right to speak to me like that, Thomas Shelby. You have no idea what I’ve lost in this war. Just because I don’t wear a black band or carry a pistol does not make me any less of a tool in this national scheme.” She cried beneath her breath and threw open the flap to the tent, leaving him struck dumb in the humid dark. 

“Thank you.” She smiled weakly at the nurse and took the bag. 

“Is everything alright?” The nurse asked in a low voice. 

“Oh yes, I just need a good rest is all. Homesick.” She lied and nodded goodnight. 

She deposited the supplies back at the triage tent and went straight to her tent, shared with five other nurses. She was alone in the tent and allowed herself to cry, cradling the abandoned black band that stood for Francis’s death. Her tears merged into angry sobs that she couldn’t suppress. As her sobs slowed, she stared off into space and ignored the quiet footsteps outside her tent. 

“Nurse?” Thomas whispered loudly through the thick canvas siding. She didn’t hear him until he had entered the tent and moved to crouch beside her cot. When she noticed him, she surprised herself by not reacting. He sat beside her on the cot in his army-issued thermal pajamas and wrapped his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered by her head. “I didn’t think… I wasn’t thinking.” He repeated over and over again as she cried quietly in his arms. “I’m so sorry.” 

She shook her head and gave into his embrace, burying her face into the joint of his left shoulder. 

“What was his name?” He asked gently. 

“Francis.” She sobbed. 

“Shhhhh-” He held her closer as she hiccuped. She placed her hands against his chest, warming them with the heat of his body. When she regained composure, she sniffed. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered and pulled away, wiping her eyes. 

“Here.” Thomas offered his handkerchief and she took it. “Don’t apologize.” He ran a hand down her back, his leg propped up on the cot at an angle. 

“Thank you.” She returned the hankie to his hand, blushing with embarrassment. She looked up into his eyes and saw a newfound softness in their hue. His lashes were long and dark like his skunk-like hair. He looked back, glancing down at her lips, wet with her own tears. He licked his lips and withdrew his hand from the small of her back, pulling a thread of hair from beneath her cap. She covered his hand with her own and leaned into it, innocently. He leaned in and brushed his nose against hers, asking permission to go further. Her lips brushed his, barely a kiss and came back for more. She kissed him messily, like a virgin, and found comfort in the warm softness of his lips. She sighed and allowed herself to be swept up by the pleasure of his closeness in her sadness. He kissed her back, breathing in deeply. She ran a hand down his chest as he cupped the veil of her habit in his hands. She shook her head suddenly, shaking herself out of it. 

“You shouldn’t be here. Anyone could come in.” She stood quickly and he followed, his head brushing the small tent’s ceiling. 

“Will you be alright?” He asked. She stared back, caught off guard by his question, his interest. She stuttered slightly, catching on the roundness of her answer. 

“Yes, yes. I’ll be alright. We weren’t married yet… just-just engaged.” She looked down at the space separating his ribcage from his stomach, the divot of muscle that shook as he breathed through his shirt. 

“No, no. Will you be alright?” He stressed and she paused. 

“I miss him.” 

“I know.” 

She nodded stiffly and pressed her hand against his chest, pushing herself back away from him subtly. He covered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

“You should go before you get caught.” She whispered and he nodded slowly. He turned away and peered outside, looking both ways. 

“Goodnight, Shelby.” She uttered in a low voice which he returned with a sad smile. 

“Goodnight, nurse.”

...................

End of part 2 :)

[thecameronchronicles]

Spite

TW: Loss of virginity (female), smut. Language. Public sex. Cheating. 

SUMMARY: After learning Rafe is using you, you option to give yourself to his enemy simply out of spite…

WORD COUNT: 2300

REQUESTED:

Anonymous asked:

what if reader is a virgin and she’s dating Rafe and he’s always trying to make her lose it with him but she always says she’s not ready (but the thing is she’s not sure about him because she feels he’s hiding something) until one day she finds out he’s only dating her to take her virginity so when JJ is at her house fixing something or whatever she tells him about the whole rafe thing and asks him if he would fuck her because rafe hates him and he hates rafe and it will make him mad

OR they’re not dating but she doesn’t like him because he’s always bragging about how he’s going to be her first and the same ending

Of course you can change it as much as you like it’s just and idea 💘

Spite

You shouldn't be relieved. Believe it, you were still pissed, but you weren't able to deny the breath of ease that came when hearing him tell Topper it was just sex. The sex you refused to give him as you wanted it to be special. Even if it didn't have to be a rented out hotel room from a five star resort adorned with rose petals and champagne, you at least wanted to have that feeling of certainty you never quite had with Rafe. He was too impatient, a kiss quickly turned French and a series of hands always searching beneath your clothes. And the guilt of how patient he had been and how he had earned this had weighed you down to such a degree that you couldn't even find enjoyment for the rare moments of kindness he showed in your makeout sessions. But now, you were free in a sense. Able to allow the pressures of giving your virginity to Rafe to fall silent as you decided he wouldn't get to touch you, let alone fuck you. 

But the same couldn't be said for JJ Maybank, a hired hand by Ward, who was currently half bent over the engine of The My Druthers as it had begun sputtering. With his usual deck hand, John B, having having been established elsewhere, his trusted friend had taken his place. And it was the sight of him kissed by beads of sweat and straining as he struggled to adjust the choke as the mechanics beneath had somehow become jammed that made you bite your bottom lip. 

This was mainly because JJ Maybank had a reputation. He was the life of the party, a fighter for those he cared deepest for, and a nocturnal lover. All hours spent devoted to his partner. Care and selflessness allowing him a reputation that even if he had ended on horrid terms with the girls, they couldn't lie about how he was in bed. And you saw this even now as he became frustrated with the mechanics of the boat. Where you knew Rafe would tear the thing directly in two or maybe even shoot it, you saw JJ try to almost nurse it beneath his submission. A guide of his fingers on everything he acted on having allowed you mind to conjure them on your body... 

"Babe!" Rafe called from the patio. "You're gonna make me late!" 

"I'll meet you there." You lied, with no intention of going anywhere with him as you could barely stand to look at him let alone feign being happy as he attended yet another narcissistic event on behalf of his father. And without a care to see if he had actually left the property, you advanced towards JJ. 

"Hey there, princess. Mind handing me that?" He asked while pointing to some pliers as you obliged. You and JJ were cordial, but not extremely close. And yet, effortless, whenever a conversation would be produced between you. It happened enough times to know his preference of beer and yours of weather, but nothing deep enough to warrant the confession you were about to make. 

"I guess Rafe had a bet with Topper that he could fuck me before the end of the summer..." JJ slipped, his finger becoming jammed in some gear-type mechanism as you watched the pain absent and replaced with intrigue. 

"I guess if he did, it was a grand, and if he brought proof, it would have been twenty five hundred..." You kicked your toes softly against the side of the engine. 

"That's all my virginity is worth...Two thousand and five hundred dollars." 

"You're a..." He became nervous standing before you. Those very nerves were palpable and almost shameless as you had intrigued him, "I would have thought Rafe had-" 

"It never felt right. It always felt like he was hiding something from me...And guess now I know..." 

He slowly nodded as you saw the light tint of red forming on his hand from the unkind slid made against his skin. Giving you an idea and prompting you to act. Call it curiosity or desperation for revenge, but either way, you optioned for JJ and made these intentions known. 

"I don't want Rafe to be the one to fuck me for the first time." JJ's jaw clenched as you set his hand to your lips, a delicate kiss making his mouth part as his eyes darted to Tannyhill. 

"I want to feel good about who gets to feel me for the first time JJ...You don't have to love me or anything...I just want you to make me feel good..." 

He scoffed. "I uh..." 

"And I'll be sure he knows exactly how good you made me feel when I let him take off all of my clothes..." You pushed him back into the captain's chair as he was helpless against you. You were beautiful. Eager. And instigating every second of this. And he was a glutton for all things to do with you. Even if it was a recent revelation, he was consumed by it entirely. 

"He will get to touch me...but he'll only taste you on me...a pogue's cum staining his girlfriend's ruined mouth-" He suddenly brought you over him in a straddle. 

"This is your first time, and as pretty and dirty as that little mouth is, I'm not gonna come in it." He lifted you onto the captain's chair as he moved onto his knees, rising up to ghost your lips and descend back to the bends of his legs before he spoke. 

"I have to get you as wet as possible so if doesn't hurt-" 

"Not a problem..." You breathed as he pulled apart your suit to find you already saturated. 

"Shit, sweetheart. Is this all for me?" You nodded as he bit his bottom lip. "You been watching me all afternoon and it's gotten you all worked up, hasn't it?" You nodded again. 

"Show me. Take your time and show me so I can see just how you like to be touched..." He sat in analysis, watching you for a second before taking over. A set of fingers seemingly trained for your pleasure made circuits around your clit until submitting one to your sex itself. 

"Faster-" 

"No, sweetheart. I know you're gonna be tight and it's gonna hurt...so I need to stretch you as much as I can-" 

"But it feels so good, JJ...plesse..." 

"I will in time, baby...just get used to my fingers-" 

"Fingers?" You questioned the plural as he set a second adjacent to the first, searching for the most sensitive zone within your wall before massaging thay exclusively. 

"Ever had him go down on you?" 

"He's too fast." 

JJ smirked. "Then consider this a replacement..." He spoke with a grin before pulling your legs over his shoulders and now exchanging his fingers with his tongue. 

"So sweet." He growled, leading you closer to the edge of the chair as he led you even closer to him. You were unabashed with your moans, almost hoping wherever Rafe was he could hear how JJ made you feel. Without a need to embellish, the blonde pogue made your back arch and your legs shake in a way you'd never felt before, all while you called out for him. Nameless moans and whimpers drawing you to an edge as his tongue suddenly withdrew. 

"I want you to be as wet as you can be so I want you to come on my face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?" You nodded. 

"I'm close." 

"I know..." He kissed your clit softly before alternating your pleasure between his tongue and his fingers as you shook. 

"Come for me, princess...." He endorsed, that rush of a contradicting icy heat broadcast between your thighs having left you in tremors over him. But as he expected you to need a moment to recover, you stood and pushed him to the other side of the boat. Straddling over him, you dig your nails into his shoulders. 

"Put it in-" 

"Sweetheart-" 

"Fuck me, JJ. I want it to be you...Please, before I change my mind-" He was hesitant as he knew it would hurt. 

"I need some-" He explained as you took only a second to spit on his cock, handling him on perfect corkscrew motions as he moaned beneath you. Your thumb brushed over his tip to luxuriate himself in the precum you'd earned, before you climbed from him and onto your knees. 

"Leincess, I-" You took him into your mouth without a second thought. Sucking in your cheeks and producing tears immediately as you showed how you earned this discarding of your innocence. 

"How the fuck do you do that so good?!" He cursed as you grinned, a tight grip through your hair having guided you in a slow consumption of his cock to keep the pleasure but to keep him from coming prematurely. 

"You get on your knees like this for him?" 

You nodded, having done everything under the sun to keep Rafe happy but also at bay. Only to know have ventured to the far side of the moon for your own pressures. 

"He doesn't deserve that mouth...To bruise this throat..." He set you back to your feet, "And certainly not your virtue." 

"Please, JJ...I'm dripping." His fingers traced between your folds. 

"Poor little princess. You are, aren't you?" 

"Please, JJ...Please..." 

"It's going to hurt." 

"I trust you..." You were guided back over him in a straddle. 

"Slowly." He explained with one hand wrapped around your lower back and the other aligning him inside of you. 

"Slowly- '' He spoke more as a reminder for himself as you took his tip. Your mouth pulled open immediately to the stretch as he continued still. Even though he had been above average, he seemed endless until you'd felt him bottom out. But by the time he had, tears formed in your eyes from the burn of your relinquished virginity. 

"You moved me how-" He tried to offer as you set him into the back of the couch set up the side of the boat, wincing through each thrust. 

"We can stop-" 

"Dont!" You spoke desperately. "Don't...don't stop..." 

"You need to relax then princess, you're gonna make me come, you're you're tight around me." You tried to relax and when he sensed you couldn't, he would make you. With a hand to your neck, almost to cradle you, he spun you around your back, thrusts slow but more shallow as hisbhands came to your breasts. The sensation of his teeth and lips manipulating your nipple made you forget of the pain until only pleasure remained, something he noticed as he no longer heard those wincing wisps of discomfort. And yet, he still called for validation. 

"You alright, princess?" 

"Keep...go-going, JJ...please-" 

"Fuck..." He groaned, fingers eating into the fabric of the leather behind you as he had gripped it tighter as he quickened his motions. 

"I want you to come again-" 

"With me-" 

"Baby-" 

"With. Me." You spoke in finality as he nodded, head at rest into your neck and shoulder as he led you closer into him. A hand to the back of your neck and another keeping himself from crushing you and you were wrapped around him as he accelerated his speed. And even if you expected it to be swift, he would alternate from fast to slow, deep and shallow, until finally pulling your leg over his shoulder and returning it back down over his hip as he had you bent for him so he could see you entirely exposed for him. 

A hand beneath your bikini top would loosen to free and his hands would be quick to amend the chill of the sudden reveal as you groaned beneath him. 

"You feel so good...knowing I'm the first is making me need to come for you..." 

"Then come for me..." He moved deeper and harder, but kept his consistent speed as you were only able to sound in simple pleas as his sweat dripped onto your own. 

"Princess, you're gonna come, I can feel it...And I don't want you to hold back. Scream. Pull my hair. Scratch me until I bleed. I don't fucking care. Just feel good for me and let me make you come. Make me come..." 

"JJ!" You belted, drawing lines of desire into his skin before trembling as you created your edge. 

"Keep going baby, you're doing so good. Taking such good  care of me...shit!" 

"JJ!" 

"Not gonna last long, baby. You feel too good. Sound too good..." You felt him pull you even tighter. 

"Does it hurt this way?" Be asked while leading his hand to your clit. The way your expression deepened into ecstasy prompted your silent response. 

"I'm gonna come baby...you can use your hand if you don't want-" 

"I want you to drip out of me, JJ...I want to have red marks on my ass from your hand, and swollen lips from your kiss. I want you to have every part of me i have left..." 

"Then let me." He groaned, leading you both to that feverish edge until you were climbing down from that second orgasm as he'd basked in that first. But as you moved to adjust, knocking you both off of the west, a series of chuckles would silence as you straddled him on the floor. 

“You’re so beautiful…” He explained how you looked so perfect breathless and perspiring at the end of his fingertips. “But definitely worth more than twenty five hundred…and I stole every piece…”

"Do It again." 

"I'm gonna need a minute, sweetheart, you nearly sucked me dry..." 

"Nearly means you've still got something left-" You led him back between your thighs. 

"Oh fuck..." He breathed. 

"I want you to take everything JJ…everywhere…" You teased your ass with the soaked head of his cock.

"Everywhere."

"You're gonna be so sore, princess…"

"Good. I want to remember all of this…"

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[glompcat]

Following a heart attack during Memorial Day weekend (the weekend before last), my dad had a quadruple bypass on Tuesday. On Thursday my dad's heart stopped. He was fully conscious when it happened, and in fact only lost consciousness when his ICU nurse gave him drugs to knock him out and hopefully prevent him from remembering anything that was happening. He is hooked up to a respirator, so there was no oxygen lost to his brain during any of this. After 15 min. his heartbeat was stabilized and they took him to be examined, as the original thought was it could have been caused by either the cow valves or his new arteries not taking properly. A bad stitch was also proposed to us as a possible cause. None of those things were found, the surgery itself was a success.

Last night at 2:00 am my dad's heart stopped again. This time it took 12 minutes for him to be stabilized. Like the first time, he had come out of the sedation just the day before. He was fully conscious again as it happened, so the nurse gave him drugs to knock him out, and wow but I am hoping he really won't remember either of these incidents. I can not tell you how grateful I am that the state my parents live in has legistlation on the books mandating that ICU nurses never have more than two cases at a time.

Based on the second incident they are now saying it was probably down to an electrical misfire in his heart, and the EP (electrophysiologic) Cardiology team will be seeing him tomorrow to both figure out the exact cause and determine best next steps. As of now the options on the table as I understand them are further studies and/or numbing a faulty nerve and/or putting in a pacemaker and/or putting in an AICD device (implanted defibrillator).

My mother and I are currently trying to stay hopeful that the EP will be able to figure out what is going wrong with my dad's electrical impulses and fix whatever it is. All of that said, it is really hard to see him in the ICU day after day, especially since with the exception of Wednesday and late in the day yesterday he has been sedated and unconscious since the surgery. The toll this recovery is taking on my mother and I emotionally is far larger then I had expected it to before his surgery.

We are currently camped out in a hotel room near the hospital (Who opens a theme B&B across the street from a regional feeder hospital? You have a captive audience already, who don't want themeing at the expense of functionality. Based on conversations during breakfast EVERYONE is there because a smaller hospital sent a loved one to the place across the street when they determined the case was outside their capabilities) and talk of little else together. Spending every single day with her (during Pride! This is my Pride month!) freaking out about my dad's condition has been A LOT. A very banal example of what happens when you spend multiple days with your mother like this: yesterday she complained that I snore, and then followed that up by (in the literal exact tone she cooed at me as a baby) telling me that it is a "very cute" snore. This was even less amusing to me because my mother snores and her snore is just awful. This is of course to say nothing of us setting each other off when we are upset because we are on top of each other all day every day.

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Hey new to the blog and let me just say I am blown away! Love your writing!

I noticed you write a lot for Miguel which is amazing but have you thought about writing for Peter B Parker? I think you could do some great stuff with him.

Anyway my request is could you do a story with either Miguel or Peter B (if your willing to write with him) where they used to babysit for some cash when they where younger and one of the kids they had to babysit for was fem!reader?

Now meeting reader again years later she is all grown up and she confesses how he was her first crush? And that leads to them flirting and then some NSFW smut? Maybe some phrasing and teasing like calling her a dirty girl?

you know what, yeah Peter is a dilf and I love fucking dilfs CW: smut, a bit of a age difference (like 6 years), cheating (peter cheats on his wife with you), car sex, dirty talk, reader is 29 and Peter is 35, Peter is a dilf, NSFW 18+ MDNI A/N: pretend they ran into each other at a coffee shop I'm too lazy to add in the background ahaha

Fucking my old babysitter

"Peter? Peter, is that you?" you asked him, tapping his shoulder. The man named Peter turns around, blinking down at you. Yup, that's him, your old babysitter. Instead of a youthful face, he's got a scruffy beard and bags beneath his eyes, slight wrinkling along his forehead.

You and your older brother's babysitter. Well, technically your brother was supposed to be your babysitter and should be able to be left alone by himself since he was old enough, but your parents couldn't trust him.

Not after he accidentally set water on fire. How did he achieve that? No one knows.

Around those many years ago, you were nine, and both your brother and Peter were fifteen. Now, you had one of those silly crushes on Peter, and Peter just saw you as a sweet kid he babysat. Your parents chose him because he was a good kid and was not only trust worthy, but a good influence.

He had a girlfriend who would come by sometimes and play with you or do your hair the way you like it. Her name was MJ and you always liked it when she came over, even if you were jealous that she was dating Peter. But come on. You were a little kid and Peter was in his teens.

Did you really think he would feel the same way about you?

Well, you're 29 now, and he's 35.

Both adults.

And that wedding ring on his finger doesn't bother you.

Peter smiles nervously, chucking a bit. "Hey...you." Yeah, he clearly doesn't remember you.

"It's me. (reader)," you say, bumping hips with him lightly. Peter lights up at your name, smiling brightly.

"Oh my god! Hey!" he laughs, pulling you in for a hug. You squeeze him, allowing your finger tips to linger on his body for a moment before fully backing away. Peter eyes you up and down with his champagne colored orbs, his smile never faltering. "God, how long has it been?"

"20 years, I believe?"

Once again, Peter eyes you up and down, his eyes on your chest a bit too long before returning to your face. "Wow, you look amazing."

"I know," you chuckle. "You don't look bad yourself."

The two of you find a table to sit at and catch up. Peter informs you of how he's gone to college to become a journalist and married MJ straight out of college, and he's now a father of one. He's showing you many photos of his new baby, gushing over them and explaining to you what each one is and how old she was in each photo. He can only go by months since she just turned one.

You tell him about your time in nursing school and how you plan on aiming for your master's degree. You have a boyfriend, but you leave that detail out.

Because god, did Peter B Parker age like fine wine.

"Okay, I have something to confess, and you have to promise not to make fun of me," you said.

"That depends," he responds with a cheeky grin. Peter is known for his silly jokes, of course.

You roll your eyes, chuckling a bit. "Okay, well, I used to have a crush on you when I was younger."

"Who wouldn't have a crush on me? I'm a catch!"

"No, Peter, I'm being serious." God, he's so silly. Makes you want to drop to your knees and suck him off. "I used to have a crush on you when I was younger." Heat rises on your cheeks a bit as you say, "And I think I still do."

Peter blinks, anything he could possibly say dying on his tongue. He brings his hands to his lap, twirling his wedding ring around on his finger. It weighs heavy on his finger and he's tempted to take it off, but then he'll be falling into his own temptations.

Giving in of having you.

You caught his eye when you first walked into the coffee shop, but he didn't know who you were at first. He felt guilty for even thinking of some other woman, and finding out it was someone he used to baby sit made him mentally kick himself.

But you're all grown up. You're a full grown woman now.

And you're leaning in, finger tips lightly grazing his hairy forearm. Your heart shape lips curl into a smile, battering your pretty lashes up at him.

"Got nothing to say?" you whisper, devious lips twitching. Your tongue darts out to wet them, the skin glistening beneath the lights. "Are you perhaps," you pulls his arm out from under the table and gently remove his wedding band off slowly, "having the same thoughts I am? Right now?"

Fuck.

Almost immediately, Peter and you are scrambling to his car. He parked near the back of the lot under a tree, a bit secluded, and no one will be able to see or hear the two of you.

The moment you two are by the car, Peter brings you in for a heated kiss, his lips molding against yours. You sigh happily into his mouth, hands curling into his hair and tugging, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your tongue swipes at his lips, begging to be let in, and he allows you to.

Your tongue slithers into his wet cavern and swirls around, tasting his sweet caramel coffee and a hint of his breakfast. You stand on the tips of your toes and moan as his hands knead at the flesh of your ass, his erecting rutting into your thigh.

"I-I need you," Peter gasped when he forced himself away from your sugary lips. He kisses down your neck, his beard tickling your flesh. "Need you so fucking bad." He squeezes your ass, giving you a firm smack.

You squeak, head falling to the side to give him more access to your neck.

"Yes, fuck, right now," you pant, hand reaching between your bodies to rub him through his pants. "Want you to fuck me, Peter. Need you inside of my pussy so badly."

Fuck.

Peter removes himself long enough to clear out the backseat, shoving everything into the front seat. No way he's able to drive to a hotel and rent a room out for the two of you.

He needs you.

Now.

You crawl into the back seat, Peter licking his lips at the sight of your bottom half. The leggings you wear show off the curve of your ass and outline of your wet cunt.

He can't help himself.

He needs a taste.

Peter follows in after you and mouths at your clothed pussy, eliciting a mewl from you.

"Peter!" you squeak, looking over at him from your shoulder. You whine, pushing your pussy against his face as he licks over it, sucking on your erected clit through the thin material of your leggings. He tastes your sweet essence and moans, his cock twitching in his pants.

Peter flips you back onto your back and fully crawls in, slamming the door shut and unbuckling his pants. You begin to slip off your leggings and panties, shoving them off onto the groud.

You spread your legs wide open, fingers reaching down to open your wet pussy up. You wiggle your hips, winking up at him with a sensual grin.

"What are you waiting for? Come on in."

Fuck fuck fuck.

Peter grips the door and slides into your velvet warmth, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls clench around him tightly, nearly making him cum right then and there.

"So fucking warm...goddamn," Peter breathes out, sweat beading on his skin. He grinds his hips into you, bottoming out and making you moan loudly.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, head falling against the door. "Fuck me, Peter. Fuck me so hard, please."

Who is he to deny you that right?

Peter pounds into your wet pussy, groaning as he does so. White goop seeps out onto his cock which he fucks right back into you, pussy squelching loudly.

Peter knows he shouldn't fuck you. He's married for god's sake. But you're scratching at his back, tight pussy squeezing pre-cum out of his pulsing cock, pretty lips pressed into his ear and moaning for more. He finds he can't stop. He finds himself wanting more and more of you, wrapping one leg around his waist and pinning the other one down into your chest.

"What a dirty girl," Peter coos, a devious smirk on his face. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth, coating your chin in spit as his cock continues to drill into your pussy. "Wanting a married man to fuck you...god, you really are a slut, huh?"

"Ah!" you squeal, kicking your feet when he begins to rub circles into your clit. "S-Says the one fucking me!"

He nods, chuckling. "But you enjoy this married man's cock, right?" He rolls his hips and buries his cock deep into your warmth, tip brushing along your cervix.

"Fuck! Yes!"

"Of course you do. You're a dirty little slut, that's why."

Peter presses his sweaty forehead against yours, clenching his teeth. His cock rams deep into your pussy, the car shaking back and forth. Wet plaps mix in with yout lewd moans, a coil tightening within your belly.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" You moan out with every powerful thrust he gives you. "Peter! Ahh! Gonna cum!"

Peter buries his face into your neck, picking up the pace of his thrusts, about to cum himself.

"Cum, baby! Cum all around my cock!"

You scream as your cunt gushes out creamy white fluids, squeezing Peter's cock. He groans and shudders, filling you up with his sticky seed.

Yeah, this is definitely going to be more than just a one time fling.

You got Peter addicted.

[maggie-004]

(Un-) Lucky coincidence – 10

Jenna Ortega x Fem reader

Summary: Two friends, Y/N and Jenna, unexpectedly meet Y/N's classmate Clarissa, who recognizes Jenna as a famous actress, leading to an amusing interaction. Later, Jenna and Y/N share a passionate moment in secret, navigating the challenges of their public lives together.

Warnings: Fluff

Words:2129

It was my one of my closer Classmates Clarissa or better said a friend of mine. Clarissa's eyes widened with surprise as she finally recognized Jenna. "Oh my gosh, you're Jenna Ortega, the actress! I'm such a huge fan of yours!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable. Jenna smiled warmly, her fame clearly not affecting her down-to-earth demeanor. "It's nice to meet you, Clarissa," she said graciously, extending her hand. Clarissa shook it eagerly, a wide grin spreading across her face. I couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected turn of events. "I guess the secret's out, huh?" I said, glancing between Jenna and Clarissa, so the first person is at least one person in my nursing school circle, whom I know I can trust and it didn't seem to bother her, well of course not she’s part of the LGBTQ+ community herself. Jenna as a famous actress, isn’t easy to sneak in or out anywhere. Clarissa than said, “And you how were you abled to sleep at night, as the famous DJ you are, without telling me, we are friends. I would have liked it way more if you’d have told me yourself and not the media” she sulked.. Jenna just giggled and seemed genuinely happy to meet one of my classmates. "So, Y/N, you're friends with Jenna Ortega?" Clarissa asked, still slightly starstruck. I nodded, feeling a mixture of pride and relief. "Yes, Jenna and I have become really close lately," I said, deciding to be honest with Clarissa. "In fact, we're kind of...well we need to talk about our Situation ship later." I glanced at Jenna, silently seeking her approval to share our connection with Clarissa. Jenna smiled affectionately, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. Clarissa's eyes widened even further, and she let out a small gasp of surprise. "Wow, that's amazing! You two would make such a cute couple," she said, her excitement evident in her voice. "I'd be happy for you both!" "Thank you, Clarissa," Jenna said warmly, a genuine appreciation in her eyes. "It means a lot to have your support” I added.

The three of us spent the rest of the break chatting and laughing, with Clarissa enthusiastically asking Jenna about her acting career and me sharing some stories about my DJing experiences. Despite the initial shock, Clarissa handled the revelation with grace, and it felt good to have someone in my nursing school circle who knew about Jenna and me. “Jenna would you like to go outside for a cigarette with me, you know before break’s over?” I asked Jenna, hoping she’d say yes. “Of course, I’d like nothing more than that” she smiled. As soon as we got outside, I looked around myself to see if someone’s there, but there wasn’t so I pulled Jenna onto my lap. As our lips touched in that gentle, pure kiss, time seemed to suspend around us. It was a moment filled with tenderness and vulnerability, a reflection of the still unspoken feelings we had kept hidden. I could feel the warmth of Jenna's body pressed against mine as she sat on my lap, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. The softness of her lips against mine sent electric shocks through my entire being, igniting a flame of desire that I had tried to suppress for far too long. As the kiss continued, it got a lot more passionate when Jenna slipped her tongue inside, you could all this a little make out session. My hand gently rushed down from her Jaw down her body, hand rested on her chest. A gentle rain began to fall, the soft drops creating a poetic backdrop to our hidden embrace. It was as if the universe itself was acknowledging and celebrating the love between us, washing away any doubts or uncertainties.

Yet, as our lips remained locked, I couldn't help but be mindful of our surroundings. The last thing we needed was another interruption, especially with our identities now exposed to Clarissa. With a sense of caution, I pulled back slightly before this will art out, breaking the kiss but keeping Jenna close in my arms. Her eyes searched mine, filled with a mix of emotions. There was a vulnerability in her gaze, a rawness that mirrored my own feelings. And in that shared vulnerability, an unspoken understanding passed between us, reassuring each other that what we had experienced was something truly special.

Y/N: (whispers) We should probably head back inside before someone comes looking for us.

Jenna: (nods) Yeah, you're right. I don't think we're quite ready to face the paparazzi just yet.

Y/N: (smiles) Definitely not. We need some time to process all of this ourselves.

Jenna: (takes a deep breath) Can I be honest with you?

Y/N: (softly) Of course, Jenna. You can always be honest with me.

Jenna: (looks down, blushing) I've had feelings for you from the day we’ve met, Y/N. I just never thought it was possible for us to be together, especially with our careers and everything you know working together, especially, playing sisters.

Y/N: (touches her cheek gently) I know what you mean. I've felt the same way. But being with you, kissing you... it felt so right, Jenna. I don't want to hide this anymore, well at least not to our Privat environment.

Jenna: (looks up, her eyes searching Y/N's) Neither do I. It's scary, though, isn't it? The thought of being in a relationship, especially with all the attention and scrutiny that comes with our public lives.

Y/N: (nods) It is scary, but I think it's worth it. I care about you so much, Jenna, and I want to see where this could go so Jenna I know we are moving really fast but would you like to be my Girlfriend?

Jenna: (softly) I care about you too, Y/N. More than I can put into words. And I want to be with you, I really do. So yes I’d love to be your girlfriend.

Y/N: (smiles back) I'm so glad to hear that. And I promise, no matter what happens, I'll be right there by your side.

Jenna: (leans in for a gentle kiss) I know you will. And I'll be there for you too.

Y/N: (cupping her face) So, where do we go from here?

Jenna: (resting her forehead against Y/N's) I think we should take it one step at a time. Let's keep our relationship private for now and see how things develop.

Y/N: (nods) That sounds like a good plan. And we can figure out how to navigate our public lives together.

Jenna: (smiles) Agreed. And you know what? I'm actually excited about this. No more hiding, no more secrets. Just us, being honest with each other and the people who matter.

Y/N: (grinning) I'm excited too. It feels like a weight has been lifted off our shoulders.

Jenna: (leans in to rest her head on Y/N's shoulder) It really does. I think this is the start of something beautiful, Y/N.

Y/N: (wraps her arms around Jenna) I believe it is, Jenna.

I gave Jenna a quick peck on the Lips, when she got back into the Library. I went up to my classroom and sat down next to Clarissa. “Heeyy…” I just awkwardly said. “Oh hi there so spill the tea are you guys dating now?” she asked as nosey as possible. “Well. Yes we are. But still, please don’t tell anyone. “Oh my gosh, that's amazing! I can't believe it. You two are really dating now?" she asked in hushed tones, trying not to draw attention from other classmates nearby. I nodded, blushing slightly at her enthusiasm. "Yes, and we want to keep it private for now, especially with both of us being in the public eye." Clarissa gasped playfully, covering her mouth with her hand as if she had just heard the juiciest gossip. "Oh, I totally understand! I won't breathe a word of it to anyone. But, oh my goodness, you two are just so perfect together!"

I couldn't help but smile at her excitement. "Thank you, Clarissa. Your support means a lot to us. We're really happy together, and it feels like we've known each other forever." Clarissa grinned mischievously. "So, how did it all happen? Spill the details!" I chuckled, knowing she wouldn't let it go without some juicy tidbits. "Well, it started when Jenna basically fell for my, nah she tripped and hit her head you know it best, as a nursing student I couldn’t look away and helped her one came to another and her hotel got cancelled so she stays at my place , so we just spend some time together, getting to know each other better. But the more we hung out, the more we realized there was something more there, something we couldn't ignore." "Ooh, a slow-burning romance, I like it!" Clarissa teased. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," I replied with a laugh. "It took us a actually not too long to realize our feelings for each other, but I think that’s normal we’ve been staying in my apartment now nearly a week together we saw each other every day so yeah” Clarissa clasped her hands together, eyes shining with excitement. "This is like a movie plot, you know? Two famous individuals, one a talented actress, and the other a `undercover` DJ, finding love in the most unexpected place." "It does sound like something out of a romantic movie," I agreed. "But it's real, and that's what makes it so special." Clarissa's playful demeanor softened into a genuine smile. "I'm really happy for you both. You make such a cute couple. And I promise, I won't say a word to anyone." Thank you, Clarissa. We really appreciate it," I said gratefully. "It's nice to have someone in the nursing school circle who knows and supports us." "I've got your back," she said, winking. "And hey, if you ever need help keeping your secret, just let me know. I can be the best secret-keeper! „I chuckled, feeling grateful for her friendship „I know I can always count on you, Clarissa. Your secret-keeping skills will definitely come in handy," I said with a smile, grateful to have a friend like her in this whirlwind of a situation. The afternoon class passed by in a blur, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Jenna and the exciting opportunities ahead in my acting career. Once the class was over, I hurriedly made my way to the library to meet Jenna. As she greeted me with a warm smile, my heart skipped a beat. We decided to head to my car, and as I opened the door for her, I couldn't resist pulling her close for a passionate kiss. The world seemed to fade away in that moment, and all that mattered was the connection between us. With Jenna now in possession of my hoodie to ward off the chilly garage, we climbed into the car. But as we glanced around, we noticed some people lingering nearby, holding out their phones.

Panic surged through me, and I worried that we might have been spotted by paparazzi. My mind raced with questions about what to do next. Jenna sensed my anxiety and gently placed her hand on mine, a comforting gesture that instantly calmed my nerves. "It's inevitable that our relationship will draw attention," she said softly. "But we'll face it together, just like we will always do." Her words of reassurance brought a sense of relief, and I nodded, feeling a renewed sense of courage. As we stepped out of the car, the flashes of cameras assaulted us, but we stood tall, holding onto each other for support. It was an overwhelming experience, but knowing that Jenna was by my side made it easier to navigate through the crowd. We made our way through the curious onlookers, the intrusive questions barely registering in our minds. Finally finding a moment of peace, we took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to be together amidst the chaos. As the day came to a close, Jenna turned to me with a soft smile. "There's one thing I want to do," she said, her eyes sparkling with determination. "I want to call my parents and tell them about us before they hear it from the media. And if you're up for it, I'd love for you to meet them." Her sincerity touched my heart, and I couldn't help but smile back at her. "I'd be honored to meet your parents," I replied, my heart swelling with affection for this incredible woman by my side. With our fingers entwined and the future full of uncertainties, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we had each other to lean on.

A/N: First time getting caught by paparazzi. Let’s see how this goes on. FYI English is not my first language but I still hope you’ll like it.

[saintsir4n]

PROLOGUE

where tommy shelby decides to take a leap of faith

___

1913

"COME on 'Saiah, maths ain't that hard, even I could do it and I didn't know my dividing from my multiplying,"

"What's that?" he groaned, dropping his pencil and pouting his lips, which Eden thought was adorable, but she couldn't say it aloud otherwise he would whine and cry about being treated like a child. Brat. "Those ain't real words."

"They are, trust me and you'll learn 'em soon. Don't worry kid, just remember we have to get this homework sheet done, I don't want your teacher actin' up."

"'Cause she's a... what d'you call it, a b-bitch?"

Her eyes widened at the curse, "Isaiah."

"You say it and so does Finn," he quickly explained, patting the table.

"Neither of you lot are supposed to say it. You're kids!"

"I'm almost six," he said cheekily as if it meant anything.

She pinched his cheeks, "Still a baby to me."

"I am not a baby, Dad said I'm a big boy," he spoke grumpily, "I can count to fifty y'know?"

Knocking at the front door caught their attention.

Eden frowned because she knew her parents had a key, same with her uncle Jeremiah and he didn't stop preaching until he 'put the fear of god into small heath', even though she couldn't tell if he believed the words he spoke. Whoever was rapidly knocking slightly worried her.

"How about, you stay here and count to fifty like a big boy and then we can stop for a bit," she hushed him before he could clap excitedly, "I'll throw in some sweets if you can keep quiet and finish one of these sums alright?"

Isaiah nodded happily and started counting, holding his hands up to help him, not wanting to ruin his chances of getting some sweets along with his Friday night chips that his dad brought home with him.

Eden cautiously approached the front door, all while wishing she brought a knife from the kitchen or a nursing needle from the nursing course she was taking (following in her mother's footsteps she was).

If she had a religious bone in her body she would've prayed, but there was no God in Small Heath, only devils existed 'round here.

And that was who was on the other side of the door.

Thomas bloody Shelby.

Stood there leant against the archway of the door without uttering a single word.

Tilting her head upwards, Eden met his impenetrable gaze.

During their school years, not one word was exchanged between them, well being in different years groups would do that and the fact he never seemed to stray far from his two best friends Greta and Freddie, just like Lorenzo and Dorris never strayed from her. Not one word and yet she usually talked to his brother John, with him being in the same year as her.

Eden didn't know what to do other than glance behind her, hoping not to see Isaiah making his way around the corner but luckily all she could faintly hear was him struggling to count. When she turned back she gulped at the sight of Tommy. Eyes as piercing as snow, not even the peaky hat could protect her from his stare. With his fairly chapped lips and a jaw that could slice its way through the thickest bread one could buy at the local bakery, she took a step back, swiftly raking her gaze down his slightly worn suit and dress shoes that must've been polished this morning.

Tommy was frustratingly handsome and to him, she was infuriatingly beautiful.

He was there for a reason, though he'd never uttered a word to the girl he'd grown up with he knew there was more than what met the eye. He knew her closest friends, which sibling of his she spoke to, her parents' profession and what she might do with her future. He knew she would come to the door cautiously considering the rough street they lived on. He knew her short hair would be styled back in a bun which unintentionally insinuated her flawless features. And he knew she would be wearing an ankle-length skirt and a loose-fitting blouse similar to his aunt. Why? He just knew.

They never spoke a word to each other.

Not one word until now.

"You lost?" she asked, leaning forward and glancing around the noisy street.

And what he was about to say next, she could never have predicted.

"Come to my uncle's yard, John told me you know where it is," he replied shortly, taking her back.

She blinked at him, ignoring how his gruff voice made her feel, "Hello Tommy, nice to see you too."

He continued, unaffected by her sarcasm, "Just come."

Her grip on the door tighten, "And why would I listen to you?"

He shrugged, "Well, As your future husband, I want to show you things that no one else will."

A laugh of disbelief escaped her lips and yet she didn't smile, much to his chagrin.

"And what things are they Mr Shelby?" her grip on the door loosened slightly, which he took note of.

"Anything you ask, meet me at my uncle's yard and don't be late."

"And what if I am?" she dared to ask, rolling her shoulders back and insinuating her neck. A bear neck, like always. He assumed that a cross would cover it, but even when they were all forced to go to church as kids she never wore one. "What will you do huh?"

His tongue swiped over his teeth before answering, "Then I'll just have to wait for you then eh?"

She wanted to smile at his answers, they were all so...charming, but why would she believe the ladykiller of small heath? Just as she went to reply, she was interrupted.

"Edie!" Isaiah's little voice boomed through the little space, making her sigh and Tommy raise a brow and cocked his head to the side, letting his eyes dart around the small foyer of the narrow home. Cleaner than my house that's for fucking sure. It looked cosy and warm, filled with pictures, hanging from the walls and cluttered on the small table near where shoes laid, "Counted to a fifty, I did."

"Then finish the sum!" her voice pulled him from his thoughts and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Hearing Isaiah's huff and groan, Eden exhaled and turned back to a rather amused Tommy.

"What?" she questioned, finally dropping her hand from the door.

"Nothing," he paused, "I don't remember you being so good at maths at school."

Her brows pinched together, "You didn't speak to me at school so how would you know that?"

"Finn tells me things," he recalled all the times his littlest brother would run home after being babysat by Eden and gush over every little thing she did, "You help him with readin' and writin' like Isaiah back there."

"Two little shits that drive me off the bend," she blurted out, then went to correct herself remembering who she was speaking to, "shit- I mean-" he swiftly cut her off.

"Thick as thieves those two," he said, amused by her cursing, "Our Finn is head-case and despite Jeremiah stalking through town and trying to fill it with hope and all the godly advice in the bloody world, Isaiah is just like my brother."

She hummed and then changed the conversation.

"Am I even your type? Because the women I've seen you with are the same colour as my palm if that."

"So you watch me," he noted rather smugly, though his face didn't show it, his eyes beamed slightly.

"Easy, I notice things."

"As do I," he retorted, "You're wrong, about the women you see me with," she raised a questioning brow, urging him to go on, "I don't have a type, you can say there's a pattern —"

"And you wanna break it with me? No chance."

She didn't want to be the first black woman he bedded, even though she highly doubted she would be. Well, that and she didn't want to give in to the small-town gangster.

"Haven't you heard? Life is full of chances," he jested.

"Cute."

"And you should take one on me."

Rolling her eyes, "Since I watch you..." her tone turned mocking, "I could've sworn you have a woman, at least that's what the streets are saying."

"The streets of Small Heath are full of lies," he spoke, pulling out a cigarette tin, growing slightly irritated from all her assumptions and questions. He didn't think it would be easy to get someone like Eden Dawkins, he liked a challenge, but she was fucking stubborn. Like trying to force the wrong bullet into a barrel, it won't fucking go. "And fuckin' smoke," he added, pulling out a lighter.

Not being able to help herself her gaze dropped to his lips just as the cigarette swiped against them before he lit it. He took a drag and turned his head as the smoke escaped.

A sly smirk appeared on his face after noting her stare.

"What?"

"Nothing," she quickly cleared her throat and ignored the beam in his icy eyes, "it's just that you contribute to the latter well enough," she uttered, quickly nodding to his cigarette. Fuck I need one.

"Yeah, the factories help me out a bit."

She almost smiled.

"I suppose, but I'm just remembering what I was told... you know about you being taken."

"By who?"

"Whom," she corrected.

"Fine, whom?"

"The eyes of small Heath." Her eyes, but she wouldn't admit that.

"Alright. You think if I had a woman I would look at you, be on your doorstep?" he asked after taking another drag, even offering her a hit, but she refused, despite needing a release of her own.

"I hope not. Or I would let her know that her man's a dog," she said, holding back a smile.

He made a noise, "A horse is more fitting."

"Ah yes, your family loves to ride," she quickly added, "John's on four feet more than he's on two."

"It's in the blood. Gypsy blood," he informed, waiting to see how she would react to his background.

It wasn't a secret where his family came from, most people were disgusted by them, many hid it well, whilst the others got a beating if they opened their gobs.

He was glad when he didn't catch any indifference in her demeanour. She didn't care or didn't see any faults in it. He supposed that she couldn't, being black and all, but if you weren't pure-blooded you would get put into the same boat as everyone else or the bottom of the barrel. And that's where one would find people like them; Watery Lane.

"I'm scared of horses," she admitted.

He squinted, "What has a horse ever done to you, Eh?"

"Mum doesn't like 'em, so I guess she passed that on to me."

"Suppose I have to change that," I will change that.

"Not without asking that girl of yours," she finally smiled at her own joke and so did he.

He playfully rolled his eyes, "I'm available, not with anyone and those who say they're with me are lying alright."

"Alright. Because I don't like cheaters. I despise the lot of 'em, just like those toffs despise us."

"It's a good thing I'm not one then ain't it?"

Finally giving in, she shrugged, "I guess you're right."

"And what about you," he turned it on her, "I heard I weren't the only lad in knockin' at your door."

She hummed, folding her arms, "There's a long list."

Narrowing his eyes, he didn't know whether or not she was playing with him, "How long?"

"No need to bawl and shout. According to the eyes of Small Heath, it goes from here to bloody Black Country. But all you need to know is that you could be at the end..." she trailed off.

"Last darlin', last."

"Oh really?"

"Changretta won't storm your mind when you next see me I promise you that."

She laughed, "Changretta, which one? Just like you Shelbys, there's many."

"You know which one, I don't have to spell it out for you," he took his last drag and let the cigarette drop before stomping it out.

"You might, I'm a woman y'see, I don't always get things straight away, have to get a man to dumb things down f'me."

He almost smiled again at her teasing, but all joy faded as he spoke.

"Luca," he pronounced as clear as day, with his jaw tightening ever so slightly. That bloody jawline. He knew she was heavily involved with the Changrettas, her closest friend was Lorenzo for Christ's sake and she even talked to the Angel also. But Luca... he and Luca never got along. not during school or out of it. Shelby's and Changretta's... like water and oil. Them being Italian meant they were also the bottom of the barrel, but that didn't mean they had to get along. "That Changretta."

She began to grin and even though he wanted to enjoy her expression, he took a mental picture and decided to save it for later.

"Ah, so the eyes of Small Heath have told you about me and him is that right?"

"Yeah, these bloody eyes seem to know all."

She hummed, "Bloody nosey."

"Too right," he agreed.

"So confident, where has this man been for the last couple of years? Pestering other doorsteps and desecrating other homes," she motioned to the used cigarette, which made him quickly kick it away.

"Making sure he was the right man for you," he spoke not taking his eyes off of her which made her cave and look away, much to his amusement because he caught the light blush kissing her caramel skin.

"You've got the charm," she annoyedly admitted, "it's all in the eyes."

He huffed out a chuckle, "Don't stare for too long, yours will get stuck."

Feigning offence, "And then I won't take you up on that offer, oh no."

Checking his watch, he tsked and ignored her quip. He shot her one last look and then spun on his heel, before shouting, "I'll see you at Charlie's yard Eden!"

"No, you won't!"

"Don't dress up for me!"

"Wasn't gonna!"

And with that, she slammed the door shut with the biggest smile on her face.

"Edie!" Isaiah yelled, "I'm done!"

"Sure you are little man!"

"Can we get sweets now?" he eagerly asked after she entered the kitchen and saw the biggest drawings all over his homework, making her curse.

"You ain't done. Your dad will be on my arse if he sees this."

"He won't. Just like I won't tell him about Tommy comin' over."

His cheeky grin widened at the glare he received.

"Fine," she gave in, "but don't tell your dad."

"Promise."

"Alright get your coat," she huffed as he ran away, "little shit."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

dorathy dandridge is eden’s face claim. this story is also on my wattpad account, but I know that many people cannot access the app/website so I’ll try and post on both.

[themultifandomgal]

Jay- Baby Birth Alphabet

A= Aftercare After Birth (How they act after you finish giving birth.):

During delivery, Jay was attentive. He constantly made sure I was ok whether that was asking me or the nurses/midwife's to know how me and the baby were doing.

After I finished giving birth and I was able to go home, Jay made sure that i was comfortable. He wouldn't let me lift a finger so it was like I had my own personal waiter.

B= Baby (Who is the baby more like?):

According to my mum the baby looks exactly like I did when I was born, but I can definitely see Jay's freckles starting to show.

C= Care Taking (Who takes care of the baby more? Do you have someone else take care of the child?):

Jay and I have a good system. While Jay is on paternity leave Jay takes a lot of the shifts giving me time to relax before he goes back to work. When he does go back I tend to look after the baby more for obvious reasons.

During the night I take the most shifts, letting Jay sleep because of work, but he definitely takes his turns.

D= Delivery (How they act when you are in labor, do they stay in the room or outside the room?):

Honestly during labour Jay was a mess. I had woken up in the night due to my waters breaking. Jay was panicking the whole time, said he hated seeing me in pain.

Once at the hospital Jay doesn't leave my side once, he holds my hand the whole time and when it's time for me to push, Jay let's me squeeze his hand hard.

E= Emergencies (How do they act when something happens to the baby? If something happens during labor how do they react?):

Thankfully the labour and delivery is pretty smooth, however once baby is born neither Jay or I can hear the baby cry. Of course I'm worried but Jay is pacing up and down asking if the baby is ok, turns out the baby was just a quiet one and was absolutely fine.

F= Friends/Family (Who visits you in the hospital?):

Both my parents come to visit me after I had the baby, and although Will was working he would pop his head in to cheek on us.

Jay even had the whole of intelligence out to come and see me and the baby.

G= Gender(s) (What do you have?):

A girl Jay and I  named her Amelia.

H= Hair Color (What hair color does the baby inherit):

She is born with Jays brown hair.

I= Illness (How do they react when the baby gets sick for the first time? How about when the baby is ill for a while?):

Amelia was born healthy, but developed a reflux, which meant that she would often throw up after she has eaten. Jay at first was scared there was more to the story, after all Amelia is he's princess. I however was more laid back, telling Jay to calm down.

After a few months Amelia caught a cold which again Jay was super worried about because it sounded like Amelia was struggling to breathe, even though Will told us many times that she was ok. While she had the cold Jay would be up every hour of the night checking up on her.

J= Job (When do you go back to work?):

I wanted to go back soon because I was so bored at home. I asked Voight if I could do paper work after being home for 3 months. He agreed and also allowed me to bring Amelia with me.

After a year we put Amelia into nursery and I started to work out again and would do the odd case here and there until I felt ready to come back full time.

K= Kisses (Do they kiss the baby?):

Jay is very affectionate with Amelia, always giving her kisses on the head or cheeks and he can't just give her one. Everyone notices how sweet he his with Amelia, he even becomes more affectionate to me (if that was even possible).

L= Love (Do they fall in love with the baby right away? What do they love the most about the baby?):

Yes. Jay loves the baby the moment he lays eyes on her. He tells me how much he loves her eyes because they remind him of me.

M= Movement (How do they react to baby first crawling and walking?):

Amelia started crawling at 7 months old. Jay was so sad he missed it, but when she started pulling herself up Jay would act as if no other child has done the same. He encouraged Amelia to walk by holding her hands and praising her when she took her first steps. When she started walking on her own Jay nearly cried with happiness.

N= New People (Taking baby to meet the rest of their/your work colleagues.):

Jay and I take Amelia to meet our friends when she was a month old. Jay was so proud of her and already protective, so it took some convincing to let anyone hold her. Everyone loves her, it's like bringing the baby to meet your family.

O= On Time (Are they there by time you go into labor. Do they arrive before or after the baby is born. How do they feel if they are late. Is the baby on time?):

As I had gone into labour at home, Jay was with me the whole time. Baby was a week late, by that time I was so ready for the pregnancy to be over, although now she's here I miss being pregnant.

P= Pain (How do they react to seeing you in pain due to the contractions? How do they handle seeing you in pain during labor?):

Jay struggled to see me in pain, asking Natalie and the nurses if there was anything I could have to help, even though I was already on gas and air and painkillers. Jay just let me squeeze his hand as hard as I needed to to. He would tell me how much he loves me and how proud he is.

Q= Questions (Do they ask the midwife a lot of questions? Do they keep asking if they are doing something right when they are doing something with the baby?):

Yes. Once Amelia was born and Jay could hold her, he kept asking if he was holding the head right. When we brought her home he would pass her to me if she cried, scared he had hurt her. Soon he realised that he wasn't going to harm Amelia, and he would stop asking questions.

R= Resting (Do they get a lot of rest when the baby is born? Do they stay awake at night worrying about the baby?):

Not at all. If it's not the baby crying during the night it's Jay not being home or both of you being paranoid the first month she came home. Jay, already being a light sleeper, would wake with any noise worried that their was something wrong with Amelia.

S= Singing to the Baby (Do they sing to the baby, or do they listen to you sing to the baby? What is their favorite song to sing to the baby?):

Jay doesn't really sing to Amelia, but he will tell her stories. His favourite being Cinderella. I sing 'You Are My Sunshine' or hum the tune to here.

T= Talking to the Baby (Do they use baby talk?):

Jay doesn't use the typical high pitched baby talk, but he does talk to the baby in a different voice to how he would talk to me or his friends. I also don't talk in the baby talk, but I do find I talk more softly.

U= Underneath the Man/Woman's Heart (How do they truly feel about having a child? Do they feel as though they are ready for a baby?):

Jay loves being a dad. When we decided to have a baby he felt ready, but once the baby was born he told me he didn't feel prepared, neither did I, but we soon figured it out.

V= Vision as in Supervision (Do they keep a close eye on the baby? Do they have someone watching the baby at all times?):

Of course. Jay is super protective of Amelia, if I'm not watching her then he is. When we dod decide to put Amelia in nursery, Jay did a back ground check on the all the staff wanting to make sure she would be safe.

W= When the Baby is Born (What day is the baby born. Are they off work? At work?):

Amelia was born on the 13th June at 2:33 pm. Jay had been off since my due date. He stayed off for 3 weeks following her birth.

X= X-mas (What's their first Christmas like?):

Our first Christmas as a family was amazing. Our friends spoiled Amelia rotten buying clothes and toys for her. We decided to spend Christmas with my parents, which soon becomes a tradition.

Y= Yawning (How tired do they get when dealing with the baby? Their reaction to the baby yawning?):

The first time Jay saw Amelia yaw he fell in love with the little movement her mouth did at the end. He will always comment on her yawns saying how big they are and she must be sleepy.

If Jay gets up in the night with Amelia I can tell how tired he is, but during the day he has no problem.

Z= ZZZ (How much sleep after the baby is born?):

Not a lot at first as we were all trying to figure out a routine that suited us all. Soon Amelia would sleep through most of the night, only waking up once or twice in the night meaning both Jay and I can have a decent sleep.

[apex-academy]

Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#18)

Lunch is my first remotely decent excuse to leave Mahavir’s side. As much as I’d like to support my friend, watching him stew in his guilt sure isn’t helping me. Which means I’m not helping him much, either.

I confirm he’s staying in the Nurse’s Office, then trek back to the cafeteria. No Tsunyasha, at least.

“Oh, GREAT! JUST when I thought I might get some PEACE AND QUIET!”

“Right, I’m the threat to that here.”

I flee to the kitchen before he can manage a coherent response. No idea what I want to eat, though, and Mahavir certainly didn’t have suggestions. Time to stand blankly in front of an open refrigerator and hope it hikes up the young master’s electric bills.

Unfortunately, it’s also cold, so I grab some cheese and deli meat and shut the door before too long. After a few moments’ contemplation, I decide I’m not in the mood for any more meal-making decisions, so I’ll just make rollups of these. Bread’s overrated, anyway.

“...And so are condiments, I guess.”

Whatever. I’m sticking with it.

...And standing in the kitchen to eat so I don’t have to hear whatever Ichiriki’s raving about now. Is he just bored? Does he need some new colors of chalk for a little enrichment?

Well. I make fun of him, but I sure wouldn’t mind access to the art room again. No chance of that unless someone else uses it for a murder, though.

“...”

I finish my food and make Mahavir a plate. Can’t imagine him having any remnant of an appetite right now, but might as well try.

Unfortunately, the cafeteria’s still the only exit from here. 

Maybe I should run.

Or actually check on Ichiriki, I guess. Gotta admit, “Is Ichiriki doing okay” is not a thought that’s crossed my mind much. He’s just... He just is. I don’t know. He’s free to leave with the rest of us if he is one of us, but until then... Not my problem. Got enough of those already.

So, a fine brisk pace it is.

But when I step out, Ichiriki is no longer alone.

“...sure you wouldn’t be interested?”

“Of COURSE NOT! The FIRST one was bad ENOUGH!”

“But you’re curious, aren’t you?”

“No!”

“Just a little bit?”

“MAYBE!”

“........”

Think I’m good to just. Slink on out of here unnoticed.

“Ah, Miss Kogamino!”

Assuming Aidan wouldn’t notice something was a bad call on my part. “Do I want to know what I’m missing over here?”

“You ABSOLUTELY don’t!”

Not sure why I asked. Really striking out on logical behavior today.

“Not another weird dream, I hope?”

“No...”

“...Or at least not one of my own! There’s no telling where the writers got their inspiration, of course.”

Ichiriki mentioned “the first one”...

“Ah. The movie sequel.”

“.............”

More words are said, but I’m so distracted I can’t even tell who spoke. With current company, that’s really saying something.

Another dream... What was it that I...

“Hang on.”

I turn around to retrieve my little “young master deductions”—like you could really call them that—notebook and flip to the last filled pages, the letters askew and distorted from drowsiness and poor lighting.

Flashback dreams... Yeah, I sure do have those sometimes.

But not just me.

I wheel on Aidan and slap my hands on the table to catch myself, interrupting whatever I end up interrupting.

“Aidan! Your dream!”

The boys break off their conversation with widely varying levels of offended sputtering. Aidan adjusts his glasses.

“Er. The ‘professional air traffic controller’ one, or something else?”

“The one you told me about the other day.” Yesterday? I don’t even know anymore. 

“You woke up in a mirror of Lab Room A, right?”

“Within the dream? Yes, that sounds accurate.”

The table’s edge digs into my palms.

“What if that was real?”

He hums.

“I suppose it’s entirely possible. There must be a Lab Room B, after all, even if we’ve yet to be allowed inside.” 

“And I’m sure I would have been kept somewhere on-campus to minimize risk of discovery by unrelated parties.”

“Which is probably why we haven’t been let inside, right? If the young master’s cutting-edge revival technology, or whatever, was in there...”

I lean in further, much to Ichiriki’s offense. Don’t care.

“Were any of the other students there in the dream? Can you remember?”

“I hate to report that dreams are partially immune from my perfect memory skills here, but... Let’s see.”

Ichiriki grumbles to himself, but at least he’s not yelling over us. Probably doesn’t know what to say. I’ll take it.

“I can’t guarantee that the other fallen students were present.” 

“But I am certain that the life support systems and such did not take up the entirety of the room. There was space for other beds, or whatever you'd call the thing I was lying on.”

“So, if all of you were hooked up before that motive vote, and only before it, and if you’re the only one who was—then—!”

I think he responds, but I’m busy swinging my head around to check every corner of the room. Not here. Wasn’t in the kitchen. But if I’m right...

Dizzy, I try to remember to breathe as I charge into the hallway.

“MONOCHAP! I need to talk to you, now!”

[BACK] [NEXT]

[saiilorstars]

ch.13: The Lost Pieces 

Steve Rogers x OFC fic • squeeze your eyes for a Bucky Barnes x (2nd) OFC

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Story Masterlist • Seren’s Masterlist• Chloe’s Masterlist​​

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Maria Hill was the savior that no one had expected given their streak of luck lately. But she showed up with a game plan that she explained in a very rushed manner as they headed to some secret base not too far outside the city. She assured them that those inside were people they could trust, and she had to reiterate that to Seren when the latter saw a medic approaching them. Natasha was still nursing a bullet injury in her shoulder and given the severity of the blood she was losing, Seren didn't make it harder. Besides, she had other things to worry about.

"I need some tech — a control room — whatever you have to help me locate Chloe." She was right on Maria's tail and actively searching for a room before Maria even answered. "We need to find Chloe as fast as possible!"

"We'll find her, but I think you'll want to see someone else too," Maria said, sounding oddly confident too.

Seren didn't quite care for it right now, honestly. She couldn't find it to be confident with just about anything right now. Their track record as of late was just awful. "Unless it's God himself — because I have a few questions to ask him — I'm not quite interested, Maria. I need to find Chloe."

"Follow me, guys." Maria picked up her pace and said nothing more, leaving the group with no choice but to follow after her. They followed her down some dark corridors until they came into a dimly lit room where the last person they were expecting was lying on a bed in pretty bad shape...but alive.

Seren became a statue. It took two seconds for Steve to go from surprised to irritated. Natasha was relieved. The only one who didn't understand was Sam.

"About damn time," Nick Fury said to a room full of wide eyes.

There wasn't a word spoken for minutes except for the medic giving Natasha instructions for her injury. Eventually, Fury was the one to break the silence. He did so with a long list of his injuries.

"...lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache…"

"Don't forget your collapsed lung," the doctor reminded him, as if he needed it.

"Oh, let's not forget that. Otherwise, I'm good."

"Good?" Seren nearly snorted, still unable to pull herself together from the shock. She was trying to remember to be a decent person and not lose it like she very much wanted to.

Natasha was a lot more calm about the situation, and neither Seren nor Steve were surprised about that. She was always the best at controlling her emotions. She looked at Fury cautiously like he would disappear if she blinked. "They cut you open, your heart stopped…"

"Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it."

"Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?" Steve asked, despite already presuming what the answer would be. Like Seren, he was keeping himself calm and surprisingly was doing a better job at it than Seren. He kept glancing in her direction and she was actively avoiding all of their eyes.

"Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful," Maria replied.

"No," said Seren abruptly, shaking her head. "Even if that wasn't the endgame, you still wouldn't have told us anything. And that's the truth." Nobody could ignore the sour resentment in her voice. "Because another truth is that you only tell the full plan to those you trust and clearly," she let out a bitter chuckle, "we weren't on that list. Except for Chloe, of course, and even then..."

"Agent Soul—"

"I'm not 'agent Soul' anymore," Seren snapped. "I never was, apparently! Because SHIELD never existed! Because the whole time there were moles everywhere and even when you did know about them, you didn't tell anyone, Fury!"

"I couldn't tell anyone, Seren, because—"

"Because you didn't trust us!? Are you serious!? Me!?" Seren laughed. She saw Steve reaching for her shoulder but in her anger she stepped away from him. She focused all her attention on the one man who, from her perspective, had a lot of the fault right now. "I've worked my entire life for you and you didn't trust me enough? You doubted my loyalties!?" She started laughing again and brought a hand up to her mouth. "You must be kidding me right now! You gotta be!"

There was a long silence in the room after which everyone except for Seren looked at each other. Steve gazed specifically at Fury with a 'she's right' look. Fury all but rolled his eye and let out a big breath.

"Yes, alright, you have a point but I did what I could," he ultimately said, not that Seren appreciate it. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. I couldn't risk them taking SHIELD's highest agent."

"I could take care of myself," Seren muttered. "Obviously today I'm off my game for reasons beyond my control."

"But that's just it, Seren, I had no idea where to start," Fury said. "I didn't know who was part of the moles and who wasn't. Not even Atria could tell."

The mention of Seren's grandmother put the woman even more on edge. "Excuse me?"

Steve's eyes fell shut. This isn't getting any better...

"My grandmother knew about this?" Seren walked up to the foot of Fury's bed, eyes blazing with newfound anger. "She knew and she didn't say anything!?"

"She couldn't say anything if she didn't know anything, Seren," Fury said. "All she would have done is make you panic. If it's any consolation, she didn't know about this when she brought you on. It was until later and by that time, you were so deep in SHIELD that there wasn't any point."

"Oh, there would've been a point," Seren said. "Because if either of you had told me, maybe Chloe wouldn't be where she is now. With HYDRA."

"That's not on you, Seren," Natasha cut in. She thanked the medic for helping her out and slid off the bed to rejoin the group.

"Yes, it is! I brought Chloe straight to HYDRA! If I had known that there were moles, I would've done things very differently!" Seren's angry eyes were shining with tears. "But now she's out there, God knows where, and I need to find her!"

"We will find her," Steve assured her. He was finally able to claim one of her hands and held it tight. "We're going to find Chloe, we're going to find Bucky too, and this time we're going to make sure that HYDRA goes down."

"Winters was always a target but I never thought it would be like this, much less from who," Fury said. He shifted in his bed to sit up better. "My best guess was always the tech piece she absorbed."

"What could Hydra want with a Hivemind?" Natasha wondered. "Chloe was never able to fully understand them. Nor them to her."

Seren stiffened when she recalled Sitwell's words.

'Hydra lost one of the pieces years ago. The dormant piece can't be activated until they have the other.'

"There's two pieces..." She said with a heavy alarm. "Sitwell said Hydra lost the other piece years ago. The one that HYDRA has couldn't be activated without the other...and now they have Chloe..."

"Wait, wait, how would they activate that piece if Chloe's already absorbed the other one?" Sam asked. "She told me that SHIELD tried taking out her piece but it was impossible."

"It still is," Maria confirmed, having been present for many of those attempts.

"So if they can't take her piece out...then they're going to try to..." Seren gulped as dread filled her chest. "I need to find her!" She had only turned halfway when Fury called her to wait.

"We'll find her but we need to make a plan first," he said.

"With you?" Seren's sharp tongue wasn't something they heard very often. Then again, seeing Seren close to losing it wasn't a very common sight either. Today was an exception for many, many things. She now gazed at her former boss with ire in her eyes. "For what? You want me to work for you like the clueless puppet I've been all my life!? No!"

"Seren—"

"No!" Seren stopped Natasha in her tracks. "You always said that I needed a backbone and so here it is! Words cannot describe how awful I feel right now — how stupid I feel! I mean, how the hell could I have been so blind!? How could I have not seen it before!?" She looked at Fury again. "You just stood there and let all this happen! You couldn't trust SHIELD but what about the Avengers? What about the Initiative I worked my whole life for? The people you managed to get — you didn't think about telling us then!?"

"You were barely a team as it was," Fury reminded her of her own thoughts before. "Even Rogers was more than reluctant to join."

"But I was there!" Seren yelled. "I was always there, Fury! I saw the walls of SHIELD bases than my own home! But you let me keep working in the dark! You let me bring an innocent girl into this web and you let her stay in it! And now you want me to jump back into my role as naive Agent Soul? Ha, I don't think so!" She spun around and stormed out of the room.

For all the attention that Steve suddenly got when Seren left, he didn't really feel as awkward as the others. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders as he met Fury's gaze. "I would just be grateful she didn't go supernova..."

~ 0 ~

Chloe struggled every now and then with the agents behind her. Her wrists had been bound with special cuffs meant to negate her abilities. Apparently, while SHIELD had developed a special pair for Seren, HYDRA had been working alongside with the project on a similar model just for Chloe. Wasn't she just lucky...

"Where the hell are we going?" she demanded from the pair of agents. Of course, just like the last time she asked, nobody answered her. "Where did you take the others?"

No answer.

They pushed her into some building, a bank by the looks of it, where she found a much heavier load of agents waiting for her. As brave as she wanted to be, she couldn't deny her racing heart nor the fear that was growing inside her. She was outnumbered by the dozens. The thing about always being on the run is that she was not used to facing heavy numbers like this. Hell, she wasn't as skilled of a fighter as her friends, definitely not like Seren. She was a runner, Seren was a fighter.

Now here she was, facing the shadows that had been after her for so long. She had plenty of faces to match said shadows.

And she was afraid. She was alone and so very afraid.

She dug her heels in the floor, forcing the agents behind her to physically push her forwards. She, in turn, put all her efforts to slowing their pace. "I don't want to go anywhere with you!" she yelled. "I want to see my friends! I want to see Seren!"

"Why, so we can blow her brains out right along with yours?" She heard Rumlow's voice ahead of her. She stopped fighting against the agents as he approached her.

Disgust etched across Chloe's face as she looked at him. "You wish you could get that close to her. She'd wipe the floor with you. And that's if Steve didn't get to you first." She smirked for a brief moment before Rumlow made to smack her across the face. She instinctively flinched but for some reason, Rumlow didn't go through with it. "Where...where are the others?"

Rumlow's lip curled into a deep scowl.

Ifthey'redeadthentherewouldbenoanger—

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut and groaned with the sudden blast of words in her head.

Hadtheybeenkilledtherewouldbeatotalsatisfactiononhisface—

"Stop, stop, stop," she whimpered.

—buttherewillbeaguaranteed100—

"I said STOP!" she yelled.

Rumlow laughed, making her open her eyes to see the grin on his face. "I always knew you were damn crazy, Winters."

"Shut up," she muttered.

"She's not crazy, Rumlow. She's gifted." Alexander Pierce arrived on the scene with his own flock of agents behind him. He smiled towards Chloe like she wasn't being detained against her will. "She took a little longer to be ready but that's alright. HYDRA is nothing if not patient, especially with its greatest assets."

"I am not your asset," Chloe spat. "Where are my friends? You didn't kill them. He" — she nodded at Rumlow — "would've bragged about it already. But instead he scowled."

"Did you deduce that on your own?" asked Pierce, eyes already studying her in a way she absolutely hated. "Or was it them?" For her own safety she would stay quiet. "Tell me, do you know what they are? Where they're from? It must be magnificent to have an entire race in your head."

"Not as much as you would think," she said. "It gets loud."

"Well, it's all your fault, really. Nobody asked you to stick your nose where it didn't belong," Rumlow said with a sarcastic smile. "But you've always been annoying like that, haven't you?"

"And you've always been second best, right?" she countered with a smug smile. "And in case you're wondering, I deduced that on my own." Rumlow's face fell before she finished. He made a move against her when Pierce shut him down.

"Stand down." Pierce's word was law by the looks of it. Now it made sense to Chloe why she wasn't really hurt (beyond the emotional trauma). Pierce wanted her for something. "Your friends, as you say, escaped but it won't be a problem. We have powerful weapons, after all."

Chloe stiffened. Her eyes roamed the hallway. It was abandoned judging by the dirt accumulating on the walls. But it was dead quiet. Her eyes started glowing blue. Pierce watched with an almost fascination. Up until now he had only heard from their infiltrators in SHIELD what their Hivemind looked like inside Chloe Winters.

And suddenly, the glow in Chloe's eyes faded and she was back in the present. Her eyes flickered back to Pierce with the sense of new knowledge. "You have him here, don't you?" She asked what she already knew. "This whole time, the ghost you had following me was the supposedly late Sergeant Barnes."

"The Hivemind again?" Pierce's lips stretched into another clean smile.

"I was there when his mask fell...but yes, the Hivemind helps connect the dots. He's here right now. So what do you want from me?"

"They haven't told you, then?" Pierce seemed to take extra satisfaction learning her disadvantage. "Let's walk," he motioned to her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping that every part of her body was screaming that she hated him. The agents behind her, however, shoved her forwards. She stumbled a few steps until she was able to reclaim her balance. She swallowed hard and raised her head to walk alongside Pierce.

"The piece that you absorbed when you were a kid, didn't you ever wonder why you couldn't fully connect to the Hivemind?"

Of course she had but in the beginning, she was just terrified that she had a piece of tech in her body in the first place. "What the hell was it doing there in the first place?"

"Ah, mission gone wrong," Pierce rolled her eyes. "Decommissioned the agents who failed there. The tech pieces were left behind from an old mission in the 60s. It took us forever to find them but imagine my reaction when only one piece made it to my hands?"

Chloe suddenly felt a tiny bit of pity for the agent in charge of that mission. "What did you want with them?"

"It was HYDRA's hope that we would learn how to wield the pieces correctly. We didn't know they were part of a Hivemind until we examined the piece we had."

"What did you think they were before?"

"Nobody knew except that they were alien," Pierce said. "And you'll understand that anything foreign can always be of value if wielded correctly. HYDRA takes anything it can and this wouldn't be an exception. So even when we only had one piece, we made it a priority to figure out what the tech could do. But unfortunately, we soon realized that we didn't have anything without the other piece." Pierce finally looked at Chloe, who gulped. "It was even more unfortunate when we learned where the piece had gotten to — into. A clueless girl that one of our own agents brought to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Chloe looked away. Seren. Seren had unknowingly brought her to the very organization that would try to kill her later on. "You wanted to kill me—you tried to kill me several times. What, did you expect to yank it out of my corpse?"

"Initially," Pierce said without a care of Chloe's horrified face. "But that was before we got all your test results. When SHIELD conducted its initial tests on you, HYDRA learned how the piece had fused to your body. It is now part of your body, meshed with your DNA. Even if we had killed you, we wouldn't have been able to salvage the piece you absorbed. We would've damned ourselves."

That's why they stopped trying to kill me, Chloe realized. They needed me alive. "But...but you started following me? What for? And trying to kidnap me?"

"If we could not take the piece back, we had to at least make sure we could harvest its power regardless of its whereabouts. But you turned out to be one smart cookie." Pierce stopped in front of a gated door. "Fury never shared the statuses of your missions. There were no reports of it either. You were hard to find, Miss Winters, and that is very impressive for someone on Hydra's list."

"I don't feel very honored," Chloe moved her arms a bit to remind them of the very special clamps on her wrists. "In fact, I feel more like a prisoner which" — she bobbed her head — "I'm sure is what Sergeant Barnes has probably felt this whole time too."

"The cuffs are merely precautions," Pierce said with a smug smile Chloe wished she could wipe off with her powers. "You need to understand first."

"Forgive me if I don't understand the people who have made my life miserable for the past 8 years! I lost my family because of you people! I couldn't go back home anymore! They think I ran away! I lost everything!"

"For a good cause, our cause," Pierce remained uncharacteristically calm despite the shouting in his face. "You're young, you don't understand what we're trying to do."

"My age doesn't define whether or not I understand good and bad. I am more than competent to decide what I want and let me tell you that being here is something I don't want. What I would want is to get the hell out of here and see my friends—scratch that," she nodded towards the gated door, "I would like to take that poor man with me and get the hell out of here!"

"You're here to serve us now," Pierce's voice took a more natural hard tone. That's the one Chloe thought would be more his style. "You don't say 'no' to HYDRA. I know your limits, Winters. We've studied them right alongside SHIELD, make no mistake of that."

Chloe's eyes flickered to the agents surrounding them. "Why am I here?" she asked. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Connect the pieces, what else?"

"No," she shifted her gaze to the gate. Her eyes took on a soft blue glow. "That's not why I'm here. You could've done that anywhere. I'm here for another reason."

Peace. He's under duress. They cannot control him.

She straightened herself up and looked directly at Rumlow. "Open the gate," she commanded, much to his shock.

He scoffed at her. "In case you forgot, you're not in charge."

She cocked her head at him. "Open. The. Gate."

Just as Rumlow's face twisted with anger, Pierce spoke up. "Open the gate, Rumlow. She understands now."

Rumlow's head snapped in his direction. "But she's not—"

"Open it," Pierce reiterated, tone cold as ice.

Rumlow's jaw clenched but he went around the pair to open the gate. A scientist was coming up to the other side when the gates opened up.

"He's erratic, sir," he fumbled with Pierce, especially when he saw Chloe. "I-I don't know…"

"She'll know what to do," Pierce said with such a certainty that brought more nerves to Chloe. She sure hoped she could figure out that 'what' part in the span of the walk there.

Eventually, she was led into a room that couldn't possibly be filled with more agents and scientists. For a split second, she got the gist of Seren's fear of doctors. All the prodding and the experiments they could do with nobody to stop them. Only in this case, the "subject" wasn't a Celessian but a human man.

Not completely human, don't kid yourself Chloe.

She stopped as soon as Piece did—this would be the only time she would fall in line with him—and looked ahead. All the pictures in the world wouldn't compare to the sight of Bucky Barnes today. He didn't look a thing like the museums portrayed him as. Steve would always say that Bucky had the sharpest of looks and a charming smile. Chloe often agreed with him when she saw the pictures but not today. Today, he looked like a man with a blank slate.

He seemed beyond exhausted in his chair. His eyes were low and detached. His bare shoulders rose every now and then with a visible breath but Chloe suspected that he was too tired for even that. His hair was long enough to almost reach his shoulders and it looked in dire need of care. Chloe's eyes lingered over his metal arm that rested idly on the arm rest. Whatever damage Natasha had done to it earlier was gone. But she still couldn't get past the ugly red that marked the connection between the metal and his flesh. She wondered if it hurt all the time...

"Has he been here the whole time? With Hydra?" she found herself asking as if she would be privy to any answers.

To her surprise, Pierce did give her a response. "His work has been a gift to mankind."

"He...he died," Chloe shook her head. "He's been dead since 1940 — you've had him since 1940!?" She was absolutely horrified at the idea of just how long Bucky had been (no doubt) tortured since then. "Decades..."

"He has a bit of a head-start than you, of course. But he'll be a great teacher. And you will make a good ally."

"A what—?"

"You can see the future!"

"I can't really—"

"You would help devise the Winter Soldier's plans and execute them. Together, you'd be unstoppable and thus make HYDRA invincible."

Chloe let out a humorless, loud laugh. "I will die before I become anything of HYDRA's!"

"Funny, that's what Barnes said in the beginning too. Least that's what the reports said."

Chloe swallowed very hard and whipped her head in Bucky's direction. He's a ghost of who he once was. It terrified her to think that she could end up like him. "N-no..." she took a step back and bumped into Rumlow. She turned and saw the other agents stepping towards her. They had surrounded her and blocked off the entrance.

"You are here to do a job, Winters," Pierce said. "One that you will do a lot in the future now. SHIELD kept a good record of that ability. Peacefulness."

Chloe sucked in a breath as the Hivemind started whispering in her head. The fight. It's left him troubled. Chloe glanced at Bucky again. He looked like he was in an endless struggle. "The fight...he's starting to remember, isn't he?"

"He can't remember what's not true," hissed Pierce.

Chloe's head snapped in his direction, looking rather indignant on Bucky's behalf. "You're joking right?" Now instead of fear, all she felt was anger. HYDRA was prepared to act like they didn't kidnap and brainwash a whole man for decades. If she had the power to give him even just a little piece of all those memories, then she had a duty to at least try. "I need my hands," she said firmly.

Pierce glanced at the agent holding the key and nodded at him to go ahead. Chloe was perfectly still as the agent stepped up to uncuff her.

"I'm sure the Hivemind will tell you that your chances of escaping here are very slim," Pierce warned when Chloe was free. "Rest assured if none of my agents catch you, he will," he gave a nod in Bucky's direction.

Chloe had no doubt about that. She took in a breath and stepped towards him. Her fingers danced on her sides the closer she got. "Sergeant," she decided to go with for the moment. She doubted he remembered his own name right now anyways.

"He hasn't been that in decades," Rumlow said.

"I don't think I asked for your opinion," she snapped and came to stand in front of Bucky, though leaving a cautious distance for the moment. "We met before at the attack on the bridge…"

At the mention of the bridge, Bucky's eyes finally lifted from the floor. Chloe held her breath for a moment. Even the shine of the blue eyes that Steve talked about were gone.

"The man on the bridge…" Bucky said, his voice gruff, "Who was he?" She would know. She was on their side. She was always on their side.

"Don't answer," warned Pierce on time because Chloe had been just about to do that.

"You send him to kill Steve and you don't even have the courage to tell him who he is?" She shouldn't be surprised. HYDRA were made up of cowards. "Maybe you're not as brave as you think."

"Agent Winters, you seem to think like you're in control but I assure you that you are not," Pierce's face hardened. "You figured out what you're here for, now do it."

Chloe turned away from them. She met Bucky's gaze and had a very limited time to think of what to do. It wasn't like she had options to begin with. "I'm Chloe." She said, maybe it would matter if someone gave him a name. After decades and missions like these, she doubted Bucky recognized any of the agents with a name. "I, um, I think we've already met...in a way. But, um, that fight on the bridge—"

"Agent Winters—"

"—left you very, uh...tired, right?" Chloe smiled nervously at Bucky. He, in turn, remained blank. "I can help you." It was harder to go on when all Bucky did was stare at her. He had to be calculating her moves. If only he knew that she had zero moves right now.

But in truth he was placing her. She was the mission that he didn't understand right-away. She was the mission that, in a way, allowed him to rest. There was never any fighting for her missions, never any kind of encounter with someone. He just watched from a distance and reported back.

Now she's been captured. He knew what that meant for her...what could come next.

"...run." His quiet whisper managed to elicit a sharp gasp from Chloe. It even startled the rest of the room. The Winter Soldier hardly ever spoke when he wasn't addressed.

Chloe's shock wore off as she realized what he tried to do for her. Her expression softened. "I can't," she replied to him. She smiled sadly at him. "I...I have to stay here. But if I have to stay here, then I at least want to help you. I, um...I have an ability that, um, well...it's known to ease the mind. I won't look through any of your memories. I only want to help calm you down. I just need to touch your temples." She gestured to her own temples with her glowing blue hands. "May I?"

"Why are you asking? Just do it already," one of the scientists told her.

Chloe's eyes flickered to them. There was no point in being incredulous bug she couldn't help it. "Just because you all chose to violate his body and his every thought, doesn't mean I'm doing the same!" With that, she shifted her gaze back on Bucky.

He hadn't moved, not even an inch, he only stared. At the very least he could be trying to figure her out, which was a fair thing to do. She was a bit too bright for his usual interactions. As much as he thought, he couldn't understand what her purpose was. Everyone around him had a purpose, whether it was to fix him or give him orders, but everyone had a purpose. It all typically came down to make him more efficient.

"You have the Hive Mind..." He remembered, and watched her face pale. Was her Hive Mind like his metal arm? Her "advantage"?

Chloe wasn't surprised that he knew that. "I do," she nodded, "But I only want to help you. I know a thing or two about having your mind violated. And it's also because of these people."

Bucky's eyes flickered to the others. Chloe took that as a win. He was listening. She reached for his temples only for him to seize her wrists. She flinched then heard the shifts of the weapons behind her taking aim on Bucky.

"Stop!" she told them. She tried not to budge as much under Bucky's tight grip. He was rightfully suspicious of her. She doubted nobody before her had ever used a "good guy" tactic on him. His eyes frantically searched hers for any sign, a clue, of what she would really do to him if he allowed her to touch him. "If you don't want it, I won't do it," she eventually said to him.

For a second, he lost his grip on her. It was evident that he'd been expecting anything but that. He turned his head towards the others; the weapons were still on him.

Chloe followed his gaze. "Lower them," she ordered. "You want me to do this, then lower the weapons. Otherwise you'll have one dead Hivemind and bye-bye evil plans."

With that logic, it was only time before the weapons were gone.

It was almost bemusing to see the shock on Bucky's face when it happened. Chloe smiled slightly at him. "Can I?" She gestured her wrists still bound by his hands.

The shock wasn't enough to cover his expression when she asked for his permission. Because of that, Bucky gave a slim nod of his head. Now he was curious and that was a novelty. He hadn't been curious about anything in...he didn't know how much time had passed.

Chloe's smile widened with his nod. She just wished her hands wouldn't shake so much. You are way out of your element here. No matter. She had to push through.

Bucky was still as a statue when her hands reached him. As much as he despised foreign hands on him — he learned to hate it once he got the gist of what typically happened whenever somebody touched him — he still didn't move. He did note, though, how unusually soft her fingers were. And gentle. That was entirely distinctive from the others.

She looked at him with a light that nobody else possessed. It made him curious again — and the novelty came again — about what she would have to do for Hydra. It also made him feel sorry for what was to come because no matter what was coming, it wouldn't be good.

"Just think," Chloe whispered to him. She was very slow when it came to pressing her forehead against his, closing her eyes. Usually, she didn't do this step but given the amount of years Bucky had, she needed to go big. She often did it with Steve as well and he had that gap of 70 years in the dark. She was grateful that Bucky didn't immediately shove her away. She could feel his nervous breath and definitely felt the subtle moment in which he flinched at the closer connection. She just hoped that she could keep his trust going. "The uneasiness, the questions, think about that and feel the ease that I'll send through."

Bucky had not closed his eyes, wanting to be alert as much as possible, though it really didn't seem like Chloe was going to try anything. She seemed very different from everyone else — she was. All the scientists around him were always rough and brief with him. Yes, he was enhanced to withstand 'rough' but it didn't mean he liked it. Chloe was very far from that. Her fingers were so soft pressed against his skin. She smelled so nice too. And the best part? She genuinely wanted to help.

Chloe focused all her power on Bucky. Never had she tried so hard to make it work. While Bucky had no idea what was supposed to be happening, he felt it. It was strange. His mind, as fuzzy and conflicted as it was, started to shift. Every thought, no matter what it was, was dissolving to allow this wave of serenity to wash over him. How could this woman be producing that level of calmness? As much as he had planned to stay alert, his eyes fell shut. For the first time since he could remember, everything dark around him slipped away. He knew nothing but sweet bliss and calmness.

And it was in that sweet bubble that he saw flashes. They were quick, disappearing almost as soon as they showed up, and very fragmented. Voices filled his ears, unknown but at the same time very familiar. And then he saw him. The man from the bridge. He was smaller, but the same face. They were an old street—

"That's enough," came Pierce's order.

Chloe's fingers pulled away from Bucky's temples and she pulled back. She met his gaze sheepishly. "I hope it helped you," she said honestly. He seemed surprised, and a bit troubled again. Maybe she hadn't helped him...

Bucky looked at her with wide eyes. "The man on the bridge...I knew him. You...you showed him..."

"I didn't..." Chloe said nervously, glancing back at Pierce. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was showing Bucky images of his past life. "I can't — I can't actually do that..."

Bucky was sure of what he saw. "He was there. And..." The voices he heard now began to sound a lot like the man too. "Who was he?"

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment," Pierce answered him.

Chloe looked back at him, her eyebrows knitting together with incredulity. "You can't just wash this over, you know. He will figure it out."

"It's been seventy years, Winters."

"So this is the first time they met again and look at what's already happened?" Chloe gestured towards Bucky. He was clearly trying his best to remember. "As much as you can brainwash with your high tech, the brain is a complicated thing. It's surprising."

"I knew him," Bucky said, inadvertently proving her point.

Chloe very quickly confirmed it. "You did!" After that, she had agents coming to retrieve her. She thrashed and yelled at them to leave her alone.

Bucky watched her with new curiosity—it was almost becoming familiar to him in a way. Being curious. Despite her loud yells, she seemed confident about what she was saying. He did know that man.

Pierce walked up to him while Chloe was forced to stay a good distance back. "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But, if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

"What!?" Chloe's face scrunched. She knew that it was in her best interest not to speak but when had she ever been prudent about anything? "What kind of bullshit is that—"

"ENOUGH!" Rumlow pulled out his gun and pressed it against her temple. "I swear to God, Winters, say one more thing!" Chloe naturally recoiled from the cool metal on her skin, but being restrained didn't help get very far. "You don't have to die but we can sure as hell find a way to shut you up."

The natural fear in her whimper brought Bucky to make his conclusion that she was most certainly not like the others around him. If that was the truth then she had no reason to lie. She said that he did know the man on the bridge.

Pierce cleared his throat to remind him that he was still waiting for a response. Bucky's eyes left Chloe to meet the man's. "But I knew him," he insisted. He hadn't been certain about anything in a while, but now he was. "I did."

Pierce shook his head. "Winters, your little act is going to cost you."

Chloe made a face. "But I didn't—!"

"Prep him," he ordered the scientists.

"He's been out of cryo-freeze too long," one of them said.

"Then wipe him and start over!"

Chloe watched the people around them hurriedly move to do whatever Pierce instructed them to do. "What...what are they going to do?" She could see that whatever it was, Bucky was no stranger to it. He seemed ready for it but with a deep, and genuine, fear. She got the idea why when clamps shut around his arms. "Woah, woah, woah, wait!" She pushed herself towards them, forcing the agents around her to hold her back. "Leave him alone! It's my fault! I did it — leave him alone!" Her eyes started glowing a radiant blue, causing the agents to scramble to cuff her again.

Pierce was out of patience. "Implant the other piece," he commanded.

"What!? No!" Chloe's eyes widened with horror. "N-n-n-n-no!" The agents started pulling her away and as much as she fought, she couldn't stop them. "NO! NO! PLEASE DON'T! NO! NO!"

Bucky heard her screaming as she was dragged out of the room. It triggered a few more memories of himself in very similar situations. Endless screams just before the torture began. It was his last thought before his hell started all over again.

[bluebellhairpin]

Please use this as an excuse to ramble and talk about your got oc and Sannem!

An excuse to talk about Sandor and my selfship oc? You don't have to tell me twice! (BEWARE. I DIDN'T HOLD BACK LOL)

They're both actually so special to me, but I haven't given myself a chance to really think about them. I do know that their relationship doesn't change the plot a whole lot - however because all my oc's are female I like having them do something to further the plot. I just haven't decided what exactly that is for her yet.

Well I do know one thing, but I'll talk about it later. What I'm mostly trying to get at is I know more fixed lore about the oc than the relationship she has with Sandor. A lot of it is still up in the air lol.

Over the course of her life she gets four nicknames. They progress from The Mouse -> The Thousand Times Bitten -> The Bitch -> The Untouched. (Link are to other post's I've made about why she's called that, and at what point she gets them. BUT THIS IS GOING TO GO WAAAAY MORE INTO THAT.)

I think I mentioned it in the description for The Mouse, but if she was in the show we'd first meet her at Winterfell. She runs errands, and her manner is likened to a field mouse. She knows the Starks, and probably would be around the crowd feasting when King Robert Baratheon visits. I can imagine her catching Sandor sometime then, and perhaps also on the road again a bit later - something clicks and they're friendly enough for acquaintances.

I can imagine her turning into an envoy for Robb during the War of Five Kings. She knows all the routes everywhere, especially in the North and around the Vale, and knows how to keep hidden - whether it be in crowds or empty spaces. It would be this envoy work that leads her to the house of Ramsay Snow. She's caught there, unable to leave. Eventually Ramsay chooses to hunt her, and she almost makes it out of the woods when his hounds get her. She bares her back to the dogs. When the others find her, they leave her there, saying that if she survives the night on her own, she'd be The Thousand Times Bitten.

She does survive, or at least that's what's told since the next morning she wasn't where they left her. Really she was picked up by a farmer and his wife who were coming home late. They nurse her back to full health over the next few weeks, however she cannot stand hounds anymore.

Eventually she leaves. She refuses to be a burden to the family anymore, intent to meet up with Catelyn and Robb Stark. Really though she wanders for a while instead. Eventually she meets Sandor again, and sees Arya. Right as they meet, Arya said that her mother and brother both died the night before, and seeing as she has nowhere else to go, she joins them both. The trio get along well, but during this time is when she starts being called The Bitch. Time with Ramsay has caused what once was sweet to turn bitter, and while before she might have laughed off curse actions and comments she becomes more violent, lacking in self preservation. This and her fondness for Sandor, and his fondness for her, garners her a new name.

She travels with Sandor and Arya until they all meet Brienne of Tarth. She gets lost among the fight. She finds Arya walking towards the road and asks what happened to Sandor. Arya replies that he's dead (at least to her), and she believes it. She's unable to bring herself to go see for herself and instead makes her way back North to the Wall. She meets Jon Snow, who is Lord Commander of the Watch, and uses that time to be taught how to fight properly.

She offers to join Jon on the trip to Hardhome, but he denies saying that she isn't experienced enough, and won't risk her life there. She spends all that time training more, to prove she could've gone. During this time she discovers a fondness for using two blades which are slightly smaller then swords. These become her weapons of choice.

When Jon dies at Castle Black, she is one of the people drawn outside by Ghost's howls. After he's brought back to life, she chooses to join him in leaving as the Wall was never a place for a woman. This plan is foiled when Sansa Stark shows up. In the days the follow, a letter comes from Ramsay goading them to fight him for Winterfell. She is eager to join in, having sworn to see Ramsay die for what he'd done to her, and now to Sansa - and threatened to do again.

She fights at the Battle of the Bastards, and lives without a scratch on her. The training from the Watch paid off. She rises that day as The Untouched - a name garnered from her days at Castle Black, since the moment training moved from pretend swords to real ones, no one could land a blow on her - and now a name solidifying her into a battle legend.

Staying true to her promise, she watches as Sansa sets Ramsay's hounds on himself. Sansa walks away, but she stays. She promised she'd see him die - really she wanted to do it herself, to feel his blood warm her hands, but watching the life leave him was really the only thing she wanted to do before she died. Now her life was no longer in service to herself. Now she was ready to serve someone else again.

Lo and behold, once again there is now a King in the North.

AND THAT'S ALL I HAVE SO FARRRRRRR <3 (I could write more, since I have seen a few more seasons since I decided on all this, but this post is getting loooooooong. So if you've lasted this long I'm giving you a nice cup of tea and/or hot chocolate and kissing ur forehead THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU <3333)

[heartshattering]

/// negative

I know you can't do anything about the past but there's still so much anger and hurt inside of me because I feel like so much of this pain could've been avoided.

It could've been avoided if doctors/nurses/therapists actually fucking LISTENED to me.

I know I mention it a lot but I still feel so upset that the center I went to basically said I was too crazy and hopeless to be helped? Except of course they cover it up with 'nice' words like "Well unfortunately we can't handle a case as severe as yours..." before kicking me out and telling me I couldn't come back (lmao)

And then there's the Nurse B incident that has me fucking paranoid that I'm going to run into some weirdo again who's determined on viewing me as a criminal/addict/whatever and getting the police involved 😭 like she literally forwarded my info to the part of the psychiatric department that handles alcohol addiction recovery because of her saying I was mixing pills with alcohol and driving under the influence, I'm just thankful that I was able to go home after the questioning instead of it blowing up into an even bigger mess, but I'm still traumatized by the thought of seeing any new medical professionals again because of it.

Am I seriously THAT bad? Like I know I'm traumatized, not in an ideal life situation, etc. but from how medical professionals treat me it's really like they genuinely see me as a lost cause who can never improve and who just needs to be put away in a hospital or a jail cell. I feel like I'm not viewed as someone fit to be human.

And what sucks is that I've tried to cope on my own. I really have. I've done self-help, workbooks, apps to stop me from S-H and meditate and track my moods and monitor my meds, journaling, hobbies, leaving toxic friends, trying to set goals for myself... and it's still not enough.

I will never be enough.