#god what i would give for eight hours of continuous sleep

[xxlelaxx]

Anxiety makes enjoying good things so hard

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 4,782

Warning: cursing, asshole Toji, mentions of blood, physical altercations—👀

A/N:The long-awaited part five! This was so satisfying to write. I hope you all enjoy it!! I think we have maybe one part left, maybe two. Omg! 🥹💚, If you want to be in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Red. Red was the only color Satoru saw as he dragged his suitcase. He'd never felt so angry! Hurt! Betrayed! The emotions swirled and festered like an infected wound.

He'd let his walls down with you. A mistake he would never make in his life ever fucking again. It didn't matter how desperate a voice would sound on the phone. And it wouldn't matter if he genuinely enjoyed talking to the client or if they gave him the butterflies.

Gojo Satoru would never allow himself to be put into a situation like this again. One where he got hurt. Where he mourned the loss of a girl he barely even knew. A girl that left a scar on him no one would ever see.

The thoughts continued to swell and build up in his mind as he bought himself a hotel room next to the train station. They built up like a typhoon, threatening to destroy everything in its wake, all the way to his room, where he collapsed on the bed. Satoru didn't like feeling this suffocating pain. He needed to distract himself, to talk to one of the only people he trusted in this world.

He needed Suguru.

With a few taps of his finger over his phone screen, Satoru stared at himself, praying his best friend was still up. Which he was. Satoru sighed in relief as Suguru’s face took up the screen. His best friend was propped up in bed, his face dimly illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand. He took one look at Satoru’s face and cocked an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Satoru chuckled, covering his eyes with his elbow. “Is it that obvious?”

“You just called me three hours ago. You said, and I quote, ‘You’re going to love her. She's got the prettiest eyes. Her skin is fucking flawless. I wanna put her mouth on my mouth.’ end quote.”

“I didn't say that last part!”

“You didn't have to say it, Satoru.” Satoru didn't argue with that. “So, are you going to tell me what happened??”

“I—” he groaned, sitting up, “we, well, ya’ know—”

“Fucked?”

Satoru glared at his only best friend. “No!” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Well, we didn't go all the way.” God, he wished it had, but he was glad it hadn't.

“Okay? So, did she give you major blue balls? This isn't helping me decipher what happened.”

Although the pain was fresh and stung, Satoru rehashed the night's events. The kiss at the bar, you calling him after Toji showed up, and everything after. From your sudden confidence to the gentle caresses to the intense intimacy between you both. It had been so fierce, raw, and real. Satoru had never experienced kisses and caresses like yours; hell, your touch still lingered as he lay in bed ranting.

All of the chemistry he felt didn’t change the fact that he’d been hurt. He thought you were genuine, that you didn’t want to sleep with him just because of his good looks. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to sleep with him because you felt the same spark that he did. A spark that would lead to sex, but from there, it might grow into something more! A relationship, the possibility of a future together.

But those stacks of cash changed it all.

The possibilities Satoru had been fantasizing about, wanting, came crashing around him when he counted the bills. You had been so unfazed by it. All you did was check your wallet before pulling out the bag with condoms in it. Your pitiful face when he asked about the money flashed in his mind. You had been incapable of telling him why you had all that money; you just stared blankly at it like you were trying to put two and two together.

Playing around like you didn’t know what was happening had set him off. Why would you have that much money in your purse? Conveniently, it was also the exact amount that he charged for sexual services. Services that Satoru didn’t typically provide. He had been honest with you. He didn’t like having sex with people that he didn’t know, so for him to find all that money, it set him off.

Satoru finished up his story, rubbing his hands through white hair. “So I left, and I missed the last train out. Could you pick me up in the morning? I want to get home as fast as I can.” His blue eyes darted towards his phone screen, where Geto was staring at him like he was an idiot. “What?” Satoru asked, looking at himself on the smaller screen. “Do I have something on my face?” His best friend let out the most extended, most profound sigh in the entire world.

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

“Huh?!”

“I said, are you a fucking idiot?”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows pinching together. “Why the fuck are you asking if I’m an idiot? Are your gauges too big? Did everything I say go through them and not into your ears?” He watched as Suguru rolled his eyes. “I just told you I found all that money in their bag! Right before we did the nasty! I confronted her, she couldn’t explain. That, to me, screams that she’s guilty, Suguru.” He gestured with his hand in front of him as if motioning toward the evidence before his face.

“Did you ever stop and think maybe she couldn’t answer because she was just as confused as you?”

“What?”

Suguru shifted, dark hair falling over his shoulders as he sat up. “Satoru,” he purred, “think about it. She left her bag where anyone could touch it while you two were—preoccupied.” Well, when he put it like that. “And how would you react if you found that much money in your wallet that wasn’t there before?” Satoru remained silent, not saying a word. “You claim she looked guilty because she couldn’t explain it. But what if she truly couldn’t? And you left before even giving her a chance to explain herself.” Yeah, he did; he left you crying at the inn.

Thinking back to how you ran after him, grabbing his arm, stumbling over your feet, would someone guilty do that? Try to explain themselves, beg for him to stop and listen.

“I-I don’t know how it got there, Satoru! Please! Please believe me!”

Your tear-filled eyes, the shuddering tremble in your voice, and the blatant way he’d coldly dismissed your attempts to clear things up had his stomach twisting. The fury that had been fuming deep at his core had blinded him. He didn’t even give you a chance to talk, to explain what had happened.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” He mumbled out, putting his phone down to scrub at his face. “Why didn’t I stop and listen?!”

“Because you like her.” There was something in the tone of Suguru’s voice that had Satoru glancing at his phone. “You genuinely like her Satoru, so when you assumed she just wanted to fuck you just as an escort and not as a potential lover, that broke your heart.” Satoru opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t try to deny it; you just bitched at me for like an hour like some school girl who just got dumped.”

”Fuck you,” Suguru chuckled, knowing Satoru’s words held no heat in them. “So what do I do now? Run back over there, tell her how sorry I am?”

”Well, honestly, if I were in her position, I would slam the door in your face. The whole ‘consider the orgasm, payment for the cancellation of my services’ was fucking harsh.”

”Yeah, not my finest moment.”

“Well, use that Gojo Sator charm and make it up to her.”

After hanging up the phone with Suguru, Satoru plopped down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. That red-hot rage had faded into regret. He should have listened to you; he should have stopped the second you grabbed his arm. Instead, he pulled away, refusing to listen to what you had to say.

He made you cry like you did when you told him about Toji.

Seeing you that upset had made him sick to his stomach. He thought, what kind of dick makes a girl cry like this? He hated people like that, people that were so cruel. Now the tables had turned, and he was the dick.

God, what are you doing right now? Were you still crying? Maybe you were pacing the room, thinking about what you would do since your wedding date just up and left you. How were you going to explain this to your friends and family? Or were you dreading the pathetic, woeful faces that would be on the faces of your friends and family when you told them he left? You had hired him to make this wedding easier to attend, but he had turned it into an even worse experience for you.

Gojo had been right about you crying. You were curled into a ball on the futon that still smelt like him. Your chest heaved as you screamed into his pillow, gripping it as you let the waves of anguish wash over you, pulling you deeper and deeper into the suffocating waters of despair.

You cried yourself to sleep, waking up with a numbness in your chest as the flashbacks from the night before plagued you. It had been perfect, too perfect. The butterflies, Satoru’s kisses, the pleasure. You felt so good about him, about the two of you, about yourself, to have it come crashing down around you in seconds.

It hurt being yelled at and screamed at and blamed for something you hadn’t done. The rage and betrayal in Satoru’s eyes burned into your mind, and his words sliced so deep into your skin that they touched your soul. You hadn’t been hurt like that since Toji broke up with you, and that had nearly destroyed you. You ran away from the pain, refused to talk to anyone, and stayed in bed for days. Your heart had been broken into a million different pieces, and it took you so long to put it back together. To allow yourself to live your life.

Luckily, your heart was stronger now, scarred and rough. The pain that it had undergone a year before had made it more durable and harder to break. This heartache was not going to destroy you this time around.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you exhaled heavily through your nose before pushing your hair out of your face. You could do this. You didn't need a wedding date to survive the next two days. You were fully capable of getting through this by yourself.

You put on a smile and got ready for your day. Everything hurt, but you would be able to get through it like you had done before. This heartache would not hold you down. You headed into the kitchen, greeting your family as they cleaned dishes from the morning breakfasts that had already been delivered to guests and discussed preparations for the next two nights.

Their voices were white noise as you pulled a bowl of peaches from the fridge. They asked if you were okay if Satoru felt okay since he wasn’t with you. Hearing them say his name stung, but it didn’t stop you from moving, washing peaches, and peeling them as you preheated the oven.

”He left.” You told the truth, not the whole truth, but you weren’t ashamed to tell them he left you. Their reactions varied from confusion and anger to stunned silence and disbelief. “I’ll be okay.” You assured all of them, urging them to go about preparations for the wedding. Right now, all you wanted to do was be alone, to bake the anger and sorrow out of your system.

They granted your wish, leaving you alone in the kitchen. The atmosphere was drastically different from the night before. You giggled and smiled as Satoru stood by your side; those beautiful, captivating blue eyes wandered, watching your hands move. The heat from his gaze alone had the kitchen so hot you thought every oven had been on when they hadn’t. Now, the only warmth that flooded the space was from the oven and stove as you cooked down the peaches in syrup.

You moved unthinkingly, cooking butter into three trays, before setting the stew pot of peaches off to the side. Mind and body numb as you focused on mixing your flour, sugar, and milk in a bowl, you never heard the footsteps behind you. It wasn’t until the timer on your phone went off that you turned, running into a firm chest. You knew the smell of fresh linen masked with musk, and it made you want to throw up.

Satoru rubbed at his neck, glancing down at you. Dark circles were under his eyes as he placed his sunglasses on his head. Even when he looked exhausted, he was still handsome, which irked you.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, like his voice alone would shatter you as if you were a porcelain doll. You said nothing, stepping to the side to turn your timer off. “Can we talk?”

You ignored him, taking out the trays of melted butter from the oven. You put cinnamon, baking powder, and salt into your batter before whisking it bitterly. Satoru moved, gently grabbing your elbow and stopping you from running further away.

“Please.”

“No.” You snapped, pulling away so you could continue to construct the dessert for the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Sweetie, please.”

“Oh my god!” You slammed the bowl down, turning to shove at Satoru's chest. “You fucking left! You left when I wanted to talk last night!”

“I know I did.”

His eyes never left your face, and his undivided attention only pissed you off more. “Well, guess what? I don’t want to fucking talk now.” Despite your dismissal, Satoru didn’t move. He stayed near your side, watching as your hands moved, putting the peaches on top of the batter. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“No, I have a wedding to attend—“

“The fuck you do.”

“You paid for me—“

“And you canceled your services!” Satoru grimaced as you all but threw the trays into the oven. “You paid me with an orgasm, remember?! Because I remember!”

He followed you as you headed to the sink with your dirty dishes. His hand gently grabs your elbow. “Look! Please listen to me.” He took the dishes from your hands, placing them in the sink. “I was an asshole last night, whatever this,” his finger gestures between your bodies, “it’s new and raw and real.” You barked out a laugh. “Stop, please. I messed up; I know I did. And I’m sorry for flipping out on you. But this is worth fighting over; I want to be with you.” His words were regretful; his face matched the panicked pain behind his voice.

That didn’t change the fact he’d hurt you. “Gojo.” The use of his last name had his heart crushed. “You did mess up, you hurt me.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let’s be honest, this.” You mimicked his finger, gesturing between you. “This is never going to work, not after last night. I had my heart broken once after I was intimate with someone, and you knew that. You knew I didn’t want to have sex. I specified that several times. I put myself out there, out of my comfort zone, because I genuinely liked you. Now, well, let’s be honest: my heart has been broken twice now. So I’m going to ask you to leave.” Satoru swallowed hard, removing his glasses and putting them on the counter.

“Please don’t say that, please.”

“Go.” You pointed to the door, fighting back tears. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

He grips the counter before lifting his head to meet your teary eyes. “Okay,” he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear, “I’m sorry for breaking your heart.” His gesture had your breath hitching as he turned, heading out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

The moment you were sure he was far enough that he couldn’t hear you, a shaky cry left your lips. You stumbled, your legs no longer wanting to hold you up. How dare he come back and apologize after breaking your heart the night before. If he didn’t apologize, things would have been so much easier for you. You could have grown to hate him, but seeing how upset he looked hearing the pleading tone in his voice, made you want to throw your resolve away to chase after him.

But would a relationship with him work?

He was an escort. People paid him to go out with him. Could you date him, knowing that’s what he did for a living? To be the woman waiting at home for him to come back?

He said he wanted to fight for this, for you and whatever this strange relationship was turning into. He wanted to be with you. So, did that mean he would give up on being an escort? Would he be okay with that? The questions flowed like a steady river through your mind as you sat on the kitchen floor. These were questions you would never get the answers to, all because you sent him away.

Footsteps entered the kitchen as you stared at the floor. You perked up, clenching your fists tight, digging your nails into the palms of your hands. Did Satoru come back? You tilted your head up, tears streaming down your cheeks, to find Toji smirking down at you. The last person on the planet you wanted to see.

”Why are you on the floor?”

”Why won’t you leave me alone?” You snapped as you pushed yourself off the floor.

Toji hummed, leaning over the counter as you went to the sink to clean your dishes. “Because I want to talk to you. But you keep avoiding me.” You threw the whisk into the sink, whirling around.

“You wanna talk? Fine, let’s fucking talk, Toji!” You shrugged a shoulder. “Not that there’s much to talk about, seeing that you’re the one that broke up with me. And last night, you made it painfully obvious that you didn’t want to be with me. So please tell me! What. The. Fuck. Is. There. To. Discuss?!” You screamed, putting both hands on your hips, glaring daggers at the first man who broke your heart.

“Fuck.” He laughed, his eyes trailing up and down your body. “You got feisty in the year that you’ve been away.” When he saw how you glared at him, he held up a hand. “Right, right, fine, I’ll talk.” He straightened his back. “But first, did you enjoy yourself last night?”

His words had your heart dropping into your stomach. “I-I’m sorry?” You asked, hoping that you heard him wrong.

”I asked how your night was. Finally, get dicked down?”

”What?”

”Oh, right, you didn’t know.” He strode forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefingers, forcing you to look into his dark eyes. “After you left, I got a job. I’m a PI, the best in the business.” You felt goosebumps rise against your skin as he leaned beside your ear. “I did a little research into this Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo business. It took a little digging, but I eventually found his profile in Escorts4you.com.”

You were frozen in shock and fear. “You knew?” Of course, he knew; he knew something was up the first night.

“To think my ex-fiancée hired a fucking escort to be her date to a wedding. I had a good laugh over it. But when I saw the prices, oof, I know you,” toji squeezed your cheeks, “a pathetic baker from a cafe could never, ever afford to get fucked by a pretty boy like him.”

“W-Wait—“your head spun, “wait, it was you; you put the money in my bag?”

“Ding-ding-ding,” He reached into his pocket, holding another wad of cash towards you. “¥480,000, the money you used to cover rent when I was out of a job.” He put the money on the counter behind you. “I’ve been wanting to pay you back. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You put—you put the money—“

“But seeing that you were able to buy a high-end escort for an entire week, I figured that maybe you wanted more. So I figured I’d give you half to get the full escort experience.”

“It was you—-“

Toji smirked, gently patting your cheek. “Yep, I found your bag in the kitchen last night. Put half the money in there.” Your ears started ringing as he pulled back. “So tell me, did he fuck you as good as I did? Did he make you scream and cry like me~?” He pulled back, smirking down at you. “Or have I ruined all other men for you?”

Ruined? The only thing he ruined was what you and Satoru had. He fucked this up! It was all because of him!

“You son of a bitch!” You screamed, slapping him across the face. Toji stumbled back, grunting as he cupped his cheek in shock. “Do you know what you did!?” You slapped him again, harder.

“Ow, what?!”

“You ruined everything!” He took several steps back as you grabbed the plastic flour container, throwing it at him, which he dodged. “Yes! I hired Satoru! But I wasn't going to sleep with him!” You tossed a spatula at him, trying to close the distance so you could hit him some more. “But what was supposed to be a job turned into something more! I liked him! I liked him, you asshole!”

Toji dodged a cookie tray, “Well, tell him that!” You rushed forward, slamming your fists against his chest.

“He found the money! And he assumed I was going to pay him to sleep with me!”

“Stop it!” He snarled, grabbing your wrists, forcing you to cease your assault. “Look, I didn’t know you legitimately liked the guy!”

You snapped, yanking your wrists free before kneeing him in the crotch. Toji gasped out, hands reaching down, cupping himself as he stumbled. Vision blurring with tears, you weakly slapped at his shoulders.

“You’re always ruining everything! You broke my heart! I didn’t get to pastry school, and I lost a nice guy because of you!” A gut-wrenching sob made its way through you. “Did you stop to think that maybe I was happy?!”

Your heart was pounding, thundering in your ears as you cried, and cried, and you kept crying as Toji straightened. “Look, I didn’t know it was serious. But if you keep hitting me, we’re going to have a major fuckin’ problem.”

He hissed his vague threat through his teeth. Hearing that only pissed you off more. So you did what anyone else would to the man who broke your heart and kept butting in your life. You pulled your hand back and slapped him as hard as you could. He winced, bangs shielding his eyes as he growled.

When he snapped in your direction, he received another slap. It was when you went in for a third slap that Toji’s hand flew up, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. He crowded you against the wall, scowling down at your smaller form.

“I told you to stop fucking hitting me!”

“I hate you! Let me go!”

“Are ya’ going to stop hitting me?!”

“No!”

“Then tough shit!”

You kicked at his shins, but he easily avoided you. You were going to kick his ass, beat him into a bloody pulp—once you freed yourself. But all the fight vanished as you saw two ivory fingers tap Toji on the shoulder. He turned around, only to be knocked back by a powerful punch. You stared at Toji, who spit out blood, his gaze locked on the man standing at six-three. Satoru shook his hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles as he glared.

His lip twitched, revealing sharp canines as he stepped forward. “Oh, you think that hurt? Wait until I get a good hit in.” He clenched his fists into tight balls, continuing to close the distance between them.

“Oh, you don’t wanna fuck with me. I’ll fuck up your face so bad you’ll never get a ‘client’ again.”

“Why you—”

“Wait!” You yelled out, jumping between the two men and holding your arms out. “Stop! Stop it!”

Satoru looked down at you as if you’d lost your mind, his momentum stopping. Toji kept moving until your fingers grazed his chest. With a deep sigh, you looked up at Satoru, giving him a gentle smile, one that had his cheeks flushing.

“I got this.” the softness of your voice was the only convincing he needed. With a curt nod, he crossed his arms over his chest as you turned to look into Toji’s eyes. “You have fucked with my life for the last time.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep!” You grinned wide and warmly before punching him directly in the nose. “Try that shit again! I dare you! I fuckin’ dare you!!”

“Oooh!” Just as you went in for another punch, you were picked up, and Satoru carried you out of the kitchen. “Easy there, I don’t want you getting arrested.”

You flailed in his arms, “I’m serious, Fushiguro!” Your ex groaned, cupping his hands over his bleeding nose as you jammed your finger at him. “That was the last time you’ll ever interfere with my life!” You glanced over your shoulder, watching Satoru grab his forgotten sunglasses off the counter before heading down the hall.

“Oh!” You heard your mother squeak out as Satoru passed them. “What’s going on? I thought you said Satoru left!”

Satoru grinned, turning to face her as he passed. “Me leave her?” He shifts, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’m not making that mistake again.” You squeak as he bounds down the hall.

“W-Wait, the cobblers! Mom, take them out of the oven!”

The halls were a blur as Satoru carried you to the room you both had shared. Only once inside, he gently places you down, taking several steps back, giving you space. You remained silent, nursing the hand you had punched Toji with.

“Do you want some ice?” Satoru said softly, eyes following you as you sat down on the futon, thumb rubbing over your red knuckles.

“No.”

You could hear him wince at your stiff tone. “Are you sure?” He slowly approached you, not moving too fast, as if you would bolt if he did. “It could make baking hard if you don’t take care of it.” Your heart slowly crawled up your throat as he sat before you, crossing his legs.

“You know what I want?” Satoru inhaled slowly, holding it for the briefest of moments before exhaling.

“No, what is it you want?”

You slowly lifted your head, eyes locked on his. He was stiff, pulse visible in his throat as he waited for you. Seeing him like this, like a child waiting to be reprimanded, had you swallowing hard as you opened your mouth, the words leaving Satoru’s eyes wide as he rocked back at your request.

“You want what?”

Tag List/ (AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 1 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify y @majanggeum

[corroded-hellfire]

Could we perhaps get a blurb/chapter of when Eliza was born - maybe Eddie thinking back that this is so different than how Brittany was, when Y/N got into labor, where they were and how they reacted?

+ could you write about Eliza being born? I would love to see their reactions and eddie helping reader out plss

+ Please, let us in on the labor with Eddie and Reader from "As you wish". Did Y/N curse Eddie out, threatening to kick his ass or did Eddie do a prince Harry (God I hope not) and use all the gas?

I thought this would be a good chance to tell the story of two births of two very important Munsons, ten years apart 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, Brittany, not a warning but the italic sections are flashbacks/in the past

Words: 7.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The blaring wail of Eddie’s alarm clock wakes you up from your night of fitful sleep. It’s hard to remember the last time you had a full peaceful eight hours. The soreness in your lower back and the increasing pressure in your pelvis have been your loyal companions for the past few weeks, determined on not letting you have a moment of comfort. 

Next to you, Eddie smacks his hand against the clock. The whining stops and the bed shifts as Eddie rolls over and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Your answering groan makes your husband let out a soft chuckle as he pushes himself up into a seated position. Figuring it’ll be better to get up than continue to lay there so uncomfortably, you roll onto your side and shove yourself up until you’re sitting. A look down at your feet reveals that your ankles are swollen. Again.

“Know what today is?” Eddie asks as he opens his underwear drawer. 

“Uh huh,” you hum. The mattress springs squeak as you stand up. 

“Think she’ll make her grand entrance today?” he asks.

“Doubt it,” you say through a yawn. “Babies are never born on their due date.”

Eddie strips off his shirt and comes around the bed to give you a proper good morning kiss. 

“How you feeling, baby?”

“Peachy,” you grunt. “Gonna go get the boys up.”

Luckily, neither Ryan nor Luke gives you any trouble waking up or getting ready for school. They know how you’ve been feeling lately and have been great about helping you out when they can. 

“Bye!” Ryan says as he slips his backpack on. 

“Have a good day,” Eddie says, ruffling both boys’ hair.

You press a kiss to the top of their heads and Luke rubs a hand across your swollen belly. 

“Be good in there, Eliza!”

A smile grows on your face at his words. They head out the door to the bus stop, Ryan giving you one last wave before you close the door.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Eddie says. He walks over and cups your face in his warm hands. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you assure him. 

He nods and presses a sweet kiss against your lips. 

“Relax and get some rest.”

“Okay.” You give him another kiss in return. “Have a good day at work.”

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Not even two minutes after Eddie walks out the door, you plop down in front of the television with the remote. The only thing on at this time of day are soap operas, which have started to become an addiction of yours since there’s nothing else for you to do. 

Fortunately, one of today’s plotlines is so boring and you predicted the identical twin brother twist a week ago, so you manage to fall asleep. It’s only a cat nap, but you’ll take anything you can get these days. 

A different kind of discomfort awakens you this time. Your stomach growls so loudly it feels like it rattles the windows. You rally the strength to get up from the couch, and with a little help from the arms and back of it, you’re standing. 

An infomercial for some Chuck Norris Total Gym blathers on as background noise as you walk–or more like waddle–into the kitchen. A peanut butter and banana sandwich has been a go-to for you during this pregnancy—after Luke happily introduced it to you one day over the summer. There’s something about the rich nuttiness and the sweetness of the fruit together between two pieces of bread that makes Eliza very happy in your womb. 

Once you’ve got peanut butter spread on both slices of bread, you move to grab a banana from the fruit bowl. The moment your hand touches the yellow peel, you feel a twinge of pain shoot from your lower back, through your tummy, and down into your pelvis. Your hand braces you against the counter as you breathe through the pain. 

What the hell was that? You think to yourself. That fucking hurt.

You take a deep breath and grab the banana. As you turn back to your sandwich and peel open the piece of fruit, it hits you.

Were those…contractions? No, you tell yourself, shaking your head. It had to be something else.

“No one ever actually has their baby on the due date,” you say into the quiet kitchen. “Maybe I have to pee again. I swear, this little girl thinks my bladder is a trampoline.”

Once you’re finished up in the bathroom, you head back to finish making your sandwich. But the minute you pick up the butter knife, another stab of pain attacks.

“Oh boy,” you say, one hand dropping the knife and going to your lower back, while the other rests on your bump. “You’re ready to come out, aren’t you? You heard that doctor say ‘October 7th’ and you made a note on a calendar, huh?”

The mental image of the baby in your belly marking the date off on a calendar makes you smile as you waddle over to the phone hanging on the wall. The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Mark speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mark.” You breathe through another twinge of pain. “Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, let me go grab him for you,” Mark says.

“Thanks.”

It feels like an eternity as you hear the phone being put down, shuffling noises in the background, then low murmuring voices, until finally the phone is being moved again and you finally hear your husband’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say. “I, um, think I’m having contractions.”

“You are?”

It’s hard to tell if that’s excitement or urgency in his voice. Probably both.

“Yeah, the first one I just waved off as a fluke. But they’ve happened a couple of times now.”

“Alright, I’m on my way home, princess,” Eddie says, and you can already hear him moving around, starting the process. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “They’re quick and not too close together yet. I’ll start counting when I feel the next one.”

“Good.” The sound of his keys jingling comes through the phone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.” 

A hint of giddiness is already creeping into his tone. He’s wanted a baby girl for so long, and she’s finally ready to make her appearance. You make a mental note to think of Eddie’s excitement anytime a contraction overwhelms you. Of course, you have your own excitement, and lots of it, but seeing Eddie be so truly happy is one thing that could get you through all the pain in the world. 

Eddie unsheathes his sword as the azure dragon flies overhead. Too far for him to even reach if he threw his sword. The blood red skies cast a purple shadow on the giant winged creature. But Eddie’s almost there. He can see the tower in the distance, normally not a rough journey, but there’s bound to be something guarding the locked-away maiden.

As he gets closer, Eddie sees that it’s a female Cloud Giant tasked with keeping people like him away. Only the most noble who dare to help the poor young thing locked away. 

Eddie picks up speed, his sword at the ready as he approaches the giant, then—bam! Something lands against Eddie’s cheek. He looks up, seeing if the dragon perhaps swooped down to swipe the knight with his tail. But the skies are clear. So, Eddie continues forward. Bam! What the hell is—

Eddie is jolted back into consciousness by his own pillow smacking his face. 

“What the…” Eddie grumbles in a scratchy, sleepy voice. “What’s going on?

He rubs his bleary eyes and sees that Brittany is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him.

“Britt?”

Eddie stumbles to his feet and clicks on his bedside lamp before walking around the bed to check on his wife. The first thing he notices is that the crotch of her nightgown and the sheets below her are wet. 

Wow, this baby must really be messing with her bladder if—wait. 

“Your water broke?” Eddie's voice suddenly has no trace of sleepiness in it. 

“Yeah.”

Brittany isn’t looking at him. Instead, she looks down at her hands resting on her large bump. 

“Come on, let’s get you changed,” Eddie says, gently slipping his hand beneath one of her arms so he can help her up. 

Brittany groans once she’s on her feet and Eddie hurriedly turns towards their dresser and digs for something she can change into.

“Contractions?” Eddie asks as he grabs a pair of sweatpants.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her. 

Eddie quickly helps Brittany into her clothes and grabs her already prepared overnight bag from the closet. He slowly leads his wife into the living room so she can rest on the couch while he grabs Ryan. 

The twenty-two-month-old is sleeping soundly in his crib. Eddie hates to disturb him, but the ball is already in motion. 

“Wha?” Ryan croaks as Eddie scoops him up and holds him against his chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he tells his son. “Go back to sleep.”

Ryan thunks his head down on Eddie’s shoulder and immediately begins lightly snoring. 

The soft whistle in his ear makes Eddie smile as he steps into the kitchen to use the nearest phone. He quickly dials a number he knows by heart and waits for someone to pick up at the plant.

“Yeah, hi, is Wayne there? Yeah, Munson,” Eddie says into the receiver. He hikes Ryan up a little higher on his chest while he waits for the phone to get passed.

“Hello?”

Eddie’s never been happier to hear that gruff voice.

“Hey! It’s, uh, me. So, Brittany’s water broke and Ryan needs—”

“I’ll punch out right now and meet ya at the trailer.”

God, Eddie loves his uncle. 

“Okay, see you there.”

Eddie heads back into the living room and helps Brittany up with one hand while the other keeps a good hold on Ryan. Somehow, Eddie manages to get them both in the car, all buckled and ready to go. 

“Whew.” Eddie takes a deep breath in the driver’s seat. He takes one more before he starts the car. “Here we go.”

The moment Eddie walks through the front door, he makes sure you’re sitting down and comfortable. Sitting down? Yes. Comfortable? Not so much. 

But you’re content with your peanut butter and banana sandwich as your husband presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Nine minutes apart,” you inform him through a mouthful of peanut butter. 

Eddie chuckles at the muffled words.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, then call Wayne so he can be here for when the boys get home.”

You nod and take another bite of your sandwich. 

Eddie comes back just as another contraction is starting. You set your plate down on the couch to your right and Eddie takes a seat on the other side of you. One of your hands braces you against the cushion you’re sitting on, and Eddie slips his hand into your free one. 

“Just squeeze my hand, okay? And breathe.”

The pulsating wracks your body as you focus on taking in a large lungful of air. You hold it for a few seconds, counting time by the number of gentle squeezes you give Eddie’s hand, then let it out. 

“Ugh,” you groan when the pain releases you. You flop back on the couch, tipping your chin up as you try and catch your breath. “That was the longest one so far.”

“We’ll start timing that too,” Eddie says. 

He presses a kiss to your cheek before pressing a few to the back of your hands. His hands stall when you let out a deep sigh.

“Do you not want me to be touching you? What do you need?” There’s a shake in his voice that angers you, because you know exactly why and who made him unsure of how to comfort a woman in labor.

“Yes, I want you to touch me,” you say, grabbing his hand in both of yours. “Your touch calms me.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that his shoulders sag in relief before he wraps an arm around your shoulders. 

“Just let me know what you want me to do,” he says.

“This,” you reply, leaning into his arms. Your eyes slip closed as you snuggle up to the warmth of his body. “Want you.”

“I’m not leaving your side, princess,” he assures you. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

You nod against his neck and Eddie swipes up the remote. He flips through the channels, but it’s the middle of a Tuesday, so there’s not a whole lot on.

“I can grab a tape or a DVD?” your husband offers.

You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.

“Don’t want you to move. Whatever you find is fine.”

“Alright, well…I guess we’ll watch The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

Eddie feels your chuckle rumble against his chest.

“That’s fine,” you say.

It’s only seconds before another contraction starts, and Eddie can tell by the way your fingertips dig into him. This one lasts about as long as the previous one, and you’re able to get semi-comfortable against your husband again.

The house is quiet, the two of you on the couch, watching a movie that neither of you have any real interest in. The low volume only makes the loud pop that echoes through the room even more pronounced. 

“My water just…”

“Yes, it did.”

A heavy pause hangs in the air as the two of you stare at one another. It’s obvious you have to get up and get going now, but the realization that this is really happening is sinking in for you both. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out in a whisper.

This breaks Eddie out of his trance. He starts to laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Here we go, sweetheart.”

He helps you up off the couch and into your room so you can change clothes. With your husband's help, you slip into a dry pair of sweatpants, an oversized Ghostbusters t-shirt Luke got you when you complained that there were no comfy maternity shirts, and one of Eddie’s hoodies on top of it—even though you can’t zip it up. Your old college backpack has been filled with supplies for weeks, all in preparation for this moment. Eddie slides onto one of his shoulders and walks with you to the front door.

Just as the two of you step into the living room, the door opens. Wayne steps inside and it takes four seconds for his eyes to go from you to Eddie, to the bag hanging on his shoulder, then back to you.

“Thank God you’re here,” you sigh in relief. 

If for some reason he hadn’t arrived here before the boys got home, you knew they’d be okay for a while, but you’ll be able to relax more knowing that their grandpa is here with them. 

“Heading out to the hospital?” Wayne asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers with a nod. “Her water broke.”

A smile graces the older man’s features, and it softens him.

“You got this, darlin’,” he says as he opens the front door wide enough for you and Eddie to get through.

You shoot him a grateful smile as you step outside.

“We’ll call when we have any update,” Eddie tells his uncle.

Wayne just nods and pats Eddie on the back as he passes. The two of you walk to your car together and Wayne watches from the entryway, not wanting to go inside yet in case he can help in any way. 

Once you’re securely in the car, Eddie waves to Wayne before slipping into the driver’s seat. As he adjusts the rearview mirror, his eyes catch on the car seat that’s been installed for the past two weeks. It brings a smile to his face as he starts the engine.

“Let’s have us a baby,” Eddie says as he shifts the car into reverse. 

As soon as you arrive at the hospital, it’s very quick work when Eddie alerts them you’re in labor. You’re brought right to a room and hooked up to lines and so many wires you’re not even sure what they’re all for. 

Your doctor shows up not too long after you’re settled into your bed and says you’re not quite ready to push yet. Your contractions are getting closer together, but they’re not quite at the active labor phase yet. 

Now after being hurried up to this room and all set up to go, there’s nothing to do. The flurry of activity kept your mind off the pain that was creeping up in intensity each time it snuck up on you. But now that there’s nothing to occupy your mind, it feels like it’s all that fills your head.

“Do you want some pain meds, baby?” Eddie asks, slipping his hand into yours.

He must’ve noticed the way you were gritting your teeth hard enough to wear them down to nubs. 

“I can have some?” you ask.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me go get the nurse.”

Eddie is right and the nurse is able to administer some medicine that allows you to relax a little. It takes enough of the edge off that you’re able to focus on and appreciate Eddie’s attempts to distract you from the pain and boredom. 

Your husband had prepared ahead of time and had slipped his battered and well-loved copy of The Two Towers into your overnight bag. He now brings the story to life for you, reading with such passion, and doing different funny voices for the different characters.

“‘Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours,’” Eddie reads to you. “‘But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’” 

Then it’s time for the doctor to check how dilated you are and the timing of your contractions. It’s still not time, she tells you with a sympathetic smile before heading out to attend to other patients. 

Now, Eddie finds a pile of old magazines and newspapers strewn about a small table in the corner. He picks up an outdated print of the Washington Post at random, sits in the chair he’s positioned near your head, and begins to read a news article in an over-the-top news anchor voice.

“The first musical number epitomized the kind of commercialized outrageousness that MTV has perfected in recent years. It featured Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, decked out in white wedding ensembles in a homage to Madonna, who famously wore a wedding dress on MTV's first Video Music Awards broadcast in 1984, when she performed ‘Like a Virgin.’ Madonna appeared dressed as a groom, and the number, which also briefly featured Missy Elliott, provided the evening's first gyrating rumps, as well as a truly yechy moment: The sight of oversexed old Madonna tongue-kissing oversexed young Spears. It didn't seem outrageous or sultry; it smacked of desperation.”

“Such outrage,” you joke with a shake of your head. 

“Kids today,” Eddie says with an over dramatic sigh. “All their music is just noise.”

You giggle and reach for his hand. He gladly takes it and laces his fingers with yours.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

“I’m good,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “My wonderful, loving husband is doing a great job of keeping me entertained.”

A smile that can only be described as adoring grows on Eddie’s face. He leans forward and presses kisses to your knuckles.

“Anything for you.”

By the time the hospital staff gets Brittany up to her room and hooked up to all the equipment, the doctor says it’s not long before she can start pushing. Which also means that there’s no time to give her any drugs—no matter how much she begs. 

“Ugh! This sucks,” Brittany complains once it’s just her and Eddie in the room. 

“I know,” Eddie says. 

“Do you?” she snaps back.

“I mean, I…” Eddie stutters over his words. “I was there when Ryan was born. I know the pain you were in then.”

“At least they were able to give me something for pain then. Now I can’t even get a fucking Tylenol.” 

“Do you want to talk about something to keep your mind off it?” Eddie offers. He scoots his chair up to the edge of the bed and rests a hand on Brittany’s blanket-covered thigh. 

“Fine,” the blonde grunts out. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Um…what about middle names? We haven’t decided yet.”

“Didn’t we?” Brittany sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No,” Eddie replies. “Just first names. Luke for boy, Lucy for girl.” 

“Fine. So, Ryan’s middle name is after your uncle because you just had to do that,” Brittany rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “What about from my family?”

“What names do you like?” Eddie says between clenched teeth. She's having my baby, she’s having my baby, she’s having my baby, he reminds himself over and over again. 

“Anatoly,” Brittany says. “For a boy.”

“Luke Anatoly Munson.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at how the name sounds out loud. “I don’t think that goes.”

“Fine.” Brittany’s silent for a moment as she considers other names. “Andrei?”

Eddie internally sighs. He’s always thought it was cool that much of Brittany’s family emigrated from Russia, but the land’s native names don’t flow well with “Luke Munson.” 

“Aleksandr,” Brittany suggests, pulling Eddie out of his own head. 

“Huh.”

Eddie leans back in his chair, letting the name roll around his brain. It's a good one, he thinks. But…

“Should we use the American spelling?” Eddie asks.

“Why, so he can be named after your dad?” Brittany bites out.

The room is silent as Eddie furrows his brow. He shakes his head in confusion as a nurse steps in to check on the monitors Brittany is hooked up to. 

“That’s not…Britt, that isn’t my dad’s name.”

“What?” Brittany stares at her husband as if he has three heads. “Of course it is.”

“People called him ‘Al’, yeah,” Eddie starts. “But his full name is Alan. Not Alexander.” 

“Oh.” Brittany waves a hand dismissively as if not knowing her husband’s dad’s name after years together is nothing—a common mistake, even. 

Eddie shakes his head, shoving the irritation to the back of his mind for the time being. There will be plenty of time later to be annoyed by Brittany’s ignorance and apathy. After the baby is born.

The tension grows in his neck, so Eddie rolls his shoulders and leans back in his chair.

“So, Luke Alexander Munson for a boy?” Eddie checks.

“Sure,” Brittany says as another contraction washes over her. The way her eyes squeeze shut so tightly and her teeth clench with a vengeance pangs Eddie’s heart. 

“And for a girl,” Brittany grits out, obviously trying to talk through the pain in an attempt to ignore it, “Lucy Alexandra Munson.”

“That’s pretty.”

Eddie goes to take his wife’s hand as her body relaxes from the fading contraction. But Brittany snatches her hand back.

“Please, just don’t…touch me.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Eddie barely has time to feel the sting of rejection before the doctor is back in the room to check on Brittany’s progress. 

“Good news,” the doctor announces. “You’re dilated enough. It’s time to start pushing.” 

“Oh boy,” Brittany mutters, trying to garner strength from her exhausted body. 

The room is a flurry of activity as nurses prepare everything the doctor might need. 

Eddie stands and goes to reach for his wife’s hand before remembering she doesn’t want to be touched. But as another contraction wracks her body, Brittany reaches up and grabs his hand. It brings a small smile to Eddie’s lips, despite how hard she’s gripping it because of her pain. 

“Alright, Brittany,” the doctor says as he gets into position at the end of the bed, “we’re going to try pushing now.”

“We?” Brittany barks out in a strained and breathless laugh. 

“Well, mostly you,” the doctor teases as a nurse goes to stand on Brittany’s other side, opposite of Eddie. 

“Alright, honey,” the nurse says, putting one hand on Brittany’s shoulder. “Push when the doctor counts to three.”

“One, two…”

He doesn’t even get to three before Brittany starts squeezing the life out of Eddie’s hand. Eddie just clenches his teeth and takes it though, willing to soak up any pain that he can from his wife. 

“Jesus, fuck!” Brittany shouts through her pushing. Her face is already sweaty, matting hair to her forehead. Eddie’s quick to brush it away with his free hand.

“You’re doing so good, Britt,” Eddie encourages. “You’ve got this.”

Brittany nods, either in acknowledgment of his words or just because she wants him to shut up. 

“Almost there, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says.

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. When Ryan was born, they were at it for a while before he decided to make his grand entrance into the world. People had told him that second babies tend to come out quicker, but Eddie didn’t know this one was practically banging down the door to get out. 

“This one’s got some mettle,” Eddie says. 

“Just like Dad,” Brittany grits out and it takes Eddie a second to get her joke. 

Mettle, metal? He got it. 

Eddie huffs a laugh, honestly impressed by her ability to come up with a joke while she’s trying to pass a human being through her body. 

“Okay, now just one more biiig push,” the doctor says. 

“Come on, hun,” Eddie cheers, bracing his hand against Brittany’s as she channels everything in her to push. 

“Almost there, almost there…” the doctor repeats. 

Suddenly the shrill sound of an infant wailing fills the small room. It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard. 

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announces, holding the newborn up enough for the parents to see. 

Brittany drops Eddie’s hand out of pure exhaustion, but there’s a smile on her face as she drops back against the pillows. The baby is handed to a nurse for initial cleanup. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie says softly to Brittany. 

She tilts her head up and gives him a sleepy smile. 

The softness in her gaze has Eddie leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Surprisingly, she kisses him back. 

“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” the doctor asks.

“Yes,” Eddie responds before the doctor can even finish the question.

He walks down to the foot of the bed and takes the pair of scissors to the umbilical cord, snipping it in two. Eddie hands the scissors back blindly, as his eyes never leave his newborn son. No detail escapes his notice as he watches a nurse gently take him and lay him on Brittany’s chest. 

“Oh, hi,” Brittany says, one hand covering the entirety of his little back. 

Eddie comes back up to the head of the bed and beams down at his wife and baby. Brittany glances up at him, then back down. 

“Look at this beautiful boy,” Eddie coos. 

Brittany chuckles and Eddie leans down to kiss her head, then the newborn’s.

“Beautiful little Luke,” Brittany says. 

A nurse takes him back to fully clean him up and swaddle him in a soft white blanket. 

“You want to hold him?” the nurse asks Eddie.

“Yes.” Eddie nods emphatically and holds out his arms. 

The moment the gentle weight lands in his arms, Eddie’s eyes fill with tears. 

“Hi, my boy.”

“To place a call outside of the hospital, please press nine.”

Eddie does as the automated voice tells him and leans back in his chair. You let your head loll to the side, the scratchy pillow brushing against your cheek as you watch your husband. This brief respite from contractions allows you to smile when you hear the echo of Ryan’s voice come from the phone.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, grinning as well. “How was school?”

“Good! Isthebabyhereyet?” 

His eagerness makes Eddie chuckle. 

“No, no baby yet. Just figured I’d check in with you guys.”

“What he say?!” Luke shouts in the background. 

“No baby!” Ryan tells him. 

The phone shuffles back and forth before Luke says, “Just share it!”

“Uh, you both there?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah!” they say at the same time. 

“Did you ask—”

“Not yet, I—”

Eddie tilts his head to the side as they bicker. He somehow deciphers that they want to talk to you.

“You can talk to her if you hush up and behave.”

Both boys fall silent at that. There’s a small pause before Ryan says, “Okay.”

“Good.” Eddie nods and hands the phone over to you.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” two young voices call at the same time. 

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks.

As if his question summoned it, a contraction rears its ugly head. Your forehead furrows as you try to ignore it and focus on the conversation with the boys.

“I’m doing okay.”

“Do you hurt?” Luke asks. 

Your free hand bangs against the bed rail in an attempt to keep from shouting in pain. Eddie sits up straighter in his chair, concern filling his eyes. He motions to the phone, silently asking if you want him to take it back. 

“Little bit,” you grit out to answer Luke while shaking your head to answer Eddie. 

“Did they give you any medicine?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah, a while ago. So, uh, what did you guys do at school today?”

“Nothing really,” Luke says. “Oh, you and Dad have to come down to the school and get the meat thermometer.”

“The what?” you ask. 

“The meat thermometer.”

“Luke, what are you talking about?”

Eddie looks at you, questioningly, and you shrug your shoulders. 

“Me and my friend Kevin wanted to test the temperature of the cafeteria hot dogs, so I brought the meat thermometer. But then we got caught and the lunch lady took it. So now you need to get it.”

“You did what?” You hear Wayne’s muffled shout. 

“We wanted to make sure it was safe!” Luke defends. 

The contraction finally releases you and you’re able to relax as much as you can in the lumpy hospital bed. 

“What about you, Ry?” you ask.

“I didn’t care how hot the meat was,” he says, completely serious.

You laugh and it helps your body wash away that lingering whisper of pain.

“No,” you say. “What did you do at school today?”

“We have to write papers for history class, and we started today.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the paper on?” you ask, trying to think of anything except the next contraction. 

“Everyone got assigned some kind of job we have to study. I got dentist.”

“And what did you learn today?” As much as Luke’s shenanigans can keep you entertained, they can also stress you out. But Ryan loves to go into detail about what he’s working on at school and this shall hopefully provide you with a relaxing distraction. 

“Uhh…” Ryan hums as he thinks. “The first dental school in America was founded by Horace H. Hayden and Chaplin A. Harris.”

“When?” you press.

“1840. In Maryland, in case you were gonna ask!”

It’s impossible not to smile at how well the boy knows you.

“Good job, Ry,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

The beginnings of a new contraction appear, and your fingers tighten around the phone receiver. You spy your doctor out in the hallway and use it as an excuse.

“Alright, boys,” you start, “my doctor is coming so I gotta go, okay? Daddy will call when there’s an update.”

“Okay,” Ryan says.

“Love you!” Luke adds.

“I love you both, too. 

Eddie hangs up the phone for you just as your doctor actually does walk into your room. 

“How are we feeling Mrs. Munson?” she asks you. 

You’ve been “Mrs. Munson” for eight months now but it still gives you butterflies every time you hear it.

“Contraction-y,” you tell Dr. Hahn. 

She chuckles and nods her head in understanding. 

“That makes sense, you know, with the contractions and all.” She tugs two medical gloves out of the box marked “medium”. “Alright, I’m just gonna check how your dilation is going.”

As you lay back to let the doctor do her thing, Eddie leans forward and raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Should I be concerned about whatever it is that Luke did now?” he asks. 

“I think it’s okay,” you say with a chuckle. “Apparently, you just have to go to school to pick up a meat thermometer he brought to check the temperature of the school hot dogs.”

Eddie stares at you, his face almost as blank and emotionless as you’ve ever seen it. You can practically see his brain attempting to digest this information, but it thinks it’s reading the data incorrectly. 

“He what?” Eddie finally asks.

Luckily, Dr. Hahn saves you from admitting you have no idea what goes on in the mind of Luke Munson. 

“Well, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says, “the time has arrived. You’re fully dilated now; time to start pushing.”

You’ve known all along that you’d have to do this—hell, you’ve known it for about eight months now—but the reality of actually pushing a person out of your body is sobering. How did this moment finally arrive? Weren’t you and Eddie just sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test? And now you’re supposed to start pushing? You feel as if you’ve had no time to prepare. Prepare for this labor, prepare for taking the baby home, prepare to be a fully-fledged mom to a newborn. 

A moment of serenity washes over you as your mind reminds you of one important factor, though: this is your and Eddie’s baby. You are bringing a child into this world that is half you and half the man you love. A baby who is the product of the love that you both easily fell into and fought like hell to make work. Suddenly, labor doesn’t seem so bad. It may hurt, but to you it is a privilege and honor to bring this little girl, and everything she stands for, into the world. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah,” you assure him with a small smile. “I’m ready to meet our baby.”

The infectious grin that spreads on Eddie’s face warms your heart and gives you a boost of strength to get this show on the road.

Eddie stands up as Dr. Hahn gets everything situated. He slips his hand into yours and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’m right here with you, princess,” he says softly. “You’re the strongest woman—no, person I know.”

His words have your eyes filling with tears and the hormones certainly aren’t helping. 

“I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh, here comes another contraction,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitors that you’re hooked up to. “We’re gonna try pushing on this one, Mrs. Munson, okay?”

“Okay.”

The wobble in your voice is clear. Eddie presses a kiss to the back of your hand. Just as his lips brush your skin, you feel the now-familiar pressure that precedes a contraction. 

“Oof,” you groan as the intensity increases.

“Alright, now…push,” Dr. Hahn instructs. 

You take the deepest breath that your pain will allow, grit your teeth, and clutch your husband’s hand as you begin to push.

“Great job, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Keep it going.”

And it does keep going. And going. And going. 

But fifty-three minutes later, you hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. 

Shrill, high-pitched wails fill the room, and you immediately begin sobbing. 

“Here she is,” Dr. Hahn says, holding her at an angle you can see. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”

Even covered in vernix and blood, your new daughter is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. A nurse places her on your chest, and the moment you feel that skin-to-skin contact with her, you’re done for. She already has you wrapped around her little finger.

The newborn continues her cries, escalating to a new pitch every time she gets another lungful of air. It’s as if she’s a royal, informing all her subjects of her many woes. 

Eddie leans in and kisses your lips, the tears on your face mingling with the ones on his. When your husband pulls back to stare at his baby girl, his face is filled with awe and adoration. 

“She’s here,” he whispers to no one in particular. 

“Do you want to cut the cord, Mr. Munson?” Dr. Hahn asks.

Eddie reaches for the scissors a nurse is holding out to him and he has them in his hand before you could say “Ryan and Luke’s new baby sister.”

This is Eddie’s third time doing this, so he knows right where to line the scissors up even before Dr. Hahn instructs him. Eddie severs the cord and a nurse takes the baby so she can have a proper cleaning. 

Neither your nor Eddie’s eyes leave the newborn as she’s swaddled up in a nice warm blanket.

“Do we have a name yet?” The nurse asks as she slides a pink hat onto the tiny baby’s head.

“Eliza,” you say proudly. Tears fill your eyes at the sound of her name out loud. Out loud now that she’s here. This precious little bean that’s been growing inside of you for so long is finally here, a real little person you get to hold and love on. 

“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says, the same emotions that you’re going through reflecting in his voice. 

“Well, Dad,” the nurse says as she picks up Eliza and turns towards Eddie. “Would you like to hold your baby girl Eliza?”

Your husband nods emphatically, reminding you of Luke when he’s asked if he wants to go to the toy store. The nurse gently transfers Eliza to her father’s arms, and you watch as his face morphs as he holds his daughter for the first time.

“H-Hi, Eliza.” Eddie sniffs and clears his throat, trying to shove the tears away. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. I can’t believe that I actually have a daughter.” Slowly, Eddie leans in to press his lips to her soft, smooth forehead. Eliza coos and her face scrunches up adorably. “You wanna know something, Eliza? You have the best mommy in the world. And now I have the two most perfect girls in the world.”

Eddie looks up at you with a gentle smile. Tears are falling down your cheeks so rapidly that it feels like you’re playing whack-a-mole as you try to wipe them all away. 

Your husband stands next to the bed and nods at you, signaling for you to ready your arms for the baby. You gladly accept the warm little bundle, and more tears begin to cascade as you gaze down at her gorgeous little face. 

“Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy.” Saying the words aloud sounds odd to your ears. Sure, you’ve basically been a mother to Luke and Ryan for years now, but you never introduced yourself to them as “mommy.” But that’s what you are, from Eliza’s first breath, you’re her mom for her entire life. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He reaches down and rubs a warm hand against your shoulder.

“I’m wonderful,” you say. “It’s weird, though. Having Eliza from this very first moment of her life, I now wish even more that I could’ve known the boys as soon as they came into the world.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and places a kiss to the top of your head.

“Trust me, princess. This has been the least dramatic and stressful of all the kids’ births.”

You chuckle as well, and the sound seems to tickle Eliza. Her tiny head moves from side to side slowly, as if she’s shaking her head no in slow motion.

“I can’t wait for them to meet her,” you say.

“Guess I need to make a phone call home.”

The door to the hospital room clearly needs some oil as it squeaks open. Wayne steps inside, a curious Ryan in his arms. The almost-two-year-old gazes around the room with wide eyes, taking in all the unfamiliar equipment.

“Hey, you!” Eddie says as he takes the little boy from his uncle. “Did you have a good day with Grandpa?”

“Yep,” Ryan says, still taking in his new surroundings. “Play catch.”

“You played catch?” Eddie asks, his pitch rising in that faux excitement adults use when talking to young children.

“Uh huh!”

“That sounds like fun. Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re a big brother now,” Eddie tells him. 

“Baby?” Ryan asks.

“Yes! Mommy had the baby. Do you want to meet him?”

Ryan nods enthusiastically, trying to look around his dad’s head to catch a glimpse of his mother. She comes into view as Eddie turns and walks towards the hospital bed, where Brittany is cradling a sleeping Luke. 

Eddie gently sets his older son down on the bed next to his mom.

“Hi, Ryan,” Brittany says softly. “Come here, look at the baby.”

Cautiously, Ryan shuffles forward and peers at the blanket-wrapped bundle.

“This is your little brother, Ry,” Eddie says. “You guys are going to be best friends.” 

“Do you want to hold him, Wayne?” Brittany asks, fighting back a yawn.

“‘Course.” 

Brittany carefully hands him over, and Wayne looks down at his new grandson in absolute wonder.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest baby?” Wayne says to Luke.

As the older man cradles the baby, Ryan stands up and taps his dad’s arm. Eddie hums in question and raises his eyebrows at the toddler.

“Up, up,” Ryan says, holding his arms up.

It melts Eddie’s heart that Ryan wants to be held up next to his new brother. The room is quiet, save for the echoes of hospital sounds drifting in. 

Luke starts to squirm, unable to move much in his swaddled state. 

“Britt?” Eddie looks over his shoulder at his wife. “Do you have the pacifier?”

“Oh, yeah.” The blue pacifier that Luke has already shown an affinity for is on the bedside table, and Brittany hands it to her husband, who pops it into the baby’s mouth. Immediately, Luke calms back down, sucking furiously as he slips back into sleep.

Ryan leans over as far as he can in his dad’s arms, peering down at his brother in awe.

“My baby,” Ryan declares.

The adults in the room chuckle. 

“Can you say hi to Luke, Ryan?” Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down the elder boy’s back.

Ryan grins, his adorable baby teeth on display. He’s mesmerized by the new family member, and it fills Eddie with a warmth he’s never felt before. Ryan tries to lean over even more, wanting to be as close as possible.

“Hi, Luke!”

The comfortable quiet in the hospital room cocoons you, your husband, and your daughter as you all lounge in the bed. Your head rests on Eddie’s shoulder while Eliza sleeps soundly in his arms. Both of you are just staring at her, already completely wrapped around her little finger.

“She’s so beautiful,” you whisper. 

“Just like her mom,” Eddie replies, just as quiet. 

“Her mom needs a shower,” you say. “Badly. I feel all gross after getting all sweaty.”

“You still looked gorgeous, even giving birth.” Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair. 

The slight movement causes Eliza to fuss, wiggling like a little worm in her father’s grip. Her whines hurt your heart.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie coos. He lays his head against yours.

Eddie begins to hum, and you quickly recognize the song as Sweet Child O’ Mine. All it takes is a minute of her dad’s soothing tone to lull the baby girl right back to sleep.

[glossysoap]

dirty talk ; captain mactavish | soap it up!

summary: snippets of what captain mactavish would say in bed.

this is also my first contribution towards @glitterypirateduck ‘soap it up’ challenge! thank you for encouraging entries even after the deadline lol, it’s much appreciated. and as always, if anyone is interested in a more fleshed out version of any of these headcanons, i’m open to writing a more detailed fic about it.

prompts used:

“I’ll take care of you.”

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”

“I’m going to marry you.”

warnings/tags: 18+, fem reader/afab, oral (f), fingering, squirting, mating press. this isn’t as rough as i would usually like to make it but i’ll make a rougher version soon :) also i whipped this up in like 2 hours in the middle of the night while i was fighting sleep so be gentle <3

notes: bolded sentences = lines he would say in bed.

word count: 1-1.5k

🏷️: @divine--serenity @violet-phantoms @jumbojazzcats93 @ghastlybirdie @loveyhoneydovey @vgilantee @blissful-bunny @damnirina @wrathofcats @claymorexpunisher @krakenbabe @luvecarson @mandalover2023 @lordlydragon @undeadsthings @kiroshang @ivymarquis @stargirlrchive @itzzjxlyn @msdevil333 (if your name is struck out, tumblr won’t let me tag you. pls check your settings. also, if you want to be added to my smut tag list, let me know. if you want to be added to my dark fic tag list, let me know. if you want to be added to my everything tag list, let me know. pls be specific on what list you wish to be added to. if you want to be removed from any list, pls let me know, there’s never any hard feelings.)

“Love this pretty fuckin’ pussy so much.” He murmurs softly into your skin, his stubble scratching against the warmth of your inner thigh as his strong arms work on holding your legs apart for him. Icy blue eyes studying your cunt with all of the focus ingrained in a captain — wearing a wolfish grin as he commits every detail to memory. As if it were the first time he ever saw it.

“Love you so much.” Then his eyes would flicker up to your face to gauge your reaction as he uses one thick finger to trace your slick folds. He takes his time gathering your juices on his fingers and spreading your lips apart. His lips quirk into a grin as he sees you bite your lip and your brows furrow. Before you could return his affections, his finger had begun dipping inside your folds.

But just dipping. Not giving you enough stimulation to get off but just enough to make your heart race. Enough to make you frustrated.

“Fuck, John! Please! Just touch me!” You beg, voice cracking as you look down at where he lay between your legs.

“I am touchin’ ye.” He looks up at you, feigning confusion as his finger continues to tease your slit so cruelly. “What do ye’ mean?”

“Mm, you know what I mean.” You try to stifle a moan as he traces little figure eights right at your entrance, only dipping just a fraction further inside. Keyword: try.

“If you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?” He asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he grins.

He loved your pathetic little whimpers and whines when you were so desperate for his tongue or his cock. But what he loved even more was feeling how drenched you were for him. He loved the unabashed moans that fell from your lips as you writhe in pleasure.

So he stopped teasing.

“So fuckin’ wet for me. Just soaking my fingers, lass.” He smiles as he pushes a thick finger in all the way to the knuckle, slipping in so easily from how slick you were. Your breath hitches as he dips his head down, letting his breath fan against your cunt. Just as he’s slipping in a second finger, his mouth is on your pussy. Lapping at your folds in wide and messy stripes, licking up all of your juices and moaning against your sensitive skin.

“Oh my God!” You cry out, hand moving to grab a fistful of his mohawk in an attempt to find purchase.

“Mmm, fuck! You taste so fucking good. Could do this all day.” He moans into your cunt, sending vibrations to your core. He’s so loud about it, dipping his tongue inside you and wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking. All the while, his two fingers were pumping in and out beneath his tongue, preparing you for the stretch of his cock. His two fingers alternated between pumping at a cruel pace and scissoring inside your warmth, making you cry out. With his mouth making a mess of your pussy and his fingers moving in tandem, wet squelching sounds had started mixing with your moans.

“Please, please, please, John!” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. He was already touching you. But you just couldn’t help it. You had so much tension and stimulation built up, you needed to do something.

“Aw,” he can’t help but coo mockingly, “Dinnae worry, mo ghraidh.” My love.

“I’ll always take care o’ ye.” He grins against your throbbing cunt, before coming up from between your legs and switching your position in five seconds flat. He hikes your legs above his shoulders, knees pressed against your chest to leave you perfectly spread open for him.

With that same wolfish grin, he rubbed the head of his cock along your wet folds. He loved how soaked you were already, how much your juices were coating his cock. He heard your little gasp at the teasing and he saw your hips desperately buck up into the air. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you were so needy to be filled and fucked.

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen clit a few times, before pressing it against your entrance.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, love. Can barely move.” He chuckles in your ear when he first pushes in, easing his cock inside your cunt inch by inch. You gasp at his girth as he eases inside — his cock is always an adjustment for you, especially after a dry spell. He gives a small hiss from how tight you were, then after a minute, he groans because of how slippery and warm you were around his cock. Always taking him so well.

“That’s it, that’s it…” He croons into your ear as you clench around his cock, your juices mixing with his as he pumps in and out. You could feel his stubble scratching against your skin as he spoke, sending an additional chill down your spine as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

He angles his hips a bit different so he can hit you even deeper. When he hears you sharply gasp, he laughs.

“Yeah, did I find that spot? Hmm?” He croons in your ear, not waiting for a response before his hips pick up the pace. He keeps hitting that sensitive spot in your cunt with thrust, groaning in your ear when he feels you squeeze him so good.

“Gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.” He all but growls in your ear as he feels himself grow closer to his own release. He feels himself throbbing inside you, that knot inside his stomach growing tighter and tighter. All he wanted to do was fold your legs up to your chest and pump you full of his cum. He wanted to hear you whine and moan from being so full, all while having his cum trickle down from your soaked cunt.

“Good fuckin’ girl. I swear, one day I’m gonna marry ye’.” He murmurs in your ear, voice all gruff and husky as you gush all over his cock. Your cunt pulses and throbs, squeezing around him as your orgasm washes over you, leaving you absolutely breathless. His hips never faltering as he ruts into you, enjoying every cry and moan that falls from your lips. His breath fanning against your face as his forehead presses onto yours, blue eyes drinking in every twist of ecstasy in your expression.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[sunderingstars]

zayne x reader + expressing his emotions/feelings via his and reader's heartbeat? Since he's not *just* her doctor...🪐

♡ heartbeat (zayne x reader) ♡

what the stars reveal: no gender signifiers for reader, (but can be assumed fem based off the game’s mc), slight allusions to lore, poetic prose taken directly from my brain at 3am

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for the suggestion, anon !! i feel like this ask was made just for me because i use zayne’s heartbeats as a way to de-stress every day LOL. i got a little bit carried away so i hope more than a few paragraphs is fine :3

It had started as a joke. Some silly, off-the-cuff banter you didn’t even remember starting, much less continuing until the two of you sat face-to-face on the couch in his office. It didn’t really matter, in your mind, how it happened. All that mattered was the thrumming; the steady rhythm of a heart, his heart, resting warm and stable under layers of skin and fabric.

It didn’t occur to you to be embarrassed. Not when you could feel it against your fingertips, burning through the outer layers of Zayne’s frost-tipped skin, coming to rest against you like a flower, like some sort of fragile thing with petals of ice. If you could, you wished to hold it in your hands, softly, tenderly, in the vain hope it would never crack. A prayer, perhaps, to a god you couldn’t remember.

“What is your verdict, doctor?” the teasing lilt of the last word brought you back to yourself, to the man in front of you. Zayne looked at you, eyes sparkling in amusement.

You coughed lightly. “It’s… uh… normal.” You didn’t remove your hand. “But kind of weird.”

Zayne’s heart stuttered along with his chuckle. “Weird?”

“Yes, weird,” you repeated, letting the lull of his heart diffuse from your fingertips to your chest. “I feel like I’m going to fall asleep.”

A beat of silence. “Go ahead, then.”

You blinked. Part of you thought you must’ve heard wrong — perhaps his heartbeat was laced with some sort of hallucinogen — but when you looked back to him, to the soft upturn at the corners of his mouth, you realized he was serious.

“What?” you asked. “Just like that?”

Zayne raised his eyebrows. “Why not? Leading research suggests that eight to ten hours of sleep is best for optimal performance. And someone I know is falling behind in that regard.”

You considered it, humming. Then you leaned forward until the side of your head replaced your hand on his chest. From here, you could hear the tempo picking up pace directly in your ear.

“It’s even weirder now,” you said.

“Is it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it likes you.”

You smiled against his chest. “Maybe I like it, too. Maybe, even, I want to give it a big kiss on t—”

“Go to sleep.” His tone was faux-stern, the way he sounded when he wasn’t fully committed to deflecting something. You could have kept prying, you knew, just to see how far the heart metaphor would go, but you decided to give his actual heart a break.

“Fine,” you said. “But I hope it knows it belongs to a great doctor.”

Another stutter against your ear. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

Content, you settle against him, not caring that you’re still half-sitting. It’s easy, then, to listen. To wash away. To hear the sounds of rising, falling, cresting like snowcapped mountains and falling stars, and feel as though you’re a falling star yourself, hopeless.

“I wonder if it loves me,” you murmur, half-conscious, half-hopeful, half-blurred.

The last thing you hear is the low timbre of Zayne’s voice, softer than you’ve ever heard it, sending you off into the dark.

“It does.”

💙 bonus hc 💙: zayne has different ways to check heartbeats depending on how close he is to someone. for his normal days on the job, he uses a stethoscope, but when it comes to those he gets close to, he’ll take it by wrist pulse or neck. when the two of you start dating, he becomes a fan of pretending he can only take your pulse if he’s resting his head against your chest, which usually leads to him falling asleep on you.

© 2024, written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[alexfromjersey]

ℂ𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 | 𝕁𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕆𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕒

Jenna Ortega x Black!Reader

summary: you and jenna have been in a relationship for the past eight years when suddenly everything starts to get rocky.

warnings: mature language, angst, violence, jenna doing some dirty shit

a/n: idk why but I wanted to write some angsty 😬? God forbid this ever happened to me cause I’ll be in jail…

“Who is she Y/n?”

That was the first thing you heard when you walked into your home after a long day at work. You just got off an agonizing 12-hour shift at the warehouse and all you wanted to do was shower, eat, and then sleep.

“Who is who Jenna?” You tiredly questioned as you pulled off your boots and work jacket.

First of all let me say, you can’t accuse me of all the things, you know you’re guilty of

“The woman you’ve been sneaking around with” Jenna answered and sipped her wine. Her eyes never leaving your figure.

You sighed, “Please don’t start this shit again tonight please I’m exhausted.”

That it is easy for you to blame everything on me

“I wonder why. Too exhausted from all the lying, the sneaking around, fucking her, and giving her all the attention that’s supposed to be for me” Jenna snapped.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m not fucking anyone, Jenna! What’s your problem? For the past two weeks, you’ve been accusing me of seeing some imaginary woman when all I do is work and come home to you. I don’t even go out with my friends anymore when will I have time to cheat on you” You questioned her loudly.

“How do I know you’re going to work? You could easily say it and go somewhere else” Jenna said.

“Jesus Christ you have my location on your phone!” You shouted.

“You could have left it at your job and left to go sleep with her” Jenna shrugged.

If that’s the case I should go have my fun and do all the things you say I do

You scoffed and just let out a laugh, “How fucked up in the head are you? Maybe I should do all this shit since you think that’s my grandmaster scheme. Drive almost an hour away to go to work, leave my phone at my job, miss out on a shift that makes me lose money, and go fuck a girl.”

You laughed and walked straight past the woman. You walked up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your patience was wearing thin and if you didn’t step away from her, you were going to say something to really hurt her feelings.

Girl, I can’t continue to take this from you

“I can’t fucking win with this girl man. Ever since she came back from filming that new movie, she’s been on a thousand. Accusing me of cheating and lying shit. I don’t do anything but go to work and go home” You ranted to your best friend Donny.

It was your day off, you sitting on your front porch watching the cars pass by when you felt the need to vent to someone. You haven’t seen Jenna since last night, you slept on the couch and when you woke up she was nowhere to be seen. She only left a note telling you that she was going to be hanging with Emma. You invited Donny over to hang out for a little.

“Maybe she just needs some of that groundbreaking pipe” Donny chuckled.

“I would if she let me touch her. She won’t let me go near her to initiate anything. Haven’t had sex since she left and I haven’t stepped out once” You stated.

“Oof you better than me. I would have cheated as soon as she left” Donny admitted unashamed.

“Yeah that’s why your ass is single” You chuckled.

Donny chuckled also and shrugged, “I’m just keeping it real.”

Suddenly, a message notification came from the top of your phone. It was from one of your co-workers that you used to go get a drink with.

When you say I was out with somebody else when my girl told me she saw you with some girl

Kai:

yo I just seen your girl

Your eyes furrowed at the message.

You:

seen her where?

Kai:

the shopping center a town over. I’m out with my daughter and she pointed her out. she walked away from some tall-looking man but I’m pretty sure it was her

At the mention of a man, you furrowed your eyebrows. She told you she was hanging with Emma today. You needed to get to the bottom of this. You found Jenna’s number and just as you were about to click it. A FaceTime call from her came.

You answered it and all you saw was the roof of a car. You go to say something but you hear the sound of a soft moan in the background. You put yourself on mute and turn your volume up.

“Oh my…you feel so good baby” You heard Jenna moan.

Donny’s eyes widen at the sound coming from your phone. He was in disbelief that this was happening to you.

Your heart starts beating faster and faster. Your hand kept clenching and unclenching in anger. You wanted to say something or do something but you were frozen.

Jenna’s moans continued to increase in volume and you saw the phone bounce from the movement of the car.

“I love you Luis” You heard Jenna shriek and the slapping sound increased. You then saw the phone move to a position that’ll forever be engraved in your mind. You quickly took a screenshot and hung up the phone.

It was silence for a few moments. Neither you nor Donny making a move or uttering a word. But your hands kept clenching and unclenching into fists and Donny noticed. He looks at you in concern but you pay him no mind.

You abruptly stood up from the chair and stormed into the house. Donny was hot on your heels concerned and slightly scared.

“Y/n?” Donny asked you but you ignored him. You practically run up the steps and burst into your shared room. You start to throw open all the drawers and throw out everything. You didn’t know what you were doing, just angry. You started throwing anything breakable into the wall.

The once organized and clean room was now in disarray. Clothes, shoes, and personal items were thrown and broken everywhere. Next, you moved to the walk-in closet. You threw every piece of clothing on the floor, moved the boxes from the top shelves, and threw shoes everywhere. But then you noticed a small LV purse, you got her for her birthday last year. It was tucked in a deep dark corner, you would have missed it if it wasn’t for one of her other bags falling out of place. You grabbed it, opened it, and dumped everything onto the bed.

What you saw officially confirmed your fears. It was Polaroid pictures of her and a guy you’ve met numerous times. It was one of her co-stars, Luis Gutierrez. Pictures of them kissing, at the state fair, and one in a bed.

The same bed you and her sleep in.

“Y/n…” Donny cautiously stepped towards it before his eyes landed on something on the bed. You look to where his eyes are and landed on a half of heart necklace with the initial “L” engraved into it.

After seeing that, you grabbed your jacket and left the disarrayed house with Donny following.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dude I think you should slow down on the drinking,” Donny said to you in concern.

“I think you should shut the fuck up and let me drink in peace” You snapped at the male and downed two more shots. That marks it as your fourth and fifth shot.

Donny didn’t take your words to heart either. He knew you were hurting badly. The only way you knew how to deal with that pain was by drinking until you passed out…a trait you learned from your mother.

You still didn’t feel drunk enough so you ordered another round of shots. Donny just watch you take them back like water.

“Eight years Donny…eight fucking years I gave her. All those years down the drain. She was accusing me of cheating when SHE was the fucking one sleeping with someone else!” Your voice raised in the building.

Thankfully, there weren’t many people in the bar but the ones who were turned to look at the commotion.

“I understand but calm down-”

“Man don’t tell me to fucking calm down. How the fuck am I supposed to be calm about this? My girlfriend accidentally FaceTimed me and practically showed me her fucking someone.” You laughed.

“Hey take that shit somewhere else” An angry customer demanded.

“Who the fuck is talking to you Mr. Clean” You insulted the man. He didn’t like that and he pushed you. You stumbled back into the counter but quickly recovered and pushed the man as hard as you could.

“Hey! Enough!” Donny shouted and pulled you away from the man.

“Get the fuck off me” You pushed Donny’s hands off you and walked out of the bar into the autumn weather.

You didn’t live far from the bar you were just at. You take some shortcuts and you’ll be home in 10 minutes but you wanted to take the scenic route which added an extra 8 minutes to the walk.

While you walked, you had to figure out your next move. You and Jenna share a house, a car, and a dog together. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just up and leave. It wasn’t as easy for you as it was for her.

On your walk home, you stopped by a liquor store. You bought yourself a bottle of Tequila and started drinking it on your walk. You were well aware that you could potentially get arrested for public intoxication but you didn’t care.

Just when it seemed like you were calming down, God decided to hate you even more than he already did.

A honk of a horn and a shout of your name made you turn around to the source. A familiar red Audi pulled up next to you and parked. The man responsible for your current rage hopped out of the car with the woman you used to love.

“Y/n? What are you doing walking like this?” Jenna questioned.

“Yeah, and why you got a bottle of Tequila” Luis innocently questioned.

You stared at the male with a blank expression, “I’m clearing my head.”

Jenna scoffed, “Clearing your head for what? Got something you want to tell me.”

Your eyes cut to her and she didn’t make it noticeable but she jumped at the sight of your dark emotionless eyes.

“Nah I get it, sometimes you just need a few minutes to yourself. I get like that all the time especially when I’m home. I’m so used to…”

Your eyes stared into his before wandering down to his neck where you see a faint bruise there. Your eyes then land on a silver necklace, similar to the one you found around his neck. The necklace had a “J” initial engraved on it. Your hand tightens around the neck of the bottle.

Your eyes then glance at Jenna who was staring at Luis with a look she used to give you.

“Y/n?” Luis called.

His voice goes distorted and starts to fade away as a blinding rage starts to take over. Before you know it or stop yourself, you swing the bottle and it connects with Luis’ head.

“OH MY GOD!” Jenna screamed.

Luis fell against his car, blood dripping down the side of his head. You didn’t waste any time and hopped on top of him and landed punches to his face.

You were blinded by your anger, by the betrayal, and by the emptiness you had inside of you.

“Y/N STOP!” Jenna yelled and tried to pull off Luis but you wouldn’t budge. You kept landing punch after punch after punch to his face. Your hand went numb and blood coated it. You were finally tackled off the unconscious male by two police officers.

“Put your hands behind your back!” One of the officers yelled and forcefully pulled your arm back. They slap handcuffs on your wrists and harshly stand you up.

As you walk past, you see Jenna and a couple of bystanders standing over Luis. She then looked at you but you averted your eyes. You kept your face expressionless as you were loaded into the back of the cruiser.

Or maybe I, I should have done it, should have given away all my love or maybe I, I should have played you, 'cause you don't appreciate me, no

The loud sound of a jail buzzer wakes you up from your slumber. You open your eyes to realize that you’re still in a jail cell with three other people. You look down at your aching hands to see them bruise up and dried blood on them.

Blood that wasn’t yours. You’ve been in this cell sobering up for the past nine hours.

“Y/n! You’ve been bailed out” A guard shouted. You stood up from the seat and walked to the door. Another buzz was heard and the door swung open. You stepped out and followed the guard to the front.

Once you got to the front, you saw Jenna standing there with an angry and frustrated expression on her face. You sighed and you grabbed your things before signing some paperwork with much difficulty. But once you were finished, you didn’t say a word to Jenna, you just left the police station.

“Y/n? Hello? Are you going to fucking explain yourself? What the hell is wrong with you?” Jenna snapped at you.

You ignored her and continued walking. But Jenna wasn’t having that, she jogged in front of you and stepped in your path. You tried to walk around her but she just followed her.

“You almost fucking killed Luis, Y/n. Do you not realize that?” Jenna seethed.

“Leave me alone Jenna” You mumbled and finally went around her but she was at your side in a second.

“No, I won’t leave you! You beat Luis so badly that he had to go to the hospital for stitches and a concussion. You’re not explaining to me why!” Jenna yelled.

You let out an angry breath and your eyes glare at her. This makes Jenna jump a bit because she’s never seen you this angry before.

“You wanna know why? You wanna fucking know why I should have killed that fucking bastard! Here!” You shouted and you pulled out your phone and showed her a screenshot you took. You then pulled the pictures you took from her bag and threw them at her chest.

“You are a fucking hypocrite Jenna. You accused me of fucking cheating on you when in actual reality, you were the one sleeping with another man. I gave you eight years…eight fucking years of unconditional love. Eight years of being by your side. Eight years of being loyal. Not once did I ever give you a reason to question my loyalty to you!” You shouted at the girl.

Jenna’s eyes widen as the biggest secret of hers has finally been discovered.

“You made me feel like I was the bad guy. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I stopped going out to places. I did anything and everything I could to try to fix what was broken between us” You fumed as your voice cracked. Tears were threatening to spill down your cheeks as you finally let your emotions out.

“Y/n…I-”

“You had him in our bed. You fucking FaceTimed me in the middle of you sleeping with him in his car. How much more disrespect do you think I can tolerate?” You cried. The tears now falling freely down your face. But you wiped them aggressively from your face.

“I should have fucking cheated,” You said and left her standing in front of the police station.

a/n: so…I’m watching the vmas right now and SZA should have won song of the year but we ain’t gon get into that 🙂…

[reallyromealone]

Title: tattoo dates

Pairing: dabi x keigo

Fandom My hero Academia

Warnings: baby reader, single dad Dabi, no quirk au, fluff

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

Don't be the step dad, be the dad who stepped up.

The sound of summer could be heard in the early morning of Tokyo, the cool air refreshing for Keigo as he stepped into the small tattoo parlor and taking in all the art on the walls. It was actually quite nice... The parlors he looked at online seemed to try and look more badass but this one was organised and incredibly clean "you're my 8:30, right? Keigo Takami?" What he wasn't expecting based on the aesthetic of the parlor was a black haired man covered head to toe with tattoos and piercings, a loose fitting worn tank top that looked intentionally worn out and a pair of black cargo pants and god Keigo was thankful he was wearing sunglasses as he noticed a feint outline.

"That's me~ thanks for fitting me in so early!"

"Yeah, whatever... You wanted a back tattoo right? Do you have a picture?" Dabi was tired, his kid was sleeping in the other room as it was too early to take him to daycare today and the little guy wasn't feeling well so he didn't want him far away "so serious ~ trying to be all tough for me?" Keigos charm was not working as Dabi rolled his eyes "get on the table and take off your shirt" the black haired man said as Keigo pouted but sent him the reference as their phones touched, hopping on the table and removing his shirt.

"Wings?"

"Red ones" hawks said as he rested his cheek on his fore arm, arms crossed over one another relaxed as he felt the other prepare the tattoo and sanitize his back "what shade?" Dabi asked softly as he prepared the tattoo pen "a bright red...crimson almost"

Dabi was focused, the mirror infront of the table, full length and clean as crystal thus giving Keigo a full view of his tattoos arms flexing under the florescent lights "your parlor is much different the others" Keigo said breaking the silence as the needle hit his skin "yeah, gotta keep things clean..." He said simply, Keigo noting how everything was kept at least 3 feet off the floor or locked away.

Music played softly in the background as Dabi worked away "so what do you do for fun?"

"Don't have much time for hobbies" Dabi said simply, the detail he was putting into it was impressive especially the price the other was paying "really? How come?" Keigo asked curiously and the black haired man looked at him from the mirror "being a dad doesn't give much free time"

"You're a dad?"

"Yeah, eight month old... He's sleeping in the other room right now" it was rather early Keigo thought, having booked out of hours for security reasons "I see..."

The two worked for another hour and a half till Keigo was given a break, looking at the work so far he was quite impressed as Dabi went to the other room to check on the kid "hope you don't mind, he's pretty chill so he won't cause issue"

Ok, why was this man so attractive holding a kid? What the fuck.

Keigo tried not to look flustered as the tiny baby looked back sleepily, drinking his bottle calmly before being set in his play pen that was off to the side "normally I don't keep kid stuff here..." (Name) babbled softly as he played with his toys, fully content doing his own thing as dad was fairly close "you ready to continue?"

By the end of the session, Keigo smiled at the babe who was vibing "your total will be 900" the detail on the wings were insane, best work the other has done as Keigo smiled "thanks for being normal... Most places freaked out when they met me"

"Who are you?" Dabi asked blankly and Keigo looked startled but smiled "just an actor, ya know?" Dabi shrugged as the actor paid for his tattoo, (name) snuggling into his dad's arms as the actor left.

But that wouldn't be for long.

Keigo showed up for another tattoo, though this one would have to be in phases as (name) had a doctor's appointment "yeah, he has teeth growing in... So gotta make sure it's going alright" (name) was chewing on a cold teething ring as Keigo booped his forehead, the babe looking confused but didn't do much else.

"A date?" Dabi raised an eyebrow as Keigo leaned over the counter "yeah, I found a good restaurant and it has a kids menu... Maybe mashed potatoes for the big guy over there" (name) looked up as he was chewing on his dad's fingers "you know what a date means right? Were a package deal, he comes first" dabi was deathly serious and Keigo smiled "absolutely"

"Then wine and dine me pretty boy"

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 36

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Monday, January 11; 06:00 AM - Ona and Alexia’s Room.

The usual blaring alarm sounds through the floor, followed by a thud in our room. I turn quickly when the warmth behind my back is no longer there. I hold back a laugh seeing Lucy lying between the two beds with her arm covering her face. My panic subsides when I hear her groan in displeasure, and I glance at Alexia, who shares my amusement.

“The first one I hear laughing will spend the day doing chores with me,” Lucy threatens us. “Seriously, is this really your wake-up call?”

“Welcome to student life,” I chuckle.

“I will never mock your wake-ups again.”

This time I laugh, earning a glare from her.

“I’m using the bathroom first!” announces Alexia as she gets out of bed.

“I’m not staying,” Lucy replies as Alexia disappears. “Do you have sweatpants and a jacket I can borrow to walk through the dorms?”

“Of course. Did you really walk through two buildings in that outfit yesterday?” I ask, surprised.

I observe her wearing just a T-shirt and shorts. She nods as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not like it’s minus ten outside.

“The instructor yesterday looked really worried. I didn’t really think about getting dressed.”

She’s crazy. I feel slightly guilty for worrying her so much. I don’t say anything and get up to find what she asked for in my wardrobe. I haven’t unpacked my suitcase yet, but I didn’t take all my clothes to her place. I hand her the clothes, and she puts them on over what she’s wearing to save time.

“I’ll check your room later when you’re in class,” she tells me. “Don’t take advantage of the time. Understood?”

I nod to her orders that clearly aren’t meant to be disobeyed, given her tone. She gives me a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door. However, before leaving, she pauses as if she’s just realized her involuntary gesture, which leaves me speechless too. She turns back, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry, that wasn’t intentional.”

“No worries,” I laugh nervously.

“I’ll see you later.”

She quickly leaves my room, slamming the door behind her. I bring my hand to my cheek, and a silly smile spreads across my lips. This girl is going to drive me crazy if she continues like this, for sure. I snap out of my euphoric state when Alexia comes out of the bathroom, freshly prepared. Seeing her like this reminds me that I haven’t done anything yet. I quickly grab my things.

“She’s already gone?”

“Yeah... She probably wanted to avoid running into other students,” I defend her.

“My God... I can’t believe she agreed to sleep with you in that small bed.”

“I would never have managed to fall asleep if she hadn’t stayed,” I admit timidly. “You’ll keep that to yourself, right?”

“Who do you think I would tell?”

“Do I need to make a list?”

“No, that’s fine,” she laughs.

“Agreed,” I mock before heading to the bathroom myself.

I dress quickly before getting ready. Upon exiting, I find my bed made. I thank Alexia for doing this chore for me, and we head to the cafeteria to join our friends who are already there. Ella and Alessia honor us with their presence this morning, along with Laia. Our table is rarely this full. It seems no girl heard the commotion last night, so we decide not to mention it. It avoids a lot of problems if no one talks about it. I glance at Lucy’s table to find it empty. Neither Ingrid nor she are there. I’ll probably see her in her office later. We leave the cafeteria early for once, so we take advantage of it to go to the common room before our first class. We should receive our new schedules today. It will also be my last hours with Alexia since we will be definitely separated starting next Monday. When eight o’clock approaches, we part ways to go to our classrooms. We wait in the hallway with the rest of our class until the teacher opens the door. I am surprised to see Lucy walk past us during our wait. As I was slouched against the wall at the back of the line, I lean forward to watch her continue her path to my professor.

“What’s she doing here?” Alexia asks me.

“I have no idea.”

“She’s talking with the professor,” a classmate informs us. “Did you do something wrong this morning?” she laughs.

“Why does it always have to concern her? Maybe it’s about you, huh. Idiot,” Alexia retorts coldly.

I hold back laughter seeing the girl’s dismayed expression in front of us. She certainly didn’t expect to be shut down like that. She turns around sulking. Our class moves forward, a sign that the professor is finally allowing us to enter. We follow the pace in silence, and I greet our teacher as I pass him. I was ready to enter without further acknowledging Lucy’s presence, but she holds me back by the arm.

“Wait,” Lucy stops me. “You’re coming with me.”

“Why?” I frown.

“You should know the reasons.”

I look into my class where a murmur is heard. I notice that everyone is watching us. This prompts the professor to close the door for some privacy.

“Wiegman would like to see you to discuss your problems,” she tells me.

“Oh... Have you already gone to see her?”

“You gave me your consent...” she says with a hint of doubt.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I reassure her. “I didn’t think you’d do it so soon. You’re coming with me then?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Why didn’t you talk about it earlier?” my professor asks. “We noticed you were quite tired, but we couldn’t guess. You should have mentioned it.”

“I spoke to Bronze, that’s more than enough,” I respond defensively.

“You need to talk to us about your problems if you want us to help too,” he insists.

“I already have all the help I need,” I say, pointing to Lucy.

“I’ll bring her back once we’re done,” Lucy interrupts, seeing my growing irritation.

“No problem, take your time. See you later.”

Lucy pulls me along after thanking and greeting him. We take the stairs to the ground floor. I didn’t expect her to go see our principal so quickly. She had warned me that we needed to find a solution quickly. She smiles when she notices my expression.

“What? Aren’t you happy to miss class?”

“No. Definitely not for what we’re going to do.”

“Relax. I already spoke with her this morning and proposed a solution that he finally accepted. It was hard to convince her, but I succeeded. She asked me to fetch you to get your opinion and consent.”

“My consent?” I ask, skeptical.

“Take your hands out of your pockets, please.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.

I immediately remove them to please her. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it. We exit the building, and I shield myself from the cold as we are greeted by a wave of icy wind.

“Did you go see her directly this morning then?”

“After getting ready, yes.”

“And so?”

“And so what?”

“Well... What’s the proposal?”

“Your crises vary, and as much as I like you, I don’t plan on making trips to the dorms every night. You can understand that, right?”

“Yes, obviously...” I say, lowering my head.

“So I asked to have you in my room again. I want to follow up on this issue personally.”

“Really?” I ask, stopping at this news.

“I wanted to have you placed in a room in our dorm, but it seems there are no more free. So I insisted that a bed be put in my room to accommodate you.”

“She really agreed to that!?”

“Let’s say the week I had you in my room convinced her. Plus, I’m the only one who can manage you, according to her. She knows you trust me.”

I nod, smiling. This idea delights me. The only thing that bothers me is being away from Alexia for a while. I hope at least it will be worth it, and I will manage to have full nights of sleep. Alexia never complained about it, but I noticed that my unexpected wake-ups affected her sleep. This is probably the best solution for now. Hopefully, it won’t be Lucy’s turn to be affected...

“I guess you don’t mind?” she asks me.

“No. We get along pretty well together, I think.”

“That’s true.”

“You do have a strong persuasive power, I must say.”

“Oh, it’s just a bit of good words, with a bit of good argument, mixed with my acting talent, and there you have it.”

“Acting talent?” I laugh. “Which one?”

“Hey,” she says, offended, pushing me. “I use it every day to hide our friendship.”

“Oh yeah? You’re not a real commander?” I tease her.

“How dare you! You should be the first to know that I’m not!” she pushes me again, making me laugh.

“Indeed, you’re an amazing person hiding behind what you’re not.”

“I’m not hiding, I’m working. Maybe I should pursue an acting career, don’t you think?”

“For you to get a big head? No thanks!”

“I wouldn’t get a big head,” she laughs.

“You don’t know that. I prefer not to risk it.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want to lose the unique person beside me.”

“You won’t lose her.”

“I’m serious,” I say, looking at her. “You’ve become important to me.”

She smiles in response to my confession. She’s already told me that I’m important to her, but I wish I could hear it again. In the end, it’s too late to add anything. We’ve just arrived in front of the office doors. She lets me enter first, and I don’t need a guide to find Wiegman’s office. I’d rather not have to come back here. I don’t really like Wiegman; I find her scary. I stop in front of her door and turn to look at Lucy.

“You’re coming in with me?”

“That was the plan, yes. Do you prefer to go alone?”

“No, no. I want you with me.”

She nods and knocks on the door. I open it when we're allowed in. The director stands up to welcome us.

“Good morning, Ona.”

“Good morning, Ma’am.”

I shake the hand she extends. She invites me to sit in one of the chairs in front of her. I take the one in the back so Lucy can take the other.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, and you?”

“Not too tired?”

“Why ask if you already know the answer?”

“Ona…” Lucy gently reprimands me.

“What? Let's get to the point. We all know why we're here, right?”

“She’s right,” Wiegman interjects. “Is this the first time these insomnia episodes have happened? Before coming here, I mean.”

“Not really,” I sigh. “I had them when I returned home, and then they came back during my withdrawal. It had been a few months since they stopped.”

“Can we know the reasons for these nightmares?”

“No,” I reply coldly.

I lower my head, clenching my fists. She better not force me to talk about it. She's definitely not the first person I’ll confide in. I feel Lucy's reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to break her down like this.”

“You're right; that’s not the goal. However, I’d like to know how you experience your episodes from the inside, if possible. It’s important for us to know. It will help us act better.”

I sigh deeply before explaining my feelings. She takes notes on everything I say, which annoys me. I feel like I'm talking to a doctor. Luckily Lucy is here, otherwise, I would have told her off already. I lower my head before starting.

“I-it’s like I completely lose control of my body. My heart races, my breathing becomes uncontrollable. My ears ring to the point where I can’t hear anything, and everything can worsen in a split second.”

“And so, Miss Bronze is the only one who can calm you down, according to my sources?”

“Yes. She’s the only one who cares about me and whom I trust,” I admit honestly. “Her presence reassures me.”

“Good…” he says, putting down his pen. “Miss Bronze suggested placing a bed in her room until this situation calms down. Does that work for you? I don’t want it to be a problem for you.”

“No…” I say, briefly glancing at Lucy. “If she doesn't mind waking up for me… I don't mind sharing a room with her. At least Alexia can get a full night's sleep, and it will avoid any disturbances or movements during the night.”

“Good. This will take effect starting tonight. I want it done with complete discretion. No one should know except the educators and your roommate. The bed will be placed during the day,” she informs Lucy. “If you still agree, of course.”

“I proposed the idea, so yes, of course.”

“I really emphasize that this idea must not spread in any way.”

“I will personally handle it if it starts to spread.”

“Hmm. This situation will only be temporary. Let’s say until the next vacation, in February. If there’s no improvement, other measures will be taken, such as a follow-up with a psychologist, for example.”

I grimace but nod, having no choice. I just need to find a solution to get rid of these nightmares. I don’t want to go that far over some restless nights. The discussion ends quickly after that. Lucy takes the time to thank him before we leave. We both take a deep breath once outside. She pushes me to make me understand to leave the offices.

“You didn’t tell me about this psychologist thing!”

“I wasn’t aware. We need to solve this problem now.”

“I know,” I sigh. “Thanks for defending me, by the way…”

“It’s normal,” she smiles. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class. Do you want me to take care of your things?”

“I can handle it.”

“We need to do this while the students are in class, Ona.”

“Well, then, do it. Just make sure to take my laptop, my iPod, and my headphones.”

“Okay, got it,” she chuckles. “Come on, hurry now. You’ve missed a good part of your class. I said I’d bring you back before the end.”

“Relax, I have two hours this morning.”

“That’s not an excuse, come on, move faster,” she reprimands me.

I laugh when she accompanies her words with a playful kick in the butt. I adjust my bag on my shoulders, and we walk to my classroom.

“How will it work then?”

“I’ll get your things now. As for you, you go through your day.”

“That’s it? And can I go to your room whenever I want?”

“No, absolutely not,” she shakes her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but we need to stay discreet, remember?”

“So…?”

“You do like every day. You have access to my room only to sleep. We’ll meet every night after the cafeteria or when you’re done hanging out with your friends, your choice.”

“Okay…”

“Does that work for you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sorry,” she grimaces. “I wish we could do it differently, but those are Wiegman’s conditions. She doesn’t want it to be known, you know that.”

“Great,” I sigh, stopping in front of my classroom door. “Can we see each other later?”

“If you want. I’ll be in the office. If not, ask Ingrid; she’ll know where I am.”

I nod, and she knocks on the door right after. She opens the door after getting permission from my teacher. She apologizes for the disturbance and steps aside to let me in. I do so without much conviction, not feeling motivated to return to class.

“See you later,” she whispers.

She thanks my teacher while I sit next to Alexia. She closes the door just as the bell indicates the end of the first hour. Unexpectedly, our teacher grants us a break, allowing Alexia to bombard me with questions. The teacher said nothing, so she didn't know where I was. I wait for the others to leave the class to explain what just happened. I wrote everything down on a piece of paper to stay as discreet as possible and avoid prying ears. It's not like they insisted on this detail. Anyway, Alexia had no choice but to be informed since we share the same room. The class resumes after the five-minute exceptional break. I try to focus, but it’s very difficult since I missed half of it. Plus, Alexia keeps wanting to chat. For once, I’m not the troublemaker between us. We managed to anger the teacher, who reminded us to behave and has been keeping an eye on us since. He asked me to stay after class. I hope it’s not to scold me because it’s not my fault this time!

“Alexia Putellas!” he reprimands her yet again. “Please follow the lesson instead of bothering your neighbor! Just because it’s the last week doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pay attention! Continue like this, and I’ll send you to the instructors.”

I snicker at my roommate's grumbling. It wasn’t hard to warn her. This teacher is too predictable. The ten o’clock break finally rings, much to Alexia’s delight. Everyone leaves the room, even Alexia, who waits for me behind the door as I asked her to. I approach the desk after gathering my things in my bag. He looks up when he sees me.

“Miss Batlle. Here,” he says, handing me a form that I quickly look at. “Try to stay on the right track without being influenced. You’ve managed to convince some teachers… and the opposite.”

Knowing the comments that came out of the class council, I know what he’s talking about. I’ve criticized this teacher a lot throughout the year, but knowing he defended me makes me regret my words.

“Will I still have you as a teacher?” I ask.

“No, I’ll be teaching another class, which is why I wish you the best.”

I thank him before leaving the room. I smile as I examine my new schedule. My time slots don’t change much. I still have Friday afternoons off, and I even finish an hour earlier on Wednesdays, at two o’clock. However, I’m skeptical about not having my math teacher anymore. I don’t understand much of his lessons, but he was one of the few to support me when everyone was against me. I put the sheet in my bag and go out to join Alexia to enjoy the rest of our break.

Monday, January 11; 5:30 PM - Ona and Alexia’s Room

“I still can’t believe Wiegman agreed to this. Seriously, you’re going to end up alone with Bronze in her room! It’s surprising given the restrictions she put because of Jenni.”

We’ve just gotten to the room, and she clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer. She wanted to discuss it several times, but I cut her off to make her understand that it wasn’t possible around the students.

“She managed to persuade her. Don’t ask me how, I have no idea.”

“She’s still stealing my roommate!”

“I’ll only be there at night, Alexia. She doesn’t want me to hang out in her room otherwise.”

“I’m sure that will change very quickly!”

“Of course not. She already told me we’ll go to her room together every night.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I assure you, I’ll still be here for a long time.”

I open my wardrobe after my last words, and the smile I had fades away. Alexia quickly comes up behind me to look over my shoulder, curious about my silence. She bursts out laughing.

“Staying here, huh? Maybe that's why your wardrobe is empty.”

“Damn it,” I grumble. “Why did she take everything?”

I expected her to take my uniforms, some pajamas, and underwear. But not almost everything! All that's left are a few T-shirts and some insignificant jeans. Why would she take my clothes when I'm not even allowed to wear them during the week? As I rummage around, I notice that my art supplies are also gone, and my suitcase next to the wardrobe is missing too. I check my things in the bathroom, and it's the same result. It's as if I don't live in this room anymore. Yet she clearly told me I could only access her room at night.

“Still, I'll miss you, Oni.”

She pouts adorably. It would’ve touched me if she hadn't used that nickname that only people from Barcelona use. She’s never called me that before… It clicks in my head.

“Don't tell me you're talking to Mapi?”

She stiffens slightly in my arms at my question, which says a lot about the answer.

“Oops… Does it bother you?”

I can't believe this! It's not that it bothers me, but if they start talking about me, it could get awkward. Who knows what Mapi might tell her with everything she knows about me. Especially about Lucy. Oh my God! I really hope she hasn’t said anything! I take a deep breath and shake my head.

“Of course not.”

“Cool... So, shall we join the others?” she distracts me.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, skeptical. “Let’s do that.”

We put our jackets back on, which we had just taken off, and head down to the common room where the boys are already there, playing foosball. Alexia joins them while I sit with those who chose not to play—Leah, Patri, Claudia, and Lotte.

“Everything okay, Princess?” Leah asks when I sit down next to her.

“Stop all calling me that.”

“I’m the only one who calls you that here,” she says, confused.

“To be honest, no,” I laugh.

“But no one in our group calls you that,” Claudia adds.

“You’re hiding people from us?” Patri teases.

“Not at all.”

I rest my head on Leah’s shoulder, and she doesn’t seem to mind. I’m not usually touchy, but she’s the person I get along with best after Alexia. I remember she was the first person I talked to at the table on the first night. We clicked instantly, and I guess it’s stayed that way.

“So, how are you really doing?” she asks again.

“Exhausted, but I’ll be fine.”

“Partied too hard this weekend?” Lotte jokes.

“Not even!”

“You went home?”

“Uh, yeah. I was with Mapi,” I lie. “Is that *The Walking Dead* on TV?” I change the subject.

“Yeah, but it’s impossible to follow with all this noise.”

She’s absolutely right. I’ve always said the TV in this room is useless given the constant noise. Unfortunately, it’s the only one we have. I watch the scenes from the show, which I hated at first. But I ended up liking it because Mapi made me watch it with her. After a few minutes, I realize I’ve already seen this episode, so I zone out.

“Looking forward to having me in your class?” Leah jokes, making me vibrate with laughter.

“I’m glad we’ll get to spend more time together. I think Alessia and Lotte will be with us too, right?” I say, looking at them.

I gaze at Alessia a bit longer when I realize I haven’t heard her voice since I’ve been with them. She just nods with a small smile, which I return. Finally, I sit back on the couch.

“We’ll see how it goes. I’m not particularly good at math or anything.”

“So how did you get into management?” Patri teases.

“I raised my grades thanks to Bronze,” I shrug.

“Why pursue it if it’s not your strong suit?” Alessia asks.

“It’ll help with my projects… or at least I hope so.”

I hunch my shoulders when someone lightly taps my head. I look up to see who did it. I expected Alexia, but a smile stretches across my face when I see Lucy. She’s leaning over me.

“Speak of the devil…”

“Oh, you were talking about me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I hope it was good.”

“Of course. I’d never talk badly about you.”

“Sure. Go ahead, mock me,” she says, playfully nudging me, which makes me laugh.

“Never.”

“Right. For that, you’re coming with me to my office.”

I lose my smile when I notice she’s no longer joking. I quickly review my day in my head, worried I’ve done something wrong.

“Come on, get up.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing. I just want you to catch up on the class you missed this morning.”

“You’re kidding,” I groan. “It’s my last week. Why should I catch up?”

“Because I spoke with your teacher, and it seems you’re studying a chapter you’ll cover in your new section. I also know you weren’t very attentive during your second hour because of Miss Putellas, so you’ll do me the favor of getting your butt off the couch unless you want me to do it for you.”

“Fine, you win,” I grumble.

She has a satisfied smile when I comply. My friends tease me for being weak, but Lucy quickly makes them regret their words. I stop by the foosball table to tell Alexia I’ll join them in the cafeteria later. After that, I follow Lucy to her office after grabbing my things from my room. It’s hard to believe she actually intends to make me study, but it seems like she really will. When we arrive, I flop into a chair in front of her desk. I start taking out my supplies without any motivation. Ingrid isn’t even here to entertain me. I stop rummaging through my bag when laughter echoes in the previously silent room.

“You’re way too naive, Ona.”

“You tricked me?” I ask, uncertain.

“Never,” she smiles, amused.

“Oh yeah? You’re like that?” I pretend to be offended.

“Well, I can’t help it if you fall for it so easily.”

“Okay, fine. You’re going to regret this.”

She laughs at me as I decide to sulk. It wasn’t funny at all to make me think I’d be working. I really thought I would be.

“Oh, come on. It was the only excuse to get you here.”

I stay quiet, wanting to show her she shouldn’t have done that. She could’ve at least told me or hinted at it differently.

“You’re really going to sulk over this? I thought you had a better sense of humor.”

She keeps talking, trying desperately to get a reaction out of me, which makes me laugh internally. I stay stone-faced until she’s genuinely worried, which I find very cute. I’m almost disappointed when she gives up on making me smile. Now she’s the one sulking, her maturity left behind. I finally smile, but it seems to have no effect on her now sour mood. I start to regret resisting her for so long.

“You’re really going to start working like nothing happened?” I joke.

She doesn’t answer. To prove she’s serious, she pulls out some papers and puts on those glasses I love so much.

“You’re adorable,” I blurt out.

“Okay, are you done sulking?” she asks, looking up.

“And you?” I reply.

We look at each other for a moment before laughing. We’re like kids together, and I love it. I shake my head to get a grip. This hour could have been the most boring and least important of my life, but it’s not. No hour with Lucy is a waste of time. I bite my lip at this thought. I really need to calm down. I’m getting my hopes up for nothing.

“Why did you take all my stuff when I’m not allowed to hang out in your room?”

“Remind me what you’re doing this weekend? I didn’t want to make a thousand trips. I figured I’d take everything at once.”

“Oh…”

“It’s much more convenient, isn’t it? You’re not going to scatter your things everywhere either.”

“True.”

“Well,” she says, glancing at the time. “I thought we’d have more time to talk, but it’s dinner time. Your friends must be waiting for you. Let’s meet in the hall outside the cafeteria in an hour, okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, a little disappointed. “See you later.”

I pack up my things and leave her office. I smile softly, thinking it wasn’t the evening I imagined. I didn’t do much, but it was pretty cool though.

Monday, January 11, 8:00 PM - Cafeteria.

My meal went relatively well this evening, as it usually does. Since we all have different passions and hobbies, the discussions vary a lot. Everyone enjoys the variety it brings to the table. I'm chatting with Alessia as we leave the cafeteria. I discovered that she loves art as well, which gave us plenty to talk about tonight. I saw Lucy leave a good ten minutes ago. I don't know if she waited for me, but I quickly get my answer when I see her waiting outside with a book in her hands. At least I don’t have to look for her. I apologize to Alessia, pretending I need to ask Lucy something. I give a general “good night” after telling them not to wait up for me.

"See you later," Alexia says, kissing my cheek.

I smile at how she can play along, even if no one seems to have noticed what she did. I wait for them to leave before joining Lucy.

"Hey!" I call out once I’m close.

"I thought you'd be quicker," she replies, closing her book.

"Sorry, I got caught up talking," I admit honestly.

"I noticed. Let's go. I've waited long enough."

We waste no time heading to her room. It feels like I’m stepping back in time a few weeks as I follow her. I lie down on the single bed that will be mine for the next few days. I smile when I see my things scattered across her desk and my suitcase right next to it.

"You shower at night, right?" she asks.

"Yeah. Waking up at six is already tough enough without having to shower in the morning like I used to."

"Lightweight," she smiles. "Well, you know how the shower works and everything."

"You shower in the morning?"

"Yes, after my run. I’ll save some time now that you're here. Ingrid is going to check Alexia’s room."

"Right."

"Do you want me to set the alarm for six-thirty? That way, you can have a few extra minutes in the morning."

"No, leave it at six, please. I don't want to mess up my routine, knowing I won't be here forever. Besides, thirty minutes won’t make a difference."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. Six o'clock," I confirm.

"Alright, as you wish," she says, setting the alarm.

It’s true they don't have alarms like we do in our dorm. They’re allowed to manage their wake-up times as they like. Well, not entirely, since Bronze has to check our room. I would have much preferred to have my own alarm too.

"Can I go take a shower?"

"Of course, you don’t need to ask me. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks."

I grab pajamas, a fresh pair of underwear, and my toiletry bag from my suitcase, then lock myself in her bathroom. After stripping off my clothes, I step directly under the jets. It helps me clear my mind. I hope tonight won’t be as bad as I fear. I need this to end soon, for my own sake and for those around me. I don't want to burden Lucy or impose on her by sharing a room, even though it was her idea. Deep down, I’m afraid of losing control in her presence. Afraid she’ll discover the reasons behind my nightmares. But also afraid of getting too attached to her—more than I already am—and going crazy over her and that damn perfect body. Just thinking about it, I change the temperature of the shower to cold to snap myself out of it before it’s too late.

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Okie dokie my lovely readers! Here is chapter Five of Dating App now it does end a little on a non suspenseful cliffhanger and I promise that the next chapter will be worth the wait!

So there is also about a three week timeskip at the start and about three days around the half way point of this chapter.

Warnings: Masturbation. Dirty minds. Semi public (in office behind a closed door).

Master List

Prompt List

One , Two , Three , Four , Six , Seven , Eight, Nine, Ten

It had been almost three weeks since you had been able to see Rafael, the two of you had messaged back and forth every day. You had learned a lot about the man, such as the fact that he needed at least three coffees a day more often than not that was the minimum requirement, one of them had to be as soon as he wakes up otherwise he is a little grumpy, and he can be a little petulant when you mention how adorable you thought he was as he complained to you about the coffee at the court house.  He even sent you a photo of himself pouting, you saved that straight away.

Rafael always messages in full sentences, with near perfect grammar and punctuation. However, you learnt that when he was beyond tired after a day of court and then spending hours preparing for cross the next day he could become adorably nonsensical with some of his messages, the perfect grammar and punctuation slowly leaving as each hour passed. The petulance would come back in full force if you gently told him that he had to go to sleep, you worked out two ways to get him to sleep, one that if you promised to give him lots of kisses when you next saw him he would go to sleep. Or you hoped he did, he stopped responding to your messages at least. The other was video calling him, and you preferred this option as it allowed you to see that he did actually go to bed and sleep, as you wouldn’t hung up until he was asleep. You were also shown the petulance in its full glory as he tried to negotiate with you, thankfully you weren’t bound by law or court etiquette so you used all the weapons at your disposal to get him to relent. Including promises of more than kisses and perhaps a continuation of what happened in his office. That would sometimes backfire, as Rafael’s eyes would darken and his voice would become a husky grumble, still tinged with sleep as he asked for evidence of these promises. In the end it still resulted in him falling asleep but it was harder to get him to agree.  

You also learned how to tell when he had been having a good day in court and when he’d had a bad day. You made sure to do whatever you could to do make his day better when court had been tough, by sending him updates of everything going on in the library, sending him photos of your different outfits and makeup for the day, as inspired by different gods and goddesses. Even though you hadn’t been unable to meet up with him it hadn’t changed how you felt at all, in fact you think it only helped your feelings grow. Although the two of you couldn’t do exactly what you guys promised on your second date, Rafael insisted that you still read the amber quartet series to him over the phone. He claimed being able to listen to your voice helped to relax him after a tough day, hearing that you were all too happy to read him a couple chapters a night.

Rafael showed that he could be romantic even without seeing you, he had sent flowers and even chocolates to the library twice since your lunch, both thanking you and apologising for not being to be meet up with you. Not wanting him to be the only one being romantic, you sent him some flowers back, with a hidden meaning. You sent him a bouquet with peonies, matthiola incana, red chrysanthemum, and carnations, trying to portray that you could see yourself falling deeply for him. Something that was already happening. The response you had gotten from that had been endearing as hell, Rafael called you right away after he got them, he stumbled over his words and he sounded flustered, you really wanted to see if his cheeks were red, because that would have been the most adorable sight.

That had been three days ago, the messages had been fewer but Rafael had told you that the court case had just gotten difficult and so he might not be able to message you. You stared at your phone and the message sitting in-front of you.

‘So, I know that your case is difficult at the moment, but when it is over I was wondering if you would like to come over to mine for dinner? And maybe, if you wanted to of course, you could stay the night.’

You hadn’t sent it yet the nerves in your stomach stopping you. Of course you knew that he wouldn’t have an issue with it, in the past few weeks there had been plenty of indications that the both of you wanted to be more intimate with each other. But there was still that small part of you that was worried he would say no, that was nervous about taking that step with him.

“Come on, pull on your big girl pants and send it,” you groused to yourself. You took a mouthful of your wine, swallowing it while closing your eyes and hitting send. “Okay, so I did that. It’s fine, it’s so totally fine.”

You drained the rest of your wine as you grabbed the bottle to pour yourself another glass, to wait for Rafael’s response. It was late but you weren’t working tomorrow so you figured you could get away with a rare late night wine session. You bit your lip as you looked through some of the photos Rafael had sent throughout the weeks. A lot of them were similar to the first one he ever sent, dishevelled appearance with more and more of his shirt buttons undone. You paused on a few of the ones he sent when the two of you had been messaging late at night when he was grumpy. He had angled the phone to capture his strong thighs clad in his suit pants, with the zipper undone and his cock tenting his boxers. You felt a curl of pleasure in your lower stomach as you stretched out on the couch, your bare legs bent and spread. You flicked through some more photos of the same vein, one with his hand cupping his cock through his pants, another showing his entire body as Rafael bit his lip and grabbed himself.

Images of what could happen the night he stayed over played through your mind as you remembered how his cock felt as you sat on his lap kissing him, his hands grabbing your ass. Your mind played out what could have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted, you imagined Rafael manhandling you until you were laid out on the couch, as he buried his head between your thighs, drawing moans and whimpers from you. You imagined him hovering over you as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. As these images played through your mind, you trailed your hand down your stomach, slipping under your panties and swirled your fingers around your clit.

--

Rafael could feel another headache starting just behind his eyes. This case was almost over, maybe another two days and it would be closing arguments, the defence was just throwing character witness’ at the jury, one of which had opened up a can of worms but the detectives had dug a little and hopefully found something he could use tomorrow when he cross-examined this witness. He had always had an issue when defence would have an insane number of character witnesses, but he especially felt it with this case. It had been almost three weeks, three long weeks since he had been able to see you, see his Chica. The messages and video calls had been amazing, you showed a clear concern for his health, bartering with him to get him to sleep, it was adorable to see you negotiate with him. You of course had an advantage, he was finding it very difficult to say no to you. He didn’t want to disappoint you, and it was slowly becoming clear that all you had to do was flutter your lashes, pout a little at him and use a tone that was a mixture of coy, shy and seductive.  

He was pleasantly surprised when you had sent him flowers, along with a cute little note stating that you thought men should get flowers and that you were giving him a little test to work out the little message the flowers had. He had brought up a flower language website so fast, the flowers were all about adoration, romance, bashfulness, happiness, passion, fascination and new love. Rafael didn’t think he had ever felt so flustered when he read the meanings of the flowers, nor had he ever stumbled so much over his words when he rang you. Nor had he ever felt so adored by someone before. He had worried that you would lose interest in him, finally see that a relationship with him meant going potentially weeks without being able to see him, that it would involve making plans for dates but having to cancel them and not even being able to have you come to his office. But you hadn’t shown any sign of that, you always sent him a good morning and good night message along with ones spattered throughout the day, trying what you could to help him relax.

Rafael sighed, a groan of frustration leaving his lips as he slumped into the couch at his office. He knew he should probably go home but he needed to be focused for the cross tomorrow, plus he had to go over the evidence of other cases and start on warrants for the detectives. Liv and the others had done what they could but even they couldn’t prevent how much work could pile up on his desk. His phone vibrated on the desk drawing his eyes from the papers in-front of him. God he hoped this wasn’t a message telling him one of his cases was about to blow up. Again. But all the exhaustion and frustration of the day disappeared when he saw your contact name.

‘So, I know that your case is difficult at the moment, but when it is over I was wondering if you would like to come over to mine for dinner? And maybe, if you wanted to of course, you could stay the night.’

Rafael stared at the words on the screen. He swallowed as heat coursed through his body, you wanted him to stay the night. He thought that you might be interested in moving things forward from the conversations you had had, including some of the incentives you had given him to get some sleep. And you weren’t necessarily shy, although you could ask for what you wanted he found that you would get a little bashful about asking. He wondered how long it took for you to send this message.

‘That sounds like a fantastic way to celebrate the end of this case. And there is nothing more I would like to do then spend the night. Hopefully, this case should be over in about three days but I will keep you updated, of course.’

He sent through his response, adding a heart emoji onto the end of the message. And with that Rafael couldn’t focus on his trial prep, all his mind could think of was spending the night with you. He tried not to let his mind get away, but after some of the video calls the two of you had shared he found it incredibly difficult. He knew what you would look like above him, but now he was imagining what you would look like underneath him, stretched out head thrown back in ecstasy and what noises he could drag from your lips. He felt himself harden, his cock straining against his pants as the images played through his mind. He felt his body heat as he palmed himself to relieve some of the tension, a soft groan slipping from his lips, he glanced briefly at the door trying to remember if he had locked it after closing it.  

“Fuck it,” he muttered deciding that it was too late for anyone else to still be around. He quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants to pull his aching hard cock out.

He didn’t have any lube available so he closed his eyes and licked his hand, imagining that it was you licking his hand, sucking on his fingers. He wrapped a hand around his cock slowly stroking himself as he allowed his mind to go where it wished to. He saw you on your knees in-between his legs as you teasingly sucked on the head of his cock. Your gorgeous eyes staring up at him, a beautiful red flush on your cheeks. He bit down on his other hand in an attempt to quiet the noises coming out of his mouth. His phone was beside him on the couch ignored as he focused on his pleasure until it started to buzz consistently. He wanted to ignore it but he vaguely recalled having messaged you and he didn’t want to ignore you, even for his own pleasure.

­--

You had just considered getting up to get one of your toys when your phone buzzed.

‘That sounds like a fantastic way to celebrate the end of this case. And there is nothing more I would like to do then spend the night. Hopefully, this case should be over in about three days but I will keep you updated, of course.’

You grinned at Rafael’s response glad that he was excited at the prospect of spending the night. Your pleasure hadn’t ebbed away when you read his response, it instead grew as the possibilities you had played in your mind as you fingered yourself suddenly became a lot more possible. You dragged yourself up from your couch and travelled to your bedroom, glass of wine in one hand and your phone in the other. You quickly set up your room, lighting some candles and turning on the fairy lights you had strung up over the canopy of your four poster bed before you dug around in your drawer for your external vibrator. The wine had gone a little bit to your head, as you took a photo of your bed and your room all set up to send to Rafael. You sent another one with a towel and your toy sitting on top of it. And then other one after you had changed into a green set of lingerie that you thought would be perfect to wear for your first night with Rafael. You had purchased it as soon as you saw it, as you believed it would almost match his eyes.

‘I thought a little preview was in order. A little gift for you. My poor man is working so hard.’

--

‘I thought a little preview was in order. A little gift for you. My poor man is working so hard.’

“Fuck Chica,” Rafael groaned his hand speeding up as he stared at the photo of you in the most gorgeous set of lingerie he had ever seen.

A gorgeous green, with lace trimmings and a sheer, gauzy material that almost showed everything but it was designed to hide the parts of your body that he longed to see. His stomach tensed as his pleasure reached its peak as he imagined you laying under him in that lingerie set as he mouthed at your breasts and teased your clit through your panties. His cum covered his hand, some drops on his pants that had it been a different situation he probably would be frustrated but he didn’t care. He cleaned up the mess his cock had made before he took a photo of his face showing his flushed skin, lips red from his teeth having bitten them.

‘Chica, you are going to drive me insane.’ He attached the photo and sent his message off before he saved all the photos you sent. Your bedroom looked exactly how he thought it would, cozy and romantic. And he desperately wanted to see it in person. He would actually consider murdering the defence if they did anything to make this trial go any longer than three days. But he would kiss them if they stopped calling witnesses and allowed the trial to end earlier. He decided to call it a night, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate at all now.

--

You stared at the photo that Rafael had sent you and a part of you just knew that he had taken this photo after he had cum. His cheeks were flushed just so and his lips looked bitten and his eyes, god his eyes were burning and had a satisfied look in them that you desperately wanted to see as he hovered above you.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as the heat inside you built, you held the vibrator against your clit, hips rolling in pleasure. You sat your phone done so you could tease your breasts altering between them as you pulled at your nipples.  You imagined Rafael above you, thrusting inside you and biting at your neck, the imagine was all you needed as your pleasure reach its peak, your walls fluttered as your clit throbbed as your orgasm flooded through you.

You breathed deeply allowing the last thrums of pleasure to roll through you before you removed the vibrator. Humming you opened your phone again to the photo Rafael sent, bit your lip. You weren’t a religious person but you prayed that the case would be over in three days or less. The need you felt for Rafael was like nothing you had ever felt before, it grew and grew every single day.

--

“Girl you need to get laid,” Lily muttered after you had snapped at some teenagers making a mess.

“I’m trying to,” you snarked.

“Wait…you guys haven’t?” Lily walked beside you on the way to the break room.

“I haven’t seen Rafael in three weeks, this current case apparently become a shit show,” you shrugged. “He’s going to stay the night after the case is over.”

“And that is?”

“Hopefully tomorrow night,” you groaned. “Lily, that man is making me feel things I haven’t felt for someone before.”

Lily grinned wrapping an arm around your waist as she pulled you close.

“And what about Rafael? Any indication that he feels the same?”

“Yes, I think so at least,” you nodded, a soft smile pulling at your frown as a soft blush swept up your neck to your cheeks. “We’ve messaged a lot, including video chats and he is definitely interested. I had a bit too much wine the other night and may have sent a spicer photo then normal and he definitely enjoyed that.”

“Ooh girl, who are you?” she teased.

You shrugged grinning at Lily as you briefly wondered that yourself. You have never sent a photo like you did to Rafael, you had never felt comfortable enough for that. But Rafael made you feel comfortable and safe, you couldn’t explain why after only a short time you felt that way. But honestly you didn’t care. You liked how Rafael made you feel, and you didn’t want it to go away.

“I don’t know but I kinda like it,” you giggled.

“Well, let’s  hope you get laid tomorrow cause you seeing you death glare teenagers dressed as Athena is a little terrifying,” Lily patted your head. “And we can’t go scaring people from our library.”

“Hm, let’s hope,” you hummed in agreement.

--

Rafael barely waited long enough for the Judge to leave, barely waited enough for the victim and their family to thank him before he rushed out to the courtroom and to his office. Ignoring the detectives, he briefly waved over his shoulder when Liv called his name.

“Can’t stop, dinner,” he rushed out. His pulse was thundering as he quickly packed his office, telling Carmen to not interrupt him under any circumstances for tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even the next day, he hadn’t quite decided that. He paused only long enough to send you a text message letting you know that he would be over to yours by 6 at the latest.

‘I can’t wait to see you Rafael, I’ve missed you.’

Rafael grinned at your reply as his uber arrived, he continuously tapped his leg in a little anxious pattern until he arrived at his apartment. He didn’t think he had ever rushed quite so much packing a bag as he did tonight. He debated having a shower and changing but after a quick look in the mirror he decided against it. He knew you thoroughly liked how he looked dishevelled in a suit and figured he could have a quick shower at your place, maybe with you. That would be incredibly enjoyable.  He ordered another Uber to get to yours, stopping to pick up some flowers on the way.

In what felt like hours he arrived at your apartment. Taking a deep breathe he keyed your apartment number into the buzzer and waited for you to answer.

--

The sound of your intercom going off set your heart racing. You hesitated briefly before answering.

“Hello? Rafael?” you asked, there was no-one else it could be.

“Hey Chica,” Rafael’s voice soothed something inside of you. The nerves calming a little.

“I’ll buzz you up, I’m the fourth floor, left after you get out of the elevators and near the end,” you breathed hitting the unlock button.

“Thanks,” Rafael said before you heard the sound of the door opening.

You rushed to your room, checking yourself one last time in your mirror making sure there wasn’t anything out of place. Your hair fell loosely down your back, you decided to forego make up tonight, and chose a formfitting dress with just the peek of green lace showing at the top. In a short time a knock on the door had you wondering back to the entrance. Your eyes cast over the candles that you had lit throughout your apartment, the kitchen table set for two, a bottle of wine and a glass of scotch waiting. You also had your aroma diffuser going with the scent of cherry blossoms. You smoothed down the front of your dress, taking one last breathe before you opened the door. And that breathe rushed out of you the second your eyes saw him.

It looked like he had run here straight from court. A bag held in one hand and white rose held in his other. His green eyes simmered with a heat as he took you in, the simmer growing when he saw the green lace peeking out the top from your dress. He was man enough to admit that he struggled to pull his eyes away from your cleavage but he managed to if only because your eyes caught his.

“My eyes are up here, Sir,” you teased opening the door wider to allow him in. “Come on in.”

“Thank you Chica,” he grinned, as he passed you he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You look ravishing tonight.”  You smiled ducking your head a little as pink dusted your cheeks.

“So do you,” you tried for a similar tone in your voice that Rafael had but you didn’t quite succeed. Your voice was breathless, because Rafael did look…delicious. With his suit not quite perfect, the tie loose and buttons undone. His hair ruffled and messy.

You watched as Rafael took in your apartment, you kept it clean and tidy. You had bookshelves along the back wall of your open floor plan, the shelves had fairy lights and fake plants decorating them. More fake plants decorated your coffee table and other little nerdy items were scattered throughout your apartment. You felt comfortable and happy in your apartment and never second guessed any of your choices for decorations. Rafael did a small circle noting a glass of scotch waiting beside a plate on the table, you grinned as you noticed the slight hitch in his eyebrow and the soft look on his face as he took everything in.

“You have a lovely home,” Rafael walked towards you. “I picked these up for you.”

“They’re gorgeous Rafael, thank you,” you said reaching out to take them from him but you didn’t step away from him right away. You stepped closer, looking up at him through your lashes, before looking down at his lips and then back up to his eyes.

“Is there something you want carino?” He asked hands taking hold of your hips and tugging you softly.

“Hm, I thought it was you who wanted something,” you countered. “Last I checked it was you who petulantly begged for kisses.”

“Petulantly begged?” Rafael whispered lowering his head until his lips hovered over yours.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “You going to deny it?”

“Do I get a kiss if I agree?” he asked.

“Well, I mean you did bring me gorgeous flowers,”  you started, purposefully biting your bottom lip. “And I heard you won your case as well.”

“Oh, does winning get me a kiss then? Even if I deny that I begged?” Rafael grinned.

“We both know that you did beg but I will still give you a kiss for winning,” you nodded. “Plus I haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

“Which is just far too long, I’m sorry-”

“Ah no, there is no need for that Rafael,” you smiled cupping his cheek with your free hand. “I was fully aware that this could happen. You’re here now.”

He opened his mouth, probably to try and apologise again but you were not having it. You decided the best way to get him to stop and to distract him from even thinking about it was to kiss him. You pressed your lips against his, causing him to startle a little at the sudden contact, a huff of air escaping him as his lips curled up into a smile, before he started kissing you back. You pulled away before it could get too heated, as you had cooked a rather nice meal and as much as you wanted to finally get him naked you wanted to have a nice meal and talk with him first.

“You hungry?” you asked pulling away, Rafael followed your lips for a second before he opened his eyes a soft whine leaving him.

“Starving,” his green eyes no longer just simmered with heat, they burned.

“Later,” you promised, a similar heat burning through you, and your eyes telling Rafael that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “I made Casareccica Alibrandi, and I got you some scotch. I hope it’s one you like. Also please make yourself at home, you can put your jacket on the coat rack just over there.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Rafael watched as you pulled out a vase to put his flowers in before sitting them on your coffee table, his eyes were glued to you as you walked back past him into the kitchen. It was only when the rest of your sentence entered his brain that he looked over to the a little nook in the wall just after the entrance into the apartment. He quickly took off his suit jacket and tie hanging them up and leaving him in his shirt and suspenders. He undid a few more buttons and rolled up his sleeves.

 “I know, I wanted to though,” you smiled over your shoulder at him as you pulled the pasta dish out of the oven where you had placed it to keep to warm without overcooking anything, feeling your throat constrict a little when you saw him rolling his sleeves, exposing those forearms of his that you had dreamed about. You forced your eyes away and tried to remember the rest what you had wanted to say. “You’ve had a tough three weeks and I wanted tonight to be as relaxing as possible for you.”

“Carino, you are something else,” Rafael whispered as you served up the dish gesturing for him to take a seat. The first thing he did was try the scotch, he wanted to assure you that the scotch was good. And it was, it was really good. “This scotch is really good.”

“I’m glad, I hope the food is good,” you smiled shyly placing a bowl down in-front of him.

“It smells delicious and looks it too,” Rafael caught your hand before you could move to your chair. He brought it up to his mouth to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Thank you Carino, this night is exactly what I need. You are what I need.”

“Rafi,” you whispered squeezing his hand, leaning to place a kiss on his cheek before slowly dragging your hand from his and taking you seat. You stretched your legs out entangling them with his, not wanting to stop touching him.

Rafael smiled at you, taking a bite of the food and could barely stop the groan of appreciation that left his mouth the minute the tastes hit his tongue. It was amazing. Your eyes were stuck on his mouth, as he took another bite, tongue darting out to catch a drop of the sauce. Another hum leaving him. Your body heated as you noticed that his tongue would poke out a little as he took a bite of food.

“Chica, this is amazing,” Rafael focused back on you to see that you hadn’t taken a mouthful yet. “Chica?”

“Hm, what?” you shook your head trying to clear away the images that had taken up residence there. “Oh, um, good, that’s good, I’m glad.” You quickly took a mouthful trying to pretend you hadn’t been staring at him this entire time.

“A bit distracted?” Rafael teased he slipped off one of his shoes and lightly ran his foot up your leg that was entangled with his. You gulped down some wine at his action, surprised at it. “Because I have been distracted by you since you opened your door. Seeing that lacy bra peeking above that gorgeous dress that hugs your curves. Those curves that I have been wanting to kiss and run my tongue all over, tasting you.”

“Rafael,” you gasped, a shiver running through you, your heart picking up at his words.

“My desire for you has grown Carino,” Rafael stood up from his chair, placing one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the table beside your bowl. “Carino, look at me.”

Your eyes trailed up his arm, his throat until you finally looked him in his eyes. The green in them was darker then normal, you were taken back to the day in his office when the two of you made out on his couch like teenagers. You wetted your lips, subconsciously pushing your chest out a little, you felt a little surge of pride and victory when you noticed Rafael’s eyes darting down to stare at your chest before he looked back to your eyes. That small little victory you felt however, withered under the look on Rafael’s face. The hand that had been on the table moved to trail up your stomach and over your chest and up your neck before he gently cupped your face. His touch was the complete opposite of the hungry look on his face, a look that was almost feral. A look that finally made all those descriptions in your fantasy books seen possible. The plan for a nice slow evening had gone out the window and you found that you didn’t quite care as much as you thought you would. You could always talk with him in the morning.

“Ask me,” Rafael demanded as he slowly lowered his face to yours. “And tell me to stop, tell me if you don’t like anything I do.”

“Rafael, please kiss me,” you voice was quiet.

“And?” Rafael insisted, you smiled up at him you hands reaching to grab hold of his suspenders.

“And I promise I will tell you to stop if I need to and I will be clear if I don’t like something,” you responded.

“Good. Girl.” Rafael cooed just before his lips took yours.

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Three

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I just wanted to warn y'all that we're going to be getting into some messed up shit here. Even more messed up than assault, getting drugged, nearly raped, and peeing on yourself. As always, thank you so much for your patience with these updates, and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of a miscarriage and related thoughts, vomiting, daddy Daemon.

The prescribed charcoal remedy had long dried on your stomach, cracking and flaking gray chunks into your sheets. Helaena had left with the sun low in the sky, leaving chaste kisses on yours and Aegon's foreheads. She went to ensure Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were comfortable, and they went down to rest.

Aegon refused to move when the Maester returned for the evening; his arm slung over your chest and nose buried into your neck. Orwyle did his work as if the Prince was not there, wringing a damp, woolen cloth into a bowl of cool water as he removed the hardened remedy from your abdomen.

He observed with wrinkled brows when he saw the Valyrian symbols above your womb, rocking the fabric over your malleable skin as he quelled the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He rinsed the material, the clear water becoming ash as he continued his duties.

Orwyle longed to voice his concerns regarding your health, fiddling with his fingers as he concocted another batch of charcoal and clay. You needed to wake soon so he could ensure your best chance of survival. The first forty-eight hours were the most crucial for those battling Poison Hemlock, and the fact that the Stranger had not taken you was a miracle. Animals who ingested the flowering plant died within a day of doing so, their lungs giving out or seized by convulsions.

The Maester believed you were more robust than he thought. The Mother had unquestionably blessed you with the strength of the Warrior to have you breathing for this long. Or perhaps, he thought, it was the Valyrian Gods of your ancestors, the dragon blood in your veins, that protected you.

The few interactions Orwyle had with you always left him with a joyful feeling, a small ray of light within his darkened quarters filled with dusty and ancient tomes. He tried not to care for your health more than that of a provider and his patient, but he found it challenging.

It was the dichotomy, he thought, of when you were awake, full of life, sparring with words and the swords against men who believed themselves better than you, to now, laying on your soft feather tick mattress with an emotionless, sallow hue to your skin. It caused him anguish. Orwyle was determined to find out who would do such a thing to you, uncharacteristically desiring them to be brought to the Father's justice, and resolved to remind Aegon of the need to do so when your two servants entered the chamber.

Once he finished making another concoction, Aegon waved him off, leaving with a firm yet uneasy bow to the room. The moment he left, Aegon stood, righting his rumpled tunic from his few restless hours of sleep, and addressed Fiora and Jeyne.

"What news have you?" he asked pointedly, gathering the ashy mucilage and brush to apply to your abdomen.

The maids shared a look, Fiora's eyes seeming to have never dried up as she cowered behind her companion. Jeyne inhaled a resolute breath. Her years of working for spoiled, impuissant palace goers was a typical occurrence.

"We have found a servant boy who claims to have seen the Princess's protector enter her chambers hours before your discovery. I believe that there is no coincidence to his absence at her door during that time," she relayed in one steady breath, hands clasped humbly over her lower abdomen.

Aegon grunted, disbelieving the credibility of such a statement. It would be the most obvious answer for Ser Arryk to be the culprit. He was heartbroken that his idyllic image of you shattered and the only one besides Aegon who could get close enough to slip poison in unnoticed. The answer was too simple, too straightforward to be true. A lowly kingsguard was the easiest to blame to save face within the royal family and protect whoever really did this. He still had the feeling within him that his mother had something to do with this. It was no coincidence that days prior, the Queen demanded you to leave, and now suddenly, you were at death's door.

Yes, heartbroken and ego-damaged men were a danger to those around them. Aegon understood that more than any, but Arryk would never go so far as to kill you for it. His oath was still to that of the King.

"Bring me this boy," Aegon said dispassionately, never looking in the maid's direction, simply painting your skin.

Fiora and Jeyne nodded, curtsying as was protocol, and headed for the exit until Aegon stopped them short.

"I'm sure you know that the Hand has barred any ravens from King's Landing to Dragonstone," he inquired, unamused as a sneer curled his lip. "Her family must know what has happened here. The more who know about this assassination attempt on a, perhaps this rat will feel pressured reveal themselves."

They both glanced at each other, Fiora gnawing on her lip as more tears emerged from her viridian eyes. Aegon ignored the servant's weeping and placed the bowl on a writing desk with the rest of the Maester's equipment. He pulled a piece of folded cream parchment from his trousers and hurriedly scribbled, fearing someone getting wind of his plan.

"Here is a letter meant for her father," he stated, flicking the paper between his index and middle finger. "You will not be able to send it through the rookery and must go to a brothel madame within the slums of Flea Bottom. Her name is Babette and she will ensure that my words make it to Dragonstone unhindered," Aegon instructed calmly.

They were stunned. Both maids stood in the doorway to your chambers with slightly parted lips, reminding him of a fish. They had never seen him act like such a... prince. He was raised within the castle walls and had the highest education of anyone in Westeros, yet he never seemed to take advantage of it. The maids heard rumors that Aegon was no longer seen at brothels or gambling houses, though they did not believe such a thing to be valid until now.

Fiora's gaze drifted to your listless form, fiery brows arched in disbelief, slowly drifting back to the white-haired prince. Jeyne was the first of the duo to compose herself and briskly walked forward, taking the wax three-headed dragon seal to her cracked hands. You had changed Aegon in ways that people believed impossible, and if she hadn't realized it until now, then who else knew?

If she, someone who saw you daily, did not know the effort and influence you had over a person, did anyone? The eldest maid felt a pang of sadness in her heart for you as weathered eyes lowered to the stone floor, the memory of her scrubbing away your blood and bile replaying as if she were there again.

Jeyne heard passing gossip that you had brought up concern for the small folk during a council meeting. It was fleeting, nothing more than a whisper of a feather drifting in the wind, and soon she forgot about it. What other accomplishments had you done that no one knew of? It was the plight of women, it seemed, to sacrifice one's soul to receive respect or recognition in the world. Once you awoke, she would tell you how much she saw and that your actions were not in vain.

If you woke up, she grimly realized.

A frown pulled at Jeyne's thin lips as she returned to Fiora's side. Her companion seemed to sense the elder's thoughts, placing a comforting hand at her back. Again, She faced Aegon, his violet eyes never leaving hers as she spoke.

"You are changed, Prince Aegon, and while that does not atone for the wrongs you have done, it shows that you are capable of being better," Jeyne expressed with a firm look on her visage. "It would do her well to know that."

Aegon needn't ask whom she was speaking of. He already knew, a sullen look coming over his face as he focused on the cracks of the stone floor. The memory of your limp body when he found you vividly displayed in his mind's eye.

Jeyne and Fiora exited with brief nods and bent knees, with two different goals in mind. The elder would get the servant boy, and the younger would go to the brothel, madame. They didn't ask why Aegon trusted this woman, but they knew it was useless to try. All that mattered now was ensuring your safety and justice.

A quiet groan caused Aegon to lose his collection of thoughts, swiftly going to your side as he watched your brows arch in pain. Droplets of sweat he had not noticed glistened on your hairline and ran down your temples, grabbing a cloth to blot at the excess perspiration. Your breathing sped, breasts rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. Seeing you more alive as Aegon rang the dampened fabric into the bowl was a relief.

Aegon slid into his place next to you, intertwining his fingers with your limp ones as he brought your knuckles to his lips, stroking the thin skin of your hand. His lips pursed in thought. Aegon knew the Keep was full of snakes ready to strike at any opportunity to raise themselves into higher power, no matter the cost. But in his mind, it was too risky to harm a member of the royal family, but others did not seem to share the same sentiment, and anger filled his hardened soul once more.

Aegon tightened his grip on your hand, harsh enough to bend their sides and crackle the bones.

"When you wake, little one, we shall rain dragon fire on who dared hurt you," he declared, sullen face now calloused.

You found yourself within a void, darkness surrounding your body clad in a simple white gown. You couldn't see the beginning or end of where you were, as if your eyes were shut, an unending blackness never touched by light. Your hands found their way to your face, fingertips touching your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and the sockets of your eyes to ensure you were, in fact, real.

If you wake...

Memories flashed within your mind, becoming the only thing you could see in the infinite darkness. You recalled voices, wet mouths talking and drinking, tongues licking lips and tasting something rancid and sweet, hands gesturing and twitching, crawling up your legs. Nausea churned your stomach, and pain rippled in your gut, causing you to fall to your knees. The ground was solid; it was real, and suddenly your eyes opened.

The world was still midnight, though you could see a man before you.

But it wasn't a man...

You weren't sure if it was a person, their face covered with an obsidian mantle and the seven-pointed star's insignia woven into their robes. Fear cinched your heart, and your chest rose and fell with quick breaths as you attempted to run, only to be flung back into your spot by an invisible force.

"Who-" you stammered, breaths coming in quick pants, "who are you? Where am I? I-I cannot see."

The being reached an arm in your direction, the fabric slowly drawing back to reveal its skin or lack thereof. Their finger slowly traced down your cheek, cold and warm, comforting and alarming, yet like nothing simultaneously.

"I am what I am," they stated, tone unlike anything you had ever heard. It sounded like the voices of many speaking simultaneously, men, women, children, and everything in between melting into one eerie noise.

"You're here to hurt me, aren't you?" The words did not sound like they came from a grown woman; instead, a young girl high-pitched and hoydenish with fright as tears lined your lashes. Your breath hitched as their fingers left your skin, fear scratching at your throat and squeezing your eyes shut. "Where am I?"

The being stepped backward, seeming to float on the ground as sparkles of white flashed in the air. Stars, you realized, twinkling in the infinite void. For a moment, you were put into a state of wonder, gazing at the bursts of light in awe as the being only stared. It made no movements nor breaths, allowing you to take in the amazement of your surroundings.

"Am I dead?" you asked, finally gaining the courage to voice the most prevalent question in your mind.

"You are in the world between worlds, child. Not dead yet not alive within the realm of your creation," they answered with not a hint of emotion.

You couldn't hide the aghast sob that left your lips at his revelation, your mind reeling. You knew what happened for you to wake here. You drank from a cup tainted with poison that caused your limbs to freeze and your brain to wave, but who did it was unknown. The only picture within your mind was a silhouette of a figure with short, mousy hair and a slouched posture, supporting their weight on something.

You knew who they were. You felt it in your bones, but your mind refused to let you see. Was that your psyche subconsciously trying to protect you, or did the poison affect your memory?

"I don't want to die! What did I do to deserve this?" you wept with blurred vision, looking at the unmoving being before you.

You felt them sigh, though they did not move, their chest not indicating if they had lungs. "New born babes should not be taken from the world before they can sin, yet they are."

An involuntary grimace pulled your face as you licked the briny water from your lips. The world was cruel and uncaring. It took children from mothers before they were ready and kind people into places of darkness. Life was bleak and hopeless and full of negativity. At times, you wondered if there was a point to living when life would always end the same—breathing, eating, fighting, and suffering until you died and were forgotten a hundred years from now.

"I know who you are," you spat, tongue thick as you swallowed tears. "You are a callus and heartless being who takes those undeserving while displaying yourself in a cloak of self-righteousness."

They did not seem angry about what you said and tilted their head in response, examining you like one of Helaena's pinned insects. Its unseen stare unnerved you, appearing like a statue you never prayed to within the Sept. Anger began to well in the place of your unease at their indifference, taking purposeful strides to them before your body was abruptly taken aback, nearly tripping over your feet.

"I am neither good nor evil, simply I am, and I have come to take what is mine."

It raised the same arm that stroked your cheek and pointed at you, causing panic to grip your chest as the shrouded hands shoved you to the ground, air knocking from your lungs. You struggled against them, the whites of your eyes visible as your arms and legs flailed in their vice-like grip. The being came closer, towering over your writhing form until you could see what hid underneath the obsidian hood.

A face not of this world looked down at you, half human and inhuman, alive yet dead. It was too much for your mind to comprehend as you released a scream, kicking your limbs as you desperately tried to escape from whatever fate awaited you.

The hands pulled at your hair, keeping your head down and unable to see the face of the Stranger any longer.

"No! No, please! I don't want to die!" you beseeched, throat raw from tears and screams as your wide-eyed stare found the Stranger at your feet once more.

"I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood and I have come to take what is mine—one soul. No less," they repeated in an amalgamation of different tones. Your heart broke for the loss not only of life but of what might be.

The Stranger's accusing finger continued to point not at you but at your stomach, your misty stare flickering from yourself to them.

You knew what was to come next. They would rip your heart out before your very eyes, crushing your life source within the secular realm and the divine. You would never wake again, never feel the sun flush your skin or the wind whipping your cheeks on dragon back. Aegon would revert to his old ways of whoring, gambling, and drinking himself into unconsciousness, a crown forced on his head as the realm plunged into war and your kin were slaughtered. Every sacrifice would be for not all due to one simple drink.

Refusing to resign to your fate, you thrashed and screamed in failed attempts at breaking free. There was no escape to this realm—no beginning or end in the vast darkness. There was only you, these unseen hands pulling you into submission, and the Stranger, his digit still raised and pointed.

"What have I done to deserve this?" you wailed, feeling your limbs locked at the joints. "I-I know I was not a devoted follower of the Faith and have sinned, but I repent. I'll pay penance to the Seven each day forth from now on. I'll attend services in the Grand Sept. I'll-I'll refrain from any vices you so wish. Just let me live!"

Your bargaining with the faceless being went unheard, his arm slowly falling to its side as you felt the hidden fingers slither across your abdomen, tearing your nightgown down the middle. Your eyes grew wide with horror, attempting to pry them away with panicked movements only to be thwarted by the others pushing your limbs into the ground.

"Stop!" you screamed, voice cracking as your neck was whipped back, head cracking onto the ground as your vision flashed.

Though you couldn't see them, you could feel them. Their digits indented into your malleable flesh as it broke under pressure, blood seeping from the gashes as a searing pain tore like a thousand cuts of a hot blade through your skin. Blood poured from your stomach and down your sides, soaking your tattered porcelain nightgown into a stained crimson. Wailing in agony, your throat grew sore, limbs twisting and contorted into inhuman positions as you gave under their ravenous scratching.

"Blessed be you, the daughter of the Mother bound to suffer eternal through the sins of your father committed long before your conception," the Stranger prayed, words carrying over your cries. "Blessed be your whore mother, tired and angry, waiting with bated breath on a ferry that will never move again. Blessed be the children. Each and every one who have come to know their god through some senseless act of violence."

The exposed image of your essence caused your heart to become faint, the torment fading into the back of your mind as your vision fluttered and your head became light. It was a small mercy in the ruthless death that you could no longer feel the torture of your organs torn into, limbs twitching in subconscious reflexes.

"Blessed be you, girl, promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you."

The squelching of your insides was sickening as silent tears leaked down your temples, confused as to how you were still alive. No human could survive being disemboweled; the blood loss alone would kill the most robust of men, yet the invisible beings continued to burrow into your insides, seeming as if in search of something.

The Stranger did not move from its place at your feet, observing as your intestines glistened in the twinkling lights of the void.

You felt betrayed by them and those who preached that the Stranger was not a being of good or evil. They were supposed to guide you into the afterlife, not watch as beings threw your organs to the side. They lied. No being would stand there and allow a daughter of the Mother to have her insides turned out. You never feared the Stranger yourself. Death was inevitable, but now you understand why followers of the Seven feared the Stranger.

Cries that were higher pitched than yours yanked you into reality, a single thread pulling your gaze back to your stomach as a babe covered in crimson, glistening with your essence, was ripped from your womb. Confusion, fear, surprise, and desperation surged through you, attempting to pry yourself from your confines again. The cord connecting the child to you still pulsed with blood through the purple and blue veins as it was taken and placed into the hands of the Stranger.

"What are you doing?" you questioned with a thick tone, panic seizing your limbs as you broke from their unseen grip. 

That was yours—something you made solely of your labor, and they were taking it from you. It belonged to you!

You desperately yanked at the fleshy cord still connecting you to your child, the babe's shriek piercing your ears and into your heart. "Please, give it back!" you sobbed, reaching out again only to be shoved. "No! No, please! Please give me back my child! They are mine! They don't deserve this."

You were unsure of what came over you. You had never met this creature before, though it was born of your flesh and blood; you did not want them taken. An instinct to protect the life of something so fragile and innocent lay dormant within your body, coming to fruition. The thought of sacrificing yourself in the babe's place nearly slipped off your tongue, but a sudden light blinded you, pushing the cries of your kin to fade as your eyes burned.

When you came to, you were no longer in an infinite void. Instead, within your chambers, thick, fragrant smoke choked your lungs as the same searing agony from before tore through you. Aegon stood over your writhing form, and his brows arched with concern as he saw your sheets become scarlet.

You stared at him, his eyes glassy and filled with an exhausted longing, as he rushed to your side, grasping your slick palm. "You're alive!" he exclaimed, unable to think clearly through his shock. "You're alive."

Unable to speak, you nodded, sweat and tears dampening your face as another wave of pain knotted within your lower back, forcing a scream. Aegon's violet eyes danced over you, seeing your blood now spread onto your top blanket as his cheeks became devoid of color.

An array of thoughts swirled within his mind like a maelstrom at sea, swiftly lifting the sheet away as he saw the crimson between your legs. His first instinct was to believe that, somehow, the assassin had returned underneath his watchful gaze, paranoia seizing his chest. But Aegon, still confused as to what was happening, gripped your hand impossibly tighter, causing a groan that rumbled in your lungs.

"The Maester," you managed to breathe through gritted teeth. "Get the Maester, Aegon."

He paused for a moment too long, and another cramp went through you, wailing with a clenched jaw and shut eyes as your body arched in pain. The prince did not need to be told twice as he watched the woman he loved beg the Gods for mercy, swiftly exiting your room as he ran to Orwyle's chambers, your cries becoming distant within the pale red stone walls.

The man in question opened the door with tired eyes to the Prince's incessant pounding. He did not need him to explain. He knew it had something to do with you as he hastily gathered supplies and the seven-pointed star necklace on his person. What Orwyle did not expect to see when he entered your humid chambers were you on all fours, grunting and straining with blood-soaked hands and bedclothes, sweat discoloring your once pristine nightdress.

He went quickly into action, ordering Aegon to summon your maids as he stood there listlessly, unable to comprehend the urgent words over the sounds of your shrieks. Aegon was unsure when he finally summoned Jeyne and Fiora, the pair looking perplexed before spotting their Lady. Both quickly went into action, following Maester Orwyle's instructions, scattering in and out of your chambers with different items.

Aegon could not think as he observed the events unfold before him. It was all too much. He couldn't process the abrupt chain of events. One moment, you were laying there, breaths barely audible, now suddenly panting and sobbing for an end he was not sure he wanted to see. Aegon did not know if this was an effect of the poison as his distant eyes met yours, lips mouthing something he strained to hear. He could not bear to lose you. He finally had love within his grasp after years of yearning only for it to be promptly taken away before properly basking in its warmth.

Aegon, who was so focused on the end of something, could not see the future before him, staring with violet-rimmed pupils within thick lashes, begging him to bring comfort. Finally, he could hear you, a rush of sounds and voices barraging his senses as you strained a grunt for him to come near.

You took his fist in yours, the other clutching the footboard as sweat ran down your neck. It felt as if your head was about to burst from your skull with each contraction, panting like an exerted animal.

"It's almost over now, Princess. You just need to pass the biggest part," encouraged Jeyne, a soothing maternal presence in a place that lacked it. "Come now. In through your nose and push out your mouth."

Nodding fervently, you did as told, inhaling deeply and growling with downward force, bringing your arm to wrap around Aegon for support. You needed the closeness and comfort a loved one brought as you went through this traumatic event.

Tears from above sprinkled on your damp hair. Streaks of wetness lined Aegon's cheeks as much as they did yours as another cramp rolled through you.

"What's happening?" he whispered against your cheek, breath uncomfortably hot.

Surprise dawned on your features as the pain ebbed for a merciful moment, resting on your knees. Your free hand grasped his silver roots in support as your other led Aegon down to your stomach, unable to speak. He stared with wrinkled brows and glassy purple eyes as you allowed him to apply pressure there. You need not tell him the reason in words as he glanced down. It could only be one thing.

"You are with child?" he questioned softly, tenderly stroking the area with his thumb.

You nodded, the cramps rising and commanding your body to gush more gelatinous blood. "I saw her. She was right there and they took her from me. Straight from my womb as she wailed."

"Who? Who took her from you?" he asked, free head tangling within your matted hair as you rested your forehead against his.

"The Stranger."

Aegon believed this to be the ramblings of someone in labor, the blood loss not helping to have a clear mind.

The death of a child, whether in this realm or within the womb, hurts immeasurably. The loss of something you could see and touch, something you formed a connection with, brought immense suffering to you and many of those around you, but it wasn't grief to bear alone. Having a life stolen from inside you created feelings of failure and doubts about your body's natural capabilities in isolation, morphing into self-blame and loathing of what could have been if only you were different.

But it was not your fault, not in this or any other sense. Your body did its natural process of protecting you, and even though you did not meet the child in its complete form, there was still a connection to mourn.

So deep within your thoughts, you did not hear the opening of oak doors, two pairs of footfalls storming into the room as your support was suddenly ripped away. Your fists balled into the crumpled sheets in compensation. Aegon struggled in Ser Criston's ironclad grip on his collar as you felt the sudden urge to push, push, push.

"Yes, Princess, yes! Keep going, more is coming out! You're almost finished," Fiora cheered, kneeling in Aegon's place as she clasped her fists around yours.

"Bring him back! I want Aegon!" you shouted. "I need him, please!"

At your cries, the Prince felt panic begin to take root, a terror and desperation to get to you that was so visceral that he did the only thing he could. Aegon growled and bit down on the fleshy part of Ser Criston's palm that met his thumb and forefinger, breaking the skin as blood stained his lips scarlet. The knight howled in pain, releasing the Prince on instinct as he attempted to return, only to have his mother stand in the way.

"Aegon, you needn't worry about her now. She is in capable hands," Alicent attempted to placate, her voice as gentle and maternal as when he was a child.

He paid no mind to her false coos and shoved the Queen out of his way, uncaring as she landed into a corner of furniture that stabbed her side. Ser Criston swiftly regained his composure at his Lady's shriek, once again grabbing Aegon by the fabric of his tunic and towards the exit.

"She is your Queen and mother! How dare you lay hands on her!" Criston admonished and struck the Prince with an armored grip upside his head as if he were no more than an insolent mutt.

You protested the action, begging the Queen, Ser Criston, the Maester, or anyone who would hear your pleas to bring Aegon back to you, but no one listened. The Queen was the highest authority in the room. Her word was law, and you were nothing but a lowly bastard dressed in fancy clothes and titles left without regard.

"Mother! Please, don't do this. She's with child!" the Prince beseeched, unruly locks of unkempt silver strewn across his pale face.

"Not anymore," Ser Criston jeered as his vision met the blood-stained sheets, dragging a raging Aegon away.

Alicent stood, righting herself and smoothing the fabric of her peridot gown with jeweled fingers. "You do not have the right to make such demands, Aegon. Leave at once. We shall discuss this later."

She couldn't stand to look at him, the shame of everything weighing heavier than all man's sins, as Alicent turned her brown orbs away from her son. He had sired bastards before, as had many Targaryen men, but one within his own house, with another bastard no less, was too much for the Queen's mind to comprehend.

The doors to your chambers slammed shut, rattling your bones as sobs of defeat tore through your throat. Your body did not allow you to mourn Aegon's absence, focusing your efforts as your muscles forcefully contracted, expelling the last of the thick matter out of your womb and onto the bedclothes. Fiora stroked your sweat-knotted hair as the pain subsided into dull cramps, reminding you of a particularly rough moon's blood, lungs slowly inhaling as your body relaxed.

Maester Orwyle began dabbing at your temples and neck as you sat, breathing heavily through your nose. "You did well, my lady," he praised quietly, glancing over his shoulder to Alicent, who stood staring into the hearth with her thumb in her mouth.

You sighed in acknowledgment, eyes briefly shutting as your fury gave you the energy to speak. "You are a cruel woman, Alicent." Your words were a dagger straight to her heart as you wiped your stained hands on your nightgown.

She turned to you and quickly placed her arms at her side, trying to put on an air of pomp that the situation did not need. "Tis hardly proper for a man to witness the pains of a miscarriage," she answered as if rehearsed.

"Proper?" you asked rhetorically. "I was dying and all you cared about was fucking propriety?" you snarled, rising to your knees with a wince, nerves alight.

The Queen did not dare say more, her conscience gnawing at the back of her mind like her teeth to her lip. "I know this was your doing," you spat, allowing Jeyne to help you onto your plush settee as the Maester began to clean your stained thighs.

The two women who had been with you since the moment you were forced to call the Red Keep a home gathered your soiled linens, stripping your bed without needing to be told. The sight brought warmth to your heart you had thought died moments ago. Through the brief time of Ser Dalton Greyjoy's presence to dutifully covering marks left behind from stolen moments with Aegon, Jeyne and Fiora's loyalty did not waver. Most maids would be eager to pass on gossip and rumors among the nobility for a chance at some coin. Or perhaps to provide themselves some entertainment in their less fortunate lives, but your two maidservants did not.

You were overwhelmed by a sudden gratefulness for them, longing to bring them into your embrace to sing praises and shout thank yous, but the Queen's looming presence forbade it. There was uncertainty about why she was here. Undoubtedly, the same woman who all but told you to leave King's Landing was not concerned for your well-being. You were hardly but an insect pestering her with your annoying, buzzing wings.

"Is it not enough that you've murdered the last remaining blood of my mother? Now you must take the life of my unborn child," you grunted, adjusting your position on the plush, emerald cushions as nausea struck through your core.

The Queen gasped, and everyone in the room looked weary, certain they were not supposed to hear this. "I would do no such thing, Princess," Alicent rebutted with a horror-stricken expression. "You are being unreasonable. 'Twas whoever snuck into your chambers and poisoned you that did this! Do not blame me for your misfortune."

A hollow laugh escaped your chest at her words, swallowing the bile that rose with the lingering cramps. "Oh, but how fortunate for you," you replied bitterly, the jab tasting acrid on your tongue. You wanted her to leave, to let you grieve the loss of a future you would never know, but she refused, implanting herself into the lives of others to ensure her gains were met. "Have I not earned my place here? Have I not sacrificed enough?"

"You know nothing of sacrifice," Alicent rejected quickly, snapping her avoidant gaze to yours.

"Don't I?" you chortled. The laughter sent your stomach into knots, but you pressed on, nudging Maester Orwyle away to stand upright, much to his concern. "Have I not done what you commanded of me? Kept your son from whoring and drinking himself to death on the streets of Flea Bottom? Do you remember the day you wrote to me? How you implored me to come to King's Landing and herd your son back to the Keep?" you sneered, tears of frustration and sadness welling in your puffy, bloodshot eyes.

No matter how desperately you wished to do so, you would not break in front of the Queen, heart empty as you spoke, blood trickling down your leg. "I have done what you asked and more. I've made Aegon understand the responsibility of his birth. He does not gamble or whore, gluttony is no longer a vice. He's become a better husband, brother, and father. He is everything you want him to be because of me!" Your voice wavered, barely containing a gag that pulled your lip muscles, threatening to become something more.

Realization struck you as you observed the Queen stand underneath your rage. All your life, you have served others to attain recognition in their eyes, whether to prove yourself competent or receive the love and acceptance every child craved. With your father, desperately eager to please him, to show him and all others that you were not the baseborn bastard daughter of a whore---that you could hold your own and make a name for yourself. Your desperation to prove yourself would be your downfall, but no longer would you allow yourself to be the subject of your insecurities. Worth was not dictated by what you did for others but by what you thought of yourself.

"Now that I no longer serve to further your schemes of putting Aegon on the throne, you see it fit to discard me as if I am nothing but a piece thrown about the board, sacrificed to achieve victory." Your anger was palpable, striking the Queen into her soul without physical action.

Alicent inhaled sharply, glancing at your maids and the Maester, who had all seemed to have halted their tasks. Your words were a mirror to her as anxiety began to flutter within her gut underneath so many stares. Hands once primly placed at her side were now picking at the skin of one another, a nervous tick she never broke. She did not know these people. She did not trust them not to run to the nearest lord, who was desperate for Rhaenyra's favor with word of treachery.

"What you claim is treason and not from a sound mind," she protested, her voice velvet. The Queen knew that if she spent a moment longer discussing secrets that had been unsaid, they would finally surface to harm the steps made to plant Aegon on the throne.

You opened your mouth to speak once more, but Alicent's smooth voice was quick to interject.

"Maester, I believe the Princess has gone into hysteria due to the poison. She is not thinking clearly."

You began to argue, but the feeling of nausea overcame you, and you quickly stumbled to your chamber pot as the little contents of your stomach exited. Fiora and Jeyne rushed to your side, holding your tangled strands from your face as the other rubbed soothing circles across your lower back.

"Her hysteria is dangerous to herself and those around her, Maester. I believe milk of the poppy will numb her mind enough until she is well again," Alicent said with pursed lips, staring down at your hunched back from under her nose.

Orwyle blanched, understanding that this was not a suggestion but a request. Who was he to deny the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms? "Your thoughtfulness for the Princess moves me deeply, your grace. However, any attempt to sedate her now would put her at more unneeded risk. She has lost far too much blood, and I must monitor her health."

The Queen's jaw clenched, teeth grinding at the man's tenacity. What did you have that gave people such a steadfast honor to protect you? Unlike her, you could not give them titles, land, or money in compensation. She was the Queen. They were supposed to serve her and bend to her will. Yet, they tended to your well-being with unyielding devotion, even in the face of one of Westeros's most influential people. Why did they not stand with her? Did a Queen not offer more than a bastard? Why not her? 

Why not me? Why not me? Why not me?

Envy ran hot through her veins at the thought. 

The three servants knew what this was—an attempt to control the situation and narrative, to prove that Queen Alicent would remain the all-encompassing figure of power and dominance, not some young, pretty bastard girl who bewitched all those around her.

"I shall not allow another danger to lurk about my home, especially one that deceives. We already have her assassin to worry about." She ignored your scoff, her words velvet but holding an icy undertone.

When Maester Orwyle did not move, Alicent shifted, palms conjoined just below her heart as she raised a manicured brow. "Do it Maester or I will have my guards do it for you."

The air was cold on Dragonstone, with a salty bite stinging Prince Daemon's flushed cheeks as he stood on a brimstone balcony overlooking where Blackwater Bay met the Narrow Sea. The moons spent without his daughter chipped at his war-hardened soul, revealing the center he kept tucked away, though many did not see it.

He hesitated again, gaze flickering to your slouched one leaning onto your ladies for support. You gave him a solemn nod, conveying with a single look that you would not resist. If this would get Alicent to leave the four of you alone and allow you to mourn peacefully... so be it. It would be better for you and them. You would not have to think about what happened for at least a little longer, and perhaps the pain would be gone when you woke, and your beloved Prince would be at your side once more. But hope was a double-edged sword. Each side was as sharp and brutal as the other and cut equally profoundly.

People believed Daemon to be a cruel, calculating man deserving of the title "Rogue Prince." And while they were not wrong, it did not mean that the same sentiment traveled to the treatment of his family. He was devoted to his wife, stepsons, and true-born children, tending to them as a shepherd would his flock. He no longer cared for the war in the Stepstones or any battle, focusing his efforts on the future, a future for his family that seemed to grow more uncertain as his brother's health declined.

While he did feel guilt knock at his hollow chest when he thought about his eldest daughter, the life she was born into, the life she was kept from and forced to live, he did not have regrets. Daemon would, a thousand times over, accept you into his heart.

You were a part of him he did not know was missing, fitting so perfectly into his cracked soul that not even Rhaenyra's love could mend. You are as much of his blood as the young Aegon, Viserys, and the babe that grew stronger every passing day within his wife's womb. There was a special connection between the two of you that only a father of a girl could comprehend. He now understood why his brother passed him in favor of Rhaenyra becoming heir, for if he had the choice, you would serve to inherit all he had.

Daemon longed to have you at his side again, listening intently to whatever thoughts, happenings, and plans you had. The council meetings around the Painted Table grew increasingly irksome as he patiently awaited your next raven. Rhaenyra brought Jace along to more than one gathering with the pompous lords. Daemon admired the boy's fire and tenacity, yet he always seemed to lack the mature awareness you seemed to possess—no doubt a byproduct of your vastly different upbringings.

It had been a sennight since your last word, the longest Daemon had ever waited, and he grew antsy with each passing hour. He found himself pacing the sandy beaches across the island, climbing the same mountains and hills he forced you to in training. Memories were what he felt he had left of you now and that of the written word.

"My love."

He heard his wife's tender voice calling him inside. "You will hear from her soon. I know it."

Rhaenyra's soft hand found Daemon's, bringing it to the growing bump underneath her Myrish lace dress. The notion grounded him as much as her as they pressed their foreheads together, sharing a kiss full of all the longing and melancholy he kept hidden within himself.

It was not until late evening, as he and his wife retired to their chambers for rest, that a footman knocked, revealing a single piece of parchment atop a bronze platter. Daemon's heart leaped for joy, knowing it could only be one thing, and he hastily tore at the three-headed dragon seal.

Rhaenyra allowed her husband to read in silence, brushing out her long, snowy hair as she hummed a tune her late mother used to sing, absentmindedly stroking the life tucked below her breast. When her task was done, and she had secured herself within her thick nightdress, she turned to Daemon, his hunched spine facing her over their shared writing desk.

"What news does she have, my darling?" Rhaenyra sang, combing a fragrant oil through her strands. She prodded him further at his silence, eager to know what her chosen daughter said. "Has another lord insulted her again? You mustn't worry about it like last time. She is more than capable of defending herself."

Daemon did not answer, a strained, choked sound that his wife had never heard before emitting from his throat. Rhaenyra turned, swiftly walking to him as she smoothed a palm down the crown of his head to his nape. "Love?"

"She's dying."

"What?" Rhaenyra stammered, taking a step back.

"She was poisoned. The Greens have obstructed all communications with Dragonstone, and the sender is unsure if she will be alive by the time I read this," he answered, paper trembling.

The shock paralyzed all rationality. Rhaenyra didn't know what to think or feel. "Who sent this to you?" she ardently asked. The world around her became fuzzy, and her head went light as she braced herself against the wooden desk.

Daemon flipped the parchment over, searching for any indication of who the sender could be, but found none. "It has the royal seal, yet there is no signage."

His wife had no answer, dread beginning to take hold of her chest as tears collected in her amethyst eyes. A sob escaped Rhaenyra. The pain, the suffering you must have been through, was enough to make her faint, knees buckling as she struggled to stay upright—her poor child. Poor perzītsos dampened until they snuffed out her flame.

Daemon was lost within the confines of his mind. Fear, betrayal, sadness, and anger coursed through him, roaring the dragon blood to life in his veins. 

He felt powerless living on an island away from the daughter he loved, unable to fulfill his role as father and protector. It was a failure on his part not to see what the Hightowers could do. Their schemes and treachery reached from King's Landing to Oldtown, an ancient family with roots among the elites of Westeros. There was a reason they held onto power for so long, and it was not by allowing one unexpected person to throw them awry.

Swiftly, Daemon stood, throwing the sturdy wooden chair behind him with the force of his legs. He gripped the letter with an iron fist, wrinkling the parchment under pressure as he went for the door.

"Daemon," Rhaenyra called, struggling to steady her breath. "Where are you heading?"

The Rogue Prince paused just before the exit, turning on his heel to face his wife, crumpled paper raised high in his hand.

"To burn that green bitch and her cunt father," he proclaimed, a fire within his voice that assured he would keep his word. "They will pay for what they have done to our daughter." 

Rhaenyra understood that convincing him otherwise was futile, and deep down, she didn't want to. Despite not being her biological child, she held you in her heart as her own. She wouldn't stand in the way of Daemon's quest for retribution, knowing that he would spare no effort if their roles reversed. With a brief nod, she left him and settled into a cushioned chair.

Daemon stormed through the brimstone halls of Dragonstone, leather riding boots echoing his every step. He had only one goal, one in which he had no care for the consequences of as he reached the cave where his ride was housed. The Rogue Prince climbed the ropes of Caraxes as the Keepers struggled to untether the beast, mounting atop his dragon and fastening the chains in the saddle.

Masterlist of Series

The Blood Wyrm chirped with a puff of smoke through its nostrils as Daemon snapped the reins, sending the dragon forward and out of the cave. He did not care as the frigid wind cracked like whips against his exposed skin, flying higher—faster to his destination, death and destruction trailing behind beating crimson wings. His daughter would be avenged even if it meant the whole Keep would be nothing but ash and bone by sunset.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry4, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @hjgdhghoe, @im-sidney, @aurorathi, @marihoneywk, @xitsemm, @justbelljust, @qardasngan

Daddy's on his way, babies! Are we excited? I know I am!

I hope this chapter wasn't too sad for y'all. I've never had a miscarriage before or have been pregnant. I wanted to make the most accurate portrayal by talking with people I know who have had one or been pregnant. I apologize if I've offended or triggered anyone with what I wrote.

Thank you again for your understanding and patience while waiting for these updates. Life has been chaotic!

[perfectlyoongi]

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who still hides the television remote control in your childhood room. when you two were younger, whoever had the television remote control was the king of the house; as such, you and Jimin spent endless hours hiding and finding the remote, ending up in a sort of hide-and-seek game. both you and Jimin ran around the house shouting and stomping around looking for the control in the most random places, while the other stayed on the couch, resting, watching what they wanted. and what better place to hide than the most obvious place of all? without fail, every time, Jimin hid the remote in your room: inside the toy box, among your stuffed animals, under the bed, anywhere you could expect. and, without fail, every time, you pretended that you didn’t know where the remote was; in a way, you didn’t want to ruin that tradition of yours. a tradition that has spread to adult days and that will always exist in the house you and Jimin grew up in together. “you’ll never guess where i hid the remote. even if you had it right in front of your nose, you didn’t know you were seeing it. today the television is mine. you can give up now.”

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who puts hair dye in your shampoo when you use his skin products. when you were still in your early teens and constantly forgot to buy or ask to buy your skin care products, you always opted for the most logical solution: you would use your brother’s products. i mean, it was just one day or another, there was no way he could notice. but he always noticed. and he continues to notice. when you end up sleeping at his house unplanned, you would always end up using one or another of Jimin’s products. and he already knew you were going to do it. especially because your definition of ‘just a little’ could be considered obsolete. there was no other way: you stole Jimin’s products, so Jimin had to take revenge — it’s written in the book of siblings. but, honestly, you were already doing it on purpose. the dyes used were temporary, but Jimin’s laughs were eternal and if you needed to wear yellow, pink or green in your hair to make him happy, then so be it. “it looks like the head of a pineapple, oh my god! it was the best choice so far. you will forever be my pineapple, it’s decided.”

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who every year does an embarrassing photoshoot as a calendar for your parents. Jimin was an expert at forcing smiles to make people laugh and striking poses so out of place that not even you knew how he thought about them; so, embracing your most peculiar side, you got together with Jimin every year to surprise your parents. it had been a tradition you started when your parents needed to leave town at the start of a new year: you were just seven years old with a polaroid camera, that you held together with tape, and an idea drawn with crayons — one fun afternoon, you and Jimin managed to create a small calendar that still hangs on the fridge next to the year’s calendar. “what if we wore the same clothes this year? imagine a black background and us dressed in yellow! perfect ducklings for their parents, what do you think?”

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who watches cartoons with you on the weekends. still with your eyes half closed and dragging your feet, you and Jimin would meet at eight in the morning on the couch when you slept in the same house. always sitting next to you, Jimin gently covered your legs with a blanket while you turned on the television to the children’s channel. and for a few minutes, sometimes even hours, you and Jimin just enjoyed a lazy morning in each other’s comfort. with his head lying on your shoulder, Jimin struggled to keep his eyes open; you, constantly changing the volume of the television, always tried to wake yourself up with the cartoons. during that time, when the day is about to start but there is still peace, you and Jimin would gently wake up in each other’s company. every morning shared with you, Jimin felt again like that child who just had a little sibling — it was a happiness he would never experience again, just trying to achieve. “today’s cartoons are so strange. i don’t even know if there’s any decen—oooh — decent one. put on channel three, there’s usually good stuff.”

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who always takes the blame for your mischief since you were 5. Jimin still remembered when your parents would come home and go straight to his room to ground him because you broke a vase or destroyed one of your mother’s plants, or dirty the couch. back then, Jimin would get so upset with you that he wouldn’t talk to you for the rest of the entire week; after all, he always taught you to be honest, why did you let him take the blame? but now, when he saw you grow up and go through so many tribulations, Jimin was the one who suggested you blame him: why should your parents punish you, when he could listen to their lecture and not suffer any scolding? you could count on Jimin. he was always ready to help you. after all, that’s what an older brother is for. “i can’t believe you stole dad’s keys and ended up with a speeding ticket. you could be more careful, you know? fine, tell dad i was the one driving. i’ll pay the fine, don’t worry.”

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who reads you children’s stories on stormy nights. the winter you turned six, your parents had a dinner that lasted most of the night — as such, they made Jimin look after you. but on that particular night, a noisy storm shook the entire house and even woke you up abruptly. Jimin was quick to go to you and, while the thunder sounded loud outside and the rain beat intensely against your bedroom window, Jimin grabbed the flashlight that your parents kept in the kitchen and, after lying down next to you on your bed, he started reading to you the fantastic and magical stories that you loved so much. since that day, it was almost tradition for him to relive that comfort on more troubled days; when you were in each other’s company, Jimin would take you on different adventures with the melody of his voice and you would fall asleep almost immediately, feeling all the security that only your brother could give you. “i know there’s no storm there, but it hasn’t stopped thundering here yet. and i think it’s really strange to spend a night like this without reading you a story. it’s stupid, i know. you don’t have to say yes.”

OLDER-BROTHER!JIMIN who has been putting notes in your wallet/bag since you learned how to read. when you finally entered school and began to discover the fantastic world of letters and words, you were completely overjoyed. almost every day, you just wanted to prove to everything and everyone that you were intelligent and that you knew how to read everything and that they should be proud of you in the same way you were proud of yourself. and Jimin found that funny. such a small child, discovering a fragment of the world and thinking they had just solved the greatest mystery in the universe. Jimin didn’t want this fantastic flame of yours, this innocent magic of yours, to be extinguished. that’s why, for as long as he could remember, he’d put little notes in your backpack or wallet so you’d have something to read and brag about to friends and families. and he knew this would be a tradition that would never end — you looked so cute when you read Jimin’s words with your eyes shining with joy. “when you were eight, you asked me why flowers only bloom in spring. i told you there were flowers all year round, just different varieties. and you just said ‘but why do the prettiest ones only grow in spring?’ and i’ve been thinking about it ever since. until i realized that it was the adversity of the winter that shaped them. there is never beauty without destruction. and you are beyond beautiful.”

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Wee Small Hours of The Morning

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight To The Bar: Part Four

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

Is God so cruel as to take away the only family someone has? War is rough on everyone involved, even the ones who remain on the ground while the boys go up. Sometimes it takes more than a good luck kiss, and the skill of an excellent pilot. It takes old traditions, a few prayers and friends looking out for you. Santa Maria, Pray for Us.

Part Three

Follow along with the Eight to The Bar Playlist

A/N: This chapter contains 18+ themes & situations. Minors DNI.

That damn red mission light was a constant reminder of the war that was currently raging on outside the walls of Thorpe Abbotts. That stolen moments and solace sought in the shelter of the Officers Club, in the arms of someone who you adored, were small luxuries. You couldn’t count on them always being there, so you took advantage while you could. So long as the war raged on in the skies, Val understood this, much as it pained her. Watching Everett go off with Douglass and Benny, knowing it was only a matter of hours before she’d wave him off from the safety of the Clubmobile; she’d watch from a distance as his flying fortress took off into the sky, breath caught in her throat. 

Lighting a cigarette, Val resolves to find a moment's peace before she has to make her way to bed. The few hours of sleep before her day would begin beckons her, but she knows it’ll be a restless sleep if she doesn’t take the time to clear her head, and find peace before Everett is in the air. The door of the club opens, and she see’s Olive come around the corner to take the place that Everett had previously occupied, patting her pockets looking for her cigarettes, but coming up short. 

“There you are,” Olive turns to her. “When the light went on I was looking for you but didn't see you in the club.”

“Ev and I took a walk… You ready for bed, doll?” Val asks, handing her the cigarette she’s currently smoking.

“Not yet, Val,” Olive sighs, taking a puff. “Tonight was kind of overwhelming. Need to take a walk.”

“Sure thing, Ol,” Val nods, understanding the need to clear her head more than anymore. “See you in there, okay? Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” She nods, giving Val a brief hug and kissing her gently on the cheek. Olive passes the cigarette back to her before asking her what has become the question of the evening, as far as Val is concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, taking one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette against the wall of the club. “I had a good talk with Ev and I feel much better.” 

She crosses her arms in order to shield herself from the cold British air, still not quite used to it. It bites a lot more than a Brooklyn breeze. She had told her friend the night prior. Bites you right on the ass, and for what. 

“This isn’t going to get easier, is it?” Olive asks, looking out into the night sky. “The worrying, the constant knot in my stomach every time I see that damn red light.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” She says pointedly, brow furrowing as she thought back to moments prior when Everett had been pulled away from her. “But then you see him again and the relief, God, there’s nothing like it. Someone should bottle that feeling and sell it. They’d be a millionaire, Olive.” 

“I didn’t plan on feeling like this…for anyone. Here or my–” Val looks at her, urging her to continue, but when she doesn’t, she knows then that Olive is thinking about Benny and Douglass. 

“That’s what this war has done, doll. Mess up all our plans.” She pushes her body back from the wall and starts to walk towards their hut, looking back over her shoulder at her friend. “That’s a story for another night, though. Are you still taking that walk?” 

Olive nods, and Val gives her a smile. Beginning her walk back, she suddenly turns back to Olive who’s still standing in the same place. 

“I’ll leave water on your side table,” She gives her a wink. “Prevent the hangover.”

“Thanks Val, “ Olive smiles, but suddenly remembers that she had left Helen inside when she ventured out, Tattie already back at their hut. “Wait, where’s Helen?”

“Curt offered to walk her back.” She says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Oop!” Olive giggles. “Is Curt suddenly keen on our girl?”

“Curt is keen on everyone,” Val shakes her head knowingly. “But Helen’s not keen on him like that. She’s a smart cookie, and far too sweet for that pain in the ass.”

“She’d also never live it down if she got the clap from him.”

“Olive, I’d kill him if he even tried it with Helen.” Val grinned, turning back in the direction of the hut and finally making her way to bed. 

Still restless even after she had changed, and gotten into bed, Val couldn’t quite keep her mind from wandering. Switching on the small light above her bed, she quietly opened the drawer of her side table, and pulled out her sewing kit. Rifling through the bag for her red spool of thread and scissors, she began pulling until she had three pieces. Her hands moved effortlessly, a task she had been doing since she was a child. Tying off one end, she held the top firmly before braiding down the length of the thread. Right over the middle, left over the  middle, and repeat. Fingers moving deftly, she repeated this entire process two more times until she had three braids, all tied off neatly at the end. A tail of string left on each to be tied to the top end. If her mother could see her, she’d scold her for not sleeping, for letting her mind get the better of her in such times when all she could do was pray. She’d argue that idle hands were the devils playground even at night.  

Eyes finally beginning to droop, she stashed the spool of thread and scissors, turned the light off, and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of hazel eyes and the future. One day, maybe they’d get to live in the luxury of waking up together without the threat of war hanging over their heads. Dreams of Everett and home, wherever they might choose, and dinners shared over a kitchen table instead of a mess hall. She had been so deep in her dream that she hadn’t heard the door open or Olive creep into the hut. 

It was all hurry up and rush when morning rolled around. The four women scattered around their nissen hut in various states of undress as they all worked to get ready and head to the Clubmobile. They were always up a bit before the boys, needing to get the donuts warm, coffee perking and other sundries set up on the truck. With the mission light going off the night prior, she could only imagine what state the boys would be trudging up to the truck in. She doesn't think many of them slept through the night, if her own restlessness was anything to go on. Helen and Tattie had woken up as bleary eyed as she had, and Olive had fallen asleep in her clothes, the poor thing. 

Stacking the candy bars while Helen sorted the cups, she heard a familiar bark carry across the tannoy, and couldn’t help but smirk. Casting a glance over at Olive, she sees her filling one of the carafes with fresh coffee, idly chatting with Tattie about their switching dance partners the night before. 

“Ol!” She called out with a smile, watching as Meatball pulled his owner towards the Clubmobile like he was on a mission. “Benny…”

Benny offered her a wave and a smile as he waited for Olive, which Val kindly returned. Benny was a good guy, a fellow Italian, and as far as she was concerned, that made him aces in her book. 

“Ciao Benny!” Val grinned, loving any excuse to stretch her legs by speaking Italian. “And Meatball!”

“Ciao,” The pilot chuckled, crouching to scratch behind the dog's ears. “Meatball, say good morning to Val. Go on, say Ciao Valencia!”

Meatball only offered a bark to the woman in the window of the truck, which was good enough for all parties concerned. Checking to see if anyone was looking, she reached under the counter and pulled out a donut she had stashed, signaling to Meatball and tossing it down to him. Laughing as he caught it in his mouth, she saw Olive come around to the front of the truck, a smile on her face as she greeted her suitor and his dog in that friendly way she greeted everyone. 

Of course Meatball would remain with them while the boys went up today. It was becoming a common occurrence that he’d start out with the Red Cross girls, before being run over to Kenny and Winks on the hardstand for a little exercise while the girls cleaned up and got the interrogation hut ready for the boys return. She’d just barely heard Benny try to coax an early cup of coffee out of Olive when a soft knock sounded on the open door of the truck. She half expected to see Chick, or someone who she’d actually have to give the early coffee to, but instead there was Ev and Dougie, one with a shit eating grin on his face and the other smiling softly at her. She made a move to greet them when Douglass lifted his finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of Olive, mischief bright in his already bright blue eyes. 

“You’re fresh!” Val had whispered to him once she was close enough. 

Everett could only shake his head at his friend’s antics and watch as Dougie waited with bated breath for Olive to turn back to the truck and make her way inside. 

“Good boy, Meatball.” Olive spoke sweetly to the dog, and Val could hear the lead clanging against the pole outside the truck as Olive tied him securely. 

Dougie grinned, and turned on his heel just as Olive rounded the corner, his hands jutting out and tickling her as her eyes went wide and she jumped in shock. 

“James Douglass!”

Dougie was apologizing profusely, that mischievous smile still gracing his face, as Everett took the three short steps up into the truck. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” He wasted no time in pulling her close for a kiss, despite Helen’s protests that they take it elsewhere as she shuffled past them and outside. 

“Hmm, now it is.” She grinned, dropping her forehead against his chest, arms wrapped around him. 

“You alright?”

“Still sleepy, that’s all.” She mumbled, face pressed against his chest. 

“Honey, did you sleep at all last night?”

“A little,” She sighed. “When I did fall asleep, it was a bit restless.”

She could feel him heave a deep sigh as his hands rubbed up and down her back, 

“Maybe tonight we just lay low, hmm? We can go out to the fort and sit on the wing if you want…”

“Can we sneak a cocktail out like last time?” She peered up at him, eyes wide and red lips stretched into a smile he could never say no to. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

“Make Kenny leave the stairs out this time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He winked. 

Leaning back out of the truck, he saw that Dougie and Olive were still occupied, Meatball looking on dutifully. 

“Oh, I’ve got something for you!” Val stepped back, reaching into her pocket. 

She pulled out one of the braids she had made the night before, grinning as she held it up for him. 

“What’s that?” Ev looked at her curiously as she took his left hand in hers. 

“In Italian culture, red is a sign of protection. I couldn’t sleep last night and so, braided a few of these for you boys.”

“Protection?”

“The color red keeps bad things at bay,” She spoke softly, tying the braid around his left wrist, right behind his watch. “My Nonna taught me how to braid these when I was little, and it’s always been something I do when I can’t settle down. I want you to be protected up there, Everett.” 

“Thank you,” He grinned, taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips sweetly. “It’s better than any good luck charm I’ve got.”

“Don’t take it off. When it breaks on its own, that means it’s time for a new one. Okay?”

“You’re the boss, baby,” He grinned. “You said you made them for the boys?”

“One for Dougie and another one for Curt.”

“He goes through them a lot then?”

“Well, he is Curt.”

Dougie’s head came around the back of the truck before Everett could reply, spying his friends deep in conversation, he felt bad for disturbing them. 

“Ev, we gotta go. Briefing starts soon.”

“Alright.” He nodded, squeezing Val once more before stepping back. “Dougie, c’mere.”

Eyebrows raised at his friend’s request, the bombardier came to stand at the entrance of the truck, as Val met him at the bottom of the steps. 

“Left hand, please.” She smiled, pulling the second braid from her pocket and securing it the same way she had with Everett’s.

“What’s this?” He looked down at her, brows knit together in intrigue. 

“Ev will explain, okay?”

“Ten four, Ma’am.” He nodded, giving her that sloppy two finger salute he was famous for. 

“Get out of here, Doug. Coffee will be waiting when you boys are done.”

Nodding, Dougie let the thumb of his opposite hand ghost over the thread a moment before grinning and heading back in the direction of where Olive was now talking to Helen. 

Everett grinned, before giving her a not so subtle wink, and followed Doug to the briefing room. 

It wasn’t long before Meatball had started getting antsy, tugging on his lead as if he knew that Benny was in the hut across the way. The lead rattling against the pole Olive had him tied to every ten seconds as he tries to make a valiant attempt at a jail break. 

“Come on, fella,” Olive laughs, taking mercy on the poor dog and untying him. “Want to throw the ball?”

The coveted four letter word starting with B piques his interest immediately as he begins to pant excitedly, jumping back onto his hind legs. His excitement only grows when he sees Olive pull the ball from her pocket. She tosses it gently, keeping it close to the Clubmobile so that Meatball doesn’t run off. 

“Why don’t you go over to the hardstand?” Val calls from the hatch of the truck, waiting while a fresh pot of coffee brews for the boys. 

“I don’t want to have to traipse all the way over there just to have to come back in ten minutes,” Olive calls back to her. “I want to see them before they go.”

“Anyone in particular you want to see” Val teases as she rounds the front of the truck, joining Olive and Meatball in their little game. 

“Hush it up, DiRosano.” Olive winks at her.  Handing her the ball so that she can join in, Meatball comes to stand in front of Val, his front paws suddenly up on her chest as he tries to get the ball from her. 

“At least he’s behaving today,” Val rolls her eyes as Meatball finally jumps down from where he’d tried to take her down. She throws the ball for him, putting a little more effort behind it than she had meant to, causing the ball to miss the ground completely and fly through the door of the briefing room. Meatball is after it like a shot out of a cannon, not listening as she pleads with him to stop. Tattie was right, she was going to kill DeMarco.  

“Shit!” Val says, trying not to panic as the reality of what just happened sinks in. “Damn dog!” 

“Fuck sake, Spud Chandler!” Olive sighs, hand clapping over her eyes as she races after Meatball and Val races after her. 

They come to a halt just outside the door, Val slamming into Olive’s back as she comes to a vault, spotting Meatball right outside the door, sitting and waiting patiently for his next command. 

“Stay right there, buddy,” Olive pleads, hands up and walking towards him. 

His response is to sniff the air, and as if he could smell Benny inside the room with all the other men and their cigarette smoke, he bounds through the door with what she could only describe as the greatest of ease. 

“Meatball!” Olive whispers, her voice low and stern as she moves to follow him into the briefing room.

“Olive, for fuck sake!. Don’t go in there!” “But the dog! And the ball!” Olive tries to argue, knowing Chick would have a stroke if Meatball so much as disturbed their briefing. 

Val can’t help but sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as her brows furrow in defeat, mumbling something under her breath in Italian. The ball and the dog were both in there, and if they didn’t hurry, an angry Chick Harding would also be in there.  

“We should be alright. It’s nothing I won’t tell you in a few weeks when I type up the report for this,” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Olive or herself. “We get the dog, apologize, and get the hell out of there, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Olive gives her exactly the same two finger salute that James Douglass is famous for, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. Birds of a fucking feather it seemed. 

“Good. Now show me your prettiest smile.” She looks at Olive, hands on her hips, waiting for her to give a smile. When she finally does, Val thinks maybe they have a shot at this. 

“Gorgeous, doll!”

“What’s it for?” Olive asks, relaxing her face and massaging her cheeks for a second.

“Oh, that’s for when Chicky catches us in there and ultimately tells us off.”

—————————————————

“U-Boat pens in Trondheim, Norway!” Chick hollers, standing upon the makeshift stage as the curtain is pulled back to reveal a map. The men in the room cheer in equal enthusiasm, lighting cigarettes and eagerly awaiting the details of the mission ahead of them. 

Val and Olive stand in the back of the room, Meatball now in their grasp, they make to turn and leave just as quickly as they came, when Chick announces the details of the mission, and the fort in charge of leading the wing. 

“Major Egan will be Command Pilot in Blakely’s fort.” He announces, and as John Egan turns back to make eye contact with Everett, he does a double take at the two figures standing in the back of the room. Val quickly shakes her head, begging him not to say anything, and she’s relieved to see him turn back around and give his attention to the map in front of him. Still, she can’t help but beam with pride, whispering a little that’s my guy as she realizes Everett is in charge of leading all of the men in the room into today’s battle. Just as she moves to grab Meatball’s collar and lead him from the room, the dog lets loose a bark that she’s sure Doc Stover could hear in the medical hut, and she immediately winces. 

Silence falls over the room, and Chick, who had been lighting his first cigar of the day, turned to look up, eyes narrowing in annoyance. 

“What in the hell is that dog doin’ in here?” His eyes find Benny DeMarco first, and upon realizing that Benny is not in possession of said dog, focuses his gaze on the back of the room. 

“Shit,” Olive and Val murmur in unison. “Might need that smile sooner than we thought, doll.”

“Fuck sake, Valencia,” Olive groans, shaking her head.

“Don’t blame me!” She nervously chuckles. “Blame that damn dog.”

“Oh, I am, believe me.” Olive sighs just as Chick walks up to the pair of them. 

“Girls!” Chick scolds. “You shouldn’t be in here.” “We’re sorry, Colonel,” Olive says, putting her nice British manners to good use. “The dog…”

“I don’t care,” He says, his voice slightly raised and causing the crowd to look in their direction. Val just manages to catch Curt and Everett looking in their direction. “Get outta here.”

“Yes sir.” Olive replies shakily. 

Val can immediately sense the tension rolling off of her as her eyes glaze over. She gives Olive’s hand a quick squeeze before squaring her shoulders and facing Chick head on. 

“Chicky,” Val speaks firmly, her tone not one to be mistaken for a damsel in distress. “I threw the ball too hard, it’s my fault Meatball ran in here. You know we wouldn’t have come just for fun.” She’s trying her best to be firm, but also butter him up at the same time. Tucking an errant curl back into her headscarf, Val gives what can only be described as a brilliant smile, and if Olive’s snort disguised as a cough is anything to go on, she’s doing a damn good job of it. 

“Alright, girls,” He softens, pointing his cigar in their direction as Red carries on with the briefing,  the Massachusetts native describing something being shown on the projector in an attempt to get the men to stop focusing on the girls and back on the mission. “I’ll let y’all off, but don’t let me catch you in here again.”

“You got it, Chicky.” Val grins, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. 

“And stop calling me Chicky.” He groans, turning back towards where he had been originally so he could join Red. “Not a chance!” Val calls back, tugging both Olive and Meatball with her out the door, grateful to have avoided what could have been real trouble for the pair of them, and the damn dog. 

Val’s pouring a cup of coffee when she hears her name being called. Looking up, she spots Everett looking less than pleased, hands on his hips and brows pinched together as if he’d taken a page out of her book. Mentally filing away how handsome he looks in that moment, she gives him her full attention. 

“Val, you got a second?”

“Yes, honey,” The words saccharine sweet as she moves past Olive. With a roll of her eyes, she turns before descending the steps. “I’m in trouble.”

“You look far too excited at that prospect, Val.” Olive shakes her head, knowing her friend. 

“You never know what the consequences might be.” She winks as she reaches the bottom step. 

“What was all that about?” Everett looks down at her, hands still on his hips. 

“You mean back there?”

“Valencia, please…” He sighed, and at his use of her full name, her eyes snapped up to his, blazing. 

“Are you mad at me?” The question came out sharp, her eyebrows meeting her hairline. “For that?!”

“I’m not mad,” He softened his gaze, waiting for her to do the same. “I just…”

“Everett…”

“I just want to shield you from as much as possible. Protect you, the way you want to protect me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll see all of that in a few days when Harding pulls me in to type it up for him.”

“I know that, but, if you can go a few more days without seeing it.”

“Baby, I’m going to worry whether I know where it is you’re going or not. Nothing will change that until this war is over.”

“Just, don’t go sneaking into the briefing room again, okay?”

“That’s on you then, if Meatball gets in and Harding goes nuts.” 

“No, that’s on Benny,” Everett winked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her flush against his side. “Now, how about a cup of coffee and a good luck kiss.”

“In that order, Captain?” She peered up at him. 

“Please.” Leaning down, he stole a kiss from her, just as Dougie and Olive were making their way to the truck. 

They couldn’t wait around, the girls had poured their coffee quickly, and just as Val handed Everett’s cup off to him, Bubbles had come up to the truck wrapped in a blanket, his flight gear underneath, and shivering up a storm. 

“Bubbles?” Helen looked at him, nudging Val to join her at the window. 

“Holy shit, Bubbles, you can’t fly!” Val exclaimed, getting the attention of both Everett and Douglass. 

“I can, Miss. Val, don’t you worry.” His teeth chattering together as he spoke, skin turning paler as the seconds passed. 

“Bubbles, not for nothing but I’m tired of being told not to worry.”

“Bubbles, she’s right, you’re not going up,” Everett came to stand next to him, his face displaying sympathy for his sick navigator but worried over who would be in the seat if he wasn’t. “Fuck…”

Just then, John Egan came strolling over for his pre-flight coffee and, if Val had to guess, a pack of cigarettes or gum. She gestured to Helen to get his coffee ready while she dug around under the window for a pack of Lucky Strikes and some Juicy Fruit. 

“Bucky.” She grinned, the cigarettes in one hand and gum in the other, and extended them to him. 

“Your girl’s a peach, Blakely, you know that?” Bucky chuckled, taking both of the offered items before pocketing them so he could retrieve his coffee from Helen. 

“She sure is,” Everett smiled, before turning to face John Egan with concern. “We’ve got a problem, though, Major.”

“What?” 

“Bubbles,” Everett gestured to the shivering navigator who Douglass was practically keeping upright at this point. “Sick as a dog.”

“I can fly…” 

“The hell you can,” Bucky sighed, looking back at Everett. “Who else we got?”

In the end, it had been Harry Crosby to replace Bubbles in Just-A Snappin’s navigator seat. The brown eyed man’s nerves caused him to shiver just as badly as Bubbles had before he was carted off to Doc Stover in the med hut. After the boys had dispersed from the truck, Val had found a brief moment to breathe before Curt was bounding over to her, crush cap at a jaunty angle, grin on his face. 

“The last thing you need is caffeine!” She had scolded him, handing the coffee over anyway. 

“Need to see my best pal!” 

“Don’t let Dickie hear you say that.” She shook her head, knowing Dickie could most definitely hear him from where he stood getting his coffee from Helen. 

“I know where I rank, Val, don’t you worry. You’re still his number one.” Dickie laughed, thanking Helen for the coffee before walking past and heading for the truck. 

“Lucky me,” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, hold on Curt.”

“Yea?”

“Here…” She handed over the braid identical to the ones she had given Ev and Dougie earlier, watching as his grin nearly split his face. 

“Rough night,” He mused. “How’d you know?”

“I know you Curt. Now go on, be safe up there, please.”

“See you in a jiff, Pal.” He waved, jogging to catch up with Dickie and the rest of his crew. She could just make out Curt asking Dickie to tie the red string around his wrist as the truck peeled away with him and his crew in the back. Santa Maria please protect my boys. 

——————————————

It had been a morning. Olive had decided, with all the excitement of the morning, to take Meatball down to the hardstand so that he could run around with Kenny and Winks. She had snagged two of the leftover donuts for the ground crew boys and headed off, leaving Val, and Helen to clean up the truck. Tattie was with the Supply Officer trying to figure out what they could and couldn’t get, and leave the girls’ list with him in the hopes that they’d get what they needed. 

Helen was packing up the donuts that had been left, and was brewing a fresh pot of coffee just for the girls, one for the boys already brewed and in the Interrogation Hut, when Val had decided to start wiping down the counters and putting away some of the sundries. A cigarette wedged between her teeth, she began scrubbing the countertop, wiping away the spilled sugar and milk, pushing the crushed and empty cups into the trash, and repeating the process all over again. Still uneasy from the night before, her mind going over and over the conversation she had with Everett outside the club. She kept going back to him saying we can be scared together, and she truly believed him. She was scared on the ground, and he was without a doubt, scared more than her up in the sky. 

She hadn’t heard Olive come back, or her footsteps as she climbed back into the truck. She just barely heard her calling her name. 

“Valencia,” Olive urges for a third time, a plume of smoke escaping her mouth as she speaks. “You’ve already done that one.”

“R-right.” She stutters, wiping her wet hands on her jumpsuit. She watches as Olive stubs out her own cigarette and starts carrying the donuts Helen had been organizing into the interrogation room. Val immediately darts toward her to grab them. 

“I got it, Val,” She soothes, holding the tray to her body. “Just get the door for me.”

“Got it!” She replies, voice a couple of octaves higher than what she normally sounds like. 

“You okay, chicken?” Olive turns to her after she’s placed the tray on the table. 

“Yeah. Just anxious.” Val takes a long pull from her cigarette, surprised it hasn’t burned out yet, before slumping back against the wall. The waiting was the worst. 

“I know, but they'll be okay. They're going to be back before you know it.” Olive tries to reassure her as best she can, but Val can see the fear behind her eyes, and knows for a moment that she’s not alone. 

Tattie wandered in on the heels of their chat, eyes falling on the table set with the donuts for the boys, and smiling at the work her girls had done. 

“Thanks, Ol,” She says, patting her on the shoulder before turning to Val. “Val, can you set out the whiskey?”

“Sure, I'm on it!” She replies, the words rushing out of her mouth, her body tight with the same anxiety they all see in Harry Crosby. 

“Need a hand?” Helen strolls in, setting cream and sugar next to the coffee she had put out earlier. 

“I've got it, thanks Helen.” Val grins at her, picking up a glass to wipe down. 

When the familiar, loud rumble is heard in the distance, Val watches as Olive steps outside momentarily, before hearing Smokey shout over the noise. 

“I see em!” He yells, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Val, they're back!” Olive calls to her, poking her head in from the doorway. 

Val stops suddenly, the glass slipping from her hands and shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Oh fuck!” She groans. She bends down to begin picking up the shards, when Olive is suddenly at her side, swatting her hand away from the broken glass. 

“Leave it,” She says softly. “I'll clean it.” Taking the cloth from Val’s hand, she grips her arm for a moment, the two sharing a look. 

“Go,” She murmurs. “Go see him.”

She feels as if her whole chest might cave in if she waits any longer to see Everett and Curt. 

“Helen, go with her, please,” Olive motions for her to join Val, before speaking the next part softly, only for Helen to hear. “Just in case.” 

“What about you?” Helen raises an eyebrow at her knowingly. 

“I'm just fine here.” She reassures her, but both Val and Helen can see that her eyes are telling a different story. Helen nods, threading her arm through Val’s before grinning at Olive, making her way to the door. 

“We'll be right back.”

Once outside, Val begins to count the number of planes she sees coming into view. The rumble grows louder the closer they get to the runway, she watches as one, two, three… her grip on Helen’s hand tightening as she sees the rest of them approach. Eight, nine, ten… 

“He’ll be here, honey, don’t you worry.” Helen turns to her, her big brown eyes full of hope, and Val can’t help but smile. 

“Not sure what I’d do without you,” Val sighs, gaze  now focused on where the trucks are approaching. “Without any of you.”

“Oh stop, we’ve all got each other.”

The first truck rolled to a stop at the bottom of the approach to the hut, and Val had to squint in the sun to see who it was. It was Gale Cleven and Benny, the pair looking utterly exhausted as they trudged towards the hut. Benny offered the girls a wave and a half smile, Val nodding her head towards the door. 

“She’s inside…”

“Thanks Val.” 

Benny disappeared through the door, and Val watched as the next group of men headed their way, all looking much the same as Buck and DeMarco. Crank, John Brady and their respective crews were next, all shuffling into the hut for a moment of respite. Doc Stover was at the door giving each man the once over before allowing them through, and Val could just make out the sound of someone grumbling at being told to report to the hospital after interrogation. 

“Where are they…” She murmured  under her breath. “Come on boys, please.”

“Hey, hey, look…” Helen was pointing out towards the approach, a smile on her face as she Val clocked Everett jump from the truck, hat in his hand, hair mused and curls falling over his forehead. That damn Lucky Strike tucked behind his ear. 

“Oh thank god!” Val heaved a sigh at the sight of him, body relaxing for only a moment. 

As Everett approached, Val released her grip on Helen just as Everett threw his arm over her shoulder. A heavy sigh, different from the one in the Clubmobile this morning, left his body. His lips pressed to the top of her head softly as he guided her away from the door, towards where it was a bit quieter. 

“Give us a minute, Helen?” Everett asked her, and Val could tell something had happened up there. 

“I’ll have a drink waiting for you, Ev.” Helen nodded, making her way back into the hut to join Olive and Tattie. 

“Ev?” 

“I need to tell you something,” He spoke lowly. “And I need you to listen before you react, okay?”

“You’re scaring me…”

“Curt wasn’t with us on the return.” 

Her entire body ran ice cold at the words, the breath leaving her as if someone had pushed a pin in her lungs and released all of the air. Curt? Reckless as he may be on the ground, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything stupid while he was up in the air, least of all, not coming back. 

“His fort took a lot of damage,” Everett continued. “He had a few engine fires, and there was so much flak up there…”

“Is he…did he…”

“We got him over Scotland,” Ev grabbed her hands to stop them from shaking. “Croz was amazing, and plotted a whole route so that Curt could put his fort down over land, somewhere safe.”

“Scotland…”

“The last we heard over the radios, he was making an approach to crash land.”

“Did you see him land?”

“No, I didn’t,” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I wish I knew more honey.”

“Oh god.” Her voice sounded far away, her mind swimming with every possibility of where Curt could be. If he was alive, safe, had he been captured. Was Scotland really the best place for him to land? What did she know? She wasn’t the pilot, she was the coffee and donuts girl.

“Come on…” 

She just barely registered that Everett was leading her inside. Didn’t pick up Olive calling her name yet again, or the whiskey glass being pressed into her hand. She felt completely numb, and would be, until Curt came strolling back up to her with that stupid grin on his face. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to take away the only person resembling a sibling in her life, in such a way, would he? Santa Maria, please protect him. 

She’s not sure how, but she finds herself sitting in the Officers Club with the girls that night. Vaguely, she remembers Olive walking her outside after Everett had been ushered into interrogation by Chicky, and worrying her mothers Rosary beads between her fingers as she smoked half a pack of cigarettes back in their hut. She’s not sure how she managed to get ready, but when she exited the hut, Everett, Dougie and Harry Crosby were waiting outside for her, Helen and Olive.The walk had been silent, Val tucked under Everett’s arm as they entered the club and sought out their usual table. 

Now, she sat with her fourth fifth drink in front of her, Everett seemingly always there with a new one as soon as she’s taken the last sip. 

The girls were doing their best to keep her mind occupied on anything other than waiting for news on Curt, and even Benny had dropped Meatball off at the table; the Husky immediately sensing that something wasn’t right with his favorite girls. The band played on as usual, music filling every corner of the club, so she was surprised when she heard Red’s voice carry across the room, hollering for Buck Cleven. She’s even more surprised when Everett comes back from the bar empty handed, his eyes brighter than she’d seen them since he landed that afternoon. 

“Come on…” He urges, taking her hand and moving to pull her up from the chair. 

“What? Ev, what!” 

Before he can answer her, she hears Buck Cleven’s voice booming from where he’s standing at the bar, one word to end all of her troubles. 

“Curt!”

Val stands so abruptly, the chair tips backward and clatters to the floor but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is that Everett is pulling her towards the bar where Gale Cleven holds the receiver of the phone between his ear and Bucky’s; the pair of them are yelling frantically down the phone. 

“It’s gonna be cold tonight, Curt!” Bucky yells. 

“John says he misses his little spoon!” Gale shouts down the line, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at the antics of the boys. 

Everett moves to get Bucky’s attention gesturing for him to hand the phone over to Val before either of the two Buck’s decide to hang up. Bucky’s hand grabs Gale’s wrist, and pulls the receiver from his grasp before handing it over to Valencia. 

“Curt!”

“Did I worry ya too much?”

“Please tell me you’re in one piece and that I don’t have to write home…”

“All pieces accounted for, Val, I promise.”

“Good. Are you safe?”

“Safe and well on my way to being drunk.”

“Christ sake. Well then, go on, get drunk with your new friends.”

“You’re my number one, always. Hey, thanks for the bit of red. Saved my life.”

Ev places a kiss to her temple just as she hangs up, having heard most of the conversation. Val grins as she turns to Bucky and Gale, both of them watching her with a fondness she was sure she had never seen on either of their faces. At least not directed towards her. Throwing an arm around each of them, she hugged them close, because she knew it was Bucky in the Command Pilot’s seat that day, and Gale who had alerted the rest of the wing to Curt’s fort slowing down, thus sticking with him to the end. 

“Well?!” Helen’s eyes were wide as Val and Everett made their way back to the table, cocktails in hand and smiles on their faces. 

“He’s safe,” Val breathed out another sigh of relief before rolling her eyes. “And drunk with his Scottish hosts.”

“Of course he is.” Tattie shook her head, but smiled as she ticked off a win for their group in her mind. More moments like this. There should be more of them. 

“Drink up!” Ev raised his glass, their friends joining him. 

“To that pain in my ass!” Val cheered. 

The night rolls on and five cocktails turn into seven. Val has moved from her chair to Everett’s lap, a cigarette in one hand and the other holding his. When he didn’t have her out on the dance floor cutting a rug, they were with their friends. Even Meatball had perked up, and was currently vying for attention from everyone. The news of Curt’s safety spread amongst the rest of the men, and the atmosphere in the club seems to be charged with lightning. Everyone's a little brighter, more relaxed, smiling a little wider. 

“Bike race in the mess hall!” Graham comes hurtling around the corner, arms flailing as he yells into the crowd. “Who’s in?”

A chorus of agreements and hollers as the men in the club leave their drinks and descend on the mess hall. Val clambers from Everett’s lap, giving him a wink as she grabs Olive with one hand and Helen with the other. The three of them run in the direction of the crowd, giggling the entire way. They push their way into the mess hall, cheeks red and eyes bright as they try to find a good spot to view the race. Tattie joins them a moment later, drink in hand and face just as red as the rest of them in excitement as they settle against the wall. 

The boys are all pushing their way in with their bikes, the sound of shouts and tires screeching against the linoleum filling the air as one of the men not racing begins collecting money from the onlookers. They see Everett, Benny and Douglass all push their way as close to the front as they can get, Croz already on his bike. When Douglass spots the girls, he hollers over to Benny in a bid to get Olive’s attention. 

“Hey DeMarco!” He yells, a few rows behind where Benny is. “Whoever wins gets to walk the pretty girl back!”

“You’re on, Doug!” Benny yells back, turning and giving Olive and the girls a cheeky grin. 

“Jesus Christ…” Val hears Olive sigh, and doesn’t need to look over to know she’s rolling her eyes in that British way she usually does. 

Val is watching Everett as he mounts his bike. Croz is on his left, the navigator struggling to find his balance on the bike as he grabs Douglass for support. If she hears Dougie ask Croz to give him a push ahead of Benny, she doesn’t say anything, wanting to see how it all plays out. She blows Ev a kiss and displays a cheeky smile for luck before she turns back towards the girls; just as Bucky Egan and Gale Cleven push their way to the front. 

“Rank has its privileges, boys!” Cleven calls over the din of the room, bumping shoulders with John Brady as he settles on his bike. 

“I see money changing hands,” Egan points over towards where the betting is taking place. “That better be going on me!”

Graham stands in front of the boys, whistling to get their attention before he begins giving them their route. 

“Alright, are y’all ready?!”

The crowd yells almost louder than before, and suddenly Graham’s got his pistol in the air, a single shot fired into the roof to signal the start of the race. 

“YEEHAW!” 

The boys all push off, Douglass yelling for Croz who’s wobbling on his bike as he yells with the rest of them GO GO GO. Egan and Cleven are in the lead, no surprise, while Brady is hot on Egan’s heels. Everett, Douglass and Benny are all neck and neck, Croz pulling up the rear. The four girls are shouting with all their might, throats raw from screaming for the boys, drinks sloshing around them and cigarettes burning unattended between their fingers. 

“Come on, Egan, ya lard ass!” Gale shouts, goading Bucky on to try and catch up to him as they begin their second lap out of the Officers Mess. 

Even Kidd and Veal, who’ve perched themselves off to the side, are getting into the excitement of the race. It’s when Cleven takes the last turn that he skids off his bike, crashing to the ground in a fit of laughter as Bucky topples off right behind him. The rest of the boys follow suit, all of them racing to their feet to try and cross the finish line first when a shrill siren cuts the atmosphere of the room like a knife. 

“Stop!” Jack Kidd yells, hopping off his perch and waving his long arms to get the attention of the crowd. “Don’t you hear the siren? Everyone to the shelters!”

Bikes forgotten on the ground, the boys all begin to move towards the exit, the girls all linking arms to stay together. They begin the walk towards the shelters, a hefty distance from where they currently are, when Dougie and Benny slide up on either side of Olive. Val watches, amused, until a pair of hands fall on her waist, pulling her flush against the chest of the owner. 

“Sneaking up on me?” She grins, though he can’t see it. 

“Not sure I could,” Ev whispers in her ear, leaving a gentle kiss to the underside of her jaw. “You’d smell my aftershave.”

Turning in his arms, Val allows him to guide her as she walks backward a few paces, her hands gripping his forearms. 

“Let’s go somewhere.” She grins wildly, curls falling from their usually perfectly pinned style, eyes shining. 

“Okay, sure,” He humors her. “Where should we go? Paris? Rome? New York?”

“Everett, come on, I’m being serious!” She gently slaps his arm. 

“So am I,” He smiles. ““Where do you want to go?”

“The mess hall, I’m starving. I skipped dinner.”

“Val…”

“Please, Ev? I want a snack…” 

“Jesus you’re adorable when you’re drunk sweetheart.” 

“Can I be adorable with a snack then, please?”

“Okay, let’s go.” He conceded, knowing she probably hadn’t eaten anything after finding out that Curt was somewhere else. The least he could do was make sure she didn’t go to bed hungry. 

——————————————————

Breaking off from the rest of the group, the pair of them began running hand in hand towards the opposite direction of the shelters, laughing like kids the entire time. Checking that no one was watching, they slipped back inside the now vacant mess hall; the only sign that it had been occupied were the bikes still on the ground and the lights that had remained on during the hasty exit. The only noise in the hut was the sound of Val’s heels on the floor and their laughter as they tried to catch their breath. Leading Everett towards where the girls always pack away any leftover donuts from the Clubmobile, she guides him through a door and into the kitchen. The moonlight is giving just enough light to see where they’re going, the kitchen dark, and unfamiliar territory to Everett. 

“There should be…” Val bends at the waist to pull out the covered box that usually sat in the Clubmobile. “Perfect!” 

“What’d you find?” Ev turns to her, taking the box from her hands to set it on the counter. 

“Donuts!”

“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” He pulled the towel off and tossed it to the side, snatching one from the box. “I did not think I’d be eating as many donuts during the war as I actually am.” 

“Well, I didn’t think I would be serving coffee and donuts to pilots, so I guess we’re both surprised at the outcome.” 

“What were you doing before all this?” Everett asked. 

“Suddenly he’s curious,” She teased. “I was a secretary, but don’t tell Chicky. For the Federal Reserve Bank.”

Hopping up on the counter, Val plucked the donut from Everett’s hand, breaking it in half before popping it into her mouth. Red lips pursed and eyes closed as she enjoyed her snack, she didn’t notice Everett move closer, standing between her legs, until his hands softly slid up her thighs. 

“Happy?” 

“Oh, I’m very happy,” Her eyes fluttered open, catching his gaze. Taking the other half of the donut, she brought it up to his mouth, holding it between two manicured fingers. “Are you happy?”

His answer came in the form of a bite of the food she was currently offering him, his lips grazing her fingers before pulling away, eyes never leaving hers. Waiting until there was no food in his mouth, he leaned in closer, fingers gripping her a little tighter. His lips just barely touched hers before they settled on the corner of her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, and when he pulled back, Val could see the glimmer in his hazel orbs and the smirk on his lips. 

“You had a crumb…” He kissed the other side of her mouth for good measure, not one to leave any spot untouched. 

She gazed up at him through her lashes, heat instantly pooling low in her belly. How could sharing a snack and a kiss cause her to feel emotions so strongly, that she wanted him to lay her out on the counter and have his way with her while no one was around. 

“Ev…”

“No one’s around to interrupt us this time.” He whispered, and she was sure he felt the shudder that ripped through her body from head to toe. 

“I think…” She breathed, trying with all her might to focus on the words that were on the tip of her tongue. His teeth gently closed over her earlobe, warm breath fanning across her cheek. 

“What do you think? Hmm?”

“That we should pick up where we left off.”

Her jacket was off in an instant as he kissed the air from her lungs. One hand holding the back of her neck, fingers tangled in what remained of the evening's hairdo as the other moved down the front of her blouse, unbuttoning each little white button painstakingly slow. Her hands made quick work of pulling his tie loose, his own jacket discarded somewhere before he had gotten to work on undressing her. Even in the dim lighting of the room, he’s able to clearly see the soft lines of her body as he pushed her shirt from her shoulders. The white lace of her brassiere standing out against her skin, breaths coming out harsh in the near silence of the room as she sat on the counter and continued to bring Everett to the same state of undress as she was. All she could think of was having her hands on him, feeling his skin under her palms, the ropes of muscle she knew were under his clothes every time he held her on the dance floor now exposed to her. 

It was a tentative first touch as she slid her hands up the planes of his chest, a smattering of soft hair just under his collar bones as she let herself explore what she could. Val could feel Everett’s eyes on her; his sharp hazel gaze watching as she let her hands roam across his skin, across his clavicle, down over his arms until she reached his hands. Those hands that made her feel safe every time they held hers; soft and gentle when they were together, skilled and agile when he was piloting his fort and keeping his crew safe. They were both of those things, and still she loved them most when they were holding her. Lifting his left hand, she began to pepper kisses to each of his fingers, appreciating one of her favorite parts of him without words. The part of him that kept her safe. Sharing with him feelings that she wasn’t sure she could put into words yet, because even she wasn’t sure how to explain it. Only that she felt content when he was near her, a feeling that evaded her for so long she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel it again. To finally feel it now, Val wanted to grab it with both hands and never let go. 

“Can I…?” Val looked up from her task, lips still pressed, unmoving, to the palm of his hand. His question sitting between them, heavy in the air. 

“Please…” It came out in a whisper, fading into a whine as his hands fell to her waist, tugging her closer to the edge of the counter so that he could do with her what she had done with him. 

Appreciating every dip and curve his eyes and mouth could find, Everett set to work with expressing his own feelings, deep and seated within him were words he too was not sure he could explain out loud, and still, he knew his actions could do it for him. His mouth blazed a trail from her lips, down the column of her throat, across her clavicle then over the swell of her breasts. The hands on her waist traveled a path almost identical to the one that night in his plane, stopping just short of where he had been dreaming of having them ever since she guided him there that first time. He felt like he had won the lottery when she helped guide him the rest of the way once more, her legs spreading just a bit wider to accommodate his body getting closer to her own. When she slid the straps of her brassiere down, gaze focused entirely on him, he became a man possessed. His hands moved to her back, mapping out the planes of her exposed skin until they settled on the clasp at the back of the delicate white garment shielding her from his eyes. Ducking his head down, his lips sucked a delicate mark at the juncture of her jaw, just below her ear, tongue laving over the spot just as his fingers slipped the clasp open, the lace falling slack and pooling between their bodies.

“My god,” He groaned, wanting to take in every detail, every breath she took as her body reacted to just his gaze. “Look at you. A god damn goddess.”

Val wasn’t sure words would suffice what she wanted him to do, so instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, slanting her mouth over his and kissing him with every ounce of herself that she could muster. With his mouth occupied, Everett let his hands carefully slide over her, breasts filling his palms as if they were made just for him to hold. She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs brushed over her already pebbled nipples, and so he did it again and again if only to hear the sweet sounds she made.

“Beautiful,” He growled, with his face nuzzled into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he paid close attention as she reacted to his touch. “You and those sweet sounds you make.”

“Ev…” She breathed his name, head tipping back as he gave her a gentle pinch before softening his touch once more. 

“I wonder what other sounds I can pull from you, sweetheart.”

“Yes…please.” 

Slowly, as if he was afraid to scare her away, he dropped one hand to her waist before letting it slide down to her thigh. With her skirt riding up on its own, his fingers gently teased the exposed skin above where her pantyhose and garter belt met. Her flesh was pliable under his nimble fingers, and he took his time ghosting over her, soaking up every second he was allowed to be exposed to her so vulnerably. By the time he reached the apex of her thighs and felt her shiver against him, he knew he was going to have to make good on her request from the last time they were alone. Don’t stop. But he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to control himself if that was the request- if he wouldn’t take her in the cockpit of a plane, would he be able to live with knowing their first time together was on the kitchen counter of the officers mess hall? 

“Val, honey…”

“I know,” She breathed, dropping her forehead against his chest, lips pressing kisses across the exposed skin. “I know…”

“You have to tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He pressed his thumb against her, teasing, testing the waters, and watched in awe as she pressed herself closer to him, keening under his touch. 

“I want you…” 

“I want you too, honey,” His thumb now moving at a steady pace over her clothed center, he couldn't help but watch her in amazement. “God you look so pretty like this.” 

“Everett, please… please don’t stop…” 

He continued to drive her higher. Her breaths uneven and ragged, her hands clutching him, face pressed against his chest. Had she not been sitting on the counter her legs would surely have given out by now. Gently, he used his free hand to urge her back, supporting her so that she wasn’t laying out on the counter, but no longer hiding her face from him.  Her neck and chest covered in a thin sheen of sweat, eyes pinched shut and red lips parted, it was taking all of his self control not to strip the both of them completely bare and take her right there. But he promised himself he would do it properly with her. She deserved all of the proper things. 

“Open your eyes for me, pretty. Come on, let me see you come apart.” 

She was crumbling under his hands as soon as the words left his mouth, crying out so loud that he covered her mouth and swallowed her moans so no one else dared hear the beautiful sound. He held her as she came down from her high, hands rubbing up and down her back, peppering kisses across her face, down her jaw, before settling on her lips. He would repeat the process for as long as it took for her to come back to herself. Back to him. Then again, she was closer now than she’d ever been to him, and he’d fight tooth and nail to never lose it. 

The air around them had been charged for the better part of the night, sparks following their every move and lighting their way. Now, in a half debauched state, holding onto one another, the sparks continued to orbit, settling softly around them as they took refuge in each other's arms in a time of darkness, pain and loss.  

Yes. This would be their safe place during the war. Together. 

Part Five

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Blakely & Val, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

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[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby: Part 13

a/n: There are only going to be about 5 more parts to this story I think.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1200 ish

Summary: Meet the Parents

Previous          Masterlist         Next    

“I spy with my little eye something that is pokey.” You gaze out the window at the Arizona landscape enroute to some small town east of Dallas.

Jake fakes concentration while answering, “hmmm, is it a cactus?” Jake had moved into your house a few months ago, and you were driving to his home town to pick up some of his stuff that he had been keeping at his parents. It still feels fast but at the time you had been together for eight months and spent every evening together anyway. It did not make sense for Jake to continue to rent. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “your turn.”

“I spy with my little eye something tall.” Jake says with a grin glancing at you. 

“Cactus.” You say with confidence. “I spy something reddish.”

“A rock?” You nod at his response. “Ok, I spy something rocky.”

“Jaaaake!” you groan, “You have to come up with your own things to spy!”

“There is nothing to spy but cactus, sagebrush, and rocks.” You roll your eyes but he is right. You are eight hours into the trip and still have another hour until you reach the campsite you are spending the night at. 

“Ok, new game,” he says. “Would you rather fight fifty chicken sized alligators or one alligator sized chicken? 

You ponder his question for a moment before answering. “One giant chicken. All I would have to do is cut its head off,” you say with confidence. “It would flap around and get blood everywhere but I think if I had a machete I would win.”

“I am horrified with the violence inside you.” Jake says with mock disgust. “I wish I had known of your atrocious blood lust before I moved in.” 

“OH MY GOD!” you laugh, “you asked!”

“And I will always regret it,” he says solemnly to your giggles, “I'll never be able to look at you the same.” 

– – – 

The rest of the drive passed in contented silences, radio singalongs, and long discussions both serious and irreverent. Before you know it you are pulling up at a neat farm house a few miles outside of a small town. When Jake puts his pickup into park you feel the nerves that have been bubbling in your stomach rise to the top. You are nervous to meet Jake's parents.

Jake takes the hand that is not carrying your bags and gives it a reassuring squeeze, leading you up the walk. His mother comes running out of the house, wearing blue jeans, runners and a t-shirt. Her blond hair pulled into a ponytail.  “Oh my baby boy is home,” she dramatically rushes past you and throws her arms enthusiastically around Jake giving his noisy kisses on the cheek. You step back and eye Jake’s blush over his mothers head trying to get a read on his response. Your lips pressed together to hide any emotion you might have. Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t this. 

His mother turns to you, “Well aren’t you the sweetest thing!” Her accent is much thicker than you expected, you say a polite hello and introduce yourself. “Well my name is Tammy and my husband George and I raised this young man here,” she says, pinching Jake's cheek causing his face to redden further. 

She turns and leads you into the house, “Now I have you set up to sleep in Julia’s old bedroom,” she says to you. “I can’t have an unmarried couple doing the devil's tango under my roof.” You feel heat flood your face and stare wide eyed at Jake.

“I didn’t mention that?” he asks quietly at your expression.

“No!” you whisper back before turning to Tammy, “That will work fine.” Tammy directs Jake to take the bags upstairs and ushers you into the kitchen and gives you a glass of lemonade. 

“Now I hope you understand, I want there to be no horizontal refreshments happening here.” Tammy continues as you choke on your drink.

You manage a hoarse, “Ok,” between coughs. 

Tammy tuts as she bustles around the kitchen placing a tray of cookies and fruit in front of you. “I don’t know what kind of mattress testing you get up to in California, but under my roof you will not be wiggling the toothpick.” You nod mutely and feel as if your face is about to catch fire. “And there will be no rolling in the hay either when you go riding next door either!” she shakes a spoon at you as she gives the lemonade another stir before filling more glasses.

A noise announces the arrival of a man who can only be Jake’s father, George. They have the same eyes and face but George's greying hair was originally brown. “You must be Jake’s girlfriend," he says kindly and pulls you into a hug before leaning back to look at you. He takes in the embarrassed look on your face and sighs. 

“Tammy, I told you to stop with your anti-sex hazing!” 

Tammy groans and immediately drops the elaborate accent, shifting to one that matches Jake’s. “Dammit you ruined it! I almost made it to six different ways to describe sex!”

You are glancing back and forth between the two of them confused. “What?”

George sighs, “Tammy likes to greet all of our childrens partners with an elaborate ‘no sex while you are here talk,’” he explains. “You’ll be sleeping in Jake’s room, just ignore everything she said.” He scratches his head in embarrassment. “I do have to say the walls here are incredibly thin and I am a very light sleeper so please be very quiet whatever you do.”

“I sleep like the dead,” Tammy chimes in with a smile, “I won't hear anything, so scream and moan away!”

You groan and rest your blazing face on the cool granite countertop listening to Tammy’s laughter, George sits beside you pats your back in commiseration. “Did Jake know you were going to do this to me?” you say in a muffled voice. “Is that why he ran off?”

“I did,” Jake sounds sheepish as he walks into the room and you raise your head to glare. “In my defense I laughed so hard at Jules’ husband when Mom did it to him that Julia threatened to say something I will not repeat if I didn’t let my mother do it to the next woman I brought home.”

“You sold me out!” you say in outrage. “Either you tell me that secret or Julia will, I deserve to know for the suffering you put me through.”

“Deal,” Jake readily agrees. “I need to limit the amount of blackmail Julia has on me to use on you.”

“Oooh,” Tammy pipes in, “tell me too!”

“That will never happen.” Jake declares. 

After your embarrassing introduction the rest of the evening of getting to know Jake’s parents goes smoothly. They are welcoming and so incredibly kind it’s almost overwhelming. When you eventually head to bed Tammy sends you a wink, “remember I sleep like the dead,” and heat floods your face and you can see Jake’s face go lobster red. 

Jake's childhood bedroom had been remodeled into a guest room and you are disappointed to not get a look into the life of teenage Jake. “Trust me,” Jake says, “it’s for the best.” 

It’s nice to go through your evening routine beside Jake and the two of you are soon snuggled into bed. Despite Tammy’s encouragement, it’s George’s advice that wins out and after a few kisses, you drift off to sleep with Jake’s chest pressed against your back. 

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - Fourteen

(A/n: With the end of the fic drawing near, I'd like to take a moment to tell you all how much I appreciate everyone's support on my first fully released writing project. It really does mean the world to me and gives me the motivation to continue writing(Even if it's a slow process). I love you all, my Lovelies.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Heavy violence, mentions and depictions of torture

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Here - Epilog

Bloomed in Poison - Prolog

     Ghost’s tired eyes widen at the sight before him. An angel had stepped into the room, covered head-to-toe in blood-soaked tactical gear. Bright white light illuminates the figure as they step further into the dimly lit room, though that could have just been his mind slipping further into madness. The lack of sleep and immense amount of pain he’s been put through have done some strange things to his head. He often found himself talking to conjured images of his team, telling them how much he missed them and needed them, only for them to disappear seconds later.

     Iris had been a particularly common and vivid hallucination. Popping up at least twice an hour to let Ghost know how well he was doing or to tell him he just needed to hold on a bit longer. Everytime it happened, he’d keep himself from blinking for as long as possible hoping to prolong the visit from his conjured lover and the brief reprieve it gave his broken mind. Even now, watching as Iris approached him with tear stained cheeks, the only thing he could focus on was keeping his eyes open to keep the illusion here with him. 

~~~~~

     Gone. She’s just gone. The moment you think you have the leverage to get Ghost and König back it all disappears. Rain had somehow vanished from the base, though you’re certain you saw her just a few hours ago in the mess hall. Maybe it was just bad timing and she had slipped out of the base just before you’d put the pieces together. Or maybe she’d seen you rushing down the hall looking like a madman on your way to tell Price. Either way, the lockdown and search of the premises had turned up nothing. She was gone without a trace of her ever having been there.

     “I can’t believe this shit,” You mumble angrily as you tighten your vest to your body, readying yourself for the suicide mission. 

     Soap sighs as he double checks the magazines for his rifle, clearly having had enough of this past week. “How did all go so sideways?”

     You couldn’t help but feel like it was mostly your fault. Obviously, Alice had it out for you for some reason, Ezekiel made that pretty evident. All the thought does is piss you off more. Deep down you knew that it wasn’t just a feeling, it was your fault. Your men were captured, in god knows what kind of state right now, and the team was going on a suicide mission because of something you’d done to Alice. Because you wouldn’t open up and spill your secrets to your ‘best friend’ or what you believed to be your best friend at the time. 

     A disheartened sigh falls from your lips as you continue to ready your gear, tightening straps and holstering weapons as your mind continues to lay all of the blame on you. It doesn’t make sense. Why go through all the trouble of hurting so many people because someone you don’t even like wouldn’t open up to you? Perhaps that wasn’t her reasoning, maybe there was something else causing her completely irrational plans. Or maybe they weren’t her plans at all.

     The emptiness of the halls and rooms has you thinking you may have been lied to. Or maybe you had the wrong warehouse. But that all-too-familiar magnetic buzz has you moving deeper into the building. Like a ship to a siren’s call, you lead the other four into the unknown, fearing the worst while hoping to find the source of your current hardship. Hoping, praying, pleading with whatever god would listen, to be reunited with König and Ghost. Whether you made it out alive didn’t matter to you anymore so long as you got them back where they were supposed to be.

      A long, disheartened sigh escapes your lips as you glance around the last hallway. Having found nothing but empty rooms and silent halls thus far, you begin to wonder if coming here was even worth it. What a waste of time and effort you may have put into a completely empty building after all the trouble you’d gone through to get here in the first place. Suddenly all the fighting and yelling at superiors didn’t seem right anymore. The fear of being fired from the only job you want, of being pushed away from your family again settles low in your gut like brick. 

     Those thoughts only last a moment as one of the men taps you on the shoulder. “There,” He nods toward one of the doors on the left side of the hall. It appears to be made out of solid metal and there’s a keypad on the wall next to the handle.

     Your brain fails you as you step closer to the door, all caution thrown to the wind as you grab the handle. It doesn’t budge, so you try again. And again. And again, until you're practically shaking the door free of its hinges trying to get it open. You want to cry as the magnetic pull grows exponentially stronger. You're on the verge of tears when you finally snap out of your little tantrum and pull yourself together. Now equipped with the knowledge that this door was extra secure, you take a step back and attempt to reassess the situation.

     Your head shakes on its own as you stare Price right in the eyes. “I won’t.” You’re not only disobeying his orders but you’re also directly telling your captain no. If it were any other man standing not even five feet from you, you’d probably be scared to death by the mere thought of telling a superior no. But this was Price after all, and he was like family to you and understood your side. “I can’t.” Your voice shakes with unshed tears as you continue shaking your head.

     Price nods slowly as he looks around at each of the soldiers standing around you both. “Alright.” He gestures to the four KorTac members. “Team two, you’re with Iris.” He steps forward and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Lead them well. Bring ‘em home alive, yeah?” 

     Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the meaning of his words. Not even ten minutes ago, he’d been ordering you and all the others to climb into the armored vehicle so you could get the suicide mission over with. You’d stood there, unmoving as all the others clambered begrudgingly toward said vehicle. But you couldn’t move, you were glued to your spot stuck on the thought of your men being tortured for something that wasn’t their fault.

     Now, Price is telling you to take these four men and lead them on an unofficial mission to save Ghost and König. The thought of the repercussions this could cause flash only briefly through your mind as you look over at the team of operators. “Will you follow me? Allow me to lead you through enemy territory to retrieve Ghost and König?” You nearly choke on air as they all give nods and stand at attention before you. Clearly, they’d gained quite a bit of respect for you over the past two months, something you hadn’t expected at all. Especially not after the scene that had been caused during the training for your first mission with the group.

     It wouldn’t open. The stupid fucking door wouldn’t open. No matter how many different number combinations you entered, the damned thing just stayed closed. The only other way to open it would be to find a keycard with access to whatever system the electronic lock was linked to. That feels impossible considering the rest of the warehouse had been completely empty. Your hope of getting Ghost and König back was quickly diminishing as you did the only thing you could think to do, stare at it blankly.

     A growl of frustration bubbles up your throat as you throw a heavy punch at the keypad on the wall, watching as it cracks in half from the force. A few sparks fly from the broken tech as it begins to short-circuit. And then you hear, like the most beautiful song to ever be written, sung by the voice of a goddamned angel. The lock clicks open as the power supply to the keypad fails. 

     You huff out a laugh as you slowly push the door open, revealing a long concrete staircase. The irony of your anger issues tickles the back of your brain as you force yourself not to burst into a fit of insane laughter. For years you’d been swallowing down your anger, focusing it into your work and training, and all it took to overcome this obstacle was to let yourself feel frustrated again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to show a little aggression and anger. 

     You shrug at your own thoughts and usher four men to follow you down into the basement. The cool, stale air filters through your balaclava as you descend the steps as quietly as possible. You make sure to keep your eyes trained on the opening at the bottom so nothing could take you by surprise.

     You're only three steps from the bottom when you begin to hear voices. Your hand shoots up over your shoulder as your feet come to a halt, signaling for the others to stop as well. Three distinct voices can be heard from around the corner, you’re able to pick up a bit of their conversation. 

     “Any new information from our puppets in there?” A gentle, sultry male voice questions, a small snicker following his question.     A deep, gruff male voice speaks with what sounds to be agitation. “Won’t say anything, not a word from either of ‘em.”

     A familiar sounding female voice chimes in, “Keep trying, one of them is bound to crack eventually. I’m willing to bet you could get the giant to talk first.” 

     That voice strikes an animalistic feeling in the back of your neck causing your spine to become unnaturally straight. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, raking against your eardrums in the most mind breaking ways. Rain’s face materializes behind your eyes, that all-too-familiar heat returning to your chest as you physically force yourself to stand still. The last thing you need right now is to lose what little chance you had of getting Ghost and König out of here alive. 

     Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a speeding truck. They’re alive. They’re here and alive. Relief floods your entire being, your shoulders loosening and jaw unclenching for the first time since they’d been taken. It feels as though you can breathe again, the stale air of the warehouse basement suddenly seeming as fresh as the ocean breeze. A small smile forms on your chapped lips, the thought of getting them out of here is the only strength you can find to hold back the tears.

     The sound of retreating footsteps is briefly stifled by the gruff voice once more. “I don’t think either of ‘em will crack. Been here for a week, beaten, tortured, threatened and still won’t talk? I think it’s time to give up and just off ‘em.”

     You swallow a growl that forms in your throat as you push the graphic images out of your head. You nod once and motion for the others to follow you as the footsteps continue to grow quieter. Poking your head out of the stairwell, you run your eyes over your new surroundings. Small tables and metal chairs haphazardly litter the large room. Most of the tables hold trash of some sort. Empty booze bottles and plastic cups are strewn across the stone floor. The place seems to be in complete disarray, which shouldn't be as surprising as it is.

     It didn’t take long for your small group to be noticed. iver heavily armed soldiers sneaking through rooms and halls that were mostly white and light gray were bound to be spotted eventually. On top of all the other disadvantages you’d found yourself to have, you hadn’t taken into consideration that breaking the keypad might send out a security alert. So, everyone residing within the small compound was aware of, and on the lookout for, intruders.

     While you’d never been a huge fan of killing people, you knew in some cases it was unavoidable. So when a few of the residents found you and your merry band of KorTac operators, your choices were to turn yourselves in and cause a ruckus, or subdue them by whatever means necessary. You all chose the latter, and proceeded to defend your freedom with swift, less than merciful deaths for anyone that tried to get in your way. 

     It seemed there were at least three hostiles for every corner you turned and two more for every room you looked through. Waves of people coming at your group over and over again as you make your way through what you had previously thought to be a small warehouse basement. That wasn’t the case at all though. In fact, there was an underground tunnel system tucked in the back of the original basement. Three whole underground floors, each of which contained housing units, offices, bathrooms and small kitchens. It was like moving through the equivalent of three military bases.

     You probably wouldn’t have made it this far if team one hadn't shown up thirty minutes ago. All of team two had sustained minor injuries, mostly bruises, small cuts and grazes from near misses of bullets. Ammo had been running low and you were down to two of your six combat knives by the time Price, Soap and Gaz made their surprise appearance. The confusion that overtook you nearly made you dizzy, until they explained what they found. What they found being absolutely nothing, which made this elaborate base make a hell of a lot more sense.

     “So, they’re alive? You’re positive?” Cautious concern and elation snake through Price’s tone as he speaks. His eyes are glued to you and the team you’d been leading.

     You nod slowly, honestly uncertain of how to answer without bringing the team’s morale down. “As of an hour and thirty-six minutes ago, yes.” You hadn’t seen Rain at all during your extensive expedition of, what you now suspect is, the organization’s new headquarters. Your eyes find Soap as he works deftly to rig a small charge on a security access door. The hope being it’ll give you all a quicker and quieter way to travel around the labyrinth of never ending rooms and hallways.

     Soap finishes placing the charge and ushers everyone around the corner of an intersecting hall. “Shouldn’t need this much clearance,” He shrugs as he peers back around the corner at the door. “But you can never be too safe.” He steps back behind cover and holds up the charge trigger. A small bang echoes through the hallway, causing slight ringing in everyone’s ears. “Maybe it was a bit too much?” 

     You snort out a laugh and follow Soap around the corner to the security door which is now blown wide open. “At least it’s open.” You shrug as you both walk into the room, monitors full of video feeds fill the back half. Your eyes widen slightly as you scan over each of the feeds, unconsciously looking for two very specific people. “Oh, God,” You gag as your eyes finally find the feed for the ‘interrogation’ rooms. 

     Tears fall from your lashes as you take in the horrendous sight of your men, bound and tied to chairs. The cameras face both of them directly, neither wearing their masks but both recognisable from the clothing they wore. Clothing you had seen them wearing just before they disappeared, only now it was cut open and stained the color of rust in some places. Cuts and bruises litter their bodies, fresh blood seeming to seep from their skin in places. Your stomach twists with the need to evacuate anything that may be contained within as your heart squeezes, trying to fold in on itself. 

     You knew it would be bad, you knew this is what was happening to them, but you could stand to look at it. Couldn’t stand knowing you were the reason for the days of torment your lovers had been through. And now, standing here, more or less fine, while they suffered endless amounts of pain, had broken you. Your usually strong exterior, your need to be fine even in the hardest of situations dissipates. The emotional turmoil you’d thought would be the end of you couldn’t compare to what they’d been through.

     Guilt and disgust fill you as you think back on how bad you’d felt for yourself. You felt pathetic, nearly breaking from their absence was so stupid in hindsight. You’d been so focused on holding yourself together while they’d been here, counting on you to come for them.

     They’d been paid a visit recently, that much was obvious and it made your blood boil with white hot rage. You want to shriek in anger, to wail in sadness and throw things. You don’t though, you keep it together as you knew you’d get your chance to be emotional once they were back in the confines of safety. Your eyes scan the screens once more, finding the room numbers before you turn and rush out of the security room. 

     The adrenaline coursing through your veins and the sound of your rapidly beating heart drowns out the calls of your team. You were on a mission and nothing would stand in your way. So they were either with you, or they weren’t. 

     The next twenty minutes blur in your head, flashes of the events that transpired are all that remain. Images of you sprinting through the halls, picking off the residents of the facility one by one. The cuts and bruises you’d sustained, the single bullet that had managed to hit you in the midst of the absolute rampage you’d gone on stick in the back of your head. You don’t feel them though, your whole body feels numb and you can’t think of anything but pulverizing the two people you know had a hand in Ghost and König’s torture. 

     You vaguely remember team two following hot on your heels as you massacred a fifth of the people on the third floor. They’d followed you without question, either having full confidence in your abilities or having that little control over themselves as well. It hadn’t really mattered to you either way, you were just glad to have some sort of backup when it came time to bust into the room that contains the holding cells. 

     Many well-equipped guards stood in your way, but you weren’t deterred in the slightest by their presence. Neither were the four men from KorTac. In that moment it became clear why they had followed you so willingly, all of them standing at your side waiting for you to give the order. Waiting for you to lead them into what would most likely be a bloodbath for your small, now ammo-less group. 

     “This will most likely end in at least one of our deaths,” You explain in a hushed voice as you glance between the four men. “You’ve come this far with me and not questioned any of my rash decisions, I wouldn’t blame any of you if this is not a risk you’re willing to take.” You swallow hard, nerves slowly wiggling their way past the wall of numbness and determination that had gotten you this far. “You’ve all done well and I commend you all for the bravery you’ve shown by blindly following my lead.” You salute them all as a show of respect, nodding in approval as they follow suit. “I’m going to turn around, you have thirty seconds to make your decisions. After that I’ll be moving forward with no knowledge of who has chosen to stay and who has chosen to go.” 

     You take a deep inhale and turn toward the door that would likely lead to your death. You wouldn’t make the choice for these men, you wouldn’t lead more people than necessary to their deaths for what felt like a selfish and reckless move. Your stomach churns with a mixture of respect and fear when you hear four sets of boots come to stand in a line beside you.

     “If we play this right,” Horangi pipes up quietly. “We can get weapons from a few of the guards before they realize we’re even here.”

~~~~~

     Blood. So much blood. Covered in it, head to toe and back again, absolutely soaked. Yours, Ghost’s, König’s, and everyone else you’d come in contact with in the past three hours. But most of it belonged to that prick who’d suggested just offing your men. It’s sticky and wreaks of iron, leaving a tingling sensation in the back of your nasal cavity. It serves as a stark reminder of the things you found out you were capable of about forty-five minutes ago and it’s the last sinsation you feel before everything around you fades to black.     Your whole body ached from a hard battle your team had barely won. None of you had escaped without injuries that ranged in severity from simple bruising to bullet wounds. Through all of it the only thing keeping you upright was the hope that that vile man hadn’t managed to follow through with his suggestion. 

     As the last guard falls by Soap’s hand, the whole group breathes a collective sigh of relief. The room grows deathly silent as we search the fallen guards for keys to the cell that Ghost and König were held in.

     You’re the first to enter the room, your feet dragging slightly as you step in and come face to face with the bruised and broken forms of Ghost and König. Your first instinct is to run up and embrace them but that thought is quickly stunted by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. You think better of it anyway, better not to crush them in your embrace and further cause them pain. Instead you settle for a gentle caress to each of their cheeks as your team moves in around you, readying themselves to haul the two large men out of the underground compound.

     On the long walk back to the surface with the team carrying your most injured companions, your eyes catch sight movement out of the corner of your eye. Your head turns just in time to catch the back half of a man trying to sneak behind a corner. Unluckily for him, and luckily for you, your eyes are sharp from years of paranoia and working with 141 and you rush to subdue the man in hopes of getting your hands on Rain once and for all.

     Much to your surprise as you round the corner you find that the man is accompanied by the woman you’re after. Your heart pounds as the anger you’d recently resolved comes flooding back, mind reeling with all the ways you’d enjoy tormenting these two cretins as soon as you got your hands on them. The aching in your body is quickly forgotten as Rain begins to make a run for it. You move to follow, determined to take her down before she manages to disappear for the third time but this man, whomever he may be to her, steps in the way. 

     His form is larger than yours, appearing almost bodyguard-like as he blocks your path. His arms are outstretched so even if you attempt to move around him, he’d have a good chance of catching you. 

     Your anger turns to pure, unadulterated rage, watching over the man’s shoulder as Rain disappears around another corner in the maze of hallways. A frustrated yell falls from your lips as your eyes harden and move to the man’s less than pleasant face. “I’ll fucking kill you!” THe last word to leave your lips before you pounce on the man. Your hands find their way around his thick neck as he falls back from the sudden attack. You don’t give him a chance to react before using your grip to take the air from his lungs. Pounding his head into the concrete floor as the fire in your eyes intensifies.

     For ten solid minutes you remain on top of the man. Long after the light had drained from the man’s eyes and he’d stop clawing at your wrists. Still you continue to abuse the man’s body as an outlet for your rage. All of your usual management skills are gone and the anger deep in your bones, anger from years past, spurs you on. You only stop once the adrenaline that fueled you ran out completely. Your body grows weary as your arms fall heavily to your sides. It takes every ounce of energy and strength you have left to drag yourself out of the compound to the awaiting vehicle. You collapse inside next to Ghost and König’s unconscious forms before slipping into darkness yourself.

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[samsayswhatever]

Loki's missing centuries

If Loki had to time slip back to learn all that stuff for centuries, how many times do you think he did that? He wouldn't be able to go too far back, or he might risk messing up the future. He needs to let Ravonna give victor the TVA handbook, and then get victor to the TVA, so I'm thinking that the furthest he could go back safely is when victor showed up at the TVA.

I'm thinking there was about an hour between when Victor showed up, and when the loom exploded. Roughly.

And a year is 8,760 hours. So a century is 876,000 hours. The thing said "centuries later" so thats at least two, but I'm guessing it took longer because he couldn't just study continuously, and probably had to explain himself a lot. So let's say it was 3 centuries later. That's 2,628,000 time slips.

Two million six hundred and twenty eight thousand times that Loki had to watch Mobius and his friends die, time slip painfully to the past, then see them all again - knowing that these variants are about to die, and that all this work won't be remembered.

And he knows that in a way, nothing he does matters because everything he does or says won't be remembered. But he also knows that all these variants that are dying are real people, just like him. He knows that every time the loom explodes, a variant of everyone in the entire freakin universe dies a painful horrible death because he just isn't fast enough, because he is not the perfect all-knowing god he thought he was.

His mind after all those days, weeks, years would get tired, but his body won't. He won't have time to sleep or eat. And his body won't heal. Any punch or cut he got in that fight trying to get Victor to the TVA will still hurt like it's fresh. And he will just have to feel that everyday.

Imagine how long days can feel when things aren't going your way, or when you're in pain. Then multiply it by a hundred thousand.

How long studying for finals-week feels. Multiply it by 15 thousand.

How long high school feels. Multiply it by 75.

Imagine going to high school 75 times in a row, with no support, no breaks, no food, no sleep, and having to watch the love of your life and all your friends die a painfully horrible death 24 times a day.

Like my mind is boggled.

But during all that time, he thought that this was the best plan of action. Because at the end of it, he would get to live. He made variants of the entire universe die two million times because he wanted to to live a life with people who loved him for him.

At the end of the first episode, Loki came crashing into Mobius without any sort of temporal radiation suit. He survived being out there once, and after 300 years, and a whole f ton of time and space knowledge, I'd think he'd figure out that he could go out there and not die.

I want to know when he realized that he was powerful enough to do what he did in the end. Was it really at the end after all those years? Or did he just not do that plan because even after hundreds of years, he was still a little selfish. He would rather all those variants die over and over than give up on his own life. Just maybe. Just a thought.

I feel like a lot of people thought it was unrealistic that Loki changed so much in this show. But that last step that he took to become truly selfless seemed to be the hardest. Loving and being loved wasn't too hard. That took like days or weeks to get used to. But realizing that the solution was to give up his own life took centuries. Or at least acting on that realization. How long would you need to sacrifice yourself like that, given infinite time loops?

How many times would you let the world burn because you're afraid?

[msbhagirathi]

The Angel That Set Them Free [TATSTF 7]

Hi. Welcome. Go on. Read it. :)

She kept crying for what felt like hours and sagged into the bench. Exhausted. Her body giving away.

The baby already fast asleep. A few minutes ago she had woken up, crying as loudly as she could to inform about the empty-ness of her small tummy. Khushi had somehow managed to pull herself together and went to the reception for help. They had immediately brought up a bottle of warm milk for the baby.

Already exhausted with all the panic and worry she couldn't help but drift away in deep slumber.

She was knocked up abruptly from her sleep by a nurse. She vaguely registered her voice speaking out, addressing her, to wake up and go see her husband.

She managed to nod her head and raising herself up from the bench clutching the baby carefully. Her grip had somewhat loosened due to the lack of meal last night.

She entered the room where he had been shifted.

"Room no. 326."

The nurse had replied.

She pushed the door open and the cold-ness of the air-conditioner acted like a whiplash on her senses. The door slowly closed behind her. She stared at her husband lying, in the bed, unconscious. An oxygen mask covering up most of his handsome face.

Khushi had always found her husband beautiful outwardly. God had taken a great deal of time to make up his features for that matter.

The chiseled jaw, the beautiful and very expressive set of brown orbs, the long and sleek nose and the pretty but chapped lips.

She kept staring at his ~half covered by oxygen mask~ face.

"I can't say anything right now. If he doesn't wake up in the next ~forty eight or so~ hours, he might be in the risk of slipping into coma." Came tumbling the doctor's words from last evening.

She shivered, recalling the finality in his tone.

Please don't slip into coma.

Please wake up.

Please.

Your daughter needs you.

Your wife needs you.

She knew she was being overly-emotional. Even though he would of course accept his daughter and even embrace her but he would never accept her as his wife. It probably was just wishful thinking.

She also knew that there was no reason for her to yearn for his validation and acceptance of her, she knew she was much better in that sense. She knew she didn't need any man to validate her position anywhere in this life. She was in fact a very proud and sensible woman in that sense.

But nevertheless. She had always felt this inexplicable urge to give him the tightest bear hug ever since she had laid her eyes on him. She had weirdly felt that the man might be in an urgent need for it.

She had always found herself thinking about him in her idle time. Ways in which she could have helped him get over his state had he just asked her for her help.

And yet she also understood the difficulty of opening up about such a dark past to a complete stranger.

She had kind of grown a fond-ness for her husband.

Arnav Singh Raizada.

So much for not seeking out help for his condition.

"Why did you do this to us?"

She found herself wailing out, miserably failing to contain the sob that was bubbling out from her weak being once again.

"Why...?"

And she broke out into another miserable sobbing once more.

After going back to the penthouse, to freshen up, she quietly turned the key to open the door.

The baby, meanwhile, sleeping peacefully in a cot beside her father's bed, in the hospital.

She gingerly entered the apartment. Fearing the sight that would welcome her in the kitchen.

Horrific flashbacks from last evening came tumbling into her memory continuously.

Drops of panic starting to spread into her insides. She tried to will herself into calmness.

She kept trodding further inside the penthouse, closing the door behind her.

The sight of the kitchen doorframe instantly had her sprinting for the bedroom. Her limbs shaking with the trauma. She tried strip away from her clothes and take a bath somehow.

The cold water running through her body somewhat relaxed her from the panic.

She wore a new set of clothes shakily and walked towards the kitchen keeping her eyes closed.

"Please be clean."

She turned on the lights and kept chanting continuously as if the floor would listen to her and would clean itself up immediately.

She slowly opened one of her eyes and then the other. Sagging against the doorframe, she felt her body relaxing at the sight of a clean and spotless floor and instantly recalled that the penthouse was assigned to domestic helps, who regularly used to come in to clean the whole apartment.

Relief now coursing through her veins, she again broke out into sobs.

After a few minutes of crying and sniffing she went about the kitchen to make something for her starved self.

Occasionally, the memory of her husband lying behind her would pop up randomly in her mind and as a reflex she would try to dodge around it only to realize that he was now lying in that hospital bed, probably safe.

She tried to imagine him walking into this very space at that time and fishing out the largest chef-knife, which she hardly ever used because of its obvious enormity. She played in her mind the way he would have pulled out the knife and whether he would have thought about her and her reaction to this drastic decision that he had taken.

She wondered whether he would have even considered her presence in his mind and life, enough to think about her reaction.

She jerked away from that chain of thoughts and instead concentrated on her food.

After finishing her meal, she cleaned up the kitchen and went back to the hospital.

The day went by in a whoosh, with her sitting beside her husband's bed staring at him; waiting for him to wake up.

That night she once more fell asleep with trails of dried tears streaking her cheeks. She woke up the next morning only to repeat what she had done the last night from reaching the penthouse, freshening up, getting dressed, preparing her meal, eating it, occasionally getting the flashbacks and shivering from the horror of it, cleaning up the kitchen and going back to the hospital room to stare at her husband wait for him to wake up.

However, as evening was fast turning into its darker counterpart, worry started gnawing at her insides again.

She kept praying to all the gods of the world while looking intently at his medical reports to spot some kind of miracle which could help him to gain his consciousness but she couldn't find anything as such.

And suddenly.

"Water."

She heard a low rasp and looked up at the man in front of her. Thanking the gods for listening to her prayers, she quickly picked up the glass from the side table and held it to his lips.

She hesitantly slipped her left hand behind his neck and held the glass in her right.

But as soon as she did it, he choked on the water and coughs started bubbling out from his weak being. She helped him sit up on the bed and kept the glass firmly to his dried lips to help him down the liquid slowly and more carefully.

She saw him gradually come to his senses as he carefully looked around himself. As if a mind of their own, her fingers quickly pulled up his medical reports and she firmly kept her gaze at them.

She didn't know the reason but slow and blind rage started creeping into her being and she found herself clenching her teeth to somehow rein it all in.

She stubbornly kept staring at the reports even when she sensed his gaze on her.

She knew she was being stupid because a moment ago she was the one who could do anything for him to wake up and yet now when he had woken up she felt nothing but angry.

Angry for putting her through all this. Angry for not thinking through his decision.

Angry for not thinking about his daughter and who would be responsible to raise her.

Angry for so many things.

And yet, she did not find it in herself to point out her objections at this specific moment. Tired as she already was by all the things that was going on around her from the past two days.

So, she looked up from the file and unsprisingly found her husband's eyes already on her.

She raised an eyebrow to question him for god knows what.

She somewhat felt him turning red, before he cleared his throat and asked the one thing she wouldn't have ever prepared herself for out of all the things in the world.

"Doe...does my family know?"