#Wes is down to brawl with a child

[connorsbonez]

Stalkers and Cryptids

Meeting the Bat Family

1. Danny

Since him and Wes got together with Tim at the same-ish time, it was decided that they’d get introduced to the family one at a time before going together, and for some reason, Danny got chosen to be the first to go.

It went surprisingly well! The siblings loved him (at least, they think Damien does, maybe Danny will have to convince him through the means of Cujo) and it took Bruce a moment but he came around

Duke thought Tim managed to bring the personified sun into the house at first before realizing ‘oh, it’s a person’ and switched to ‘what the fuck is up with you’, pulling out some sunglasses before asking Danny who straight faced told Duke that he ate a lot of glow sticks as a kid.

Duke asked what they tasted like.

Cass and Danny stared at each other for five minutes before nodding and continuing on like nothing happened.

Steph and Danny had to be physically separated and it was agreed to never leave those two alone. No matter the circumstances. Tim is terrified and rightfully so.

So everything was going pretty great.

And then dinner happened.

Fenton Curse reared its ugly head in the form of Danny accidentally touching the chicken with his bare hands. He barely got in an apology before the chicken jolted upwards in vengeful fury and dragged everyone into a recreation of the Cold War. Food was splattered on everything and everyone, the table was flipped to the side in an effort to be used as a shield, screams of the damned as the chicken descended upon them with a large butcher knife, something was on fire, and Alfred was loading up his shotgun crouched behind the table with Danny on one side and Bruce on the other looking like he was astral projecting but not at the same time.

It was agreed that this dinner was never to be spoken of. Ever.

Danny wore gloves from now on when he came over for a meal of any kind.

Dick had to wear a hat for a bit after the chicken managed to take off some of his hair, leaving a bald spot (Steph tried to shave his head completely to ‘even it out’)

2. Wes

They waited two months before bringing Wes to the manor and after what happened with Danny, the family was a touch more wary. Dick jokingly(ish) asked if Wes would bring anything alive, he replied with ‘Not unless you pay me’ and didn’t elaborate further.

You’d think they’d calm down after interacting with Wes for a bit because it wasn’t like he was horrible, he meshed well with the others and they could find themselves genuinely liking Wes if not for a small little thing or two. It was going too well. Wes seemed to know how to interact with all of them, barely making any mistakes that came with interacting with new people, it was off putting to the vigilantes. (Except Tim, he didn’t notice a thing odd about it)

Along with the fact that the ginger seemed to sometimes ask very…interesting questions that made the others pause. Wes can’t help himself when it comes to knowing things about people that he’s talking too, he held off this long and now he can’t help but slide in a few questions and comments here and there…just to see if they notice.

Wes could acknowledge that he found it a little funny how much he was driving the Waynes up the wall.

Bruce kept staring at Tim, as if trying to telepathically get answers from him. Tim pretended not to notice his gaze.

Someone tried to give the shovel talk and Wes responded by saying their credit card information in a deadpan tone.

This visit also somehow managed to go to hell, this one didn’t even make it to dinner. The disaster kicked off with Wes and Damian, no one is quite sure what was said but it ended with an absolute cat fight, with Dick holding back Damian who had a bruise already blooming on his lower jaw and Jason holding back Wes who had a small knife lodged into his thigh and promptly bit Jason when he abruptly grabbed the ginger.

Jason later got checked for rabies.

Wes refused to give the knife back, having left with it still in his thigh. (Danny got it out and was unsurprised by the series of events when told.)

(Batman definitely went to their apartment later that night.)

3. Bernard

This wasn’t the first time he met the Wayne Family but it was the first time he’d be meeting them as Tim’s boyfriend instead of just friend.

So obviously the meeting went find, they already knew who Bernard was so it wasn’t a get to know you meeting but a shovel talk meeting + meeting the third boyfriend

Bernard was the only one really intimidated by the shovel talks

Most peaceful night, Bernard told some of his theories during dinner, including how Superman, Batman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Lex Luther were in a polygamy relationship. Jason was dying (metaphorically this time) during dinner as well as the other siblings, Bruce not so much and Damian tried to act like he didn’t find it funny (Dick swears he did).

He was the only one Bruce didn’t feel the need to heavily research. (Because he already did that when he and Tim first became friends)

( I kinda hate this but whatever, it’s been in the drafts for far too long. )

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

There always seems to be one kid who just screams like a tornado siren, all day long, at any given opportunity. Like, kid, I love you, you are precious and deserve all the happiness in the world; but please for the love of god shut up. There are people trying to learn here and you’re not helping them or yourself.

[justaz]

one of my fav tropes in merlin fanfic is when merlin gets turned into a child and is literally terrified of the knights and arthur (aka his bestest of friends (excluding gwen whoops sorry my love i adore you i promise)) and they're just like "wtf????" and then merlin's little child self isn't in control of his magic and they just go "oooohhhh that makes sense" and i was thinking about it and i need one of those fics where it happens when they're all just chilling in the woods, not in their armor or anything and they just sit around and tell stories to merlin to get him to relax bc he was a bit frightened when he appeared in the woods with a bunch of random men.

gwaine telling the story of how he met merlin and arthur and the tavern brawl and how they won and little merlins just like "whoaaaa i never win any of my fights" and gwaine chuckles and looks at this like seven/eight year old like "and what fights have you got into?" and merlin just shrugs all sheepishly like "well, maybe not fights, but the kids in ealdor don't really like me. they throw stones and call me names and follow me into the woods to hurt me. i never win those fights, there's always too many of them...will fights for me tho!! he usually also gets beat up but he can actually fight so..." and theyre all just like :((( fuck :(( especially arthur who knows how much will meant to merlin but he never understood why

merlin also mentions how they call him names like freak or bastard but his mom won't tell him what the second one means. gwaine is like "you know, all the kids in ealdor are around our age now. we should go and teach them a lesson" and little merlin gasps and grabs gwaine's arm and is like "no! D: that's so mean!" and the knights are just like yep. that's our merlin. complete sweetheart. anyways what i mean is just them growing closer and maybe little merlin sees a flash of red in the distance and freaks and tells them all to run and hide with him which they do while completely befuddled. when they ask him why he's scared merlin just whispers "it's a knight, I saw him. he's from camelot" and the knights are like ??? and merlin looks at them like their crazy "you know how knights from camelot are! they're cruel. they'll kill us the moment they see us. stay quiet!"

anyways idk where i was going with this. ig i don't really need a fic like this i just wanted to get this idea down and out there. maybe leon tries to calm merlin and is like "don't worry, knights of camelot protect us. i mean, we're knights of camelot and we'd never hurt you." and merlin just turns and stares at him like "you're a knight?" and he nods and merlin turns to the rest and is like "you're all knights? of camelot?" and they nod and merlin stands there for a minute before booking it and hiding in the woods. they spend all afternoon and evening searching for him. merlin refuses to come out. but you know he can't exactly survive in the woods for long so he starts wandering when the sound of their footsteps fade and somehow finds himself in gwen's care. look idk my vision was little merlin sitting with the knights and becoming friends and then the knights seeing merlin terrified of knights of camelot idk what happens next stop hounding me get off my back

[cursedonyx]

So I had a little realisation about our favourite freckled heathen and his unending cheer and charm.

I think we can all agree that part of Sebastian’s allure is that he is so resolutely cheerful, especially in the first half of the game. He’s upbeat, charming, cheeky and extroverted, always smiling and willing to help. He loses the duelling match against you in DADA with more grace than a 15–16-year-old should reasonably have (especially considering Ominis is absolutely steaming in the background because Hecat almost made him fall over) and he’s willing to take the fall for you in the library, being cheerful with you again the next time you meet.

Sure, he has his moments, like when Solomon yells at him. But instead of engaging in an all-out brawl or screaming match, he removes himself from the situation and asks for a moment alone, presumably to calm down. A very mature thing to do.

It’s only when the relic (and likely Slytherin’s book as well) corrupts him that we see him be more on edge, snappier, more prone to temper.

Sebastian’s constant cheer and charm would lead a lot of people to think that he’s unbreakable, that he could be run over by a rampaging hippogriff and he’d just dust himself off and carry on with a smile and a laugh. And he probably would.

The thing is, that kind of constant cheer is likely down to his highly abusive childhood.

Hear me out.

We know that his parents died before he and Anne got their magic, which, according to canon, is usually around seven years old. So they would have been six or younger when their parents died, but for some reason, I think of it as being about five. Old enough to have precious memories of their parents, but still very young and impressionable.

We all know that Solomon never wanted to take the Sallow twins on, and harbours some insane resentment to the situation they’re in: an ex-Auror now living alone and essentially working as a farmer (he can be seen tilling the fields in Feldcroft) suddenly lumbered with two very small children who have just suffered massive emotional trauma, and he’s not equipped to deal with that. So he takes it out on Sebastian, who resembles the brother he presumably strongly disliked.

Whilst Anne is said to have been the most mischievous one out of her, Sebastian and Ominis, I think Sebastian is the most emotional. He likely would have been prone to let his feelings show, especially as a child, but Solomon wouldn’t have wanted to or been able to deal with that.

The thing is, resolutely tough, cheerful people have often been taught from a very young age that their negative emotions aren’t important. That their feelings are a nuisance. That they will be punished for expressing them, whether that’s through physical correction, emotional manipulation, or the removal of affection/attention. I fully expect that the grieving young Sebastian will have been told by Solomon to shut up and sit down and stop snivelling, or to behave, or to act like a man because he didn’t want to deal with it.

Sebastian will have learned to hide his negative emotions, supressing them in favour of trying to be happy to keep Solomon happy; a far preferable situation for him than antagonising the angry man who’s been angry since his parents died. It's possible Sebastian tried to be strong for Anne as well, who I expect would have withdrawn a lot, and as he loves her so much, he would want his twin to be happy, so he was happy for the both of them and did his best to cheer her up.

Being cheerful is safe. Being cheerful is a kind of protective blanket. Because if he lets himself feel all the hurt and the scary and the bad, he won't know how to handle it, so he doesn't. He just keeps smiling.

Sebastian will have unintentionally learned from a young age, or been deliberately trained to hide or mask his negative emotions at all costs, because the price for displaying them has always been serious consequences. But because he bottles it all up, when he breaks, he breaks hard. When his last-ditch attempt to save Anne with the relic fails, he breaks. Every bit of strength he had is gone, and he's left scrambling in an unfamiliar overload of pain and panic.

And when he has some time to think it through, the effects of the relic wearing off, he's truly remorseful for everything and eternally grateful that you're still his friend. Even before then, when you have to decide whether or not to turn him in, he tells you he's glad he met you, trying to fall back on those last threads of positivity that have held him up before.

That poor lad needs as much love and therapy as our lil blind bestie does.

[juuuulez]

📰 | part ten: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers, gun violence, father figure! Negan, soooomeeee ooonneee has a crush, teenagers in love.

summary: You tussle with your emotions regarding Carl, whilst Grimes and co pay a surprise visit to the Sanctuary.

omg i’m on fire!!!!! cliffhanger ending……but also next chapter will be similarly juicy so don’t fret! also half-written a carl x reader oneshot/drabble i’ll post soon between chapters :P

i’m so glad you all love my saviour reader story because i am her she is me…….this series is my CHILD i will defend it with my life!

-> masterlist <-

You hadn’t been to Alexandria in, frankly, what felt like years.

It was actually just weeks.

With an alliance between Hilltop, the Kingdom, and Alexandria, things for the Saviours were trickier than ever. Most of the time Negan spent in his office, trying to decode the best play. You helped, of course, and were practically running yourself ragged trying to keep things together at the Sanctuary.

It felt like everyone knew what was happening. Or they expected it, were waiting for it. It irritated you to no end, that others would blatantly show their disbelief in your cause, in Negan’s cause.

And then there was Carl.

You missed him, which was weird. He had become a constant in your life, the arguing and fighting, the pushing and shoving. But now your relationship had crested into something else… and you didn’t hate it.

In fact, you quite enjoyed kissing Carl.

Not that you’d admit that. To him, to anyone. Nobody needed that amount of power over you.

“You can go to bed, doll.”

You looked up from your lap, where a book of supply schedules was scribbled down. You were seated on that long leather couch in Negan’s office, whilst he worked on god knows what. Hopefully a viable strategy.

“No, I’m fine.” You tell him, politely. Too politely.

Truth is, you were hanging on by a thread. But with no supplies from Alexandria, nor Hilltop, the situation at the Sanctuary was becoming dire. You were trying to figure out how to jig things around so that everyone could be satisfied, or maybe even rethinking the points system, making the imaginary economy more competitive.

“I’m serious,” Negan insists, “You don’t gotta be doin’ this shit. It’s below you.”

You roll your eyes, “Who’s gonna do it, then? Simon’s corpse?”

The sarcastic comment earns you a glare in return, which does make you feel a little bad. You’d watched the brawl firsthand, and had almost tried to help Negan, if not for Dwight holding you back. Either way, it didn’t matter, for Simon was eventually strangled to death.

Brutal, but fitting.

Maybe you were trying to fill that void. The line between right-hand man and teenage daughter was thinning.

Negan rose from his seat, coming over to stand in front of you. He didn’t even need to lean down, swiftly plucking the tattered notebook from your lap, to which you groaned and leaned back on the couch.

He inspected it, reading over the numbers and scrawled figures. “You’re doing this wrong.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should start making your wives do the bookkeeping.” You grumbled, laying down on the couch in defeat.

Negan tossed the notebook onto the coffee table, sitting on the couch opposite you. “Doubt they can count past ten.”

It was a terrible thing to say, but got a smile out of you. It was difficult to be in a good mood on so little sleep, so the tiniest hint of happiness was well appreciated.

“When will we go to Alexandria again?”

You tried not to sound too interested in the question, but couldn’t help yourself, and needed to ask. Not for Carl, just for supplies. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Soon. Give it another week,” Negan confirmed, though his eyes said he knew something more. “Awfully interested in that shithole, aren’t you?”

This caused you to roll over, onto your side, so you could glare over at the older man. “We need that shithole to survive.”

There was a playful glint on Negan’s face, the words earning a small laugh from him. “Maybe you do. Bet you’re just itchin’ for your little cyclops.”

The joke causes you to bristle, irritation rising as you hoist yourself from the couch, making a play for the door. On such little sleep, you weren’t in the mood to entertain being teased.

But Negan stopped you, that grin still on his face. “Hey, c’mon, doll. You know I’m just tryin’ to rile you up.” He admits, coming to a stand.

The glare remains, but at least you stop your escape, instead just standing near the door with your arms crossed. You’d likely give some defensive retort, but Negan is already speaking again.

“Everyone has their first crush at some point. I’m just surprised it took you this long.”

“I don’t have a crush,” You practically snarl. “I’m not twelve years old.”

“Okay, sorry. Not a crush,” Negan approaches slowly, like you’ll run off again, though is pleased when you stand still. “Sounds like it’s past your bedtime.”

Your nose scrunches up, eyes narrowed in offence as he continues to treat you like a child. But you know he’s just making a point to tease you, judging by that stupid grin on his face, so you try not to react.

His hands bracket your arms, giving you a little spin so that you’re facing the door. But now you sigh, turning back around, unable to just drop this conversation all together.

“You don’t care?” You ask. “Like, if I did have a crush, you don’t even mind? Not that I do, I’m just… wondering.”

Negan smiles, finding your half-confession quite adorable. “That’s what kids do, darlin’. Besides, the boy’s got his head on straight. Certainly got more balls than his father.”

You look down at the floor, a little pensive. “I don’t have a crush on Carl.” You reiterate, standing your ground, trying to sound firm in order to convince the both of you.

He seems to get the hint, understanding that maybe you don’t even know what’s going on. “I know, doll. Don’t stress it too much.” Negan drops the subject, letting his arm encase your back for a small squeeze before letting you go. “Go get some rest.”

You muster up a little smile, finally accepting the offer and scampering back off to bed. After all, you were exhausted, despite that inherent need to make yourself useful. Supply counts could wait.

It was a comforting space, your bedroom, one you retreated to whenever things got overwhelming. It was filled with photos and trinkets, candy stashed away in the drawers, all the things you didn’t have when growing up. It was your space.

That night, you fell asleep weighing the severity of simply going to Alexandria yourself. You passed out a few minutes into debating what transportation to take.

Fortunately, or, probably unfortunately, that wasn’t necessary.

For Alexandria had come to you.

Gunfire was a familiar sound to wake up to. Usually, it was a low-level squabble, or maybe one of the Saviours proving a point. Either way, it never lasted long.

But this time, there was shouting, and more bullets. It was enough to jolt you awake, pushing past that bleary state of consciousness and waiting, still, for it to continue.

It did.

You climbed out of bed with urgency, moving on autopilot as you threw on some jeans, not bothering to change from your sleep tank before bolting for the door.

Just as your fingertips brushed the bat, you realised it wouldn’t do. That gun was still locked away in the bottom drawer, so you reached for it, shoving a handful of bullets into your pocket before leaving.

Now, you’ve never been a very good shot. That’s why you preferred using the bat, or at the very least, hand-to-hand combat. You had terrible aim. But maybe now was the best time to fix that issue.

So, you made your way through the Sanctuary, swiftly stepping through hallways, gun at the ready. You were outside in minutes, the shouting becoming much clearer now, a voice you could recognise:

Rick Grimes.

“Fuck this..” You grumbled, growing irritated with this relentless back and forth. And now, they were in your home.

Another shot blew out the glass from above you, forcing you further against the wall, as the shards piled on the concrete. Some littered your skin, your shoulders bare, due to still wearing a tank intended for sleeping. You didn’t even have a bra on.

But there were worse problems, you supposed.

The gun felt heavy in your hands, fingers twitching around the trigger. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to use it, though that seemed like wishful thinking. You wondered where Negan was, yet believed he could handle himself. You and this gun were the main concern, a gun you had no idea how to use effectively.

You hid behind anything available, crouched down, trying to survey the surroundings. From here, you could see the scattered factions of makeshift soldiers, though Rick was now missing. You presumed he had a similar thought process to you: Negan.

That was fine, for now.

Clutching the gun tightly, you shifted into view, holding it outwards and discharging a shot into the distance. It echoed in the nearby vicinity, though there was too much gunfire to distinguish where it had came from, luckily. It didn’t seem to hit anyone.

What a waste.

“Hey!”

It was a whisper-shout, one clearly intended to gain your attention. You spun your head around, searching for the voice, amongst all the yelling and fighting taking place within your home. It took an embarrassing amount of time until you saw him.

Carl.

Thank fucking god.

He’d been watching you, on alert for your figure the second they arrived. He clocked your creeping approach into the battle field, ducking behind anything possible. It was almost amusing, the stark contrast in how you usually chose to fight, but made sense after you fired that hopeless shot.

You had no idea what was going on, assuming that Negan and Rick were off fighting, whilst a few Saviours tried to keep the rival gang at bay. Or gangs, plural. You guessed that speaking to Carl would be your best chance at getting a grip on the situation. That, and you weren’t in the mood for a defensive Saviour to shoot him.

So, you tried to get closer, looking left and right to make sure the coast was clear before ducking behind rubble or vehicles, anything to provide cover. Carl was used to fighting, sure, but felt slightly anxious for a reason he couldn’t pin. It was just a bad feeling, like something was not right.

This time, Carl called out your name, causing you to look up and at attention. He held out his hand, despite being meters away, a signal to come closer under the cover he’d found.

You clutch the gun tightly, safety off, poised at your side. But it’s difficult to see everyone, from this position, forcing you to inch out from behind the truck in order to get a visual.

Still holding out his hand, Carl waits, watching as you peek your head out.

Pop!

A shot fires, crackling in the distance, though it takes you down with a solid thud.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i was thinking about how ariel from the little mermaid is criticized so harshly for "giving up her voice and family for some guy" when there was definitely a lot more to it than that.

ariel had dreams outside of eric. she wanted to see the world, she wanted to get acquainted with humans and human traditions and she wasn't satisfied with her life underwater. that was the whole point of "part of your world", she barely mentions eric in it. he was just a bonus in her new life, not her entire purpose.

why am i talking about a random disney movie? it's because i was thinking of lumity, and how amity also rebelled against her family for a new life. except.. amity really only mentions luz (and "the others" because let's be real, she did not give a shit about willow and gus at that point). amity's sole reason to go against her family's values was luz.

this, if anything, could be considered "giving up everything for a love interest" but people don't see it that way because amity's parents were shitty to begin with. but if you look at the little mermaid from a different perspective, you could argue that king triton wasn't a very good parent either.

he literally throws a temper tantrum just because his teenage daughter has a crush on a guy. ariel is legit terrified in that scene, and regardless of whether triton had good intentions or not, he made his daughter feel unsafe and turn to an impulsive decision in a moment of emotional distress.

all of this to say, you could argue that ariel had no reason to stay with her family either, given that her father lacks emotional sensitivity and does not sit down and try to communicate with his child, instead of destroying her collection and scaring her away.

coming back to amity, i can understand that luz inspired her to actually do something about her abusive parents, and that's sweet. but we never get to see what else amity wanted. since they never established a friendship arc between amity and gus or willow (she apologized to willow, sure, but the rekindling of their relationship happens much later on), all we know is that amity is tired of being abused and she wants to be with luz.

from an abuse victim's perspective, amity standing up against her parents was powerful. but unlike ariel, amity doesn't seem to want anything besides luz. and she never explores what she wants to do, now that she has successfully cut herself away from her mother's influence. her whole life revolves around luz after that.

there was that abomination brawl episode but even that ended up being about luz. the brawl was just a quick montage, it only existed for the emotional drama that came later on. in fact, even when the plot was focused on amity, it was more about her relationship with her father rather than her autonomy and personal interests.

there's a reason why a lot of people liked the mean girl version of amity. she had personality, she had interests and goals, she had CHARACTER. it was all fake and a result of trauma, but it was there and it helped flesh out her character. but after she is redeemed? there's nothing left of the old amity, not even the more positive/neutral traits, and her only personality is "luz's awesome girlfriend".

amity's arc should have been about exploring what she wanted outside of her parents' wishes. abuse often turns you into a shell of a person and recovering from years of trauma isn't as simple as getting a romantic partner. it takes therapy (and that is canonically an option in the boiling isles, let me remind you), it takes self-reflection, it takes giving yourself the permission to choose your own destiny and explore yourself outside of your abusers' expectations.

and amity gets none of this. her trauma and arc was resolved too quickly, even for a show that was cut short. they just gave her a makeover, got her into a relationship with luz and called it a day. the only reason people aren't giving her the ariel treatment is (probably) because lumity is a queer ship.

[themotherofblood]

On dancer reader, can we have some motherly moment between reader, Baela and Rhaena, with a little Daemon participation, please? (would love to read something about their relationship)

yes!! I love this idea, this is a little blurby. Also Daemon being a total girl dad!!

Masterlist | part one | part 2

There wasn’t a scarcity of children in the Old Palace, all your half sinblings, step siblings and even cousins filled every extravagant room the palace had to offer. Luckily, Daemon and your quarters were rather secluded, spacious marble floored rooms over looking The Sunset Sea, the orange hue of the dusk painted your chambers every evening.

This particular evening, Daemon had taken Baela dragon riding. Moondancer had finally grown large enough to be saddled, a shiny purple leather saddle with a gold moon pendant was worn by the young creature. The curtesy of his niece Rhaenyra, she gifted Daemon and by extension you, a clutch of eggs, four magnificently coloured orbs for the babe within you and the many more to come.

You had lounged out at the Mirrored Palace with your family, some painting away with the newest oil colours from Bravos, the others brawled with each other as you embroidered away a red tunic with gold threads. You hadn’t noticed until the hour of crow that Rhaena wasn’t amongst you. You excused yourself, trailing away at the gardens to find the little white haired beauty, instead you found her handmaidens who told you she was in her chambers.

“Rhaena?” You called out, her small frame sat by the lit hearth that held her egg for over a year now, and many more years elsewhere. You huffed, holding onto the chaise rests to lower yourself onto it. “What’s wrong darling?” You pet her head.

“I- I wonder if the egg for my sister would hatch,” she sulked, you knew this to be a sensitive subject for her, she placed her egg down and looked up at you apologetically for her abruptness. Both girls had firmly decided that the child within you would be a girl and then proceeded to pick an egg from the four Rhaenyra had sent.

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t,” you smiled at her, patting the space next to you for her to sit as she cradled her egg. “I do not know much of dragons, I don’t understand it like you do, your father does.” You hugged your arms around her.

“What I do know is, the dragons do not make you who you are,” you stated, a truth you understood about your husband. Caraxes a mere extension of who he was and the fire within him.

“Father seems to think otherwise, everyone in our bloodline has one,” Rhaena pouted as she rest her head against your shoulder “even mother did.”

“That isn’t true, Rhaena,” you cooed “your father wants nothing more than to help you claim one some day, should you ask him he will tell you all the same.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” she questioned, her purple eyes filled with moisture, her bottom lip jutted out and darkened cheeks heated.

“kesrio syt iksā tolī byka,” Daemon’s voice rumbled from behind you, he stood leaning against the posts of the veranda, still in his riding clothes as he approached Rhaena. You are too little.

Rhaena appeared sheepish as she made space for Daemon before plopping herself onto his lap. “I’d rather you be little, chubby and alive rather than a dragon rider. I wasn’t one until I was nearly six summers older than you.” He tickled her tummy making her giggle before resting her head against his shoulder.

“I miss mother,” she reminisced making Daemon turn to you uneasily.

“Well,” you spoke up, pointing at the window where the skies had already darkened “when I miss mine own, I look at the stars.”

“The stars?” Rhaena looked confused.

“Look at them, think of Laena and pick a star that might appear to be her,” you smiled at her “that way, every night your mother can visit you.”

Rhaena looked for a moment, you could see her eyes darting all over before she picked one, her eyes softened “that one,” she whispered pointing at the star.

You later in the week had been met with crucial urgency as your handmaiden huffed, running to you about your husband. Daemon nearly loosing his mind at an ungodly hour in the morrow as he went to rouse Baela. She wanted to see the sun rise from high above the skies, he would have taken Rhaena along with him. He stroked Baela’s pretty hair to rouse her from the pouted dream she had been dreaming, Baela groaned and grumbled, burying herself further under the sheets “papa, no.” She whined as Daemon pulled her.

Instead of chuckling at Baela’s adorable protests, his gut filled with horror as his daughter’s bed was stained with blood. No, no- not his sweetling. He shook Baela harder this time to wake her, looking over her face and arms to find any sign of injury before yelling at the guards to fetch his you and the Maesters.

“Are you hurt? Baela, you must tell me what happened,” he urged her, Baela appeared confused until she saw the blood standing her night gown until she too mirrored her father’s terror.

“Papa, am I going to die?” Baela cried, her bottom lip wobbling. Daemon tried to remain calm as he shook his head, nothing would happen to his daughter. His urgency wasn’t met with enough speedy response, he grew impatient for the Maesters to arrive. “Everything will be fine,” he rocked Baela in his arms.

You burst through Baela’s bed chambers, huffing and cradling your bump as your took in the scene infront of you. The stained bed, the terror on Daemon and Baela’s face, the staining on the lower half of Baela’s nightgown. You shoulders slumped in relief as you slapped a hand over your thudding chest to calm your breathing.

“Daemon she is fine,” you calmly stated.

He began to look at you like madness had filled your head as he gestured to all the blood, how were you not loosing your mind. Merely weeks ago you pulled the entirety of the Old Palace upon your head when Baela cut her elbow from a fall. He shook his head, clutching Baela harder.

“Daemon, she’s flowering.” You sighed, trying to pull Baela away from his tight hold, she looked confused between the two of you.

Daemon frowned “she’s too young,” he shook his head once more, once again refusing to let his daughter go.

“I flowered at eight, she in nine.” you stressed, once again trying to pull Baela away as the Maesters finally came to the her chambers.

The two appeared worried until you spoke without looking at them, asking them to leave a essence of milk of the poppy behind. Baela’s handmaidens we’re ordered to draw a bath for the young girl. “Go on darling,” you nodded at her to clean up as they stripped her sheets.

Daemon still sat on the footrest, looking a little calmer than before as you came to stand in front of him. He groaned, resting his head against your belly before pressing two kisses to it over your robe. “She is fine, Daemon.” You reassured once more by squeezing his shoulder.

“I was so sure-“ he shook his head. “She’s flowering?” Daemon looked up at you, your fingers pushed back his hair as you nodded looking down at him.

“She’s growing,” you stated making Daemon grunt once more, finding the thought of his little girls growing so quickly displeasing.

“See after her? Please,” he requested, you nodded before moving behind the divider when Baela sat submerged in her tube, only her head popped out of the milky water.

“I am not dying?” she asked, still confused. You shook your head.

“It’s your moon blood, it shall happen for every turn of the moon,” you said making her grimace.

“Every moon!” She exclaimed making you giggle.

“Unfortunately so darling,” you smiled at her sympathetically.

The handmaidens brought chamomile tea from the kitchens for you to lace with a drop of milk of the poppy. Enough to make the rumbling pain in her belly heel, her handmaidens wrapped her in thick cloth before helping her back in bed.

“This tea is going to heal her?” Daemon paced by the foot of the bed.

“Don’t be daft Daemon,” you glared at him chicken mothering down your neck. He knows well enough that one cannot just heal away moon blood. “It’s for the pain.”

Rhaena had long awoken and found herself situated next to her twin sister, she appeared a little nervous about the blood but curious. She hugged her sister a little too tight making Baela swat her back before succumbing to her hold. The two of you left the girls to rest as you pulled Daemon out of their rooms.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you thought over the brave Rogue Prince loosing his bearings over moon blood. He glared out you, making you laugh even harder, choking out apologies as you clutched your bump trying to stop. He groaned all the way through, dragging you back your shared bed chamber as your fit of giggles just wouldn’t stop.

“You can either stop giggling like a child, or I can make you,” he warned, his own lips faltering as they curled upwards with your giggles.

[alexa-fika]

The Little Stowaway Wanderer Chapter 1 (Whitebeard pirates x child!reader)

A/N This series is a reformatted series of my original child OC series, which I also posted; as this had to be reformatted to fit the reader outline a lot of things had to be removed and changed to better fit the mold, making it much shorter than the original one, but I wanted to post it since you guys seemed to really want that format and I want to make sure everyone feels included <3

Dividers by @/saradika

The young child has somehow found themselves aboard a ship, looking around the storage place, with only boxes to see and only the waves of the ocean hitting the ship to be heard. The tranquility of the place gave them an inch of reassurance, however.

That thought and reassurance were swiftly shut down as chaos arrived in the form of two brawling men knocking into the stack of boxes right behind them, a squeal escaping them at their sudden entrance and collision, jumping away just as the boxes crashed down.

The two men instantly stop their antics as the childish scream echoes in the ship’s storage room.

“What was that?” questions Thatch

“It sounded like a kid?” Ace said, looking around and spotting a small child rapidly getting up from the ground; he stared at them for a few seconds before grinning.

“Oyaji is gonna be ecstatic; we’ve got ourselves a small stowaway!”

The child is quick to run away from the two Commanders, too spooked by the clash to stop at the call of the two pirates.

You see a large hand wrap around the bottom of the storage box you were hiding in and being slowly lifted.

Thatch lifts the box above his head so the kid is at face level.

When they make eye contact with Thatch, they see a bright, friendly, goofy smile.

“Heeey! Whatcha doing down there?” He says with glee, a big grin across his face, the corner of his eyes crinkling, and he raises his eyebrows, seeming to be having a good time

The child screeches, startling Thatch and causing him to lose hold of the box, dropping It to the ground; a whine escapes the child as she falls along with the box.

They back away until their back hits a wall, completely trapped. Nowhere left to go, they wait in fear, mind racing.

“Hey, Hey, we don’t mean no harm! We just had a bad beginning; we didn’t mean to crash into you like that. I’m sorry we must have frightened you, right?”

He takes one long, slow step to stand over them. He is much taller than most people and looks down at her as he squats down to their level.

They look up at him, taking in his words and nodding slowly.

Ace approaches them, squatting next to Thatch to stare at them.

“We really don’t mean any, nor did we mean to hurt you; we didn’t know you were there. Otherwise, we would have been more careful.”

They relaxed slightly at their words, but the progress of both men was quickly erased. A rough wave hit the ship, shifting the boxes that had tumbled in their previous squaffle the clash and crashing of the boxes, startling the child once again. Reader squeaks, making a run for it, hiding deeper in the storage area.

Thatch and Ace turn to look at the small child.

Thatch frowns as he sees the girl run off.

He leans forward and glances at Ace.

“You ready?”

Ace takes one last look at the child before looking at Thatch, making a chasing motion with his hands as he takes off after them.

Ace’s footsteps shake the storage area as he takes off after them. Thatch follows up behind, still with a big grin on his face.

There we go! Hope you guys enjoy this little adventure; if you like it, be sure to visit my original version with my oc!

[fandomwritingbit]

Too good to be true

william afton x (fem) police reader

synopsis: A two part series about William destroying your life.

It's your first homicide case as a detective, a young child murdered with no tangible leads and you're eager to bring the evil bastard to justice. It's a lot of pressure though, and to much weight on your shoulders leads to questionable decision making.

warnings: child murder, smut, swearing, drinking, domestic arguing/marital problems. just generally mature themes.

A/n: As always this isn't steeped in fnaf lore, just purely from my silly little brain. I'm so glad to finally have this out and be back on here to obsess over men. Hope you like it Xx

“It’s okay, take your time.”

The social worker smiled kindly, hoping that the pleasant expression would hide how her heart was breaking at the words leaving this child’s mouth. It’s harrowing to hear, the topic of death should never be exposed to kids this young, at least not in the cruel fashion it had been mere hours ago. “We can take a break if you want, get a snack?” 

The little lad shakes his head, at only seven years old he knows it’s better to get the story over with. Never before had so many adults been so interested in what he has to say, this is serious. Even if he doesn’t understand what happened, he does understand the finality of it. The scary, definitive nature of what’s happened. He’ll never see his friend again. “Can I have some juice?” The boy asks quietly, his voice the epitome of innocence. It makes the social worker’s eyes sting. The lead officer smiles wryly. 

“Sure you can, Josh. Shall I go?” The lady switches her attention from the child to the pair of cops sitting across from them. 

“No, I’ll go.” You interject, not wanting you and your superior left alone with the weight of this child’s emotions. He hasn’t cried, but you can see the tears brimming beneath his surface. You look Josh in the face and try to speak as kindly as his companion, “Do you like orange?”

He just nods. 

…

The room was heavy in silence during your brief absence, you were only gone a couple of minutes, the vast majority of the time spent in thought over the canteen sink. You were promoted to detective only a year ago and so far the cases you’ve been assigned were of little intensity, drunken brawling, verbal domestics, thefts and robberies. And now a child was dead, murdered, and it has utterly devastated the community. But as upsetting as it is, this is an opportunity for career growth, even if you already feel out of your depth. 

The crime scene was brutal, the child laid in the outside storage of a restaurant, face down, multiple stab wounds. Blood smeared on the ground that your splatter analyst said horrifyingly suggests that the child dragged themselves closer to the door, only stopping when they no longer had the strength to continue. No murder weapon. There are no obvious suspects, every man and his dog within a 2 mile radius was pulled in for questioning. But the lack of witnesses and the hole in the chain fence leading to the area was a hindrance. The only lead you have is Josh because, unfortunately, he found the body. 

You bring the child his drink, handing it to him before sitting down next to the lead officer, mentally steeling yourself for questioning.

“So, Josh.” Your colleague begins, talking to children doesn’t come naturally to him, but you see him trying. “I asked you, what time did you last see the vict- Mary?” He corrects himself, but all three of you know what he was going to say. 

 “I’m not sure.” He answers in a tiny voice. 

He goes to ask again, sitting forward, but you stop him, cutting in to ask the boy in a different way. “I know you all sang happy birthday to the birthday boy at around half twelve. Did Mary get a slice of cake?” The social worker puts her hand on the little lad’s shoulder, whilst he thinks. 

After a moment, he says, “No. Auntie Carol asked if she wanted one but she wasn’t there.” 

“Okay, thank you.” You smile, before turning to the other officer, talking quietly, “Coroner said T.O.D was between 12:00 and 13:00.” 

He agrees, “So it’s looking closer to twelve.” 

~

There was a group of people waiting outside to be questioned, parents, staff, everyone who may have a shred of information and your precinct was struggling to manage it. The deceased’s parents have already been spoken to and ruled out, and so, in the main interview room another detective set about tackling the restaurant’s staff. 

“Mr Afton, we just have a few more questions to go over.” The middle-aged policeman lifts his gaze from his documents to look at the restaurant owner over the top of his glasses. He sees the businessman nod in response. There’s nothing to implicate this fella, no motive, no evidence, but he has a previous so caution was to be taken. 

With the question ready on his tongue, the officer sits back in the chair. “How often do people go out to the outside storage?”

He meets the man’s eyes, it’s not the first time he’s been under police scrutiny, probably won’t be the last, but the gravity of this investigation is severe. Not wanting to play any games he just divulges what the cop wants to know. “Frequently, we keep ingredients out there, and other supplies, people are always in and out.” 

“Even though it’s a fire escape?” There’s doubt in his face. 

William Afton reveals a small smile then, he can’t quite figure out what the copper is getting at, “Yeah, there’s a cinder block out there to keep it open. I disconnected the alarm a long time ago.”  

The policeman writes that down, it may go over the interviewee’s head but it’s an important question. The killer had to access the area somehow. And either they knew of the fire door and its cinder block or the gap in the fence. A crime of opportunity, from someone who knows the area well, that’s the takeaway. 

Looking up from the sheet, the DI asks another question, “And I understand that you and your partner are more handsoff with the day to day, but were you there at the party?”

“I oversaw arrival and seating.” Afton halts but the detective says nothing, it’s clearly unsatisfactory. “... There were two more kids than discussed, it caused some tension. I left Henry to deal with things.” He elaborates dryly, the tone indicates boredom but that’s to be expected after having waited hours for this conversation. 

“Tension?” The officer asks curiously, his eyebrows raised in a most provoking way.

William remembers to keep himself professional, maybe he could have worded that better. He tries again, “Well, it wasn’t ideal. Waiters had to set extra places and find more chairs. It was a fuss.” 

That seems to resonate better with the detective because he nods, some understanding written in his expression, Afton has to stifle the satisfaction that gives him. 

The copper consults his papers again before deciding he’s gotten enough, he stands, taking his glasses off and letting them hang on the chain around his neck. “Right, I’ll let you get back home. We have your contact information and we’ll be in touch.” 

With a tight-lipped smile, William follows suit, pushing the chair back and standing. An old impulse to stick his hands out for the cuffs being greatly fought, it was a different time, different station, different crime, but the same old William.

He shakes the detective’s hand, the standing difference of the two is almost comical but neither of them show any signs of amusement. He’s led out the cold interrogation room into the life of the precinct corridor, there’s a lot going on, a mix of uniformed and non officers and some of his staff still awaiting questioning. 

But before the policeman can get away, William let’s some curiosity free of its constraints. “Have you spoken to Henry yet?” The man meets his eyes, no longer as stoic as he was during the interview, the burden of inquisition must be a heavy one. 

“No. I’ll be handling staff enquiries. Your partner should be in later on. 4 o’clock I think.” William nods, and the officer now no longer concerned with him, heads off down the hallway. He should do the same, he’ll have to sign out, he remembers that from last time too. 

As he’s walking back towards reception, a door opens in front of him, a flash of cream walls and a green sofa, before a woman exists holding the hand of a small child that he recognises. He stands aside to let them pass, watching a male officer leave, followed by a female one: you. 

You hear the social worker's voice grow quieter as they leave you to lock the door, your keys jangling as you turn the stiff lock. Your mind is so engrossed in theories, you’re wanting to talk to DI Donnelly about the staff profiling and see if anything has come up in the way of a suspect. You’re so engrossed that you don’t think to look behind you before moving. 

The very moment you step out you collide with the hardness of a human body much bigger than yours. You stumble from the surprise of it, and large hands catch your waist to stop you tripping. It’s a very intimate way to touch someone and you gasp from the suddenness.

“Ay watch it, lady cop.” The bloke says, when you turn to see who you’ve just accosted, you see an older man with perhaps the most handsome crooked grin you’ve ever seen. 

Choosing to ignore the casual sexism of that you go for a, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” 

Cos you weren’t looking, he thinks to himself but doesn’t say anything aloud, you do look sorry and you’re cute. For a rozzer.  

“You’re alright.” He excuses you, raising his eyebrows. 

The only other thing exchanged was a mutual nod of regard before the man walked away towards the exit, leaving you to wonder what role he must play in all of this. 

~

William drives home without the radio, lost in a deep track of convoluted thought. He’ll reach out to Henry later, see if anything’s changed. He doesn't think it will, despite the taskforce on this case he thinks it’ll go cold pretty fast. Children capture the news interest every now and then but once the media has no evidence or case progress to get its hooks into, the case is dead in the water. Unless the parents have the money to keep pushing it.

He pulls outside his house, turning the engine off but not leaving immediately. He’s about to step into the circus here, no doubt his wife has been waiting in bated breath, anxious for any news. He sighs, he probably should have drove around a bit longer knowing she was holding her breath, maybe he’d have got lucky. 

He drags his feet on the mat before stepping inside, he hasn’t been outside today but it’s force of habit at this point, then he chucks his jacket towards the hook and closes the door. Sighing again, he sits on the second step to take his shoes off, already on edge at how quiet this fucking house is. She emerges as he reaches for the other shoe, arms folded over her chest like she’s already disapproving of something. 

“So? What happened?” Clara’s tone is brisk and strained thin. It sounds like she’s been crying, though he can’t imagine why when it’s him that has to face the bobbies. 

He scoffs, “They asked me some questions.” Everything about him is closed right now, and if she knew him at all she’d leave it for a while. 

“And?” She’s pissing him off, she’s too prickly to talk to like this. She’s worried, wants to know what’s going to happen, what is happening, but it’s not his responsibility to console her like some fretful little kid. 

“I answered them.” She scowls, how can he be like this, so indifferent? Like nothing’s happening, making her feel like she’s overreacting or going mad, maybe both. 

“For fuck’s sake, Will.” Her voice cracks with frustration and she pauses a second to regain herself. Immediately losing it once she begins speaking, “Do they know who did it? Do they have someone in custody? Will, when are they going to take the fucking body out of your restaurant?!”

He laughs a little then and stands from the stairs, “Why would I know that? The police will be taking care of that, or the coroners, I don’t fucking know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t care?” There’s tears streaming down his wife’s face and he can’t cope. 

“Does it matter?” He looks particularly harsh right now, a sharpness in his gaze and tone that’s like a razor and again her face twists in disgust. 

William rubs the bridge of his nose, allowing his eyes to close for a moment of respite from the headache only Clara can claw out of him. With a deep breath he bends down and picks up his shoes, moving then to pick up his coat from the floor where it landed. He’s not staying, not with her wound tight as a wire-trap and not in a good way. 

“What are you doing?” Her voice is quiet now, trying her hand at reasoning. He’s past that though. 

“Going out, I can’t deal with you now.” He doesn’t even put the shoes back on, just carries them out with him, shutting the door heavily behind him. Leaving her to her. 

~

It’s about to hit 8pm before you leave the station, it's been a long day but you hardly noticed what with how busy you’ve been. Your questioning didn't end with Josh, and even after talking to four other witnesses, you had your paperwork to do, then discussion with your colleagues. Everyone on the case has their own theories but at this point that’s all they are: theories. Nothing concrete and no real inclination into what to press next.

You change before leaving, knowing that you’re too restless to just go home, you need to be alone with your thoughts over a cold drink. So you get in your car picturing the hotel only a few minutes from your flat, the business-y one with the nice bar and the clientele that will leave you alone. That’s your ticket for that cold drink. 

Music plays as you drive there, a CD you’ve made compiling your favourite tunes, it should help take your mind off the horrors you’ve seen today but it doesn’t. You can pull yourself away from the crime scene, that poor child in the centre of it, nor the distant look in young Josh’s eyes. No matter how much you enjoy the song playing, it's just not enough to distract you. 

You park easy enough, a weekday night means that the car park isn’t completely full so you manage to get close to the entrance. Which you’re glad of when the moment your car door opens specks of rain tap your skin. Looks like the weather’s about as miserable as you feel. 

The hotel bar is all dark furniture and yellow lights, a soft, warm and dark oasis and you feel relief to step inside. It’s a swish bar, not the kind of place to get a pint, even if that’s what you’re craving, it’s a nice glass with a hefty price bar. And so as you approach the bartender you’re thinking of what you want.

There’s only a few stools at the bar, seven or eight at a glance, and they’re mostly full. A gap between two gentlemen both very focused on their drinks, but you don’t want to get chatted up right now, especially from either side. At the otherside there’s two empty ones but one has a jacket laid over it and a drink on the counter. But needs must. 

You sit, taking your coat off and laying it over your legs, smiling politely at the bartender. 

…

“There you are.” The barman reappears in front of you, setting your drink down on the counter, “That’ll be £3.30, please.” 

You scoff a little at that, mentally complaining about how the world’s gone mad with these prices, but you obediently reach into your bag for your wallet, a five pound note soon between your fingers. 

“Thank you.” Your hand is raised for your change, you’ll tip later, at this point you don’t know how many drinks you’ll be having. 

As the barman is digging around the till for your change the occupier of the seat beside you returns, neglecting to pick up his jacket in favour of sitting on it. You blank the man, receiving your change with a “Cheers,” for the bloke. 

You sip the drink through the little straw, it’s nice to be fair and just what you need after today. You’re ready to forget about it, but you’re becoming increasingly aware of the figure next to you looking at you, and any kind of scrutiny is too much right now. So you turn to it, and you recognise the man immediately. 

The man you’d bumped into earlier, who you’d since found out a lot about from his interviewer.

“Well, if it isn’t the lady copper. What are the chances of that?” There’s a casualness to his tone and posture that suggests he’s perhaps nearing the point of one drink too many. That’s what prevents your usual curt response of ‘just copper is fine’.

You don't smile, don't show any signs of the polite mannerisms he’d expect, just look at him objectively and he can tell you’re analysing the shit out of him. “Oh I remember you.” You start plainly, wanting to get back to the solitude you came here for. “By which I mean, I have since found out who you are.” It’s designed to be standoffish, encourage him to keep to himself, and play to what you learned about the man from his record: he shouldn’t like the police. 

It doesn’t work though, the glasses of whiskey he's had tonight make the very blunt and sober way you’re talking to him more than amusing. And it shows on his face, “Ah someone’s been through some files.” The ways he’s grinning irks you, but if this was any other day in any other place you’d be swivelling yourself around to talk properly to the attractive man beside you. “Bumped into me and had to find out more, I get it.” 

Your expression remains stern, he must be drunk as a lord or at least confident as one to say that. “I recognised your… photograph; the man who walked into me and called me ‘lady cop’.” He owns the restaurant the victim was murdered in, he’s a key figure in this case, you shouldn’t really be talking to him at all, let alone in a bar. But your drink was expensive and you’re not going to fucking leave it. “William Afton.” You say his name offhandedly, no feeling on it, but he still likes how pretty it sounds off your tongue. 

“You can say mugshot, darling, I’m aware I have one.” He snickers at the look on your face, you were trying to preserve him some dignity in your wording, so much for that. The bloke sticks out his hand for you, “Just William will do it.” 

You take his hand before your mind can overcome your manners, introducing yourself as, “DC L/n.” He has a firm handshake, much more respectable than the bitten down nails on his larger than most hands. Then again, he’s a larger than most fella, sat next to you now his feet are completely rested on the floor, whereas yours are tucked neatly on the bar of the stool. 

He chuckles at the formality, fucking Detective Constable, you really aren’t budging off your high horse, are you? Normally he’d give up on someone being this clearly closed off with him, but not tonight. He’s starved of the chatter and drink has alway made him want to make new friends, especially when they're as cute and grumpy as you. You need cheering up, and he needs the challenge.

“We’re not at the station now, love. What’s your name?” He watches the frown on your face grow that little bit stronger and has to hide the smirk on his face behind the rim of his drink. 

“It’s definitely not ‘love’.” Your voice is firm and you let the silence that follows it sit for a few seconds. But then you consider who you’re doing this for. It’s not yourself, you don’t want to be rude to anyone, let alone a tipsy person who probably doesn't know how annoying he’s being. You’re not doing it for work, there’s no boss here to remind you of your conduct, there’s been no suggestion of his involvement, even with the previous convictions. So why not take your mind off things with some meaningless conversation?

You sigh, then tell him your first name.  

“So… is this your regular?” You ask the cliche question in some effort to force yourself into normality, thinking about any other way to ask him if he comes here often, hoping he won't catch on to how his answer might impact if you come back here again. 

His eyes narrow at the change in your manner, but he goes along with it, “No. No, I’m just taking a break from domestic bliss.” The words are sarcastic enough that you gather their meaning easily, unhappy at home, coming out to get away from it, it’s fair enough. You nod, mentally clocking the silver band on his left hand and chiding yourself instantly. That’s not the kind of distraction you came here for. 

“And what has you here?” He can take a guess, a long, bloody day at work, sufficient to make most people thirsty, but curiosity nips at him, he wants to know how senior you are, what your role in the whole shitshow is. More than that he wants to know what’s come of the police’s incessant questioning, and what ammo they have.

An incredulous laugh leaves you, “Just the joy of work, you know. A lot of difficult things to think about- I already know I’ll never sleep tonight.” You’re only half joking, even with a few more g&ts you don’t see yourself getting any rest. 

You sip your drink, realising all of a sudden that you’re not far from needing another. And as you pull the glass away the man beside you says, “Oh, I could help you with that.” 

Turning to him straight away, you’re practically scowling. What a thing to fucking say. 

At your disdainful expression he adds, through a wicked smirk, “Night nurse- you know the little bottle? That usually sorts me out.” All his suggestiveness dropped, and now you look silly for overreacting. 

“Aren’t you funny.” Despite the palpable sarcasm on the words you are smiling, just a little, you can’t help it, your facade draining faster than your gin. You swirl the liquid around, thinking over your words before you say them, you know better than the harmlessness of this, even if you wish you didn’t. “You’re being awfully chummy with me and I’m not sure why. I can’t and won’t tell you about the case.” 

You try to hold back the sharp edge of those words but even said nicely they’re cutting. 

It doesn't faze him though, and he leans a little closer like he’s jokingly telling you a secret. “I’m half-cut, lovely. I’d be chummy with anyone sat here, especially if they need cheering up as much as you do.”

You let your expression soften a bit, there’s a relief from what he said that there shouldn’t be. “Based on your file, I’d have thought you’d sooner switch seats than sit next to me.” You smirk as you speak, teasing but it’s based in truth. 

“Oh calm down.” He’s shaking his head at you, “I’ve nowt against the police, it’s only a job. Until today I hadn’t seen the inside of a police station for going on 20 years. It sounds like you’re the one with prejudices.” He’s openly mocking you now, and you can see why, but he can say what he likes, it doesn’t change what you read. 

The officer’s scrawl was plain to see: ‘Fucking filth’ he said to PC Markham, right before headbutting him, adding assault of an officer to his other charges. 

“You don’t think people can change then?” He asks, more seriously than anything else he’s said tonight. 

You think about it, going over both sides of the argument in your head whilst he waits expectantly. You arrive at, “I think… If they want it enough, then yeah.”  

He shrugs then, back to wearing a striking grin, “Well, don’t worry then. I’m good at getting what I want.”

Yeah, I’ll bet you are, you think, trying to hide the thought from your face. Opting to only say, “You’re insufferable.” under your breath.

“No, just drunk. I think I need a water.” There’s a new self-deprecation to his tone and it amuses you. WIlliam glances at your empty glass and already knows you’ll be having another. He likes this back and forth, it’s good fun, much more entertaining than the chat he’d be having at home right now. 

He leans forward a bit to catch the bartender's attention, “Will you get us another one of these and a water, thanks mate.” He slides your glass forward for the man to see and he nods, going about the order. 

“Oh, you were serious.” You say, partially to yourself, it’s hard to tell with this man. That’s probably the trouble.

He sits back, “Yeah, I’ll have to keep myself sharp if you’re sitting with me, sweetheart.” 

You grin, yeah there’s the fucking trouble. 

~

You don’t know how another drink turned into three. And how three turned into you watching him get a hotel room, his elbows on the desk as he talks to the receptionist. And how that turned into keys in his pocket, the two of you getting in a lift. And then your hands pulling on his shirt to get him close enough you can kiss him, his tall frame pressing you against the wall of the lift. 

You don’t think about how stupid this is as you’re doing it, you’re too distracted by the heat of him and the all encompassing way his tongue is in your mouth. You moan into the kiss, knuckles taunt with his shirt fabric balled up in them. You’re not drunk, you know what you’re doing. The alcohol isn’t affecting your judgement, it’s only making your blood warm and helping stoke the heat flickering in your core.

He doesn’t hesitate in touching you, neither of you worried about discovery, hands on your hips soon sliding low and squeezing your arse. You gasp a little as his touch brings you to your tippy-toes. The kiss is broken and has your lips tracing down his jaw, on his neck then shamelessly sucking his earlobe. You can feel how much he likes that digging into your stomach and your body rings with want. 

His hands are under your shirt before the lift stops, doors opening to reveal a man waiting, a suitcase by his side. You push the man off you, struggling not to laugh, especially when a quick glance reveals that William is. Hot in the face, you right yourself as the man drags his case into the small space, your skirt pulled back down and shirt buttoned back up.

“Uh we’re still going up, mate.” William says, snickering. 

“Only one floor.” The man responds bluntly, clearly not wanting any interaction with the two degenerates he’s just uncovered. 

You share a look with William, that has you pressing your lips together to stifle laughter. He looks very dishevelled, you hand’t noticed quite how hard you’d been going at him, his shirt is creased and his hair is a fucking mess. God knows what you look like. 

It seems to take a long time to go up one floor, but the very second the doors open you and William are quick to leave. 

“What a nice chap.” He sniggers and you can finally laugh away some of that embarrassment, how stupid the both of you are, but nothing to be done now. The only compromise you can make now is to keep your hands to yourself until you’re in a more private setting, but that’s easier said than done when your core is tight with need. 

Following his form, you try to take mental note of how to get out of here, so many beige corridors to wind around before you’re standing in front of the room this near stranger has purchased. You watch him put the key in the lock and for just a moment you listen to your mind. It’s not a good idea, it’s unprofessional, inappropriate and a host of other things but you’re warm between your legs and the want to continue what was interrupted outweighs reason. 

He lets you inside before him and you turn to catch his eyes low on your body, making you grin unwillingly. It’s a nice room, as swanky as the bar downstairs, long flowy curtains shrouding huge windows and a load more pillows on the bed than necessary. 

William looks around the room more pragmatically, he wants another drink and there’s got to be something in here, a fancy place like this always has opportunity to spend more money. There’s an odd cabinet a good distance from the foot of the bed, and when he opens it lo and behold an incognito fridge. “You want another drink?” 

You look over to William on his knees looking at what you quickly realise is a minibar, curiosity brings you closer and the prices make you wince. You don’t know how this man has it in him to drink, you’re tipsy enough just standing there. “You trying to impress me or something?” You say laughing, “Surely the room was pricey enough.”

He shrugs and gets to his feet. A black labelled bottle placed on the counter, he can’t decide what he wants to indulge in first because you are looking very tempting.  You see a look of mischief pass over his face before he says, “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound… which you absolutely are, love.” He delivers that with the smarmiest smirk you’ve ever seen, and a disbelieving laugh escapes you, it’s needlessly full-on but embarrassingly it does work in making heat between your legs flicker back bright. 

Still somewhat taken aback you just say, “...You’re shameless.” 

It just makes him chuckle, as the evenings gone on you’ve only gotten easier to fluster. “Oh and you’re so prim and proper?” That’s clearly amused him because his tone is dripping with sarcasm. You maintain your eye contact with the man, trying to curb excitement in your blood, you’re aware he’s gotten much closer to you and the prospect is delicious. “I don’t think so, no with how you accosted me in that lift, there for anyone to see.” 

He doesn’t need to add ‘And someone did see,’ because that grimy feeling has again caught up with you, you look away then, trying not to think about how disgusted that man looked earlier. It sucks because your usual level-headedness has shagged off and you seem to be making a lot of questionable decisions. 

You’re speaking before the embarrassed thoughts are coherent, “Well, I- That’s not something I’d… normally…” You trail off because of the clear enjoyment on his face.

“Come on, are you a police officer or a fucking nun?” He teases, “Looking so ashamed. You do know what we’ve come up here to do, right?” 

The mockery gives you a hit of bravery, and you shrug, “Yeah. I’m just waiting for you to stop talking.” You give the last words heavy exasperation and watch that achingly handsome grin slowly spread on his face. 

He listens to you. 

It’s criminal how eagerly you’re pulling at his clothes, struggling with buttons as dexterity is lost in your fingers to the way your body is reacting to his. There’s little elegance, only your tongue back in his mouth as your shirt is taken off, then your body pulled away from the wall behind you to let him unhook your bra. It’s quick but you still resent how long it’s taking to get what you want. 

He’s playing with your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh before tugging your hardened nipple between his fingers, it pulls a gasp from you. You’re giggling a little as his action makes it harder to concentrate on what you’re doing. You finally manage to pull the shirt from him, leaving it to crumple on the floor. His body feels good against yours, firm and hot, hair on his chest that you rake your fingers through, leading all the way down to his belt. 

His touch is everywhere on you except where you want it most, taking in your curves and again grabbing a handful of your behind. You’re restless, rubbing your legs together for a fraction of the friction your core is demanding, all this fleeting touch is mounting into impatience. William notices and you feel the movement of his hands up to your waistband, where they skirt teasingly around. 

You moan some encouragement into his mouth, tilting your hips for better access. But he pulls away from you, smirking to himself. “Take your skirt off for me, love. I’ve tried but for the life of me I can’t find the zip.” 

Despite your impatience, you can’t help but laugh, clearly pride had kept him silent for a fair while. “Here then.” You say through your amusement, placing a hand flat on his chest and pushing him lightly, guiding him a pace and a half back until he gets the hint to sit on the bed. 

From there he watches you half dressed as far as your waist as you catch hold of the zip on the side of your pencil skirt and pull it down. You step out of it, leaving your shoes under the fabric, a smug expression on your face. He looks good sitting there and a guilty thought flickers through your head at how lucky his wife is. 

That thought is cut short when he says, “Come here.” Not giving you much choice when he catches your wrist and manoeuvres you himself, your panties still on but the wet patch on them somehow more revealing than you imagine being fully nude will be. 

“Damn.” He grins, leaving you standing before him, his hand tracing the waistband of your knickers before sliding between your legs. You let him, spreading your stance for his access. He follows the shape of your pussy over the material, watching how it clings to your heat. Soon after he slides under the fabric and toys with the abundance of slick waiting there.

You moan at the static sensation buzzing in your core, it’s exactly what you wanted but still a lot and you have to steady yourself on his shoulders. He finds your clit and begins to draw patterns over the nerves that soon have your legs weak. He brings your end into your sights before altering the movement, and the whiplash is near devastating. He snickers when a disapproving frown rests on your face, adjusting his position to press his fingers inside you, willing to give you what you want. Fucking his fingers in and out of you he keeps up with the stimulation on your clit, the pace only quickening when your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your peak rises fast and you fall over it, walls fluttering tight around his digits as your climax washes over you, pulling some desperate noise out of you. 

Before your legs are even steady again, you’re desperate for more. So you push him back on the bed, bending down to tackle his belt buckle. The bulge in his trousers is practically taunting you and you’re eager to feel more and think less. 

WIlliam’s voice pulls you from your inept action. “Demanding, aren’t we?” He mocks. 

You look at him as levelly as you can, your pupils big from your fading pleasure. You know the answer before you speak, “Do you want me to stop?” 

He doesn’t say anything, only reaches down to help you take off the belt, pulling the trousers down and holding you steady so he can lean and shove them off. You take hold of his hardness, now only hidden by his underwear, revelling in the soft grunt that leaves him. He’s deliciously thick in your hands and drunk on it you straddle him, now palming him between your legs. Only now do you think about the condoms in your handbag, knowing you should pull away from him and retrieve them. But that rationale is drowned out by your cunt drooling, begging for immediate stimulation. 

Your touch isn’t enough for him, he just wants to feel your warmth wrapped snug around him, so he acts, flicking your hands aside to free his dick. He sits against your stomach, thick and long and almost instantly you’re sliding your slick along him, pussy twitching in anticipation.

His hand on your hip moves you back so he can line himself up with your hole, no more play, no more teasing. He guides you down, a small gasp leaving you as he presses inside. It’s more than you thought and your walls burn with the stretch of taking him; you still yourself for a moment, thighs hovering just above his whilst you try to get used to the fullness of accommodating him. Your respite is cut short when he starts to thrust up into you, sniggering at the surprised moan that escapes you and how your body is almost trying to run away from him. He holds you still, lost in the perfect way your cunt is swallowing him. Soon you’re taking him properly, riding him deep with stuttering breath, pathetic noises leaving you when his cock pressed against the spot inside you that makes you crumble. You’re so focused on your imminent pleasure sparking into life sharpish, you nearly miss the change in the man below you. 

“Fuck- that’s it.” He groans, his hands roaming your body. You’re doing the majority of the work, bouncing on him so fucking perfectly and grinding your bundle of nerves against him. Your fluttering walls are telling but he’s hanging onto his edge by a thread, just enough sense about him to help speed up your climax. 

You jolt when he suddenly begins rubbing your clit, his hand splayed on your abdomen. It’s a lot and you’re holding on to him tighter and tighter, fingernails digging harder and harder into his shoulders until you’re falling into the waves of bliss. Your back arches as you come, each pulse of your climax making you shiver. Your cunt squeezes around him tight and just like that he’s gone. He thrusts into you a few more times, pushing his release deep inside you,  the pace inconsistent as he rides it out. 

Both of you still, and you listen to his quickened breath as your pussy still flutters around him, you’re all over goosebumps but you hardly notice, too focused on the warmth trickling around him and settling between your legs. 

~

You don’t stop there. You get next to no sleep, spending the rest of the night clutching the headboard, then with your face buried in the dishevelled sheets. Later with your leg hooked over the hips of this man, dirty words dripping from your lips pushing him to give you more. Hours spent having easily some of the best sex you’ve ever had. Until the two of you have no more to give. 

It’s still dark, but a look at your watch tells you the day’s not far from arriving and so, you move. Taking yourself from the disordered bed and into the cool of the room. Your clothes are strewn all over and you begin to gather them one by one, aware you’re under the scrutiny of the man you’re leaving behind. 

You’re halfway through putting them back on when William decides he should probably do the same. You watch from the corner of your eye as he stands up unashamedly naked and even after you’ve had your share you still appreciate the sight, which you then realise he was probably doing to you before getting up.  

He moves to pick up his underwear, wincing through his teeth at the action, making you turn towards him with pinched brows. You see him raise his arm up and run his hand along his shoulders, his expression difficult to read. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask with uncertainty, a part of you thinking that there’s no way he’s as sore as you are, you feel like you’ve spent hours on the bucking broncos. 

“Wait-” He sounds confused but when he turns to walk over to a mirror on the wall your eyes go wide with understanding. You’ve left your mark on him alright: long scratches on his shoulders and back, each bringing back a memory of the night’s activity. 

When he sees, his instant reaction is to laugh but fucking hell, it’s pretty bad. How the hell hadn’t he noticed? 

You have a hand over your mouth, partially in shock, partially to hide the incredulous laughter begging to be shown. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” You say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your giggling to yourself, “I didn’t-”

“That is…” He cuts you off unintentionally, chuckling in disbelief as he looks from the mirror to you, then back again, “unambiguous… What the fuck am I supposed to tell my wife?” 

You snort. “I don’t know. Shit. I didn’t think I… did that.” You hadn’t even thought about it, about how all traces of you on this man are liable to destroy a marriage, though to be fair, you’re not often a homewrecker. 

“Well, it was definitely you, sweetheart. Shit.” You’re lucky that he’s found this amusing and not gone the other way, but his marriage is dead on the rocks anyway, if Clara showed any interest in taking his shirt off he’d be looking around for a hidden camera.

…

You and William part ways soon after, part of you wanting to see him again, the rest knowing that that’s probably not a good idea. But the morning seems to be running away with itself and you don’t have time to think about it, it’s already nearly 7am and you've got to be at the station by 9. 

That doesn’t stop you from reliving the night over and over during your commute though.

As good a time as you’ve had you can’t shake the feeling that it was perhaps too good to be true.

If you made it to the end, thank you sm, you guys reading my stuff is my motivation to keep being excessively horny x

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

AEW Wrestlers Pregnancy Headcannons

Requested by @moondust-imagines

Summary: AEW Wrestlers reactions to finding out you are pregnant

Main Masterlist Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Wrestlers mentioned: 'Hangman' Adam Page, Christian Cage, Chuck Taylor and Swerve Strickland

"Hangman" Adam Page

Adam cried when you told him you were pregnant.

You were scared by his reaction, the only time you saw him cry was after the whole brawl out

The diffrance was this time they were happy tears

He coudn't wait to be a father, he promised he would do everything he could to protect you and your baby

Adam did EVERYTHING for you, he wound't let you lift a finger during your pregnancy

It was adorable but also anoying at times, you were capable of walking 10 feet to grab a glass of water

Adam would run to the store in the middle of the night without a second thought for whatever you were craving

He was ment to be a father, he was everything you ever wanted in a partner

Christian Cage

I wrote a four part fic about Christian Cage that you can find HERE, in the second part the reader finds out she is pregnant. I decided to include the scene instead of making headcanons

I went out to pick up a few groceries and once I returned I found Y/n sitting on the floor of the master bathroom with tear-stained cheeks. I sat next to her and asked “What’s wrong?” nothing “If something happened the other day at work you can tell me you know�� I waited, I knew she wanted to say something but was having trouble getting the words out. “You’re going to be mad at me” Her words were so quiet it was barely a whisper. “Why would I be mad at you honey?” What would I be mad at? “Don’t yell, I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened” Y/n had tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I won’t yell, I promise but I need to know what happened so I can help you,” I told her carefully Just then she got up and handed me four items from the sink before returning to her spot on the floor. She was now fully crying and turned her back to me. It took me a minute to realize what I was holding in my hands. Four pregnancy tests, all different kinds but all were positive. “Are these real?” She turned to face me, mascara now ruined. “Are you mad at me?” I wasn’t mad but I was shocked, but I was also happy. “No sweetheart, I would never be mad at you. Especially over something like this” I gave her a hug to which she returned, burying her head in my chest as she continued to cry. I knew what this would mean, Y/n being pregnant would change everything. Although this was a shock I was so happy. We had never talked about having kids, Y/n was still in her prime and I was nearly 50. “What are we going to do?” I wanted Y/n to know that I would support her for whatever she decided. I mean she is making history with her current title reign and at the end of the day this is her body we are talking about. “This is your decision Y/n. I want you to know that I am happy about this but I understand if you don’t want to go through with this.” She looked at me with a sad smile. “Would I be crazy if I said I want to keep it? I still don’t understand how it happened in the first place but the more I think about it, I want to go on this journey with you Christian” I placed a kiss on her temple before saying “Don’t worry, I am going to be here with you for every second of it. We will do this together” 

Chuck Taylor

Looking down at the positive test in your hands you coudn't stop the happy tears that fell from your face

You coudn't wait to tell Chucky the news

When you told him you were pregant he was so happy

During your pregnancy he would constanly kiss your stomach and talk to your unborn child

Chuck Taylor is such a teddy bear, he would be the best dad

Once your baby was born the two of them instanly had a special bond, you swear your baby liked Chuck more than you

Chuck would build you the most perfect nussery and have the best friends come over to help baby proof the house

As much as he loved his friends he woudn't trust them alone with your baby

Swerve Strickland

When you told Swerve you were pregnant he was secretly terrfied

Not just because he would become a father but because of what he did to hangman

He would get nightmares of the cowboy breaking in and taking your baby, simiular to what he did to hangmans son

He was exited to be a dad but was scared of the responsibilities that came with being a father

He was scared that he would mess everything up, scared he would disipoint you

His thoughts kept him up at night and you assured him he would be a great dad

just like you predicted once your baby was born he was a great dad

Swerve promiced he would do anything and everything to keep the two of you safe

He would kill for you

[fiddleyoumust]

Narratively, Shin has the upper hand in High School Frenemy. We've been given a lot of his backstory. His father is gone. I assume dead? His mother remarried and had another child, then divorced. He dreamed of becoming a professional soccer player and had his dream torn away by the person he trusted the most. We clearly understand his motivations and desires and feel deeply for what he's gone through.

In contrast, we have Saint. His mother is gone. I assume dead? He's good at fighting. His father mentioned boxing, but we don't have any details about how passionate he was about it, why he started boxing, or how that turned into him brawling and making trouble at school.

We know Shin took over the gang to protect students in his school, but we have no idea if that's what Saint was doing it for. Outside his love for Shin and his seemingly complicated love for his father, we don't really know anything important about Saint. He doesn't seem to have any dreams or plans for the future, and that doesn't seem to be a new thing. It's not a result of his break with Shin. He was equally anchorless when he and Shin were besties.

This puts Saint at a disadvantage narratively because without understanding where he's coming from, it's hard to sympathize with him and to not place all the blame on him for the ongoing problems between him and Shin.

The one thing I do know, and the thing I hope the show resolves by the end, is that Saint does not love himself. When people say trite shit like, "You can't love other's until you love yourself," Saint and Shin are a prime example of what they mean.

Saint LOVES Shin. He loves him so much that Shin is practically his entire personality, but he doesn't love himself, and that is the thing that keeps hurting them both over and over again. And this isn't something new post break-up. This isn't a result of Saint breaking Shin's leg. We've seen in flashbacks the way he holds on to guilt when Shin gets injured, the way he hesitates when Shin says they can stop being friends if Saint thinks Shin is such a pain in the ass. Deep down, he doesn't think he adds value to Shin's life because he does not value himself.

So, every time Shin gets hurt physically or emotionally, Saint's first instinct is to remove himself. How could Shin NOT be better off without him? He can't fathom a reality where he adds as much value to Shin's life as Shin adds to his, and that is going to continue to be a problem until Saint learns to love himself.

I hope the show gives us a little more insight into why Saint is the way he is, and I hope they give him the opportunity to see himself through Shin's eyes so he can finally understand that he's as vital to Shin as Shin is to him.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

What if cave bear creed reader had another parent? Like we know redder was made to be a creed clone or whatever they are, but they could have been made from someone else dna, I mean that's how Laura was made. They took woulverine's dna and another person's embryo to make Laura and that's why she came out the way she did, its not entirely impossible.

So when creed reader finally runs away the first time, before the yans realize their mistake, what if they knew they had another parent and went to them instead. And their other parent actually wanted them. The other parent was nice and loving to creed reader, hell maybey they have other half siblings as well who are nice to them too, and was taking care of them until the yans showed back up trying to take the reader back. This other parent isnt going to let their child go so easily, they just got them, their not going down without a fight.

How will the yans react to this?

The other parent is giving mama bear energy

If that was the case, well...

It doesn't matter if Mama Bear is a mutant or not, or if the Baby Bears are either. Cave Bear Creed Reader is THEIR kid/sibling, who's nice amd gentle and scared off a few jerks who bothered them and protected the kids from a snake. The (other) platonic yans had their chance, and look what they did to Cave Bear! Mama Bear is hugging them and patting their head, while their siblings play with their hands or hair.

If Papa Creed came back into the picture, or Uncle Logan... or the X-Men and Brotherhood...

They're going to have to fight off the Bear family.

What did they think? That they could waltz back in, try to beg forgiveness, then take their poor bby? After what THEY did?! H*ll no!!!

Cave Bear Creed Reader is stepping in to keep a brawl from breaking out, all while referring to Mama Bear as Mama, which further serves to make their father and uncle feel guilt (and jealousy, if we're being honest). But no one can lay a hand on each other, because Creed Reader is holding them back or is between them, and no one wants to risk hurting them or earning their wrath or fear due to... this unfortunate situation.

( @vivid-bun @thewickedweiner @sugar-soda @danni1323 What do y'all think? Give Cave Bear Creed Reader either a biological or adopted Mama Bear? Or have them be on their own? Ideas?)

[mer-acle]

Honestly, I never fleshed out how Athena got Ody, been sorta playing around with the idea she adopts him as a baby??? Like she’s still a goddess so I can see her maybe adopting a baby to have more knowledge about motherhood maybe??? And the baby just so happens to be Odysseus, girlie has no clue what she’s doing, thank fuck Hermes is there as I imagine he’s actually pretty good with kids/babies (just….the way odyessus is in the musical and how excited he sounds about Hermes makes me think that Hermes had been around Ody in his childhood)

Athena’s human name is Natalie and Hermes is Troy! Athena was so shocked to hear her name from Ody that when she went to his room to check on him she dropped her human disguise 

Telemachus Is still very much odypen’s child UwU sweet little wolf…he regains his memories when he’s 6! Fighting off a reincarnated!antinous (basically a kindergarten version of little wolf with no Athena interference 🤣)

Ironically enough! After so many years, Poseidon has mellowed out and actually helps Ody with some identity issues of being a “monster” once Ody regained his memories!

Not all reincarnated ppl have bad important moments that make them regain their memories, Penelope regained hers after she started dating Ody! Went on a first date then fell sick but once she got better she spam called Ody needing to talk to him so badly!

Poor polites :( he ended up regaining his memories at a sleepover with Ody! He got sick during the night and woke up screaming captain, both Ody and polites are going THROUGH IT

Athena: So I kinda have a project...

Hermes:

Hermes: you cannot be serious. We have a kid now?

Athena: I have a kid now.

Later, after shit went down.

Athena: No you're right, we have a kind now.

Both of the names are so good. (Natalie bc I'm a black widow girlie and that was her first codename in the MCU how coincidence goes sometimes I swear) And Troy, bc what else would it be (in canon, he probably named himself that to piss Apollo off about the war lol)

Oh what's it like in the AU how different are their disguises to their real form?

Ah Tel in his little kindergarten brawl my heart

Oh I love that actually. Have Athena and Poseidon made up as well?

Oh the gods must have jobs right what are they working as?

Oh Pen haha. Imagine going on a date and then getting hit over the head with a whole life you shared with the guy. She must have been scared he didn't remember ahhh

Oh gods not the captain jumpscare 😭😭😭 poor babies

[bengiyo]

Only Friends Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last week, everyone went on cute dates, revealing fascinating layers about three of our pairs. Mew is blind with love and gave it up for a man who did not answer "What do you like about me" in a way specific to Mew at all. Boston is hinting at settling down and getting turned on by Nick working out more and changing up his style. Sand is basically taking care of Ray, who keeps shoving Sand's hand in his pants. Boston, seeing Ray experience a modicum of joy, violated all guest rules and blew up his relationship with Sand in Sand's apartment while partaking of Sand's weed; a huge party foul. Sand realized how much of a clown he's been. I am embarrassed for everyone.

Happy (F*cking) Birthday

Mew was raised by lesbians. So much makes sense.

I remain embarrassed for Mew.

Friends fight, warns the teacher. I sure hope so!

You don't want to be friends with someone who sneakily recorded you? Boston, pot-kettle-black.

PINK MILK! WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK! Of course a Jojo show is going to have the seller be out of it.

I'm so ready for the outright brawl between Sand and Top.

Oh, Sand, that ploy with the phone was smooth. Nick is a techy, though, so he's probably going to notice you went through his voice recorder app.

Can't believe Mew let this man convince him to get his eyes lasered.

Damn, does everyone use Ray when they're trying to deal maximum damage to the whole group?

This dark room scene was well done, but I'm always irritated by Boston scoffing at relationships and commitment before reeling Nick back in.

Ray surprised Boston briefly with that reveal, but you can't keep a bad bitch down. Boston won that round, too.

Cheum, why are you stirring up shit at this party?

Damn, the sketches are a good play. I respect the game, Top.

I'm with Ray. Mew was cuter with glasses.

Ray went in on everyone but didn't reveal about the sleeping around.

What is it with Ray always treating Sand like he's for sale?

Is Mew using a soundbar as just a speaker? What a specific detail.

Now, there's my child of lesbians. Way to make that reveal as dramatic as possible, Mew.

Mew finally made that man cry. Now I'm ready to see the unraveling.

This was fantastic! Everyone keeps riling up Ray whenever they want to cause the most problems. Sand does not care about these people and accomplished his goal: Top loses Mew. Now he'll get to save Ray from himself again and wrap him up further. Boston also got embarrassed after starting shit with him. Even the lesbians caught strays! Sand takes this round.

[hanayori89]

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

*Castle Town*

You leisurely perused the lively stalls situated in Castle Town's main square. The sun and its audaciously blinding rays were now at the top of your list for reasons why you couldn't wait to convert. You scowled to yourself as you continued to get lost in the activity around you. All of the time you had spent here, and you never actually visited the main square of Castle Town.

The more you meandered, the more you began to regret your visit. You dawdled along, sandwiched between throngs of vendors and curious customers, feeling more alone than you ever thought possible. Everyone here had someone.

Whether it be a parent, sibling, child, friend,

Or lover.

Your eyes rested on the petrified statue of the Triforce standing proudly in the midst of the square, offset by a grand fountain. Surrounding it, sprinklers drizzling crystalline water drops only served to remind you of Link's eyes.

And the importance of the golden symbol he bore on his hand.

You thought of Telma and Renado. You thought of how apparent their love was. Here you were traveling down the same road where fear seemed to be the tour guide. But the longer you stared at the Triforce statue, the more you couldn't help but succumb to fear.

Ilia's prestige as the mayor's daughter, combined with her deep history as Link's friend, made her a daunting rival. The advantages she seemed to possess certainly stood at the apex of your fear. Her biggest advantage was that at midnight she remained in her cute little Hylian body, while you turned into a creature of the shadows.

You felt claustrophobic. You had to get out of the main square, where your thoughts suffocated you more than the surplus of people. Telma insisted you take the day off. But with nothing to do but think, you decided to go back to her and beg to work.

As you ran back towards the bar, your body met with a force harder than the cinder block walls that constructed Castle Town. Its impact forced you to fall back on your behind, amongst the sidewalk.

You squinted upwards to see the frightened eyes of Aryn.

How wretched! You wished right then that you were in your Twili form. Then you could disappear into the comfort of the shadows. You jumped on your feet, readying yourself to run. He called out to you. What he said next made you freeze in your current stance.

"Y/N! Wait! Please! I will not try anything! Mr. Link would have my head if I did!"

"Link?" You gawked at hearing his name.

Aryn slowly nodded; his eyes darted around with caution. His persona conveyed a sense of paranoia. "I don't know if he told you, but regardless, I'm sorry. I do owe you that much."

You blinked in confusion. "Told me what?"

"Ah shucks." He placed a hand on his forehead in self-annoyance. "I didn't know Mr. Link wouldn't say anything. We made such a ruckus; I feel it couldn't be much of a secret." He began frantically searching the crowd. When he decided the coast was clear, he continued. "Mr. Link and I had a mini scuffle in the alleyway the other day."

A scuffle? Link fought with Aryn? Why would he keep that from me?

Aryn nervously blabbered on. "Some words were exchanged. In short, I wasn't even allowed to say your name. I don't know what's going on with Ilia and Mr. Link; all I know is that I've never seen anyone get so mad over a girl. In fact, I better be going because if he sees me close to you, he will turn me into the castle. Anyway, sorry."

"Wait!" You tried to catch Aryn, but you couldn't even catch up with your own thoughts. You were too perplexed. Why had Link had a public tiff with Aryn? You darted in between bodies, hoping to reach him. But eventually his back vaporized amongst the many souls aimlessly walking the streets. If you wanted to find out what happened between Link and Aryn, you'd have to go directly to the source.

Wherever the source was.

As you made your way back to Telma's bar, you felt a strange tinge of hope. Maybe the brawl was on your behalf? All this time, you couldn't figure out why Link didn't react. Why could he never seem to show you his true feelings? Then something like this would occur.

He would hold you close, only to push you away. He would say one thing, only to say nothing at all.

He would kiss you, only for him to disappear with his fiancée. Without a single word.

Where he's supposed to be. But I can't help but wonder, does he care or not?

You made your way back to Telma's, asking the goddesses to give you another sign. A concise one.

Little did you know, the next sign couldn't be any clearer.

***

You breezed through the door of the bar only to find Telma, her face stiffened into stone. A customer was clapping from another table.

"Telma! More mead? Hey! Are you listening?"

Another table, where a couple sat, began to chant and slap their hands on the table's surface. "MORE MEAD, PLEASE! MORE MEAD!"

It's not even that busy in here. What is going on?

You raced over to an unresponsive Telma, grabbing some empty mead glasses from tables on your way.

That's when you saw it.

The goddesses' sign.

Hanging up on the back door was the dress Link bought you.

Link?! He was here?!

You hugged it to your chest, swearing you could smell the faintest scent of him woven in between the threads. That's when you felt it. The back of the dress was smooth. There were no snags from the Aryn incident. You could hear Link's gentle voice in the back of your mind.

"Your dress is ripped. I know somebody in Kakariko who could fix it."

So, that's why we went to Kakariko! He wanted to surprise me.

Your eyes sweltered with fresh tears. His action moved you to a realization. And that was that even if Link ended up being the one to break your heart, it would be worth every shattered piece.

"T-Telma," you choked. "L-Link- was he here?"

"Renado." She responded absentmindedly. Your crying ceased immediately when you remembered the voracious patrons and the alarming demeanor of Telma. You ran over to her, holding your dress bunched against your constricted chest. "Telma, what's wrong?"

"Renado was here." She reiterated it in the same empty tone.

"Renado? Did you talk to him?" You saw the glint of something shimmering scale across her fingers. Your eyes focused on the source of the sparkle.

A ring.

"T-Telma..." you cupped your hands over your mouth.

"Renado asked me to marry him." She looked at you, her eyes widening at the shock of saying it.

You both stood staring at each other, speechless.

"You said yes?" Your voice came out careful and calculated, not wanting to scare her with too many questions.

Her face transformed before you into a silly grin devoid of her usual confidence and sass. It was a look of genuine happiness. She began to laugh in the same raucous manner as the other day. She grabbed a spoon and began banging it against a glass.

"EVERYONE! LISTEN UP! I SAID YES!" She began to furiously clank the spoon against the side of the glass. Everyone who had been disgruntled put their tantrums on hold. This was about Telma.

Cheers started to erupt as Telma continued to announce. "THIS ROUND IS ON ME!" What started out as cheers quickly turned into a gale of rambunctious laughter and applause. Some glasses were smashed on the floor, making everyone erupt into a higher octave of cheering.

"Come on, Y/N!" She wrapped a sturdy arm around you, still tapping the spoon on the glass.

"It's time to drink!"

As she whisked you away towards the drafts of mead, you felt a piece of paper underneath your foot. It was slightly wrinkled, sporting dirty shoe print smudges on it. You kicked it to the side, bemoaning the amount of detritus strung around the bar.

You kept your dress snuggled against your heart in appreciation. Telma was right. This was a time to celebrate.

There would be plenty of time to clean up the trash later.

Edited: 6/8/24

It looks like feels conquered fears for Telma and Renado. The two have cast their doubts aside in the name of love. It seems you are having trouble doing the same.

With one wedding you are dreading comes another you are looking forward to attending. As your confusion for Link's feelings bubbles beneath your surface, you're left to motivate yourself to move forward towards your own goals.

As you wonder where Link is and what he is up to, the answer seems to be closer than you think.

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[topguncortez]

What to Expect | Chapter 2

previous part | Masterlist | next part

synopsis: you get confirmation on the results of your at home test. Bradley's animosity towards Jake rolls over into a locker room brawl.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, smut, mentions of infidelity, fighting, blood, Jake having a dick measuring contest with Bradley

            The first time you had ever remember meeting Bradley Bradshaw, you were four years old. His mother had brought him out to North Island for a visit to his Uncle Maverick and your father. He was a bit older than you, closer to your only brother Dylan’s age than yours. Carole had brought Bradley by the house to have a nice afternoon with your mother Sarah and Maverick’s then girlfriend, Penny Benjamin. 

You, your siblings and Bradley were playing out in the backyard, everything was fine until Gia decided to play a game of tag, except you were “it” the whole time, no matter who you tagged. And at four years old, it was hard to keep up with the older kids. You eventually got so frustrated, you sat down in the middle of the back yard and cried. Gia called you a cry baby, and Stephanie pushed her. Dylan threw his arms up in annoyance and went to go get a snack inside. The only one who seemed to care about you, was Bradley. He walked up to you, and held his hand out, helping you up off the ground. Bradley never treated you like Gia’s little sister, he always treated you like a friend. Which was probably why the two of you became such close friends later in life. 

            But in the span of your two decade long friendship, Bradley never thought he would be sitting next to you in the lobby of the OB/GYN’s office.  He looked around nervously, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. When you told him that you needed him to come with you for something, he was thinking it was another trip to Home Depot or Target. Sitting in a doctor’s office full of pregnant women was not on his bingo card. 

            “Why are we here again?” Bradley asked, whispering to you. 

            Your eyes never left the questionnaire you were filling out. Some of the questions made your brain swim trying to figure out how to answer them, “Just a check up,” You said looking at him briefly. 

            “And you can’t just go to the-” 

            “Just shut up, okay,” You snapped and Bradley held his hands up in defense. There was a beat of silence before you sighed and sat back in your chair, “I took a pregnancy test the other night and it came back positive.” 

            “Oh shit,” Bradley said, adjusting in his chair to sit up a bit straighter. He looked around the office, seeing if there were any prying eyes, before leaning in and asking, “You think its accurate? You think you’re. . .” He gestured vaguely to your stomach. You nodded and Bradley let out a sigh, “Oh wow, I didn’t think you were seeing some-” 

            ���I’m not,” You answered shortly, “It’s complicated and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t give me an interrogation. I’m already expecting one from my parents when I tell them their only unmarried child is giving them their first grandchild.” 

            “Y/N?” A nurse called out, and you gave her a tight lipped smile, standing up from the chair, “Is your partner coming with you?” You looked over your shoulder at Bradley who was looking at you. 

            “It’s up to you, Bug,” Bradley said, using the nickname that your father had given you. You let out a shaky breath and nodded for him. He stood up from his chair, his body still clad in his flight suit and followed down the hall next to you. 

            You had been in a gynecologist exam room before. You always found them cold and uninviting. And now, more than ever you wished you could be anywhere in the world, but in this exam room. The nurse took your vitals and explained what they were going to do at this exam. She instructed you to go take a urine sample, and then they were going to take some blood to run more tests. Bradley held your hand as you winced when the nurse took your blood, and you kicked him for making a comment about how will you handle childbirth if you couldn’t handle a needle prick. 

            “Alright, Doctor Miller will be in soon with results,” The nurse said and you nodded, “I recommend you start drinking some water for the ultrasound.” 

            You shivered as the nurse left, sending you a smile and shutting the door behind her. Bradley handed you your water bottle from your purse, a shy smile on his features. 

            “If you have to go back to work, you can leave,” You said, sipping your water, “I bet there’s more important things you’d rather be doing than sitting here.” 

            “Not really,” Bradley said, sighing and putting his hands behind his head, “It’s just day one, and Bagman can handle it, it’s the least he can fucking do.” You scowled at the mention of your ex-boyfriend and Bradley laughed, “He came to the Hard Deck the other night. Showed up in his uniform like he’s something special. God, I can’t stand him.” 

            “You two are team leaders now, you need to get along, no matter how you feel about him,” You said and looked down at your lap. Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you. He knew you long enough to be able to know all the tells of your body language. He could tell when you were angry, or upset, or overwhelmed. 

            “You’re hiding something,” Bradley said, leaning his elbows onto his knees, “What are you hiding?” 

            “I’m not hiding anything,” You said quickly. Bradley opened his mouth to argue when a woman with light brown hair wearing pink scrubs walked in. She smiled at Bradley and walked to you, hand extending in greeting. 

            “I’m Doctor Miller, I’m your obstetrician,” She introduced herself, “And you must be Y/N.” 

“I am,” You nodded. 

“Well, Y/N,” Doctor Miller took a seat on a stool across the room from you, “As you suspected, the urine and blood tests came back showing elevated hCG, which means, you are in fact, pregnant.” 

“Oh my god,” You said, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“The ultrasound will confirm how far along you are, and we can estimate your due date from that,” Doctor Miller announced, “I’m going to have you lay back, pull your shirt up below your breasts and pull your skirt down just below your naval please.” 

You nodded and did what she said. Bradley shifted in his spot, his brown eyes going from your bare skin to the ultrasound machine. 

“Alright, this gel is going to be cold,” Doctor Miller said, squirting the cold gel on your belly. You lurched a bit in your spot, and looked at Bradley. 

He could feel the waves of nervousness rolling off of you, and stood up from his chair, stepping closer to you laying on the exam table. He gave you a reassuring smile, before looking back at the black and white screen as Doctor Miller moved the transducer over your abdomen. Doctor Miller looked over her shoulder briefly, seeing Bradley and you standing close and smiled softly to herself. 

“Here,” She said, pushing down on your abdomen. Your eyes widened seeing the small blip on the screen. Doctor Miller’s glove hand pointed to it, “You are measuring at about seven weeks in gestation.” She clicked some buttons, taking a screenshot of the screen. 

“Wow,” You said, your eyes wide in shock. 

“Your estimated due date is around July 15th,” Doctor Miller said, and put the transducer down, and then grabbed a bunch of paper towels, “For now, I need to see you every four weeks, until about week twenty-six, so roughly around February.” 

“They’ll have the same birthday,” Bradley said and you shot him a glare. He gave you a knowing look and you let out a shaky breath. 

“These are for you,” Doctor Miller said, handing you copies of the ultrasound, “I’m also going to send you home with this packet.” She handed you a thick two pocket folder. You opened it and started looking over the various flyers and pamphlets that were inside, “There’s a lot of information in there about pregnancy, it breaks it down week by week on development, some recommendations for products to use for prenatal development, as well as go over the options that you have.” 

“Options?” You asked, looking up at her. 

She nodded, “Yes, you have options.” 

You blinked and shook your head, “Y-Yeah, I know, it’s just weird to hear someone say that to me. I-I guess I’m still a bit in shock about all. . . this,” You gestured to your stomach. Bradley put his hand on your shoulder. 

“It’ll be okay,” He said. You looked up at him, and he smiled, “Where do we make the appointment?” 

“At the front desk,” Doctor Miller said, “Oh, and here’s a prescription for a good prenatal vitamin,” She scribbled some writing down on a note and then handed it to you, “If you have any questions, either one of you,” She looked between you and Bradley, “Do not hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you,” You said, hopping off the table. Doctor Miller nodded as Bradley opened the door to the exam room, and gently guided you out of the room. You scheduled your next appointment, and watched as Bradley put the date in his phone. The two of you walked out to the parking lot, your jeep parked next to his bronco. You suddenly wondered if the jeep was even a good car to drive a baby around in. Living in California, you almost always had the sides and top off of it, loving the way the sun hit as you drove down the road. 

“Hey,” Bradley said, putting his hand on your back, “You going back to school?” 

“No,” You shook your head, “I took the day off. I wasn’t sure if I could go back to teaching eight year olds simple multiplication after learning. . . what I learned.” 

Bradley chuckled and leaned against the door of his Bronco, “You going to tell him?” 

“How do you know it’s his?” 

“Y/N. . . Bug. . . I’ve known you since you were three, you can’t hide things from me.” 

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, “I don’t think I can.” 

“Y/N,” Bradley said, standing up straight, “I don’t agree with what he did, and I am one hundred percent on your side but, you can’t keep a man from his child.” 

“I know!” You groaned, “I just. . . I can’t face him. He makes me so fucking mad, Bradley. I look at him, a-and my chest gets tight and I feel small and want to hide. It’s like everything Gia ever said in my ear about not being enough and not being able to keep him satisfied all comes true.” You shook your head as you felt tears well up in your eyes. Bradley pushed off his bronco and pulled you into his strong arms. 

“Shh,” Bradley said as you cried, running his hand up and down your back, “It’ll all work out, okay. If you want me to be, I’ll be there when you tell him. And you know Alyssa will be there too.” 

“She’s already claimed the godmother spot,” You chuckled and felt the rumble of laughter in Bradley’s chest. You pulled back from him and wiped your tears, “Thank you for coming with me. I know that 9-1-1 message at two in the morning was probably terrifying.” 

“Oh you had me on the verge of shitting myself all day,” Bradley said and you scrunch your nose, “It’ll all work out, Bug. I promise. And whatever you decide, I will be by your side.” 

“I love you, Buckles,” You said, using the nickname you gave him when you were younger. You couldn’t pronounce Bradley until you were about six, so you named him ‘Buckles’ and it stuck, “Now, get back to work.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley said, giving you a mock salute. You giggled as you opened your driver's door and got in. Bradley waited until you pulled out of the parking lot to get into his bronco. He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. This was not at all how he thought his morning was going to go. Bradley reached into the chest pocket of his flight suit and pulled out the ultrasound picture, and smiled down at it. 

— — — 

Jake was nervous. The morning had gone well, it was his first morning as a TopGun instructor. He explained the history of the program, the risk and rewards that come with it. He smiled as he saw his name on the plaque for the best pilot from his class. Jake was getting ready to go head to the sky when Admiral Kazansky called his name in the hallway. 

It was as if cement was poured down Jake’s back as he walked down the hall towards his office. In all the years Jake had been a pilot, he had never been called into the Admiral’s office. Being called into the Admiral's office was like being called to the principal. You didn’t want to be there, nothing good ever came from being called or sent to their office. 

Jake’s green eyes looked at the various pictures and awards the Iceman had hanging up. The most noticeable was one that Jake was all too familiar with. He had seen the exact same copy on your bedside table just weeks ago. Jake felt himself relax a bit, but it was only for a second, then the door opened. He quickly stood up from his seat, standing at attention as Ice walked in. 

“At ease, kid,” Iceman said, walking to his desk. Jake sighed, and stood at parade rest, until Ice sat down. Even though Jake was once on a first name basis with the man in front of him, he still treated him with the utmost respect, “Take a seat.” 

“Sir,” Jake greeted and sat down in the leather chair across from him. 

“I didn’t get a chance to meet with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw this morning, but I wanted to see where you think we stand with this class,” Iceman said, pulling up the newest class of recruits onto the projector. Jake closed his eyes for a second and let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, Jake thought that Ice was going to fire him after day one, or worse, tell him that he knew he was in his daughter’s bedroom the other night. But Jake relaxed in his chair, and gave Ice the run down of the class. 

“I think we have a very eager group,” Jake said, after explaining a bit about each of the pilots. 

Ice looked from the screen to Jake and nodded, “Well, I expect them to be better than the best. You and Rooster have a lot to prove. You two have a lot of work on your plates. It’s the first time that TopGun instructors are also members of an active squadron at the same time. I hope there are no distractions.” 

“None sir,” Jake said. 

“Good,” Ice said, and sat back in his chair, “I know things ended between you and Y/N,” Jake closed his eyes and let out a sigh, “But, if you need help with anything, my door is always open. You have my number, you are free to stop by the house if you need to.” 

Jake stood up from his chair, “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” Ice said, “I see you as a son. If you’re with my daughter or not. You’re dismissed.” 

Jake nodded and left the office as quickly as he could. He didn’t even notice, but he had started sweating as he sat there under Ice’s cold stare. 

When he first met you, he had no idea who your father was. In fact, you kept it a secret for nearly the first three months of being together. Your father was famous when it came to Jake’s world. So the moment you said that you were a Kazansky, Jake felt like he had been hit by a train. He thought you were messing with him at first, but you pulled out your driver's license and Jake nearly passed out. The first time he had met your father, Jake was sweating bullets the whole time. He almost showed up at your front door in his dress uniform, because whatever was in his closet wasn’t good enough to meet Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky. But, Ice made a comment about Texas Football, and Jake fell into an instant conversation with the Admiral. 

He was worried that post break-up things would be awkward or tense, but Jake was surprised to find that it wasn’t. It was also probably because Ice ran a tight ship around here. He wasn’t one to bring in outside problems into the workplace. Ice hadn’t once brought up the break-up until today, and Jake was even surprised that he had mentioned something. 

Jake smiled to himself as he walked down the hallway towards the locker room to get dressed for his flight. He was whistling some tune when he walked in, seeing Bradley lost in thought while looking at some photograph. 

“Where ya been Bradshaw!” Jake said loudly, causing the pilot to startle and drop the picture.  Bradley scrambled to get the picture as it soared down under Jake’s boot. He bent down to grab it. He was going to give it back, but then he saw the disheveled look of his wingman, “What’s going on?” 

“Give it back,” Bradley said, reaching for the picture, but Jake took a step away from him. 

“Oh shit. . .” Jake smirked, “Is this what I think it is,” He wiggled the picture in his fingers, “Were you about to whack-” 

“Give me the picture, Bagman,” Bradley said, stepping over the bench and reaching for it. Jake took another step back. 

“Nah, I wanna see what got Rooster Bradshaw so flustered that he has to. . . wait,” Jake said, looking at the picture. He was expecting to see some scantily dressed woman or even a man on the front of it, but he was met with the sight of black and white sonogram. Jake had two older sisters who had kids, and he knew exactly what this was. Bradley held his breath as Jake’s green eyes looked over the information on the side of it. 

“Is this a joke?” Jake asked, looking up at Bradley. Bradley looked down at his boots and scratched the back of his neck, “I can’t fucking believer her. We’ve been broken up for less than-” 

“Wait a damn minute,” Bradley said, lifting his head, “You think she was sneaking around?” 

“Well,” Jake shrugged, “What do you expect me to think!?” 

Bradley chuckled humorlessly, “She’s not you, Bagman. She’d never even think to cheat on you or to do something behind your back. She was so loyal to you, and still is. Can’t say the same about you.” 

“So. . . it’s mine,” Jake said, looking back at the sonogram, and Bradley nodded, “Fuck,” Jake groaned running a hand down his face and sat on the bench. His stomach felt like it was in his chest, and the longer he looked at the sonogram, the sicker he felt. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He thought all the years that he was with you about having kids. About one day being able to start a family, and have three or four little ones who looked just like you, running to him as he came home from deployments or missions. But he kissed that dream goodbye the second he walked out the door. 

“This is all wrong,” Jake mumbled. 

“Tell me about it,” Bradley said, leaning against the lockers, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Does Ice know?” Jake looked at his wingman. 

“Not yet,” Bradley sighed, “She found out for sure this morning. I went with her. She’s due on your birthday.” Bradley saw the corners of Jake’s mouth tick up at that, “She doesn’t want you knowing.” 

“Why?” 

“Why the fuck do you think? You cheated on her and left her.” 

Jake sighed and shook his head, “I didn’t cheat on her.” 

“What?” Bradley asked, “What the fuck do you mean you didn’t cheat on her?” 

“I lied,” Jake gulped and looked straight ahead, “I couldn’t just. . . break up with her, so I came up with a lie to help me. I never cheated on her.” 

Bradley saw red, as he grabbed the pilot by the collar and slammed him up against the lockers. Jake grunted as his back hit the metal and pushed Bradley’s arms off of him. Bradley was only off of Jake for a split second, before he charged forward, wrapping his arms around the blonde man and tackling him to the floor. 

“Fucking get off of me!” Jake yelled, trying to fight against him. Bradley had about three inches and fifty pounds on Jake. 

“You fucking lied to her!” Bradley yelled, straddling the blonde’s waist, and delivering a punch to his jaw,“For weeks she didn’t leave my fucking couch cause she thought you cheating was her fucking fault!” 

“It’s none of your fucking business!” Jake yelled, and pushed Bradley off of him. Jake managed to knock Bradley onto his back. He reeled his arm back and punched Bradley in the nose. 

“Fuck it is!” Bradley spat, trying to regain the upper hand. 

“Whoa!” Fanboy said, seeing the two pilots wrestling on the ground. 

“Yo! Break it up!” Payback yelled, pushing through the door to get to Bradley and Jake. Fanboy wrapped his arms around Jake’s torso as he pulled the blonde pilot away. Bob and Coyote had come running in when they heard the commotion, and got their way in between the two pilots. 

“The hell is going on?!” Maverick yelled, walking into the locker room. He took in the sight of the two bloodied pilots and the group of aviators in between them, “Well? Explain, or you are all grounded.” 

“Jake’s a fucking liar and a cheat!” Bradley yelled, pointing at him. 

“And Bradley needs to mind his damn business!” Jake yelled back, lunging forward, but Coyote pushed him back. 

“That’s enough!” Maverick said, “Whatever personal stuff between you two ends here. Today. If you can’t handle it, then it’ll go to Ice.” Bradley clenched his jaw and pushed Payback and Bob’s hands off of him, “Understood?” 

“Yes sir,” Bradley and Jake said at the same time. 

“Good,” Maverick nodded, “Be ready to take the air in twenty.” Maverick left the locker room and headed back to his office. 

The other male aviators slowly released Bradley and Jake, but still kept a watchful eye on them in case chaos were to ensue again. Coyote asked Jake if he was alright and the blonde nodded, turning back to his locker. Bob noticed that during the scuffle, a picture had fallen from Jake’s grasp. The WSO gently picked it up, his eyes widening a bit at the sight of the sonogram. He looked between the two pilots, the tension in the locker room thick and awkward, before turning to hand the sonogram to Bradley. 

“This fell,” Bob said softly, tapping Rooster on the shoulder. He turned around and looked at the sonogram in Bob’s outstretched hand. 

“Thanks,” Rooster said, taking the picture. Bob gave him a tight lipped smile before going to his own locker and getting his gear. Jake saw the interaction and it made his blood boil even more. He grabbed his gear and slammed his locker shut, and made his way towards the door. 

“Oh, Bradshaw,” Jake said, stopping and turning around to face the mustached pilot. Bradley looked at Jake, his eyes narrowed on him. Jake smirked and grabbed a tooth pick from inside his flight suit, 

“You’ll never be that kid’s father, no matter how hard you try and act like it.” Jake popped the toothpick in his mouth and left the locker room. 

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