#walking relay interview

[moontaeddybear]

Walking Relay Interview

[g0dlyunsub]

it takes two.

spencer deals with a lot on the field, but nothing can prepare him for when he’s stuck inside a locker with you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: 18+ due to sexual themes but no smut, slight claustrophobia triggers

word count :: 2.2k

author’s note :: inspired by a scene from s9e23, i'm imagining spencer in a fitted collared shirt and tie, reader wears a skirt

accompanying song :: stuck between by dutch criminal record

“nothing’s showing up on vicap. i’ve cross-checked records against everything you’ve mentioned, sir, but there’s literally nothing. zilch,” you hear garcia let out an exasperated groan as she ferociously taps at her keyboard. 

you watch as hotch kneads the skin between his brows with growing impatience while morgan starts to pace around the room. you’re not doing any better yourself, your stressed-out fingers threatening to tug at the strands of hair neatly holding your ponytail together. 

it’s too frustrating. the leads are clearly there, but your team is lacking the final puzzle piece to complete the profile, to confirm that it’s someone in the department that’s deliberately injecting themselves into the investigation.

“your answer is probably written down on paper. ugh, i hate when bad guys try to act all smart,” garcia fumes, and sulks as she gives an apologetic wave from her side of the screen. hotch nods, relays a thank you, and cuts the call before rounding the whole team together.

“think about it, those two are the perfect scapegoats. all of these agents have everything to lose, so why not just blame them? they’ve been in and out of cells already, and it makes perfect sense to craft a narrative that’ll point fingers at them,” morgan starts, making small gestures as he speaks with his signature cadence, topped with a honeyed rasp.

“and they’ve got all the authority to influence the public’s opinion,” jj nods in agreement.

“we need to try to get those two to talk again, but we also have to take extra precautions. jj and prentiss, go interview them one more time to see if they’ll spill any names. morgan, i need you to work with garcia to look for other possible leads. reid and l/n, go to the records room to review the files of the agents working with us. dave and i will try to hold down the fort,” hotch instructs, nodding at each of you as he rolls out the orders. 

“and try not to draw suspicion. if all else fails, say that you need to run to the bathroom,” rossi adds with a wink. it always amazes you how calm the italian agent is during such high-pressure situations, a trait you’ve grown to immensely appreciate.

“shall we?” you say as you nudge spencer, and he hums back in response. you bid a wish of good luck to emily and jj and traverse the hallway to the records room with the doctor, your heels clacking beside the cushioned steps of his slightly worn converses. 

after looking left and right to make sure no one’s around, spencer opens the door. you silence the sounds of your heels as you follow inside, and let the bolt of the lock plunge into the frame by slowly closing the door. 

“alright, you take the left, i’ll take the right,” you whisper, and spencer gives you a thumbs up. 

the two of you work silently and as fast as possible, sifting through the piles of records that lie on the tables and beside the cabinets. you feel your heart jump into a cartwheel every time a sheet of paper slips out of the manila folders, the sounds of rustling and creasing setting you on edge. 

“i found mcgregor and drew, but i don’t think it’s either of them,” spencer declares with a voice that isn’t supposed to sound loud at all, but it feels hundreds of decibels higher than the bare whisper you spoke with earlier. 

“okay, i found weaver and lee, but they don’t fit the profile either. let’s continue looking for the other two,” you call back. 

spencer walks over to you and kneels beside your left to help you with your search. once you spread the folders on the floor, you spot one of the two remaining files, and spencer soon finds the other. you’re about to turn through the sheets in the folder when the doorknob starts to shake, startling the both of you.

“shit. spence,” you blurt as spencer takes his file in one hand and grabs yours with the other, and shoves them into an open drawer. after he slides the compartment back with his careful and nimble fingers, you grab his arm and squeeze into a spare locker. you barely manage to seal the opening shut in time.

you could say that it was quick thinking that saved your and spencer’s cover, since the door jiggles and thrusts open a mere second later.

you never would’ve imagined that the day would come when you would draw air directly from spencer’s breaths, let alone enclose yourself in the same room as him. 

and yet here you are, perched on top of spencer’s knee, the scratchy fabric of his trousers resting under the hollow space of your pencil skirt and between your legs. his other leg presses against your side of the wall with an uncomfortable bend, while his chin sits an atom’s width from your forehead.

it’s a nonnegotiable consequence that comes with his tall figure, the way his clothed knee has to rub against your inner thighs under the draped fabric.

one of your hands lies awkwardly on his chest while the other is on his thigh, right above the knee that’s using you for leverage. your attention immediately shifts to your left when you see the rays of the intruder’s flashlight scope through the room. 

you stop mid-exhale when the light pours through the gaps of the locker, casting shadows on spencer’s face and your body. he looks stressed, anxiously wetting his lips with closed eyes, face turned away from you.

and he looks overwhelmed. rapid bursts of inhales and exhales fire from his body, likely due to the collar of his shirt being bound tightly around his neck with the tie. with shaking fingers, you slowly reach for his tie, waiting for approval to loosen it. 

you feel his forehead bury into the cave of your shoulder, and he whispers his desperate ask into your ear: “please.”

despite the lack of light around you, you’re able to locate the small end of his satin tie, and you tug lightly. the knot unfurls as you pull, and spencer lets out a small sigh of relief before breathing a low thank you in your ear.

as this happens, you hear the intruder surf through the piles of papers, unlocking drawers and lifting boxes left and right. hurry, hurry, hurry, you pray desperately in your head. beads of sweat start to form at your temple and threaten to fall down to your exposed neck, which happens to be situated directly in spencer’s line of sight.

“come on,” you hear the guest in the room complain, angrily flipping through papers and slamming the cabinets. you think it’s finally time for him to leave when you hear the high-pitched ring of his phone. 

but your eyes widen when instead of heading to the door, he makes strides towards the locker right across from yours, and leans his back against it before holding the phone up to his ear. holy shit.

“jensen speaking,” he says with a gruff voice, and plays with the button of his flashlight so it turns on and off spontaneously. as the light flickers, it dimly shines the space inside your locker. 

spencer turns his head to meet your eyes, a panicked expression covering his face. you’re about to mouth a small sorry for the helpless situation you’ve dragged him into, but just as you’re about to do so, spencer’s trousers slide against your legs, creating friction so unbearable that you let out a squeak. 

you freeze, looking up to see spencer’s eyes flash warningly. he instantly clasps your mouth with his hands to cover any further sound from escaping your lips, but with no form of support to maintain his position, he starts to slip, and his shirt lightly skids against the locker’s slippery walls. this is somehow even worse for you, because spencer’s knee starts to dig further up your legs and into your cotton underwear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

luckily for the both of you, jensen seems to be distracted by whatever words are being spewed from the other end of his phone call to pay any mind to your suppressed yelps. 

“i think their agents might be on to us,” he scowls, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he tosses the last of his files into a box and opens the adjacent locker to ram it inside.  

“yeah, i’ll try to stall them for as long as i can. they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.” 

jensen curses and promptly ends the call, returning his phone into the pocket of his shirt. he finally walks to the door, sighing as he twists the knob and steps out. the two of you lie in wait for an additional three minutes before trying anything. 

“i think we’re good,” spencer huffs, finally opening the locker door with a thud as the sounds of steel clashing against steel echo throughout the air. 

“yeah,” you nod, taking a breath to collect yourself as you step out. you watch as spencer runs a hand through his hair and moves his fingers down to adjust his tie. 

he returns the stare, his adam’s apple bobbing when he eyes your wrinkled shirt and scrunched up pencil skirt – which looks more like a mini-skirt with how it sits right below your hips.

“i um, i need some air. how about you?” spencer asks at last, clearing his throat. you bite your lip when he starts to brush the dust off his thighs and knees, the moments of earlier flooding into the back of your mind like the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“yeah, i could use some fresh air too,” you respond breathily, averting your eyes and focusing instead on smoothing out your shirt and retying your loosened ponytail. when you’re done, you turn around and stagger to the door, not looking twice to see if spencer’s following you. an intense flush spreads across your cheeks, and your only viable path of escape is to the bathroom.

“you, um, missed a spot,” you hear from behind, and you follow spencer’s gaze to see that he’s referring to the back of your skirt.

“oh,” you say as embarrassment swamps you, and you hurriedly pat at the fabric. “does that look better?”

“it’s still folded there. if you want, i can- may i?” 

the question tumbles from his pretty lips and messes with your head. his hand hovers right around your waist, the same way yours lingered on his tie as you waited for his consent. and his softening eyes. his slightly smoldering gaze looks so innocent and alluring at the same time, your heart starts to feel heavy with the weight of desire. 

note to self: never wear a pencil skirt again.

“please,” you utter like a silent prayer, and mentally prepare yourself to endure the test of his fingers against your skin.

as soon as he receives your word, his hand lightly brushes against your thigh and trails down your skin. he takes the hem of your skirt and pulls down, giving several tugs before releasing the stretched garment. 

he clears his throat when you don’t move even after he’s retracted his hand.

“all good now.” 

spencer’s words drown out your thoughts and snap you back to reality. he’s already standing by the door, holding it open for you with a patient smile.

“thanks,” you say as you walk out and rub your hands together, nervous for what you’re about to say next. “spencer, um, i’m so sorry about that whole ordeal, it was really unprofessional of me to drag you in there, i wasn’t thinking when i-”

“you did the right thing,” spencer interrupts your ramble with the shake of his head, and his flawless smile pulls at your heartstrings.

“i would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn't. that door’s the only way in and out if you don’t count the windows,” he continues, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walks you to the elevator.

“oh,” you shyly murmur back, your cheeks flushing with a shade of bright pink as his words pour over you like warm water. he would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn’t?

“yeah, but how about we try a bigger locker next time?” spencer almost reads your mind as he half-mindedly jokes, causing you to drop your jaw in shock. he doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, however, because he starts to dial rossi’s number on his cell.

“by the way, the uh, new look suits you. the grey skirt and all,” spencer says with a lopsided smile before he raises a hand to excuse himself and call rossi. you’re saved the embarrassment of responding when rossi accepts the call, but your palms are already profusely sweating at his compliment.

note to self: maybe wear the pencil skirt again.

[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less. 

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

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Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

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[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 7 ( Steddie X Plus Size You)

Warnings: Older (Mid thirties) Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Young (Early to mid 20s) Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, slapping (brief), reader just letting out some aggression with Daddy's help, dirty talk, etc. FLUFF, they love her and tell her so a lot.

ANGST (because I'm me), the discuss more about what happened with the fallout of Gina and how they reacted when it came to Y/N. More insight into why the guys and Gina split (she's not a good woman). Reader does a thing at the end, I'm not calling it a cliffhanger but it could be construed as one.

Word Count: 5342

Series Here/ Donate to Me

“Would either of you like more coffee?”, your mom asked as the pot in her hand hovered over their cups. 

“Oh, no ma’am. Thank you though.”, Steve politely smiled as Eddie shook his head to answer her question as well. “The breakfast was delicious, sir. Thank you for allowing us to join you and your family.”

“Ok, calm down, son. That’s not the way to suck up to me and her mother.”

Both boys glance your way as you try to stifle your giggles behind you mug as you sip your coffee.

“I think I’m starting to see where princess gets her sarcasm from.”, the rockstar grins.

“Yeah, we spoiled her too much.”, you mom teases as you stick your tongue out at her reply. 

“If I may ask, what would be the way to suck up to you because we love Y/N very much and we would do anything possible to earn all three of your trust and acceptance back.”

The room became silent as Steve’s words hung in the air. 

“To be fair, honey, when it comes to us, our first experience with you is hurting our daughter. We didn’t even know she was seeing anyone again.”, you mother relayed as her eyes flicked towards you. “Everything we know about you is either from the tv or her when she came home crying.”

Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as her words pierced his heart; they never wanted to be the ones responsible for your pain. 

“You may not like hearing it but it’s true. You have to accept what you did to her first before you can move forward. A thousand years of marriage taught us that.”

“Oh my God.”, your father sighs. “You calm down to. Everyone at this table is so theatrical. I need back up. Where is Mya?”

“Mya is probably knocked out but I’m sure she’ll be around later.”, you smile. “There’s a lake behind the house here if you guys want to go for a walk.”

“Yeah, we’d love that.”

***

“If you’d like after this, we can run to your hotel and grab your clothes so you can change. You can stay in our house to if you want.”

Eddie’s palm balances just under your own as you hold your arms out while walking along the bank of the water. 

“We don’t have to. I mean…we don’t want to over crowd you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Said the men who were asleep at the foot of my bed this morning.”

“We were worried about you.”, Steve replied as he carefully traveled behind you to make sure you didn’t fall. 

“Well, I’m offering but if you’d be more comfortable in the hotel I’d understand. My family and Mya can be a lot.”

As you jump down, the metalhead guides your decent making sure you’re alright before you three continue moving forward. 

“They are a part of you and you aren’t a lot.”

“Not enough to be open with me.”, you grumble before you watch their heads hang. “I’m sorry.”

“No, um, no reason to be. You’re right.”

“Can I ask…what’s been happening since I left?”

“Jesus, fucking everything.”, Steve sighs as he takes a seat under a tree and you both follow him down with you in between. “I have no idea how she’s doing all these interviews at one time. We can barely get through one in general without being exhausted.”

“Gina and her lawyer have been making the rounds on daytime talk shows and sites like TMZ. Our lawyer says that tactic works in our favor because she either puts her foot in her mouth or contradicts herself so we can use that in court.”, Eddie exhales heavily. “All we’ve done so far is make that statement on Harrington’s social media which everyone has picked apart already.”

“Did that do anything for you?”, the mogul asks as his gaze shifts your way. “We were hoping that referencing you that way in our statement would help keep all that chaos away a bit.”

“I wouldn’t know since I haven’t looked at my phone. The only reason I know you said anything is because I had a weak moment and scanned your profiles on my computer.” Your head hung for a moment before you sarcastically chuckled and looked his way. “Now Gina’s interview saying that you’re only dating me because I’m the opposite of her, that was an accident. My mom was watching her morning shows and…”

“She’s not entirely wrong.” Your head swiveled towards Eddie as you waited for him to explain. “You ARE the complete opposite of her which is another reason we love you. If we wanted another Gina we could have just stayed with her.”

Your eyes closed at the words “we love you’, not quite ready to believe and accept them just yet. 

“So, yeah, did you guys have a lake like this back in Hawkins?”

“Y/N—”

“We should probably get you to your hotel so you can change and get your stuff.”, you interrupt as you hastily rise to your feet and dust off your pants. 

“Baby—”

“No.”, you growl as you put up your hand to cut him off. “No, Steve. You both don’t get to call me that right now. Don’t let this whole thing fool you. I’m still incredibly angry with you and it’s going to take more than a conversation and a meal with my parents to get me back.”

Silently the three of you walk back to your house but your mom’s loud voice cuts through the winter air as you come around the corner. 

“…and after the things she’s saying about MY daughter?! Gina Frost can go fuck herself!”

Eddie moves first, powerwalking forward and placing himself between a well-dressed man and your mother. 

“If I were you, Daniel, I would get in your car and go back to New York.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Munson? I’m not a woman you and your friend are dating so I imagine not.”, the man responds sarcastically. 

The rockstar angerly steps towards him but you hastily grab his arm and in return he stands up straighter to make sure you’re shielded with his body. 

“Is this Miss Y/L/N? I just need to talk with you if you’re able—”

“She’s not involved in anything between us and Gina. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with our lawyer.”, Steve defends, placing himself beside his friend to block the man from you and your family. 

“Trying to silence another woman, gentlemen?”

“No.”, you answer for them as you push forward. “They don’t speak for me nor would they ever try. You have one minute to say what you want before my father gets involved and trust me, you thought my mom was combative?”

“Can I at least have a minute alone—”

“No. 55 seconds.”

The man reaches into his pocket and hands you a card that you pass to your mother around your protecters. 

“I’m looking for some more character witnesses to corroborate Gina’s statements—”

“Oh, honey, I’m the last person you should ask because from what I’ve heard our experiences with these men have been very different. 30 Seconds.”

“Are they? How was the charity event? They used to bring her every year.”

“She was their partner. Try again. 25 seconds.”

“It took them awhile to do it. Even longer for her to move into their apartment. How long have you three been together?”

“Who says we’re together? They’re my friends. 15 seconds; you better make them count.”

“Gina was their friend for years before they got together and before they started lavishing her in gifts and all that material bullshit. How long was it until they started doing the same with you? This case was started almost 7 months ago. When did your friendship with them begin?”

Your eyes blink as your jaw tightens and you try to hide the doubt that hits your heart at his line of questioning. 

“Time’s up. Get off my family’s property now.”

##################

You sit quietly as you stare vacantly out the window while both men quickly change and place themselves on the bed in front of you.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”, Steve asks with a soft tone as both men’s eyes constantly scan you over with concern. 

“I don’t want to believe him…”

“But you do?”, Eddie follows trying to hide the pain in his voice. 

“I can’t help it. You hid things from me and then you fucking left! No, you expected me to be ok with you disappearing for ‘some time’ which is way worse.”

“Fuck me her lawyer is fucking good.”, the mogul breathily laughs as he shakes his head. “Yeah, the case was started two months before we met you but do you know how long we were separated before we ever considered trying to find a partner again? Eight months. Eight months of alcohol filled days and hiding in our apartment because the idea of going out sounded exhausting. Eight months of watching her plaster her pages with pictures of her tongue down other men’s throats after deleting everything that had to do with us.”

“When we got served those papers, we spiraled even more.”, the other boy continued. “It finally got to the point where I told him we needed to try and get back out there. We started slow going out to bars or parties and we met so many women, Y/N. They would fucking beg to come home with us but we could never do it.”

“Not the right target?”, you sass but regret it immediately when their hurt and anger filled eyes meet yours. 

“We told you when we first spoke with you that we aren’t into ‘yes’ girls and that’s all they were. We went to the site and it was a bunch of the same shit.”

Steve pulled out his phone and ran his fingers along the screen until he found what he wanted and began reading. 

“Please Daddy. I’ll do anything to be yours especially if you can afford to get me something as expensive as your shoes! I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I’m not really into the threesome thing but if you show me your faces I can pick one of you and give you the best sex you’ve had in your life.”

“I’d love to meet you but we may need to go to the mall first. You can’t take me out in cheap clothes like the ones you’re wearing.”

Your eyes rolled as you listened to what the other Babies had said to them hating that women like them existed especially since you knew a lot of “Daddies” preferred that. After pushing another button on his phone, a high-pitched giggle filled the room.

“Stevie! Answer the phooooooone! Ugh, fine. Whatever. I just wanted to call to tell you guys I won’t be able to make it tonight for dinner. My friends are doing this thing and its sooooo stupid. Do, um, do you think you can send me $300 so I can have some real fun? I promise I’ll make it up to you two! Love you!”

“Steve, I’m out here fucking waiting for you. Why aren’t you here? If this is about me saying I didn’t feel like sleeping next to trailer trash tonight, Eddie knows I didn’t mean it. I was just…you know how I am when I get upset and he promised to take me with him to that interview with Kimmel so I could meet him backstage! It’s not my fault I got wasted and made him miss the stupid plane.”

“Fuck you both! I’m fucking done! I needed you this weekend and neither of you were there! The fucking press and people on the street are calling me a fucking whore and TMZ is making the rounds with my fucking mugshot! You’re going to regret throwing me away! The least you can do is send me some money for the hotel since I can’t go fucking home now.”

“Wow…well she sounds like a winner.”

“Stop it.”, Eddie rumbled in his Daddy tone that had you unintentionally sitting up straighter. “We’re trying to explain something and this is serious, Y/N. Every Baby we talked to reminded us of her…except you.”

“And it’s not because we were targeting you or needed you to show how, I don’t know, how fucking amazing we are or some shit because we aren’t. We’re flawed and sometimes we can definitely be assholes but I swear to God, Y/N, we never meant to hurt you. These past few months have seriously been the best of our entire lives. I offer to pay for things and take care of you because I love you. No, hey, look at me.”, Steve scolds when you avert your gaze at his declaration again. 

“It’s not because we need to establish a relationship quickly or whatever Gina’s lawyer is preaching. You have never tried to take advantage us and selfishly we took advantage of that by commanding you to wait in your apartment without telling you want was going on. That’s never going to happen again, baby girl, and I don’t care what I have to do to make sure it doesn’t.”

“Trust us, sweetheart, the speed of this relationship startled us to. We constantly asked ourselves if we were moving too fast even though we told you we needed to go slow. But like Steve said everything we do is because we love you… I love you.”

Your eyes took them in as they spoke, fully absorbing what they were telling you. 

“Is there anything else I should know about you and her?” After exchanging a look, they shake their heads. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“We’re not, baby, we promise.” As tears cloud your vision, you close your eyes to try and suffocate them as they betray you, falling down your cheek. Ringed hands cup your face as a forehead presses to yours. “What can we do, Y/N? Tell us how we can help, princess.”

“I want to be mad at you.”, you whisper.

Eddie’s head straightens, understanding what you need. 

“Then be mad. Let it all out, baby. You aren’t at home and we’re on the top floor. Shout, scream, hell, hit us if you need to. Just like you we know the word and we know when to use it.” Still seeing trepidation in your eyes, he clears his throat as he stands to his full height. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be a little baby.”, he coos with a mocking tone that has you standing to match him. 

“I’m not being a baby!”

“Oh really, little girl? Sound like a baby to me.”

Your palms reach out to shove him but the rockstar quickly bounces back as you push at him again a bit harder.

“M’NOT a baby! I have every right to be angry with you!”

“Yeah, ya do, baby! Let it out! Tell me why you’re angry with us!”

“I was ALWAYS vulnerable with you and more than accommodating but you both couldn’t do the same with me! You hurt me!”, you screamed as you began punching his chest with your fist barely moving him in place. “You made me feel like trash! You took me out and treated me like a queen but as soon as things got hard for you two you threw me away!”, you began to sob. “You gave me hope that I could finally be fucking happy after what Holden did and then with one letter you ripped it all away!”

Dropping your arms to your sides, they watched as your body shook as the tears continued to flow. Abruptly, you turned to leave but when Steve’s hand reached out to grab your wrist, your palm reeled back before smacking him hard across the face. 

The mogul didn’t say at word or let you go as his head swiveled back and his forehead fell on yours. Your eyes remained zeroed in on his chest as it heavily rose and fell with each angry pant, matching you own as the intense energy hung in the air. Again, you slapped him but it wasn’t as hard as before. Repeating your actions, the force of your palm connecting with his cheek became less and less until you were just cupping his face in your hands. 

Your lips roughly attach to his as a small whine leaves your throat at the taste you missed so much. A needy atmosphere replaces the old one and Steve’s strong palms grip your thighs as you jump up to wrap your limbs around him. 

Tumbling onto the bed behind you, the mogul desperately tugs down your jeans and panties as you fumble with his belt before reaching into to his own pants to free his cock. The two of you groan into each other’s mouths as you collect some of your slick with his tip and guide him into your entrance.

Hovering above you, Steve delivers a couple of slow but deep thrusts that have your eyes rolling shut and your fingers threading through his hair when his entire body presses against yours. 

“We’re so sorry, honey.”, he whispered breathlessly. “Mmph—ah, fuck—we didn’t think…fucking stupid.”

You shook your head and pushed his closer to your neck as your legs clung to him tightly.

“It hurt me the most be-because…Jesus Christ, Daddy, just like that.”

“Because why, baby? Tell Daddy.”

Your pussy clenched around him as his heavy pants rippled through your ear making you mewl as he pumped into you at a harder pace.

“Because I love you to, Steve.”

The moan that rumbled through him was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard as he thrust into you so fast the bed shook aggressively underneath you. Keeping his arms secure around you, the man pushed up onto his knees, bringing you with him as he continued to thrust upwards as your palms held his face and his eyes locked in on yours. 

“Please…again…”

“I love you, Steve, so much.”

“Oh shit.”

As he pressed his head into your chest, you felt his release begin to paint your insides and at the sudden action your body trembled as you came.

When you glanced his way, Eddie couldn’t wait any longer, having been stroking his cock at the display before him and desperate to feel you in his arms again. Pulling you off his friend, he stepped out of his jeans and threw of his shirt, positioning you onto all fours with your ass in perfect view for him. 

The rockstars fingers dug into your thick hips as he slid himself inside you and leaned over to lay his chest against your back. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, we missed you so much. I promise we will—mmm—never make you feel like that again. You deserve the world, baby.”

With your eyes close, your mouth blindly searched for his and he obliged as your lips passionately mingled together. 

“I-I love you to, Eddie. Fuck, Daddy, please… harder.”

Pushing up onto his palms, he pulled his cock all the way back before slamming back into your cunt hitting that soft spot inside of you repeatedly that had you a moaning mess. His sweaty forehead was resting on the side of yours and as you opened your eyes, you watched as his gorgeous features contorted into pleasure as he picked up his rhythm.

“That’s it, Daddy. M-Make me cum.”

You couldn’t help but smirk when his nose scrunched in focus as he did what you requested. Falling completely on top of you, your hand quickly grabbed his as your pussy quivered around him and you whimpered as the coil snapped in your belly. The feeling was almost too much for Eddie as his pace sputtered and he grunted against your skin as his release filled you. 

After gently pulling his softening cock out of your now sore but content body, Eddie rolled you onto your back and continued to kiss any part of your neck and face he could reach until a second set of lips joined him on your opposite side. 

“I forgive you.”, you mumble causing their movements to stall before they raised both their heads to look at you. “I forgive you. I’m sorry I broke your rule about googling you. I only looked up your lawyer’s information. I swear I haven’t be looking up information since—”

Steve’s palm over your mouth cut you off.

“We understand. That rule was bullshit anyway… Another way for us to hide Gina.”

“We looked through your socials.”, Eddie revealed as his hand brushed some of your hair away from your face. “We had never done it before because, like you said, we wanted to learn about you from you but when we couldn’t get a hold of you…”

“Did you find anything interesting?”, you tease making both men smile.

“There’s a video on there one of your kids tagged you in where they were joking with you about slang or something. They seem to really love you.” Eddie’s grin grows when you lightly giggle. “Y/N, we’re sorry about not updating you more on our case. It didn’t even occur to us how this could ripple out and affect your job.”

“We’d hate ourselves if we were the reason you lost something like that.”

“I forgive you.”, you repeat before continuing. “I do have to make it clear, though, that this can’t happen again. I meant what I said, I do love you both but I’m not going through all of this again. I…refuse to.”

Their lips kiss your cheeks as they hold you tighter to them. 

“This is never happening again, sweetheart.”

“We promise, honey.”

#####################

As you step out of the shower at your house, you smile as you listen to Eddie’s cackle echo through the house at something your dad said before Steve’s lighthearted tone tried defending whatever was said. 

Glancing towards the drawer by your bed, you let out a heavy sigh before reaching in and grabbing your device to scroll through the screen. 

All of your socials had tags attached that you assumed were people claiming the “mystery woman” was you and the comments everyone was saying in response. There were a ton of emails from news outlets asking for you to say something or give them a quote to confirm it was indeed you that went to the charity event with them but thankfully nothing from your boss or the school. 

You saw a bunch of texts from Mya, your mom, and surprising your ex who assured you he wouldn’t say another to the press even though a few got his information as well. 

Going through your voicemails, you skipped passed reporters and the couple from Gina’s lawyer that you couldn’t care less about until a familiar voice followed through your phone. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie chuckled with a slight slur in his tone that told he was probably drunk at the time. “I just wanted to call you myself because…Because I was thinking about you. I think about you a lot…like all the time, Y/N. Even before all this bullshit with our ex… I would be in the studio with the guys and be like ‘I wonder what pretty girl is up to?’ You’re so beautiful, baby, inside and out. I had a dream about you last night. I was back home in my trailer and I heard you screaming outside. I ran to find you b-b-but I couldn’t. I started panicking like ‘She’s gonna think I didn’t try…try to come save her.’”, he sobs making your heart break at the sound. 

“No matter what, princess, I’d be here for you. I love you so much. I’ve never loved anyone as much I love you… Fuck…I shouldn’t leave t-this on your machine. Pfft, Machine. Like it’s the 90s still.”, Eddie laughs at his own joke. “Anyway, um, yeah…I just wanted you to know…that we miss you an we love you, baby. We so sorry…”

The rest of the message was his heavy breathing where you assumed he fell asleep making your grin grow as you wiped one of the tears that fell. Pushing the button for the next message, Steve’s gravelly voice followed. 

“Hey, Y/N. Um, I’m so bad with these things. Eddie’s a lot better with technology than I am but I’m so desperate to hear your voice, honey. I miss the sound so much and not just your voice but your cute little laugh or even the adorable way you sneeze with your entire soul.” When he laughed you giggled along with him. “Jesus…we really fucked up, huh, baby girl? When I was a kid, I would watch women come and go from my dad’s office and I would think ‘I’m never going to be like him. If I had a good woman like my mom at home I would never hurt her like this. I would never make her feel unloved or unwanted.’… We understand if you need some space… I just…I just don’t want you to think we’re doing ok without you. We love you, Y/N.”

When you selected the next message, you have expected it to be another declaration of love or an apology from the guys but when a high pitched sigh came through grating your ears you were surprised. 

“I hope I’m calling the right number. I’m usually a texter but I felt like something like this required a call. My name is Gina Frost and I am Eddie and Steve’s ex. Listen, honey, for your own good, leave them now while your heart is still intact. I spent years trying to be what they wanted me to be and it was never enough. The first time I stood up for myself was when I left them and they dragged my name through the mud! They are great at twisting the truth to fit their narratives. Don’t get pulled in. Would you be willing to meet with me so we can talk?”

You growled at her tone and accusations as what they told you, her voicemails on their phone, and what she said about you on national television swirled around your head.

Opening your Instagram, you uploaded three images with different captions. The first was from the night of charity event that Stephanie took of you three before you left the apartment with you in-between them and their arms wrapped around your waist posing with their other hands pushed in their pocket. Your grin stood out as you laughed at their insistence to not smile in pictures so it looked “sexy yet intimidating” while showing you a demonstration. 

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N and as a lot of you may have noticed I am the woman that went with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington to the event last month. I have known these men for a few months and have been in an intimate relationship with them for some time. For my privacy and because of the things being said online by Miss Frost, they tried to protect me by referring to me in the media as ‘just a friend’. I hope that notion alone goes into the column that they are not the lies that people have said about them. I love them both with every fiber of my being and I have never felt safer in my life then in these men’s company.”

The second image was a video of you and Steve sitting in your living room on the floor where you were trying to put one of your face masks on him while he kept making jokes to keep you laughing. 

“Why is it, cold?!”

“Because, you dork! It good for your skin now stop moving.”

When he playfully sticks out your tongue to lick your wrist as it grazes his lips, you can’t help but lean back on your knees as your tummy shakes with almost uncontrollable giggles. 

“Steven! Stoooop.”

“You want me to stop being adorable? I can’t do that, honey. That would be like asking me to stop breathing.”

“Steve Harrington is one of the kindest souls I have ever met even going overboard sometimes. I thoroughly believe that if he could move heaven and earth with his own two hands just to see me smile he would. He has never once asked me to change who I am but has himself adjusted his own personality to make me comfortable without me even asking. I love him as is but he can be stubborn when it comes to people he genuinely cares about. 

Your third video had Eddie straddling your waist while pinning your wrists to the floor. The power had gone out due to a storm so you three had been passing the time anyway you could think. While play wrestling, he got the upper hand and leaned down to kiss your lips. 

“Woooo! And Eddie Munson wins by a landslide!”

While he pretends to be praised by a nonexistent audience, you wrap your arms around his waist and push your chest against his bare one, flipping you both around till he was underneath you. 

“Oh no! And with the cruel hands of fate, Eddie Munson is no more.”

You giggle as he closes his eyes and pretends to pass out before you lean down to kiss him, making him grin as his fingers tangle in your hair. When you go to sit up, some of your locks get tangled in the metal of one us rings and his playful tone promptly changes to a concerned one. 

“Oh, hang on, princess, I got you here. There we go. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you or anything? Good.”, he beams up at you when your shake your head and the video stop as he leans up to wrap his arms around you in a big bear hug. 

“Eddie Munson is so sweet and caring. He’s very protective and does whatever he can to make sure I know I’m safe whether that be by making me laugh or holding my hand till I feel comfortable. He’s never belittled me or physically hurt me in any manner unlike men from my past. I love this goofy rockstar and there is no place I feel safer or more at home than in his arms. 

Gina Frost believes that these men chose me because I’m nothing like her and I genuinely believe that is the only thing she’s said with any truth. I would never hurt them the way she did and continues to do even though they are no longer in her life. They deserved better than you and I will do whatever I can to make them happy because they do that for me every single day.”

As soon as you posted your response, a small wave of fear rumbled in your stomach as the likes began to quickly fill up your notifications until you noticed the only two handles that matter when it came to your words. 

 “@thereal_EddieMunson liked your post.”

“@thereal_EddieMunson added your post to his story: “My princess is a queen 🤘.”

“@StevenHarringtonOfficial liked your post.”

“@StevenHarringtonOfficial added your post to his story: “I would move the stars in the sky if she asked me to.”

A wide smile paints your face as you blush and hastily get dressed to skip downstairs. 

“Jesus, child. Took you long enough. Were you writing your memoirs up there?”, you father joked as you came around to hop on a stool at your kitchen counter next to Eddie who was picking at the appetizers your mom had made while dinner was being prepared. 

As you reach for a slice of garlic bread, the rockstar leans towards you to kiss your cheek before taking your other hand in his and placing it on his lap. 

Steve, who was helping by cutting up vegetables, met your eyes across the marble and smirked as he gave you an adorable little wink.

###############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16 @lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer @aactuaaltraash @alastorssimp @mygirlchaos @starksbabie @imagine-all-the-imagines @hardladyheart

[lizardkingeliot]

The thing is tho... okay.

Here's the thing.

AMC’s Interview with the Vampire has so effectively driven home the point that Lestat loves Louis without condition and will continue loving him to the same degree forever regardless of the passage of time and regardless of what Louis has done that sometimes it's easy to forget that, like... Louis doesn't actually know that. Sometimes I'm really just like what do you MEAN Louis de Pointe du Lac doesn't know he's Lestat de Lioncourt's heartbeat now and forever Louis de Pointe du Lac do you even watch the SHOW.

Anyway. I don't know what I'm trying to say here but I think it's something about the romantic angst of it all. The way Lestat is going to be forced to betray Claudia and Louis in Paris during the trial leaving Louis with the belief that Lestat doesn't want him. He will view this as a rejection and this is the reason why he is going to spend the next 77 years of his life with Armand. This is why he couldn't just reach out to Lestat post-Paris and try to work things out. I’m not saying anything new here, I know. Most of us have worked this out already. It took me a while to get there yesterday when I was digesting the episode because, like I said, Lestat’s love is so obvious it’s easy to forget Louis really doesn’t know. But listen….

Louis is deeply unwell in 1973 San Francisco. When Lestat asks him why he’s ill all I can think right now is… well. Because he doesn’t have you. Even before he walked into the sun he was ill because he doesn’t have you. Ill in New Orleans after the deed was done. Ill in Paris and sustaining himself with memories so vivid it was like Lestat was there in the room. Ill in San Francisco when Armand could have ended it all by relaying Lestat's words to Louis, and didn't. Ill in Dubai searching the well of memory trying to find his way back to something like sanity again...

But listen. Sam Reid said Lestat very much thinks Louis is dead after 1973. This tracks. It fits very neatly with the ~theme. With what this season is trying to do wrt the romantic angst of it all. Maybe Lestat is still locked up in a dungeon or underground somewhere sleeping, maybe he isn't. Maybe he's rotting away in New Orleans, wrecked with grief, thinking about walking out and greeting the sun every morning when it rises and he's reminded Louis is gone. I guess we'll find out soon enough…

But listen. There's not some great conclusion I'm trying to arrive at with this post. I'm just spinning my wheels thinking about how delicious the tropes on this show truly are. To separate a love like that, to have Louis believe Lestat doesn't want him and have Lestat believe that Louis is dead. Well, friends... that sounds like a recipe for a grand reunion to me. And maybe what I'm trying to do with this post is toss another coin in the wishing well of a potential season 3. Because you can't have a love story like this that is destined to end in a reunion only to come back the next season to pretend it doesn't matter. I don't know. Maybe you can. But I really hope they don't. I really hope when they come back together at the end of this nightmare, when Lestat is finally permitted to have a voice of his own, that voice will be echoing through the halls of their home, because he'll be telling his story to Louis.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine…Meeting Dean In Prison

Pairing: Prisoner!Dean x guard!reader

______

“Hi,” said prisoner 83907. You paid him no attention, the man with the cocky smiling offering a wink in your direction. You knew his type. A bastard behind his smirk. “Hello guard…52119608. That’s too long. How about sweetheart instead?”

“How about silence is golden, prisoner. The warden will be here soon.”

“I didn’t know they had women guards in a mens prison.”

“I work in the offices hence why I’m watching you. If you’d prefer one of the men to come in, be my guest. They might kick your ass after I’m finished but let’s go get one of you-“

“No. No, I’ll be on my best behavior.” He sat back in the chair, holding his cuffed hands in his lap. “You think the warden’s gonna throw me in solitary?”

“Depends on what you did. Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Yeah but I might not have the chance to talk to anyone for awhile so I might as well while I can.” You sighed, the man shrugging. “I decked a guard.”

“Yeah, you’re getting solitary.”

“I had a good reason.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“He was feeling up some chick. Red head.” You instantly thought of Kelly in HR. She’d gone home sick all of a sudden, pretty shaken up. You looked at the door and figured you had some time alone still. 

“Tell me everything that happened. Now.”

Two Days Later

“Mr. Winchester,” you said. He lifted his head up from where he sat in the interview room. “Or do you prefer Dean?”

“Dean is good. What’s going on, sweetheart? I went from solitary to being told I’m out on early parole this afternoon.”

“We were able to verify the story you relayed to me. The parole board was already reviewing your case and your selflessness in protecting one of our staff swayed them into releasing you early.”

“Someone must have been in my corner. Not often a prisoner’s word is listened to,” he said. You leaned against the door frame, Dean’s smile soft now. “I wonder who vouched for me.”

“Kelly’s my friend. And that particular guard is an ass. So thank you.”

“You looked up my wrap sheet, didn’t you.”

“You stole a car to get your injured little brother to a hospital. You’re not exactly evil incarnate, Dean.”

“Yeah but I’m known to steal a heart or two. Might have to lock me up for that,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he offered you a coy smirk. “What do I owe you?”

“Stay out of trouble for me Dean.”

“Only the bad kind,” he said. “Scout’s honor.”

Six Months Later

“Get off! Jerk!” you shouted, turning and punching the man trying to steal your purse from behind you. You kneed him in the groin and he dropped, giving you enough time to get behind him and pin his wrists together. He reared his head and threw you off but a quick punch from someone else put him back on the ground.

“You okay?” said a familiar voice. Your head snapped up, the man shaking out his wrist, staring blankly. “My prison guardian angel?”

“Name’s Y/N,” you said, righting yourself, the man groaning on the ground. “Move and I’ll shoot you.”

Dean flagged down a cop car that drove past, the man quickly gone and leaving the two of you on the sidewalk. 

“Isn’t getting drunk a violation of your parole?” you asked. He smirked and held up his chin.

“I was pardoned two months ago by the state. Funny considering I never submitted an application.”

“You must be lucky,” you said with a nod. “You look good. Got a job?”

“Bar tend under the table right over there. Going to school right now. I probably shouldn’t have told you about the under the table thing.”

“Eh. I like you Winchester. You’re good,” you teased. He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What?”

“You’re not a prison guard anymore are you.”

“What gave it away?”

“You have flour in your hair.” You threw your head back and groaned. “You work in one of the restaurants around here?”

“Maybe,” you said, taking a step past him. “You want to buy me a drink?”

“Told you I’m good at stealing hearts sweetheart.” He grinned and you walked past him, heading for the bar. 

“It’s one drink. It’s a ‘you owe me’ drink in fact. No stolen hearts here,” you said. He caught up with you at the door and leaned in close, nearly brushing his lips over yours.

“No stolen heart. Yet.”

__________

[anonymous-chicken-was-taken]

There is a man named Stanford Pines.

Just about anyone in the scientific community knows his name, and most know his face. It would be hard not to. It's plastered on magazines, on websites, on informational guides about the Institute of Oddology. Stanford Pines is synonymous with the word odd, peculiar, strange; it takes very little digging to find that.

Yet, when it comes to actually meeting the man? No matter who you ask, the answer is almost always no, they have not met him. Everyone knows of him, but nobody knows him. They see his face, they hear his name, they read his papers, they know his arguments. A lucky few even converse with him through email, or letters, or phone conversations. However, meeting him face to face seems to be an occurrence even rarer than the beasts he writes essays about.

Sometimes, he makes a public appearance. Sometimes, someone will see him walking about in some small, secluded space. His co-founder follows him like a shadow, never long taking his eyes away, full as they are of both care and peculiar caution.

Even more unheard of, sometimes, Stanford Pines will do something that interacts with the public. Once every few years, he will appear for an interview, or a photo, or something else to please the magazines that fill up his inbox. McGucket will be with him, every single time, and afterwards there will be whispers on the very internet he created from the people he'd spoken to. By all accounts, Stanford Pines is a very subdued, polite gentleman. Someone who is very intelligent and awkward, and attached to his co-founder at the hip. A man who is followed at all times by an army of personal security and NDAs. "For safety," McGucket will say as Pines' face goes dark. No one ever explains who's being kept safe, or from what.

To the students at the Institute of Oddology, it's even stranger. Nowhere does it say that seeing or meeting the core founder is guaranteed -- in fact, in comparison to other institutes, it's hardly even advertised that he's there -- but it's still surprising. If Stanford Pines is seen at all, it's almost always from behind a screen. Some students graduate without ever having seen him in-person. He does not attend events. He does not greet families. He does not make speeches unless he's being projected on a screen, a stark contrast to McGucket and his exaggerated mannerisms as his very real and present form hovers nearby. He holds no office on the entire campus. It is not unheard of to see him taking a walk with his co-founder, but it's rare enough to be shocking.

Rumors fly. Some are silly, absent things that would seem implausible to anyone who hasn't spent time in Gravity Falls. He's a vampire. He's a robot made by McGucket. He's a whole eldritch entity. Some rumors are more serious, whispered when his reclusive nature rings suspicious among the masses. None of them change the facts.

Perhaps it would make more sense if his co-founder was similar. However, Fiddleford McGucket is the polar opposite of Stanford Pines. He responds to interviewers asking about his computers. He makes speeches. He wanders around campus, stopping to chat with anyone who cares to listen. He's amiable and approachable as long as you can get past his rather extreme eccentricities, with an open-door policy and only one question he won't answer. If anyone builds up the guts to ask about Stanford Pines, and why he's so gosh darn reclusive, his only response is a sad, painful smile and a change of subject. In general, however, if one were to ask a given student of the institute where they could find Fiddleford McGucket, the chances are would be they'd be able to relay the information. However, like so much having to do with Stanford Pines, there is always a but.

At least three days a week, Fiddleford McGucket disappears for hours at a time. In theory, this would not be unusual. There's a section of the campus, slightly separate from the rest, dedicated to research. It takes much clearance to get to this area, for it is full of many very dangerous things. Some of the newer students fall under the misconseption that this is where he goes off to. However, there is a secretary at the entrance to this section of the campus, and when McGucket disappears, no amount of asking will get them to respond that he lies within. There is no summary of what he's there for, and there is no estimate of when he'll be back in his office. He is not there. For those hours, it's like he's vanished off the face of the planet.

There is another building seperated from the rest, barely visible through the trees. Tucked far behind the research area of the campus and heavily guarded at all times. No amount of clearance, or ID, or begging, will get anyone in. This place, most know, is where McGucket goes. No one can be certain, but there's a conviction there that this is the truth. It's the same way people know that this is where Stanford Pines resides. In those hours, McGucket disappears to the same nowhere at all that his co-founder lives.

No one tries to get there. Not anymore. There would be no point.

In order to do so, one would have to get into the research zone of campus. Already, this requires more clearance than most students could imagine. From there, one would have to go through a building only staff can open, at the very back of the campus, where only the most dangerous of research is kept. A security officer stands ever-vigilant at a back door leading to a winding pathway, intersected halfway through by a pair of guard stations. Past them lies a towering locked gate, centered in the midst of a towering electric fence. There is no guard station at the gate itself, though guards patrol the perimeter, even though the underbrush is too thick to walk through. There is no visible way to unlock the gate, but if one managed to get through regardless, they would find that the obstacles were still not over. The acre the fences encircle is thick with security, only some of which is human. It's impossible not to get caught, but if somehow, someone did, they would find themselves face to face with the sloped roof and charming wooden exterior so vaguely visible from the more well-trodden paths.

If one were to make it behind the reinforced door and yet one more pair of security guards, they would find nothing of note at all. In fact, were the windows not so thick, and the place not full of rooms with no place in a residence, and the path not so elaborate, and the whole area not so heavily reeking of isolation and uncanniness, one could almost mistake it for a normal home.

Inside, one would find Stanford Pines. Shorter than his head-and-shoulders shot makes him seem, and with a tangible air of melancholy about him that no projection could ever communicate.

Above all, Stanford Pines would appear incredibly alone, with only security, a McGucket Computer, and shelves upon shelves of books for company. If this someone who somehow managed to sneak in got lucky, they would arrive in this not-quite-a-home while McGucket had disappeared to there. They would find the two of them in deep conversation, and Stanford Pines would appear happier and more animated than most any living soul had seen him in decades, content in the company of his one connection; his shadow. Even when they had serious conversations, about the most serious topics in the world, something about him would be just that bit more lively. The visit would end, every time, with McGucket asking the same question. Every time, Pines would shake his head sadly as he responded; would the answer have been different, they both know that McGucket would have been informed long before he arrived.

Upon his co-founder's departure, one would be able to see Stanford Pines either sigh and sink right back into his melancholy, or the energy persist for another handful of hours. One would wonder why he was so reclusive, if he seemed so much brighter when he was among friends. One -- the impressive, unstoppable individual who managed to get into such a heavily monitored area -- would more than likely leave confused.

They wouldn't realize, unless they stayed within the bounds of the not-quite-home until it was far too late, what the hoards of security was designed for. Wouldn't realize that just as much as much as they are meant to keep someone out, they are also meant to keep someone in.

[ventique18]

Twisted Wonderland (Malleus) Comics Masterlist

🌸 Links under the cut 🌸

Love is driving me a bit insane

Never will there be a cold day with you

Drawing guessing relay game

Couple goals

Envious dad

Finding Yuutsum

The realization of Yuu-kun

Masterpiece

Getting physical

Surprise kisses

Greetings

Fortune Cookie

Pants

Handfeeding (Father Crowley crack)

Jelly bean

Breed and butter

Possessive "husband"

Calisthenics

Cute (?) height difference

Nighttime activities

Holding hands while walking

Queen mothers and three generations of 🧎‍♂️

Sunbathing

Zoom interview

Lilia-shishou

Souvenir

Lemon cheesecake

Headturner

Homeless

Solving for x and y (u and i)

A walk through a father's life (Diasomnia)

Mystery box

If you could see me now

Seeing shrimp

Horniton

Dragon boyfriend

Drama king

Old dragon

Supportive dragon

Worms

Gargoyles and grandma

Too much...

Scribbles

Home

The devil

Hornton is a guy too!

Flirtatious prefect

Hornton meets mama

Priorities

Homescreen wallpaper

Sweet dreams

Soda

Love letter

Gingerbread family

Hotel rooms, retainers, and wigs

Fatal weakness

Terms and conditions

Virgin maiden

After school activities

Bus

My type

Infinite

Wing marks

Find you

Flower garden

Cute lil doggies

Size difference

Love square

Sparkling dress

Rent-a-waiter

Fighting your own demons

The cat isn't home

Meeting the grandparents

Long boy

Voice messages

Apple of my eye

Touch zone

With you

Reading over your shoulder

Better with you

[msbigredmachine]

Sugar & The Chief - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

Reader is a best-selling erotic author reflecting on the success of her newest novel, which is based on her secret affair with the man who became her muse.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC

Warning: A LOT of smut

Word count: 5.7k 

A/N: I started this goddamn fic in late 2021! 😭 I'm so glad it's finally out. This one is a little different and I hope you enjoy!

--------------------------

It took you approximately three years to finish it. At first, you didn't want to, because through the smoke of mirrors of the raunchy literature was hands down the most personal piece you’ve ever done. But your team insisted that you go through with it. Your publicist Sheree told you it was one of the best works she’s ever read. On top of that, the dividends from your last book were starting to dry up, so you didn’t have that much of a choice.

You finally relented, and soon after it was published, the novel exploded. Your rabid readers had been waiting impatiently for your next offering and they gobbled it up. Your face and the novel were all over social media, TV, magazines and even on the huge Times Square billboard just down the road from your multi-million dollar penthouse in the Upper East Side. It wasn’t long before you were doing interviews and signing autographs in bookstores, malls and libraries all around the country. You were scheduled to be in London, Paris and Madrid next month promoting the book. It was a comeback for the ages.

And you had him to thank for that.

Sugar & the Chief was an erotic tale about an intense love affair that ended in disaster. Critics viewed it as Fifty Shades of Grey with better writing and much better sex and found the protagonist, Erica, relatable and three-dimensional. Erica was an ambitious albeit mentally unstable escort in an illicit relationship with Roman, a married Hollywood superstar she codenamed ‘the Chief’. This wasn’t your bland Mills & Boon romance tale...This was so smutty and so nasty you couldn’t read the first few paragraphs without wanting to masturbate thanks to Roman and Erica’s graphic sexual antics. It was so detailed that some theorists believed the Chief was based on a real person. When asked about who ‘Roman’ was, you played him off as a completely fictional character. No one needed to know the true identity of your muse. But you were one hundred percent sure that if he read this book, he would know it was about him. After all, you had incorporated some real-life dialogue between you in the novel. Without a doubt, he would know. You wondered, not for the first time, what his thoughts were if he had indeed read it.

Your fans did not hesitate to relay their own thoughts. Tonight, you were busy reading quite a number of them. Sheree had collated readers’ reviews, emails and feedback and sent them to you for your entertainment. Each one had you smiling from ear to ear. Women from all walks of life gushed about Erica and Roman. Housewives, attorneys, college students, septuagenarians, book club members; all of them had something to say and you felt all warm and fuzzy inside to know you still had it, that the magic hadn’t left your pen yet. Of course, they all wanted to know who the Chief was. They were so impressed with how he fucked you, dominated you and yet doted on you…They all wanted a man like him.

They all love you so much, Leati…just like I loved you…love you…

Closing your MacBook, you stood up from your desk with a smile. You stared out the ceiling-to-floor window and kept sipping from your Olivia Pope-sized glass of red wine, sinking deeper into your thoughts. 

Truth be told, you should have known better than to fall in love with Joe Anoa’i. Your first meeting all those years ago on a week-long vacation should have ended on the island between the soft rumpled sheets of his bed. What happened in Hawaii should have stayed in Hawaii. But then, you couldn’t stop gravitating to him and he couldn’t stop gravitating to you. You went running whenever he called and he came running whenever you called. It was wild, passionate, addicting, exciting…too good to last, really. And it wasn’t long before the fantasy came crumbling down. 

So many factors came into play. The demands of his job as the face of WWE. The meteoric level of his fame. And then, his discovery of your coke habit, your discovery of his wife Nicole and his three children, your increasing jealousy, his decreasing interest in you. After five tempestuous years, your relationship came to a bitter end, and the difficult healing process put an end to the writer’s block you’d been suffering from for a while. 

You missed him deeply, and wished the dull ache in your heart would go away. As morally questionable as it had all been, what you experienced with him needed to happen to every woman at least once in her lifetime - indulging in forbidden fruit and all the delicious things that came with it; the danger, the thrill of secrecy, the earth-shattering sex, the emotions of love, lust, possession, and of course, the inevitable pain and heartbreak…

You captured all of that in Sugar.

------------------

Chapter 22

Erica pushed the button, shuddering out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The elevator doors clunked closed and the cables began to whir. She ascended, floor by floor. Light goosebumps littered over her arms as she was filled with a morbid mix of dread and anticipation.

Their big fight from three weeks ago kept playing over and over in her head like some kind of evil loop. He didn't want to leave Gaelle for her and she'd taken her frustrations out on him. However, after what she'd just discovered, he was going to have to change his mind. Because of him, she had broken the ultimate rule in this treacherous line of work. This little game between them has been turned on its head, and tonight was the last time she would play by his rules.

The door opened before she knocked, and she felt her pussy purr involuntarily as they locked eyes. That big, sexy ass body of his leaned against the doorframe, his huge arms crossed over his equally huge chest. His dampened long hair flowed past his shoulders, and he smelled fresh, like he'd just had a shower. It didn't matter how long they'd been apart for; he always took her breath away every time she saw him.

"Well? You gon' stand there or you comin' in?" he sassed, that smooth country-boy drawl of his making her body temperature rise. Shaking it off, she walked through the door, right past him and into the open layout of his new, lavish penthouse, the night lights illuminating her brown skin through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

"Nice place," she commented, looking around with mild interest. He had found another hideaway where he could fuck around behind his wife's back. It didn't matter, because Gaelle was never going to leave him no matter what he did and he knew it. She could feel him trailing behind her, his bare feet moving catlike and silent on the cool hardwood floor. He had a prescence like no other, that was why he was the biggest movie star in the world today. And you so happened to be the mistress of the biggest movie star in the world today.

"Champagne?" he offered.

"No, I'm fine," she answered, her crossed arms pushing up her already generous cleavage. Roman's gaze longingly raked over the A-line trench coat concealing her curves, traveling down to the sinful looking high heels adorning her feet. Her hair fell in luscious, tempting waves down her shoulders. A deliberate move, surely, as she knew he loved her hairstyles down. His dick hardened as he imagined bending her over, pulling her tresses and spanking that fat, juicy ass of hers as he pounded--

"I'm not stayin' long, so talk." Her statement yanked him out of his lurid daydream.

"You got all dressed up for me, beautiful," he asked, scanning her up and down again.

"Not everything's about you, Roman," she scoffed.

Not her giving him more lip. He would do something about that later. "I called you a buncha times last week but you didn't pick up. You left my texts on read," he accused with narrowed eyes. "You ignored me."

Erica tilted her chin, her stance defiant. "And why does that surprise you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her biting response and chuckled at her audacity. Sugar was quite the firecracker and honestly, he couldn't get enough. Walking towards her, he smirked as he caught on to her struggle to keep her eyes on him and not on his thick dick print, clear as day in his gray sweatpants. He reached out and rubbed her arm with his hand before tugging her closer to him.

"Sweetheart, don't ever ignore me again. Especially when you know that pussy belongs to me."

"Does it? Funny, I thought I was 'just another pricey whore'. Did you forget you said that to me?"

He rolled his eyes with a huff. "Sometimes I say shit I don't mean, baby girl, you know how it is."

Taken aback by his dismissive, nonchalant attitude, she yanked her arm away. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? After everything we've been through? That shit was foul as fuck!" she said incredulously.

"I know. That's why I texted you to come over so I could apologize in person, but you refused to answer me. I hate it when you shut me out, Erica."

"You shut me out, too! For weeks! And now that you're bored you summon me like I'm your fuckin' toy. I am not your toy, Roman! I don't give a damn that you're a Hollywood star, there's plenty of other A-listers out there who will take care of me and not treat me like shit."

"And yet, you come back to me every time," he pointed out, the smug curl of his lip just as panty-wetting as the rest of him. "None of your other clients take care of you like I do, make you feel the way I do. That's why you dropped 'em all, for me."

Erica started to retort but stopped herself, realizing that this was in fact, the truth. But she'd be damned if she let him have the last laugh. "Ya know what? This was a mistake. I should go. I had something to tell you but I dunno why I even bothered to come here."

She turned around but he grabbed her before she could go far, drawing her back to him. Seeing her getting worked up always seemed to fuel his desire for her. The angrier she was, the hotter the sex, and he was horny as fuck for her right now.

"Look at you, gettin' all riled up," he drawled, his tone tinged with amusement. "I love it when you're mad, that shit turns me on, baby."

This man was as infuriating as he was sexy. "Fuck you! Everything is a joke to you!"

"This feel like a joke right here?" he demanded, snatching her hand and pressing it against his throbbing length. The little whimper she let out as she cupped him sealed her fate.

"Feel that? Feel what you do to me?" His voice was rough and needy, matching the look in his eyes. "I need you, Erica. It's been weeks and I've been goin' fuckin' crazy without you."

"Go home to your wife, then," she bit back with a lot less conviction than she aimed for. The pull was much too strong, quite literally too as he wrapped both arms around her slender waist, his face nuzzling her neck and making her hiss as his soft beard tickled her skin.

"She don't make me feel like you do." His voice was needy and almost pathetic as his mouth pressed her throat. "Let me make it up to you, baby. I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you?" His tongue was warm, his breath hot and heavy on her skin, and her arousal flared against her will.

"Roman..."

"Come on, baby, kiss me," he murmured, his lips sliding over hers. It was a slow but deliberate assault, and Erica felt her body yield as a soft gasp escaped from her. She sagged against him, gripping his shoulders for balance as their mouths smacked oh so sensually together. Fuck, she missed this, missed his delicious kisses and his assured touch as he grabbed her round, fleshy ass, kneading and caressing in his hands and pressing himself harder against her.

Roman growled softly as he released her mouth, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips as his eyes flitted down to her chest. "Take your clothes off," he commanded.

Wordlessly, Erica's hands slid over the leather belt on her waist to slowly unbuckle it. Then, she opened up her coat, eased it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, leaving her in nothing, absolutely nothing, but her heels. Roman's darkened orbs blazed to an onyx black as they scanned her naked body, drinking in every smooth, delicate, voluptuous curve. Grabbing her by the waist, he backed her up against the nearest wall, his hardened dick straining against her exposed center. A shiver ran through her as he crashed his mouth back to hers, his huge hand squeezing her throat briefly before tracing the valley between her breasts, and she finally let go of the groan she was holding back as his hand came in contact with the intimate spot between her thighs.

"Damn..." he smirked as he found nothing but wetness, pushing his palm against the slick mound and sliding his fingers along her slit. She moaned in response, her hands gripping his tattooed bicep as his thick finger pushed into her, her pussy quivering around the digit as he thrust it at a maddeningly steady pace.

"Mmm-hmm you like this, don't you baby?" he said, nipping at her bottom lip, coaxing yet another moan from the back of her throat as he slipped a second finger home with deep, languid thrusts. She whimpered helplessly, her vision blurring as her walls dripped and tightened around the invading digits. Her forehead dropped onto his chest, battling to hold on to her sanity. "Fuck..."

Buoyed by her whines and soft cries, he pumped his fingers more earnestly, hissing softly when her walls rippled around them again, signaling her end. "You 'boutta come already, huh? I told you this my pussy. Squeeze my fingers Erica, come for me."

Damn him and his ability to control her with just his touch. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her shout of pleasure came from somewhere inside her soul as she spasmed uncontrollably. She could hear his triumphant snicker as her juices flooded his fingers, brushing his mouth against hers as she leaned into him to regain her tenuous balance. He scooped the round, soft flesh of her breast into his eager palm, with his other hand leaving her pussy to suck her juices, humming pleasantly at the familiar sweet taste.

"Remember what I told you in my text?" he breathed, his gaze trained expectantly on her.

"Mm-hmm."

"Tell me," he insisted, now massaging both her breasts. "Tell me what I said to you. I made you a promise. What was it?"

Erica fought through the thick haze of passion to recall his exact words from the raunchy text message. "You promised to make me come at least three times before we ever make it to the bed," she recounted.

Roman smiled smugly, satisfied with her response. "Uh huh. And Daddy always keeps his promises, don't he? That was the first. Two more to go. Now, let me show you around my new crib."

He showed her around, alright. First, on the plush sectional in the living room area, with her on her back and her head hanging off the edge as he slowly thrust his dick in and out of her mouth. She let his groans wash over her as her jaw relaxed to take more of his intimidating length down her throat. Even upside down, her gag reflex was superb, so each time he thrust inside her, her tongue lapped at the base of his cock, soaking his balls with her spit. Willing to give as much as he was receiving, he leaned forward and rubbed her clit in quick circular motions, making her moan around his cock with the vibrations causing his neck to extend, looking up to the ceiling as pleasure licked his spine.

"Unnnh fuck, suck my dick, take it all down your throat, baby," he encouraged her, sliding his other hand over her breast and toying with her nipple, all while fucking her face. His knees weakened at the sight of his length bulging her throat, she always knew how to take him well. "Shit, Sugar, you look so fuckin' hot like this..."

Erica moaned again through her stuffed throat, waves of heat washing over her as her pussy pulsated beneath the pleasure of his long thick fingers. In all her time under the bright lights and the seedy bowels of Hollywood, she had never been captivated by any one human being. Until him. Their escort-client relationship had long since grown into something more. She had given up on resisting him and let him do anything he wanted to her in bed. But tonight she craved some semblance of control, and this time, his famed charms would not stop her from getting it.

Pushing him away so he slipped out of her mouth, she sat up straight and tugged him onto the massive couch with her. Straddling his hips as he sat up, she placed one hand on his barrel-like shoulder while using the other to curl her fingers around his pulsing dick. He groaned and bucked his hips as she flicked the head of his dick along her slit just to torture him a little. Then guided him against her opening and slid down.

The moment felt heavy and tense, like a tightly twined coil as her wetness opened up for him. At the end of her slow descent, she stopped to adjust to all the emotions and sensations wracking both their bodies. Unconsciously rocking her hips into him, she gasped as the pressure immediately started to build. Their hands and mouths were all over each other. Roman ran his hands up and down her back, rubbed her tits, squeezed her ass. Erica raked her nails over his nipples, sucked on his neck, bit his shoulder. Fuck, it felt so damn good already. Ass rested comfortably on his thighs, chest to naked chest with his dick lodged inside her, it was clear they were not going to last very long.

Leaning back slightly on her other hand placed on his thigh, she began to ride him. Slow and steady at first, making him absorb every drop of her ass, every crevice, every sensation. The lust and pleasure consumed them both, their mouths colliding with hot, sloppy kisses, her moans pitching higher as the tension thickened. His own groans grew heavier and gruffer, his hands leaving her hips to slide underneath her ass and lift her up and down. Exquisite torture, with his strong grip on her making her wet pussy take every inch of him. The angles of his upward thrusts as he bounced her on his dick had her making noises like a bitch in heat. He was so snug and warm and deep inside her, it was as though she could feel him in her soul.

"Oh my fuckin' god," she half-groaned, half-cried, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck as he bounced her even harder. Up, down, up, down. His dick stretched her walls, his fingers deep into her ass cheeks enough to leave a bruise or two. The dizzying sensations spiraled her into another orgasm, and she sat all the way down on his dick and rolled her ass desperately, literally riding out her nut. She couldn't stop herself from biting into his sweaty, salty skin as she came, making the big man growl in reaction and smack her ass hard.

"That's your second nut," he declared.

He flipped her onto her back, still deep inside her. He looked down at her with hungry, blown pupils, letting his hands dance along the meat of her thighs and her calves. Throwing her legs onto his shoulders, he leaned forwards, folding her in two as he fucked her into the couch. Her hands clawed the back of his head only for him to grab them and pin them above her head. The sweat clung to their skins as he steeled his thighs and grinded himself into her wet heat, his face lowering to suck both of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around each peaked bud. Her groans snowballed with his groans as he drove his dick impossibly deep inside her with primal intensity. When she managed to speak, her voice was unrecognizable. "Oh fuck, I'm coming," she moaned hoarsely, her toes curling behind his head as she exploded again, "Oh my god, Roman, ohhh..."

"I'm 'bout to come too, don't fuckin' move," he panted, holding her down to piston his hips and pound into her. Erica basked in the sound of his tortured groan when his big body tensed up and she felt him pour into her warm confines, his hips stuttering as he found sweet release.

"Got you to three quicker than I expected," he said when he caught his breath, kissing her cheek. "We just gettin' started, baby. I'ma remind you why this pussy is mine."

He gave her an up close and personal view of the city's remarkable skyline, her breasts crushed against the glass window as his juicy lips ravaged her from behind. She could only imagine how she looked right now. Her legs wide, ass spread open, her battered pussy wet and swollen and pulsing for more of his oral onslaught. Nobody ate her out the way he did, with so much passion, covering all the bases, her clit, her inner lips, and even her asshole. The warmth of his breath had her walls clenching as he licked and sucked and kissed everywhere, painting her slickness with his spit. The relief she felt as he finally detached his mouth from her center and got off his knees was replaced with his heavy cock tapping her pussy lips before breaching her entrance with the thick girth. Each thrust dragged her sensitive nipples across the cool, hard surface of the glass, but Erica was so lost in the moment that she didn't care.

"Mmmph, fuck me, baby, fuck my pussy," she exhaled another pining moan, her nails scraping against the glass where he had ordered her to place her hands. Her mouth fell open when he slapped her backside, that deliciously dangerous dick of his pounding into her in full view of the bright lights of Los Angeles. His dick slid in deeper and deeper, his hips circling each time he was buried inside her, making her knees buckle as her climax inched ever closer. She tried to speak again, but words failed her, reducing her to a whimpering, shivering mess as her pussy clenched greedily around his dick. Roman merely chuckled arrogantly, reveling in his handiwork.

"You sound so fuckin' sexy, baby girl, keep moaning for me like that," he purred, his hands clamped on her shapely hips to make her take his lethal strokes. He was a man on a mission, punishing her for assuming she had any sort of control over him. Tears sprang to her eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, his pelvis mashed up against her soft backside as his cock worked inside the sensitive walls of her pussy with a more tender rhythm. He filled her with stroke after long stroke, making them both moan as she squirted all over him this time, her orgasm breaking her into a million pieces.

He showed her the stripper pole next to his bed. He had it installed specially for her, he said, so she could show off her elite lap dancing skills for him and him alone. Watching that itty-bitty waist and all that ass bounce on his dick like her rent was due would be the end of him; He couldn't resist massaging the soft cheeks in his palm, one after the other as she gyrated back and forth on him like a professional.

"Uh huh, go off, baby, pop that pussy on my dick," he drawled from his spot on the pouf he lounged on, his sturdy thighs spread wide apart to give her all the space she needed to ride and grind while she held onto the pole for balance. He watched the streaks of his cum trickle down her gyrating ass, and it made for quite the visual, slapping against the mixture of her juices smothered over his groin. He rubbed in the remnants of his seed on her cheeks, biting his lip as the skin glistened and made her big booty look even bigger. "Mmm, damn baby, this pussy so good, I should throw a dollar at your fine ass..."

"Fuck!" Erica had the pole in a death grip as yet another orgasm rocked her body. She had to get off his dick because she was shaking so hard. The tremors had her mewling pitifully as she bent over, gifting him with the sight of her pink pussy quivering as her cum ran down her inner thighs.

"Get back down here," Roman ordered, smacking her leg and then her ass as he stroked his dick in his hand, "You ain't done. Sit your ass back down on this dick."

He'd been wanting to break in his new California king bed since it'd been installed, so it was apt that he was breaking her back in it. He had her on her stomach, her asshole stuffed with a purple-colored butt plug as he stuffed her pussy with his hard, long cock. She moaned and gasped beneath him, clutching the comforter with her fists as he fucked her like a savage, her plump ass trapped in his possessive grasp.

"Daddyyyyy..." Her moan was loud and long and desperate. It became too much. Roman's dick seemed to double in size inside her and both her holes felt too full to the point of another explosion. A sob tore from her chest.

"Why you cryin'? Huh?" He slapped her ass. "Don't cry. You wanted this dick. Ain't that why you came over? Daddy told you to come and you listened like a good bitch, Daddy's sexy ass bitch. Come here." He hiked her hips higher to force a deeper, more painful arch in her back, and rammed his dick into her sweet spot over and over, demolishing her pussy. Too spent to throw her ass back, she could only lay there and take it, and her eyes squeezed shut, certain she was about to pass out from pleasure.

A big square mirror stretched across the ceiling directly above the bed. His hand slithered into her hair, tugging her head back, almost hyperextending her neck to make her look up. Her mouth dropped open in a moan as she watched that big thick shaft glide in and out of her, the soft skin of her ass rippling against the smacks of his pelvis. Just the sight of him and her together in such an erotic moment had her leaking again, soaking the silk sheets on the bed. He was fucking her so good. She hadn't come this hard and this many times in a long, long time.

Sitting back on his heels, he brought her off the bed and flush against him, assaulting her neck with his hot mouth. "You make me so fuckin' crazy, Erica. Don't nobody else make me lose control like this," he whispered, his grip tightening around her throat as the other hand gripped her breast, making her whimper. "Love this pussy so fuckin' much. You love this dick, baby?"

"Yes Daddy, I love it, I love you," she choked out.

"Mm-hmm, I love you too, baby. You gon' make me come all up inside you, girl," he grunted, his brain growing fuzzier as his end neared. He wrapped her up in his big arms, engulfing her with his heat, lavishing her panting mouth with tongue kisses as his hips rocked upwards, teasing her g-spot. Erica found enough strength to rock with him, grinding back against him, the lovers moving together in the most intimate, sensual dance. Roman groaned with pleasure when he felt her incredibly tight pussy pulling on his cock. It was almost difficult for him to continue thrusting inside of her, but her warm slickness eased the way for him. His hand left her breast and slid down her sweat-slick body to play with her clit, dragging her weak body over the edge.

"Unnnnhhhh..." Erica moaned out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Roman moaned with her, his soft lips trailing wet, frenzied kisses along her throat as his balls tightened, craving fresh release. "Come, baby girl, come for Daddy," he whispered shakily.

His wish was her command. Her body went limp as she detonated one more time, creaming all over his dick in the process. Roman let his head fall forward, his groan muffled against her throat as he came hard, smearing his warm cum all up in her walls. Erica murmured incoherently as she felt him pulse inside of her, giving her everything he had like he always did. When it was all over, he grabbed hold of her hair and planted yet another searing kiss on her lips, before releasing her to collapse on the mattress. Admiring her thoroughly fucked disposition, he massaged her backside tenderly before slowly easing the plug out of her, watching her wince from the pain. Running a hand over the back of her head, he brought her face to face with his groin. "Suck all this shit off my cock," he ordered.

Erica licked her lips at the sight of his thick member, semi-erect and slathered in a milky cocktail of her juices and his semen. Grasping it obediently, she lowered her mouth onto it, moaning softly at the taste of herself on him. Roman looked on with a bite of his lip, stroking her hair as she licked him clean. Afterwards, he lay on his side and pulled her into his chest. Erica sighed happily as he kissed her gently, soothing all her pain away. This feeling right here was the reason she could never let him go. Their connection was too deep, too special. No man had ever made her feel like this and she didn't want to lose it; the high of having him, the euphoria of belonging to him. It was why she was willing to quit today, right now even, and start a new life with him. She needed him to be with her forever, and she wasn't sure she was going to take no for an answer this time.

After what she was about to tell him, she doubted he would say no...not when the life they had created together was done out of the love they shared.

"Baby?" she whispered softly to him, watching him closely.

"Hmm?" Lying flat on his back, his eyes were shut and he was in a state of complete relaxation.

"Look at me," she said, waiting for him to meet her eyes before speaking. She needed him to understand the words coming out of her mouth.

"Roman, I'm pregnant, and the baby is yours."

End of Chapter 22

--------------------

Erica's unexpected declaration spelled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Roman. His behavior took a complete 180, having security drag her out of his new apartment, denying all ties to her unborn child and cutting off all communication with her. A distraught Erica terrorized him, stalking his family, poisoning his wife Gaelle and getting him fired from a lucrative film project. It all came to a head when Erica took Gaelle hostage in Roman's vacation home where he had fled to escape her rampage. She forced him at gunpoint to have sex with her in his marital bed while his wife watched, but died when he deliberately strangled her in the middle of her orgasm. It also turned out that Erica was never pregnant, and the positive test she'd shown Roman belonged to her friend and fellow escort, Tiffany. Erica's story made headline news all around the world. It was an incredibly shocking end and it worked well with the dramatic plot of the story.

You were glad for the artistic license, and though what really happened with you was less chaotic, it was not any less heart wrenching. You never even got to break the news to Joe. In fact, he was gone from your bed before the crack of dawn, vanished like a thief in the night. Never returned your calls or messages until three days later, when you received a text message from him that put your heart in a blender.

Nicole and I have decided to work things out. For good this time. I hope you understand. Thanks for always being there for me. Take care of yourself. ❤

How you recovered from that blow, you would never know. How you dug yourself out of the hole of darkness he dumped you in was still a mystery to you sometimes. It really was a testament to your mental strength, because not many people would have survived the unimaginable pain he inflicted on you. The sinister side of you wished you had been brave enough to do exactly what Erica did, to take out your rage on him and make him hurt like he hurt you. But instead you redirected that energy to your work, pouring every second of your anguish into the book. It took a long time for you to get to this point of fulfillment and success in your life, and the book had been your therapy. Now, you were at least making good money from your pain and it softened the blow a little bit.

When you thought about Joe these days, it wasn't with as much resentment. It seemed he had a few problems of his own anyway, as his beloved Nicole was reportedly threatening to upgrade their separation to a divorce and take his kids with her. How the tables turned. Nonetheless, you wished him the best. You still had love for him. You would always miss him. He changed your life, and there was no doubt that you would forever carry him with what was left of your heart.

"Mama?"

You heard her little voice before you heard the shuffle of her tiny feet. Quickly placing the wine glass in the sink, you turned as the love of your life came into view, her favorite blanket dragging behind her as she searched the room for you.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, little lady?" you asked, fighting back a big smile to look as serious as possible. She was in her "I wanna stay up late" phase and you couldn't afford to fold, not this time at least.

Her little dual Afro puffs jiggled as she rubbed her hand over her eyes, "Come sweep with me, Mama," she pleaded, staring up at you with her big, expressive brown eyes and a pout that was the spitting image of her famous father. She was starting to look so much like him.

Your heart swelled as she padded over to you with her arms outstretched. You lifted her up and held her small body tightly, absorbing her innocence and unconditional love. She smelled so fresh and delicate, like roses, sunshine and baby powder. Her scent has filled your life with joy and purpose since the day you brought her into this world two years ago.

And to think you had almost taken those pills to snuff out this beautiful life in a fleeting moment of weakness. Now, you would give your own life to protect hers without question. Always.

"Okay, kiddo, let's get you back to bed," you cooed softly, kissing her chubby cheek.

"Read me a stowy, Mama?"

"Of course, baby."

As you retreated to your daughter's bedroom, your phone vibrated beside your MacBook. Three letters you had not seen in years flashed on the Home Screen, cutting through the empty room and calling out to you.

❤️Joe❤️

THE END

--------------------------

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[thewritingofspencerrose]

straight from the books | masterlist

"Please Ella, please please please!"

Forty-five minutes. From the time they announced we were landing to now as enter the hotel, Ivy has been adamantly begging for a roommate switch. For the past three weeks she and Jack have had a will they-won't they relationship filled with post game nights and pre-game lunches. It's for this reason that she so desperately wants to be his room buddy for the next 3 days.

"Please El, it's just a little favor, from one media girl to another."

Just a little favor. Just trading room keys with Jack so that he can stay with Ivy and I end up with his roommate. Nico.

"Plus, I mean, it's Nico. You've been into him sin-" Now I'm not about to let her finish that statement, putting a hand over her mouth to stop it in it's tracks, especially in a lobby full of Devils players and personnel who are all more than happy to relay my child-like crush to the man of the moment.

"Ivy, I'll trade with Jack if you stop that thought immediately," the smile I feel under my hand makes the awkwardness of sharing a room with Nico.

As I return her smile, and remove my hand, my eyes glance around the room, looking for the boy in question. "Hughes!" Both Jack and Luke turn my way, Curtis elbowing Luke with a suggestive double raise of his brows. "I meant Jack."

"What a sad day to be you, Baby Hughes," Curtis chirps the younger, his face a bright red that makes his brother start laughing as he walks our way.

"Hellooo ladies!" Jack greets with his signature smile, eyes resting just a bit longer on Ivy's beaming figure.

I shove my keycard into his hand, his smile growing impossibly larger. "Here you gremlin, but-" I pause, keeping a hold on the card, "I need to know this is okay with Nico."

"He's more than okay with it, I already checked," He assures, nodding quickly, and cuing my full release of the card.

"And you're sure about that?"

"When is Jack sure of much?" A sweet Swiss voice hums from behind me, all the greeting I could ever need. Not the sight of his warm brown eyes when I turn to greet him. Not his smile when I he returns the hello. "We're meant to head to the rooms now. We'll just have to keep our little switch quiet, so the rest of the staff doesn't find out," The captain is whispering jokingly, Jack and Ivy laughing along as Jack takes her bag.

"Ready to go?" His hand reaching out for my case.

"Oh, Nico you already have your duffle and case, you don't have to -"

The look I'm served is one of pure and unbridled sass, his thick brows nearing his hairline. "My mother raised a gentleman, now hand over the case." His eyes are the same determined he is when on the ice, a look I'm positive I can't outwit, so I hand over the bag.

"Thank you, thank you," Ivy thanks, kissing the side of my head. "You are my favorite media girl."

"I'm the only other media girl, but I'll take it," I banter with a smile, "Please keep it quiet though! I don't want to hear whats about to happen for the second trip in a row!"

Jack's smile is anything but regretful, but he gives me a thumbs up regardless, pulling Ivy away to the elevator.

Nico and I follow, a lot quieter than the giggly couple, making sure to take a different elevator.

The elevator is only on floor four of twenty when his smooth voice breaks the silence. "So, weekly report: how do you think we'll do tomorrow?"

This started after my first day on the job, I had gone to interview him prior to the game and what I got in return was the question, "How do you think we will do?"

Smiling is the only way I can respond, "Big win coming your way, Mr.Captain."

He returns my look, nodding along as the doors open, "That's good, very good. The boys need a win."

"And a win you shall-" But my voice gets caught in my throat as Nico swings our door open.

Our door open to reveal the fact that they had fucked up horribly in scheduling.

Because this room has a singular double bed. Not the two each room we reserved was supposed to have.

"I - I can go to request a different room?" His offer is shakey, clearly unsure of what to do in this moment.

"No, no, I saw on the Devils twitter that people were complaining about this place being booked out," Is my mumbled return, taking in how nice the room is as we enter. "Something about it being close to the stadium and a known place for the team to stay."

The grunt he lets out at the sound of the borderline stalker fans is hard to ignore, but I focus my eyes on everywhere else.

"I can sleep on the couch-"

"No way in hell, Hischier," This idiot. "I am not being the reason that the captain of the team all achey-breaky on ice tomorrow! I will sleep on the floor."

His horror at my suggestion is nearly as loud as his displeasure downstairs at my suggestion to pull along my own bag.

"Absolutely not," The tone is strong, nearly demanding. "You will not be sleeping on the sofa."

"Then I don't know what you want us to do, Nico," I know what my preferred answer is as I move towards the man and my bag, kneeling to dig out my pajamas.

"We could - if you are comfortable - share the bed? Each take a side?" He must be a mind reader.

Eyes glance to one another, only longer than just a glance, heart beating fast at the sincerity written on him.

"That's okay with me as long as it is with you," It's with a smile and a nod, one I hope is reassuring, and it seems to work, his shoulders slouching down as his own smile takes over.

"It's perfect," Is his agreement, nodding as he moves towards his own bag. It's a calming silence that embraces us after, simply moving through the room and through the night in an almost domestic motion, settling down for the evening.

It's when we settle down, Nico on his side and me on my own, that the thought hits me.

"Nico?"

"Yes?"

"What would you have done if I didn't trade with Jack?" His deep chuckle at that makes me chuckle even more.

"His ass would have been on the floor."

[ohhappyday123]

The Office - Communication Breakdown

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - DAY

The usual hustle and bustle of the office fills the air as employees go about their work. The camera pans across the bullpen, capturing snippets of conversations and the clatter of keyboards.

Y/N'S DESK

Y/N is seated at her desk, working on some paperwork. Dwight approaches with a stern look on his face.

Dwight: [seriously] Y/N, I need you to tell Jim something for me.

Y/N: [looking up, amused] Sure, Dwight. What's up?

Dwight: [glancing around to make sure Jim isn't nearby] Tell him that his prank was amateur at best and that he will never best me in a battle of wits.

[Y/N chuckles and nods, turning to find Jim.]

Jim's Desk

[Jim is leaning back in his chair, fiddling with a paperclip. Y/N walks over and delivers Dwight's message.]

Y/N: [smiling] Jim, Dwight wants you to know that your prank was amateur at best and that you'll never best him in a battle of wits.

Jim: [grinning] Oh, really? Well, tell Dwight that his sense of humor is as outdated as his haircut.

[She laughs and walks back to Dwight.]

Dwight's Desk

[Dwight is busy organizing his desk meticulously. Y/N approaches and delivers Jim's message.]

Y/N: [trying not to laugh] Jim says your sense of humor is as outdated as your haircut.

Dwight: [fuming] Tell him that I’m shunning him for the rest of the week, effective immediately.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, don't you think this is a bit much?

Dwight: [seriously] No. This is a necessary measure.

[Y/N returns to Jim's desk to relay the latest message.]

Jim: [smiling] Ah, shunning. Classic Dwight.

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [looking serious] Shunning is an ancient Amish tradition. It's a way to show someone that their behavior is unacceptable. Jim needs to learn that pranks have consequences.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [grinning] Dwight shuns me about twice a month. It's kind of our thing. It's annoying, but also, it makes him easier to mess with.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [laughing] Being the middleman between Jim and Dwight is like being a referee in a game where only one person knows they're playing. It's exhausting, but it's also kind of hilarious.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATER

BREAK ROOM

[Y/N, Pam, and Jim are having lunch together. Dwight enters the room, looking determined.]

Pam: [whispering to Y/N] What's going on with Dwight today?

Y/N: [whispering back] He's shunning Jim. Again.

[Dwight clears his throat loudly, getting everyone's attention.]

Dwight: Y/N, tell Jim that he needs to stop leaving his dirty dishes in the sink.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, he's right here. You can tell him yourself.

Dwight: [stubbornly] No. I will not acknowledge his existence.

Jim: [smiling] Well, Y/N, tell Dwight that I will stop leaving my dishes in the sink when he stops labeling all his food in the fridge. No one wants his beet salad.

Y/N: [laughing] Okay, okay. How about we all just clean up after ourselves?

Pam: [amused] Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

Dwight: [grudgingly] Fine.

Interview - Pam

Pam: [smiling] Watching Dwight shun Jim is like watching a soap opera. You can't help but get invested in the drama.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - AFTERNOON

BULLPEN

Y/N is at her desk when Michael approaches, looking confused.

Michael: Y/N, why is Dwight shunning Jim again?

Y/N: [smiling] Jim pranked him, and now Dwight's using his Amish shunning technique to teach him a lesson.

Michael: [nodding thoughtfully] Ah, classic Dwight. Well, keep up the good work. You're doing great as the office mediator.

Interview - Michael

Michael: [confidently] Y/N is like the glue that holds this office together. Without them, we'd be in chaos. More chaos than usual, I mean.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATER

CONFERENCE ROOM

Everyone is gathered for a meeting. Dwight and Jim are sitting on opposite sides of the table, with the reader between them.

Michael: [excitedly] Okay, team! Today we're going to brainstorm some new ideas for our sales strategy. Y/N, why don't you start us off?

Y/N: [clearing their throat] Sure. I was thinking we could focus on improving our customer service by...

[The camera cuts to Dwight, who leans over to Y/N and whispers something in her ear.]

Dwight: [whispering] Tell Jim that his idea for the new sales strategy is idiotic and will never work.

[Y/N rolls her eyes but obliges, whispering Dwight's message to Jim.]

Jim: [whispering back] Tell Dwight that his idea for the new sales strategy is so outdated that it belongs in a museum.

Y/N: [exasperated] Guys, can we focus on the meeting?

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [seriously] Communicating through Y/N is actually quite efficient. It ensures that Jim understands the severity of his actions.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [laughing] It’s like we’re in middle school. Dwight thinks he’s making a point, but really, it just gives me more opportunities to mess with him.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - AFTERNOON

BULLPEN

As the day continues, the shunning persists. Y/N is caught in the middle of increasingly absurd messages between Jim and Dwight.

Dwight: [smirking] Tell Jim that he should be prepared for a battle of wits tomorrow. I won't go easy on him.

Y/N: [sighing] Dwight, maybe you should just talk to him directly?

Dwight: [firmly] No. This is how it must be.

Jim: [grinning] Tell Dwight that I look forward to it. And that he should bring his A-game.

Y/N shakes her head, amused by the ongoing feud. As she turn back to het work, they catch a glimpse of Stanley watching the whole exchange with a bemused expression.

Interview - Stanley

Stanley: [chuckling] I stay out of their nonsense. But it’s always entertaining to watch. Y/N does a good job keeping the peace.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON

Y/N'S DESK

Y/N is working when Jim walks over, looking slightly sheepish.

Jim: [softly] Hey, sorry for dragging you into all this. I know it’s a lot.

Y/N: [smiling] It's okay. It keeps things interesting.

Jim: [smiling back] How about we get dinner tonight? My treat.

Y/N: [grinning] Sounds like a plan.

[As Jim walks away, Y/N catches Dwight watching them intently.]

Dwight: [seriously] Y/N, remember to relay my message about the battle of wits.

Y/N: [laughing] I will, Dwight. I will.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [laughing] It's exhausting, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This place is like a second home, and these people are like family. A very dysfunctional family.

INT. DUNDER MIFFLIN SCRANTON OFFICE - END OF DAY

As the day winds down, employees start packing up their things. Jim and Y/N walk out together, exchanging smiles and quiet conversation.

Pam: [smiling as she watches them leave] Those two are perfect for each other.

Michael: [beaming] Y/N and Jim make a great team. They're like the Romeo and Juliet of the office. But, you know, without the tragic ending.

[The camera captures Dwight watching Jim and Y/N with a mix of suspicion and grudging respect.]

Interview - Dwight

Dwight: [seriously] As much as it pains me to admit, Jim and Y/N are a formidable team. But that doesn't mean I won't crush him in our battle of wits.

Interview - Jim

Jim: [smiling] Dwight will never admit it, but he likes having Y/N around as much as the rest of us do. Even if he shows it in the weirdest way possible.

Interview - Y/N

Y/N: [smiling] At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to get through the workday with a little bit of fun. And if that means playing messenger between Jim and Dwight, so be it.

[fiction-box]

Blood From A Stone

Blue Lions Boys X Fem!Reader

Hello, my lovelies! I wrote this in an attempt to psyche myself up for these next few days as I will be traveling for a job interview. I hope you all have been staying warm these past few weeks (the temperature has been consistently negative where I am now). I will attempt to start working on my inbox once I return. This work was not originally going to go this far in-depth, but this is where the story wanted to go. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

After what might have been a ten minute walk, Professor Byleth halted her Blue Lions in the middle of the woods surrounding the monastery. You felt the warmth of the late spring sun shining through the trees; an experience made more pleasant by the soft breeze rifling through your hair.

You and Ingrid had been speculating what exercise you might be coming outside to do, taking an opportunity to make conversation during the walk. Each Friday, the professor enforced some group activity - shopping relays in town, competitive hunting, blindfolded sparring matches - to let everyone better learn the strengths of their classmates.

Sure enough, you watched the former mercenary pull the infamous blindfolds out of the satchel sitting on her waist. A hefty exhale resounded next to you.

“Aw, come on! Not this again…” Annette whined.

No one could blame her; Dedue had hit her uncharacteristically hard in the confusion of his blindness during their match. She might even still be sore from last weekend.

“Now, now - repeating the same exercise two weeks in a row wouldn’t be much help to us. This is meant to build our sense of camaraderie, not our dread for the end of the week,” Byleth corrected. “Line up, please.”

You did so, shuffling into a spot between Annette and Ingrid as your teacher scrutinized the class.

Dimitri caught a green bandana in the same second Dedue was handed a brown one. Green for Ashe and Mercedes, brown for you and Annette.

“Teams,” Dedue noted.

“Please tie them around your foreheads. I’ll explain in a moment.”

A brown scrap of fabric landed in Felix’s palm, the bluenette bringing it to his forehead before Ingrid and Sylvain received their green cloths. Silently cheering, you watched Professor Byleth fix the final brown textile to her own head.

“Today’s activity focuses on both stealth and strategy. Everyone received a color responding to their team. Your objective is to steal all of your opponents’ headbands - the first team to lose all of which will lose.”

Immediately, Sylvain reached over Ashe’s head to pull Felix’s bandana off his head, dangling it in the air.

“One down, everyone!”

“You know damn well we haven’t started yet!” the swordsman snapped.

Dimitri grinned, “I must say Felix, I never saw you as someone to be so easily caught off your guard.”

Ingrid hardly held back a snicker, Ashe’s body practically trembling with a similar sentiment as he reflexively moved out of the way of the two nobles.

Felix clenched his hands into fists, “I’ll tear that cloth into tatters while it’s still wrapped around your insolent-”

“That’s quite enough.”

Professor Byleth eyed Sylvain, prompting him to quickly return Felix’s band. Not without receiving a moderate punch to the arm in retaliation, of course.

“The forest will be split down the middle in regards to starting positions. Those with green bands will begin on the east while brown will start on the west. Each team will be given one minute to conceal themselves, come up with a plan, and do anything else they see fit before I sound the whistle.”

“Your opponents’ accessories can be taken by any means necessary. While use of stealth is encouraged, feel free to use weapons and other advantages as you see fit. The goal is to win, first and foremost. Once you are eliminated, you are to return here until we finish.”

“Prepare to sit on your ass for fifteen minutes, boar.”

You couldn’t help the sound that came out of you at that. Dimitri’s eyes flashed over to discern your reaction before his face promptly flushed a light hue of pink.

“Wh- Sylvain took your headband, not me!”

The redhead frowned, lightly ghosting his hand over his new injury, “Throwing me to the wolves so quickly, your Highness? Maybe-”

“Oh, enough already,” Byleth huffed. “Off to the woods with you all. Right now. Sixty seconds!”

Newly motivated by the time constraint, everyone shifted to group up before rushing to their respective sides.

You weaved between the trees, Professor Byleth following close behind as you trailed Dedue and Annette. Not long after you reached a central-western location, Felix instantly pulled the two in front of you aside.

“...-ce at the northern end of the forest where the dirt is…”

A bit confused, you shifted your eyes to meet those of your professor. Apparently, neither of you were invited to this strategy meeting.

That meant you weren’t needed then, right?

It was all the same to you. Better than the same, actually; an archer flying solo on a stealth mission in the woods didn’t sound like a terrible assignment in the least.

To top it all off, Professor Byleth on her own elsewhere in the forest at the same time? The anticipation would surely kill you. Maybe you would even see her skills more personally than you had on the few traditional battlefields your class fought on so far.

You were brought back to the present as your professor turned to you in real life, nodding at you before slipping into the shadow of a thick tree.

Sticking around just a little longer, you gathered enough snippets of Felix’s conversation to understand his plan. He wanted to make a hole in the ground on the northern side large enough to hold as many members of the opposing side as possible. It sounded a bit ambitious, but you supposed that was nothing new concerning the second son.

In any case, your team seemed to masquerade as the better part of a mess. You wondered how things were with Ingrid…

…45, 46, 47…

After a moment, you strengthened your resolve. The best way to see what the other team was up to would be to go see for yourself, right?

Swiftly working your way counterclockwise around the forest, you snuck over to the eastern side, crossing over only upon hearing a shrill note knocking against the trees. It was now imperative to stay hidden in whatever darkness would conceal you. Having a bow certainly made this easier in terms of mobility since you could just sling it across your body.

Even the animals seemed quiet. Accordingly, you were on high alert. Your movements became more careful, more deliberate as your heart began to race in anticipation. No stepping on branches or leaves; just grass and dirt. No bumping against the trees or sudden movements; just liquid flow and shady cover. Soft, swift, and silent.

Once you believed yourself to have rounded the terrain far enough, you stopped, climbing the tree with the best vantage point in the area and scanning the shady path where your opponents must have started. That is, if the ruined leaves on the ground served as any clue. Prepared for action, you took your bow off your back and pulled an arrow out of the slim training quiver you had been given. Patience was a game you were sure to win, especially in such a good position.

Nothing happened, though. You detected no movement, no flash of colors, and you eventually concluded that the other group must have had a similar idea. After all, most people are right handed, so they might have felt more comfortable countering on the northern side than from the south.

You were somewhat discouraged at your failure to help, but it was no big deal. Especially not when you heard the sound of branches snapping back the way you came. Felix’s strategy must have worked - there was nothing else you could imagine that might make that kind of sound. It must have been effective, too; you recalled an offhanded comment he made about Leonie teaching him something about traps.

Resigning yourself to picking off any stragglers that might have strayed from the group near Felix, you lowered yourself from your tree. Perhaps enough time remained for you to return to your side and assess the damages to see who was left.

Progressing back the way you came would be simple enough. Although you were intent on remaining undetected, you heard several branches snapping and some shouting up ahead.

Felix must have really gotten to them.

You grew close enough to the commotion to recognize Dimitri and Ashe’s voices as the ones yelling, but it made no sense. You had hardly moved a few paces past the tree you were in, and you were still circling the southern side of the forest.

Why were they being so loud? Did they lose, or did they forget this was meant to be a stealth exercise?

But that didn’t make sense, either. They were the best listeners in Professor Byleth’s class, barring Annette; there’s no way they would slack off now of all times.

Silently, you crept toward their shouts until you were brought to a wall of greenery. If you went through…

You didn’t have enough time to hide before they came barreling through the bush.

“Woah!” an ambush? And you fell for it, no less?

Ashe’s eyes widened, his natural agility allowing him to dodge you just in time. Dimitri, with no such skill, slammed into you. The two of you crashed into the ground, the prince scrambling to the weapon you knocked out of his hands as Ashe pulled you onto your feet.

“Come on, get up!” the archer begged you.

 Dimitri frantically shot off the dirt while Ashe started to guide you in the direction they were running. You didn’t have a moment to collect your thoughts or ask questions.

The crown prince’s longer legs carried him past you before he grabbed your left arm with his free hand. Your right hand still connected to Ashe, the three of you formed a chain for a moment as Dimitri lent you his momentum.

A terrible roar emanated from the bush where the boys appeared, prompting you all to detach and pick up the pace. The sounds of three sets of feet slamming against the dirt bounced off the trees in the forest. 

Two crest beasts barrelled through the shrubs, snapping branches in their pursuit of you and your friends.

“How?” you pleaded, your legs moving impossibly faster with the new adrenaline rush.

“No clue,” Dimitri weaved between the trees, his breath heavy, “where they came from.”

A wave of terror pulsed through you. All you felt were eyes on your back, on your friends, and there was nothing you could do about it. They approached, so much larger and covering so much more ground.

Naturally, your smaller size and unfamiliarity with the area caught up with your group. The demons pursuing you could simply demolish the forest in their path, but Dimitri could only get so far before his height forced him to fumble through a group of low-hanging branches.

Unable to slow down, you crashed into him, sprawling to the forest floor. Ashe had once again been attentive and agile enough to change course, but you and the prince lied prone on the ground.

A sound of anticipation came in the form of an unearthly squeal from one of the monsters trailing seconds behind you. If you did nothing here, you would surely die. 

Upon noticing Dimitri had again dropped his lance in his fall, you snatched it and flipped over to face one of the beasts, contesting a well-timed snap of its jaw by holding the weapon up and angling it to act as a pike. It worked just well enough to force the creature’s mouth open…

…until the beast’s maw clamped down on the training weapon, struggling over it with you before it splintered and snapped.

Knocked backwards, your shoulders never got the chance to hit the ground. Dimitri had been given enough time to stand, placing his hands under your arms and dragging you back while Ashe shouted from another direction.

The archer’s cries were enough to split the horrific hunting party, though the only thing you and Dimitri did was continue running.

This is hopeless. All our weapons are meant for training, Ashe is on his own, there are no other fighters with us…

“We can’t keep running,”  you breathed, looping around a tree to throw the monster off your trail, “something has to change.”

…Felix…

You curved around the forest, switching to head back to your group, “Follow me.”

The two of you determined that zig-zagging was the best way to outrun the monster, though if you slowed down, you would no doubt be back on the ground again.

Intuitively, you followed the path you were fairly certain Dimitri’s teammates must have taken to get to the western part of the forest. All the while, you silently prayed that your legs would continue to carry you at a pace fast enough that the beast wouldn’t gain too much ground.

Not that it could be helped; you took two strides for every one of the beast’s.

“Felix! Felix, where are you?”

“Felix!” Dimitri followed your lead.

A figure appeared in the distance, his fair skin and blue hair giving him away, “Why the hell are you two-?”

The shriek from the beast trailing you and the prince drowned out the rest of his sentence.

“Felix, where’s the trap?!”

“Shit,” he cursed, though you couldn’t hear. “This way!”

Pushing yourself just a bit further, you forced your mind to ignore the screams of protest from your body. Felix sprinted just ahead of you, his lack of fatigue allowing him to match pace with your adrenaline spike before he rounded a bush.

“Get the professor!” your teammate ordered someone you couldn’t see.

Dimitri rushed past you to follow the bluenette. Upon leaving the beast’s line of sight, however, he was yanked into the large shrub. You recognized Felix’s hand wrapping around your arm before you stumbled into him, entering the branches as well.

“Thank you, Dedue,” you heard Dimitri’s voice next to you, the phrase uttered out between gasps for air.

It was in the split second before the beast rounded the shrub that you turned your head and recognized the trick. The covering on the pit was placed in the path next to the bush you four were in. If someone hadn’t known to stop and take a route through the hedge, they would have fallen through the dirt.

And upon seeing Professor Byleth appear at the other end of the pit, creator sword drawn to lure the crest beast toward her, you recognized how smart your teammates really were.

The pit wasn’t big enough to hold a crest beast by any means, but it certainly did the trick to immobilize it as the monster lost its footing. A well placed strike to the crest stone on the back of its neck shattered the source of its power. You could only stare at the crumbling animal, its bony limbs reduced to dust. The only thing lying in the crater at the end was…

“A person?” Dedue balked.

You moved to get a closer look before realizing Felix still had his arm around you.

“Um…”

Absentmindedly, he released you, throwing an apology over his shoulder before going to examine the woman lying dead in what very much could have been her grave.

Unbeknownst to you, your body was beginning to shut down. Running all that way left you exhausted, and having done so at a sprint certainly didn’t make matters any better. Yet the second you sank to the ground to truly catch your breath, you remembered.

Ashe.

“P-Professor,” you coughed, “...Ashe-”

“...What?”

“Damn, we left Ashe in the forest!” Dimitri agonized.

Byleth’s eyes sharpened, “Understood. I’ll go find him.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“What?” Felix questioned. “No, there’s no way - you’re way too tired.”

“Dimitri and I are the only ones who know where he is!”

At this, the prince attempted to rise from his position bracing on his knees “Then I’ll go.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re a worse candidate than I am - you’re still bleeding from the trees!”

“Bleeding? I’m not-”

“Your highness,” Dedue cut him off, “your chest.”

Certainly, his uniform was ripped in places, blood pooling out from the cuts he received when he scraped himself on the branches, earlier.

“You must not have felt it due to the adrenaline. We should get you to Mercedes.”

Sure of yourself, you began to walk backwards in the direction you came from, “Professor, there’s no time! You have your sword, so if push comes to shove, I’ll be fine. Ashe doesn’t have a proper weapon, though, and he must have been running for a long time!”

Professor Byleth wasted no words, “Fine then. Lead the way.”

As the two of you picked up the pace, she turned to call out, “Be sure to clear that girl out of the pit! Get her to Mercedes!”

The dull ache in your legs became impossible to ignore once you ran back into the forest. Still, through a mix of retracing your steps and following the sounds of roaring and trees snapping, you managed to get close to where you and Ashe had parted ways.

Sure enough, several trees had been reduced to splinters and fallen trunks. The damage created a small clearing, through which you could see your friend. He looked really out of it, the forest around him a mess from the beast’s rage. 

“Ashe! Over here!”

The professor hit the creature a few times with her sword, extending its reach to divert its attention to herself. Recognizing her attempts to hurt it, the beast reared its head and focused its efforts on Byleth.

She had provided enough of a distraction that Ashe could make it to you. Allowing himself a moment’s respite, he braced himself on his knees similar to how Dimitri had earlier. Breathless, the two of you watched your mentor’s skills at work.

The creator sword would wrap around the wild creature’s neck; Byleth’s obvious attempt at trying to break the stone. Each time, the tether was countered by a snap of the beast’s teeth, or her attack missed entirely. The angle was impossible from where she was standing.

“Fall back, you two - I’ll be right behind you!”

Ashe began to protest, “But-”

“You’re both tired, you’ll need whatever headstart I can give y-ngh!”

Her opponent had grown impatient, swiping its claws at the chain of her sword before her next attack could connect. The weapon was yanked to the side, knocking the professor off balance for a moment and sending the weapon flying out of her hand.

“Just go! I promise I’ll be right there!”

Willing your legs to move, you grabbed Ashe’s wrist and pulled him up, guiding him the first few steps of the way. Once he managed to find his footing, you took a position to lead him back to the group in the west.

You didn’t think you would be able to do much of anything tomorrow, after this. The taste of blood stained your every breath, your throat felt dry to the point it hurt, and you were surprised you could even lift your legs anymore. The adrenaline had worn off by the time you left Dimitri with Dedue.

The noise increasing behind you cut off your train of thought. The pounding of paws much heavier than your own feet thundered against the forest floor. Leaves crushed so loudly you could have sworn they were snapping logs, and the veil of the safety you thought you still had was quickly torn away.

What about Professor Byleth? She should have been on her feet, should have caught up to you and Ashe by now if-

“Keep moving!”

The voice next to you startled you almost enough to make you lose your footing, but a steady hand at your back and the sight of a flash of green hair at your side kept you upright.

“Over here, Professor! This way!”

Annette waved her arms over her head, signaling a new location nearby. They must have created a separate trap in the time you had been away.

But why…?

A snap at your backs inspired the three of you to round this new shrub at record speed. This time, you were ready when Dedue pulled you into the bushes.

“Woah!”

You supposed you had forgotten to warn Ashe.

Sure enough, everything else was the same story, just with different people. The Professor pivoted out of Sylvain’s hold in time to pull the sword she retrieved from her hip. The beast fell in the trap upon rounding the hedge, giving her a more advantageous angle to properly fracture the stone, reverting the creature to the body of a young man.

“I don’t understand,” Felix’s brow furrowed, Ashe ducking out of his hold and falling to the ground to finally breathe.

You were beginning to feel similarly. Were it not for Dedue, you doubted you would be standing. Your classmate seemed privy to this knowledge, as well.

“I will bring you to Mercedes.”

A nod was all you could muster while Dedue bent to put an arm beneath your legs, lifting you off the ground. The air you were practically drinking filled your lungs with more oxygen than you thought they could hold, and your resulting breaths sounded almost raspy. Respectfully, you ensured that your head was turned away from Dedue (though it was also to ensure you could get as much air as possible).

Even still, you managed to catch the final words of those behind you.

“Why didn’t you just take that girl to Mercedes and reuse the last trap?” Professor Byleth wondered.

“Well…” Sylvain, “there wasn’t really a point...she was already dead.”

“...then…this boy…?”

You tried not to focus on the silence that followed her final question.

A few paces later and Dedue had made it to the outskirts of the woods. It was where you all met at the beginning of the exercise.

Mercedes approached the two of you before you cleared the trees, guiding Dedue to set you down on a patch of soft grass in the shade next to three green scraps of fabric. She must have anticipated your arrival.

“Will she be alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Mercedes assured him, though her light tone didn’t match the furrow of her brows. “She’s mostly dealing with fatigue, but the strain on her lungs should be soothed before she tries to go anywhere.”

A moment of silence.

“Where is his Highness?”

The glow of soft magic hovered over you before you felt inclined to close your eyes. You tried not to focus on the strange feeling coursing through you - you still weren’t used to healing spells, yet.

“He and Ingrid went back to the monastery to consult Lady Rhea about all this.” She sighed, and you felt a pause in the flow of her enchantment, “I don’t really understand everything that happened today. It all feels so wrong.”

“I agree. There should not have been any crest beasts this close to the academy. The knights should have noticed.”

Another pause led to a stronger wave of magic passing through your lungs; it was all you could do to focus on breathing next to this weird feeling, but you opened your eyes just to make sure you were still okay.

 “I will head back to the monastery as well.”

The healer nodded, “I’ll let the professor know.”

“Let me know what?”

It seemed the rest of your class made it out of the forest. Professor Byleth approached at the lead, followed close behind by Annette, and finally by Felix and Sylvain supporting a pale and winded Ashe.

As Dedue filled your teacher in on everything, Mercedes abandoned you to go help Ashe. Annette replaced her, kneeling where her friend sat just a moment ago to continue her work. Fortunately, you didn’t feel like there was much left to do.

“Right. You can head back. Take some of the training weapons with you, please - I have a feeling everyone else will have their hands full by the time we head back.”

Dedue removed the brown band wrapped around his forehead, adding it to the pile lying about a meter away from your feet. Picking up the discarded wooden lance, bow, and sword lying in a pile closer to the woods, he turned and wordlessly took the path leading back to Garreg Mach.

“My bow…” you remembered, testing out your voice from your position on the ground, “I think…I dropped it somewhere in the forest?”

Felix scoffed, “With the amount of trees those beasts managed to fell, I don’t think a bit more wood lying around would hurt anyone. The Church can just buy a new one. They replace training weapons all the time.”

“Take it from Felix, they’re used to broken weapons,” Sylvain grinned. “Repairing a broken bow can’t be much different than replacing a missing one.”

A small huff of air came from the swordsman’s nose at his classmate’s remark. Rather than respond, however, he just turned back to you.

“How the hell are you still awake after all that? I expected you to have passed out by now.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you be more worried about Ashe? Whatever running I did, he ran and then some.”

“He did pass out.”

Turning your head to where Mercedes knelt, you found your friend sleeping on the grass, uneven breaths heaving from his chest.

After everything he went through by himself, you could only think that he deserved to rest.

“Professor? What is it?”

Annette’s inquisition immediately led your mind to drop the subject, turning instead to see Professor Byleth lost in thought.

“I’m just…trying to understand something. Those people that came from those monsters - did I kill them, or were they already dead? How did this happen so close to the monastery without anyone coming to help us? And…”

No one knew what to say. You hadn’t recognized the people that died, not their clothing or their faces.

“Nevermind. We need to head back in case anything else unexpected is looking to find us.”

“That should be just fine, Professor,” Mercedes agreed. “I’ve made sure these two are stable. The best thing for everyone now would be to rest.”

“Very well,” your teacher began circling around to everyone, collecting their headbands to place in the bag she had left here earlier.

Annette extended her hand out before Professor Byleth made her way over to the two of you. Taking it, you attempted to get up only to be frustrated by the fatigue of your legs. A sharp inhale followed by a hiss of pain accompanied the feeling of Annette lowering you back to the ground.

“Yeah…might not be ready for that yet…” you gritted your teeth.

Byleth walked over, tugging the brown textile off your head in a fluid motion, “Sylvain, please help her get back to the monastery. Felix, you can carry Ashe.”

“What?!”

Sylvain barely contained his laughter, approaching you with easy footsteps and lifting you off the ground bridal-style.

“You’re sure you want Sylvain of all people carrying the woman that can’t walk? Or fend for herself right now, for that matter?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of experience with this sort of thing.”

“...with carrying people?” you raised a brow.

Sylvain winked, “...with carrying women that can’t walk.”

Professor Byleth hit him on the back of the head so hard that Sylvain dropped you on the ground.

You landed, reeling with a small squeak and a light curse. Your breath came labored through your teeth from the incidental blow to your legs. Not that it could have hurt as much as whatever she just did to Sylvain.

“Agh- What the hell, Professor?!”

“You and Felix have done an excellent job of changing my mind. I think we would all feel better if you volunteered to carry Ashe back with us, instead.”

Now it was Felix’s turn to fight a smirk, though he was hardly trying. After making sure you were okay from your slight fall, he picked you up in much the same way Sylvain had mere moments ago.

Meanwhile, Sylvain seemed to be making a point to carry Ashe over his shoulders.

The seven of you headed back to the monastery together, Professor Byleth calling off her lessons for the beginning of next week just to make sure everyone was well rested. Annette tried to reason that taking the weekend off would be plenty of time for most of the Blue Lions. After all, you, Dimitri, and Ashe were the only ones that really suffered any fatigue. Your teacher countered that if she were holding class, you three were the most likely suspects to insist on attending regardless, no matter how badly you were injured.

Perhaps you left too good of an impression on the professor today for her to think such things of you. Regardless, you agreed with her, if only to save Annette from the pointed glares of Felix and Sylvain at the idea of rejecting a day out of class.

[pankowperfection]

The Interview

Summary: You finally apply for a job in the city, but the interview doesn't go quite as planned

Warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), teasing, spanking, choking, Rafe's dirty mouth, inappropriate work relationship, rough sex, 18+

A/N: this was inspired by a dream I had, hope you like it

You couldn’t believe you’d gotten the call. You’d applied for the job on a whim, always wanting to move to the city but never risking the comfort of your current life. You’d quickly accepted the interview, the assistant on the other end of the line relaying flight and hotel information to you that you scrambled to jot down. A few days later you arrived in New York, spending the night prior mulling over the perfect outfit and how your resume looked in the portfolio you’d brought along. 

The morning of the interview you check your appearance one final time in the floor length mirror. Your bright red skirt stands out and shows your sense of style, fitting right in with the culture of the city. It hugs your curves just right, giving you a boost of confidence once you step into your stilettos. Your black shirt pulls the look together, see through sleeves showing off some of your tattoos. The walk to the office is short, a slight spring in each of your steps as your excitement grows. 

As you wait for Mr. Cameron in the posh waiting area you can’t help but grow a bit nervous. Did you actually belong here? Could you handle living in one of the biggest cities in the world? Your thoughts start to race, palms growing sweaty and heart hammering away in your chest.

When the door to the corner office opens it stops all together. One of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen emerges, dark blue suit clinging to his muscular frame. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off a little hint of his sculpted chest along with the gold chain dangling from his neck. 

Your eyes finally reach his face and you suck in a sharp breath. His jaw is sharp enough to cut glass, a small smirk forming on his kissable mouth as he catches you checking him out. And god, his eyes. A blue so beautiful you could get lost staring into them. You were in big trouble if THIS was your potential boss. How could you work for someone that you wanted to fuck you senseless?

Shaking away the inappropriate thoughts you push yourself to your feet to greet him as he closes the remaining distance between you. “Miss Y/L/N? Hi, I’m Rafe and I’ll be conducting the interview today.”

You reach out to meet his hand in a formal shake, but the moment your skin touches sparks shoot throughout your body. You swallow sharply, pressing your thighs together to try to dull the ache forming between them. He seems to notice, giving you that sexy smirk again as he waits for you to reply.

“Hi, nice to meet you. You can call me Y/F/N by the way.” You give him your best smile, trying hard not to show how much his mere presence has affected you. 

“Great. Follow me please.”

He turns on his heel, giving you the perfect view of his toned back and delicious ass as he returns to the office he came out of. You urge your feet forward, following him into the room and taking a seat on the plush wingback chair in front of his massive oak desk. 

‘I’ll cut right to the chase. Your application has been the best one I’ve received so far. I don’t want to waste your time or mine by asking you questions I can answer by looking at your resume or talking to your current employer. So how about we treat this as a “get to know you” type interview and see if we think this is a good fit for you or not?”

He leans back against the desk, sharp eyes catching every small shift in your body language. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before meeting his gaze once again. “Okay Rafe. What would you like to know?”

He chuckles softly, rounding the desk and picking up his phone to make a call. “Hi Veronica. Yes, we’re going to go out to lunch, can you call my usual spot and let them know? Thanks.” 

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

All throughout lunch he had gotten more bold with his efforts, not even trying to hide his not so professional interest in you. The conversation had quickly shifted to something dirtier; talks of favorite positions and things you wanted to try being shared between you both. He’d ended up on your side of the table, hand resting hot and heavy against the bare skin of your thigh, slowly inching further and further up underneath your skirt. 

“Tell me honestly sweetheart, if I feel your panties right now are they going to be wet?”

His breath against your ear makes you shiver, more arousal soaking through the already ruined lace. “Yes Rafe. Totally soaked through.”

He decides to find out for himself, lightly grazing his fingers over your core and forcing you to bite back a moan. 

“Damn baby you are soaked. How about we go back to the office and do some paperwork, then we can finish what we started, yeah?” 

You eagerly nod, anxiously waiting for him to pay the tab before letting him lead you back outside onto the sidewalk. 

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

Thankfully the walk to the office is short. The documents you have to sign to accept the employment offer are even shorter. By the time you wrap up mostly everyone else has gone home from the night. The space outside Rafe’s office is dark, not a single light on as far as you can see. 

“Now that you’ve got me all to yourself, what are you gonna do with me?” 

He slowly stalks over to where you are reclining on the couch, kneeling down on the floor in front of you while sliding his hands up your thighs once again. “I’m gonna get to know every inch of your perfect body.” 

He pushes your legs apart, picking up your left foot and starting a tortuous path of kisses from your ankle to the edge of your skirt. He repeats on the other side, your blood rushing straight to your pussy as he bites and licks up the inside of your thigh. 

“Rafe please. Do something.”

He chuckles darkly, pulling away and sitting down on the couch beside you. 

“Patience baby. Come sit on my lap, now.”

His commanding voice only turns you on more, scrambling to climb over his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Now be a good girl and hold still. If you move, I’ll stop.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, one strong hand cupping your jaw while the other slides down to the buttons of your shirt. His lips feel like heaven against yours, moving in such a way that you feel it all the way in your core. 

When his tongue dives into your mouth you can’t help but moan, struggling not to grind your hips down into the growing tent in his pants to offer you some relief. 

To your disappointment he pulls away, kissing and sucking his way down over the bare skin of your neck to your shoulder. He takes his time to leave his mark, covering your tan skin in small bruises in a show of ownership. His tongue soothes each bite, your breathing growing heavier by the minute.

“God, you taste so good. Can’t wait to get my tongue buried deep inside of you, make you soak my face when you cum.”

You groan at his words, that damn dirty mouth doing nothing to quell the fire burning beneath your skin. His fingers start to roll your nipples, bolts of pleasure shooting throughout your system as you fight the need to try to take more than what he’s giving. 

“Rafe, god. Feels so good.” He smirks up at you before spanking your ass, the sting making you jolt forwards, your clit just barely grazing his zipper and making your thighs shake. 

“Doing so good for me baby girl,” he coos, maneuvering you onto your back and settling between your thighs. He quickly removes his tie, securing your wrists in a tight knot and pushing your hands up above your head. 

As his lips descend over the swells of your breasts, down over your exposed tummy, you can’t help the anticipation swirling through your system. His tongue dips into your navel and you tremble beneath him, imagining what it will feel like when he licks your pussy. He pushes your skirt up around your waist, setting each leg over his shoulders before leaning down to your sex. 

He decides to tease once again, laying an open mouthed kiss over the lace of your panties. You feel his smirk against your skin as you moan loudly, desperation taking over after a full day of build up. “Oh please. Please Rafe, I need you.”

“So pretty when you beg baby, but I told you. I’m gonna get to know every. inch. of. you.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss around the edges of your panties, followed next by his tongue. He traces every edge of the pink lace, returning to your center once again and licking a stripe over your slit. You feel like you’re about to fall apart at the seams just from the simple touches, right on the edge and waiting for him to push you over. 

His fingers slowly peel the soaked fabric to the side, his mouth blowing cool air over your hot skin. Two fingers dip between your folds, stroking softly from your entrance to your clit several times before plunging inside. He expertly curls them as he pushes and pulls against you, your orgasm racing closer by the second. 

He finally gives you his mouth, one flick of his tongue over your clit quickly turning into a frenzy. He laps at your sensitive nub eagerly, working his fingers in a slow tempo compared to the quickness of his tongue.  He hums his approval at your taste, vibrations making you cry out as your buck your hips into his face. When he sucks your clit  into his mouth he pushes you over the edge, a loud scream echoing off the glass walls of his office. 

“Oh god. It’s too much.” Tears spring to your eyes, overwhelming pleasure that is borderline painful wracking through your body. He laps up every last drop of your release, continuing to lazily finger fuck you while crawling up over your body to kiss you hungrily, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

You eagerly reach for the seam of his pants, wrapping your hand around his impressive length and starting to stroke him. He groans and its the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, only encouraging you further to undo his button and zipper, reaching inside his boxers to finally touch him skin to skin. You use his pre-cum as lube, smearing it over the tip before starting to twist your hand as you pump him slowly. 

“Shit baby, I need to be inside you, right fucking now.”

He pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees as your eyes drop to his cock, standing tall and proud. Your mouth waters at the sight, desperate for the chance to feel the weight of him on your tongue. He wraps his hand around the base, giving himself a few more strokes before his eyes return to you.

You’re mesmerized as he drags his thick head through your folds, gathering your slick before lining up. He barely pushes in, just the tip stretching you out as your back arches off of the sofa.

“Rafe. Untie me, wanna touch you.

As soon as your hands are free you wrap them behind his head, nails digging into his scalp before pulling him down for another heated kiss. Your teeth clash as you fight for dominance, your tongues winding together as he takes your breath away. 

He thrusts in slowly, wanting you to feel each inch disappearing inside of you. “Fuck sweetheart, feel so good wrapped around me. This pussy was made for me.”

You moan at his dirty words, clenching around his cock and making him let a low growl loose. His dominant hand wraps around your throat, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head due to his dominant behavior.

“You’re mine now y/n. To do whatever I want with. Say it.”

He accentuates his point by pulling almost all the way out before slamming roughly back inside, knocking the breath from your lungs with the force.

“Mmm, Rafe. I’m yours. Please fuck me.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smirks before withdrawing once again, this time setting an ungodly pace as he pistons in and out of you. He’s hitting all the right spots, your nails digging into his clothed back as you try to somewhat contain your moans and whines. 

“Let me hear you, wanna know how much you love this cock.”

He pushes your legs back towards your chest, allowing him to angle in even deeper and you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You clench tightly around him and he groans loudly, starting to somehow thrust even harder than before.

“Just like that Rafe, don’t stop. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Let me have it baby, wanna feel you drip off of me.”

His thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles as you desperately cling to him for some sense of reality. Your orgasm hits you like a train, body trembling as you cum harder than you ever have. He doesn’t stop his motions, only spurred on further by how hot you look and sound falling apart while chanting his name. 

A few moments later he groans out your name, pace faltering as you feel his hot release coat your walls. After a few final thrusts he collapses on top of you, kissing you lazily while his cock stays buried deeply. Your nails scratch softly over his freshly buzzed hair, trailing down over his broad shoulders and tracing random patterns. He hums his appreciation, breath tickling your neck and making you shift slightly. 

He finally pulls away, helping you to your feet as you both straighten up your clothes. He walks you to the door, playfully swatting your ass.

“Can’t wait to do this all over again tomorrow. Oh, and please wear red again, its my favorite color.”

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @paradisehamilton @ailee-celeste @pankhoeforlife @outerbankspov @houseofperfecttaste @drewbooooo @maybankslover @maybanks-luver @blueicequeen19 @toystory2wasjustokay @onmykneesforrafe @penny4yourthoughts @maddie-routledge @ilovetheavenger143

[mari-lair]

On chapter 6 of the spin-off, Teru seems genuinely surprised to learn Akane thinks he hates him.

Teru talks as if he wants to change this view, but his “oh is nothing personal” moment is followed by him calling Akane a half-roach and explaining that he is bullying him because he likes having a stress relief toy.

The interesting thing here is that Teru is being honest.

He does use Akane to relieve stress and gets joy when he bullies him, always smiling when kicking his ass and keeping up the habit to make Akane's life hard even in later arcs where they are more chill with each other.

His monologue can be easily seen as a verbal beating, which in a way, it absolutely is, he did not have to be this direct, but it only started in the first place because he was answering Akane’s question of “why do you set up so many traps for me?”

And since that is all Akane had asked, that is all he got.

Teru tends to assume way too much, he overestimated how perceptive Akane is, finding no reason to share important details about how he views him.

There is absolutely no way Akane can tell from his borderline insults that Teru thinks he is wise or nice to talk to. He didn’t provide even implications about it outside, arguably, his casual attitude.

Is no wonder Akane assumes Teru's view of him is simply “you’re amusing/ my stress relief toy.” for a while, and any show of trust or care from Teru either startled Akane or makes him uncomfortable.

They have built a more solid friendship after the severance, but since the start of the manga, Teru did not hate Akane.

Teru even used his most ‘this is how I make friends!’ tactic on Akane, which is asking questions about his life and wanting to know him better. He gets very excited about new information and remembers everything he learns about Akane.

learning information is how Teru shows interest in people, just take a look on how he approaches Aoi, always full of questions.

Teru forces Akane to give him answer though, he is consistently far more aggressive with Akane than anyone else he seems to cares about.

Is it because Akane is half supernatural? Surprisingly no, not quite.

He acknowledged Akane’s seat and that his power is supernatural, but he doesn’t lump him with the other supernaturals, he never refers to Akane as 'supernatural’ or ‘No.1′, seeing him as either ‘Aoi’ or ‘human’.

To Teru, Akane is a human with supernatural powers, not a supernatural.

And he acknowledge both Akane’s distaste for supernaturals and that the contract was half forced. He would have never given him glasses to “live his life like he used to” if he didn’t believe in Akane’s humanity above all else.

Teru treats him as a human.

Him calling Akane a half roach in this extra is an exception, I searched all other extras and manga panels and couldn’t find it being said again, or being refered as a sort of stress. The relay interview explicitly tell us Teru’s issue with Akane have nothing to do with supernaturals.

It makes me believe Teru is just being a dick in the spin off.

It is in his nature to annoy Akane whenever there is an opportunity after all.

Just compare it to how he treats Nene. 

Her situation with the mermaid curse would make her half supernatural, arguably even more supernatural than Akane, since Akane’s contract has a time limit, and lifespan issue aside, it is implied Nene would have never gotten rid of the mermaid curse even if she lived till 100 years. 

Because he sees her as a human first, he never focuses on the mermaid curse or reprimands her for walking with supernaturals, instead accepting that her fate to die is already set in stone, and treating her with a lot of kindness. She is still alive after all. And most of his hatred for supernaturals comes from the danger they represent towards human life, is not a hatred as blind as people make it out to be.

So why does he treat Akane so badly?

His excuse that he can’t exorcise a half roach like Akane and that stresses him, is contradicted twice in the same chapter, seemingly connecting this ‘stress relief’ job more to the idea of Akane being his vice president than him being half supernatural.

It makes no sense, and Akane calls him out on it, reprimanding him for being a dick.

I personally believe the reason Teru use “vice president” as an excuse, is because that’s an Akane only role. There is no other student council vice-president, just as there is no other person that would come back to the student council every day even after getting this treatment.

Akane’s reaction to this nonsense is mostly comedic annoyance, so Teru acts like a kid and keeps doing it. If Akane was genuinely hurt by his behavior Teru would stop.

He always sobers up when the people he cares about are in genuine distress. He hates delivering bad news, or being unable to do anything.

When he sees his actions have consequences, he either avoids the problem or awkwardly tries to change, similar to a learning child.

A lot of what he does feels like a learning child. For as hard as he can be to understand, he is surprisingly consistent in his honesty, genuine to an almost childish extent.

Many things that would be rude to ask, or embarrassing to admit, are things Teru is upfront about. He has absolutely no tact, and while he is aware he is being rude on many occasions, he simply does not care about it.

This childish behavior clashes really nicely with his personal belief that ignorance is bliss.

In his own way, he is being kind by keeping everyone in the dark, truly believing that accepting that Nene's fate can’t be changed and focusing on making her happy without acknowledging she will die is the best he can do, that not telling Kou he believes he is too weak for exorcism and that he envies such weakness is the best alternative: That not hurting anyone is the best.

And while this misguided thought is based on kindness, since he doesn’t want people to get hurt, it is also cowardly: He doesn’t want himself to be hurt either. He is scared of it.

People being depressed upsets him. So he avoids it.

People he care about hating him makes his entire world crash. So he avoids it.

He locked himself in his room because he understood that he fucked up in his fight with Kou, and was convinced that Kou hate him for it. “Sees him as a villain" or a liar, or just someone that he has outgrown.

It's why he completely changed his attitude when he realized Kou is worried about him.

Teru is an undeniably stubborn, and arrogant, but he is not cruel. It's why he gets out of his comfort zone, completely forgets about the fireworks, and tries to explain himself when he realizes how Kou feels (sad and guilty) is not how he had assumed ( “kou hates me”).

 He tries to fix his mistakes by giving Kou a choice after every downside is laid on the table..

He tries to set aside his insecurities and not take how Kou no longer prioritize him as a personal attack.

And he is delighted when he gets the reassurance he was too scared to ask.

This attempt to change his approach with Kou is constant too, is a break in routine, which takes effort to change, is not easy, but he’ll try his best.

Which ties back to why he never changed his approach with Akane.

Akane never has a serious talk about Teru’s behavior he just kind of... rolls with it, just accepting that he will be Teru’s stress toy. He may not be happy about it but he doesn’t do anything to make Teru fear that he will be hated if he continues to treat Akane like this: Akane doesn’t cry, doesn’t try to injure Teru back, or start avoiding him, Teru has no signs this treatment sticks to Akane, or that Akane truly hates him.

Which, surprisingly, is true.

Akane brushes off any bullying in the span of one page or two: In chapter 29 Akane was stuck for 1 hour completely unable to move, his body growing numb, and he got over it and changed focus in the 5 minutes Nene came to visit. No fear in sight. He is just built diferent.

Not to imply that Teru isn’t insane with every character.

He may not be as rude and eager to share his thoughts as he is with Akane but he is still a bad liar/ far from princely.

[ravenbloodshot]

Ji Chang Wook- Insecurities vs. Confidences

I saw in multiple interviews of JCW saying he doesn't find himself attractive so that's what inspired this reading

Insecurities

He may be insecure about taking photos/selfies. May feel awkward and uncomfortable at photo shoots, not really sure how to pose himself and show his best self

He might idolize men that have bigger muscles and abs, wishes he himself had them or just feels insecure being next to a buff man (I heard "wide shoulders" so that could be the thing he wants most)

He doesn't like it when his skin breaks out and he gets pimples, finds it to be very annoying to deal with and unattractive

He has problems feeling like a sunbaenim, he feels/acts too meek and humble around ppl in the industry, co stars etc.... So at times he thinks of himself as more of a rookie and not on the level of other prominent actors. The energy feels like he's seeing other actors act stoic, cold and regal (and he idolizes that) but he can't seem to turn himself into that kind of person, he's too personable and too much of a people pleaser to behave like the cold celebrity type. So he may feel like he's not on their level bc of this. Its basically imposter syndrome.

He's the type of person that if his life is going good, he would be waiting for the bad to show up.

When it comes to his looks, he's not particularly fond of the fact that he's considered a pretty boy mostly bc it messes with his acting gigs (aka his money). He's probably only seen as good for doing romance movies/dramas. Another thing is that he kind of focuses more on the negative vs the positive, meaning a million ppl in a comment section could be telling him he's god's gift to earth but one comment saying he's ugly could make him feel like shit.

His thoughts is his own worst enemy

In love: he fears coming on too strong. Which is a reasonable fear since I see he does come on too strong (too clingy and anal). Can be a bit much. He fears loving someone that doesn't love/want him. He fears being with someone that just wants him for clout or money

Confidences

He's confident about how pure and non corrupt he lives his life. He's not the type of celeb to get into scandals or be exposed for living a double life, he lives his life fairly and justly so he's confident in relaying that to the public and not feel like a fraud. I think he would be a guy that feels dirty/weird telling the public his life is happy or his marriage is happy when in reality its not.

He's proud of how far he's come without having to forget his morals or the people that have helped him succeed. He knows he's been through a lot, but now he's on top and he didn't have to do any grimy shit to get there

He likes how creative and ambitious he his. May still have a lot of goals/dreams he wants fulfilled not just in his career but in life, so he's confident that they can be fulfilled. Also, he likes that he still strives for more, still greedy for more even when he's accomplished so much. He still wants more. I wouldn't be surprised if he strives to win an Oscar (like most actors) but he more so gets a rush of adrenaline/passion thinking about him possibly getting such an award, it inspires him to keep going.

He trusts his intuition. Its steered him clear of a lot bad shit and close calls (its like if he was walking down the street absent mindedly and his gut just told him to cross the street and once he does a building collapses). He may have a strong intuition that has protected him from the worst of things that could've happened. So strong that even when he doesn't listen to his intuition, he listens to his intuition (if you get what I mean)

In love: he's confident when dealing with simple aspects of relationships like going out and conversing. He knows how to savor/cherish the simple things. He also does well not to go back to exes, for him, once the relationship is over....its over. There's no going back for him

Superstar by Lupe Fiasco is a song that fits this readings energy

[h-c-u]

The kids are alright pt 3

Summary: You go into labor two weeks before the due date, while Ice is giving an interview on the live TV

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x reader

W/C: 4k

Rating: PG

TWs: Labor and all stuff that comes with it.

A/N: Sooo.... The baby is here :) And this chapter was inspired by that interrupted interview with prince Harry, when he was still in the military Also - someone asked me why I wasn't calling Bradley "Rooster", so I might address it here as well - it's because in this universe, he's not a pilot, so he didn't get that callsign yet :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist | List of tags | Part 4

- Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! - you almost fell over when you felt a contraction. At first, you thought that it was Braxton-Hicks, but they were getting stronger and stronger over the last hour... Or was it even more...? 

You were home alone, so the situation was less than ideal, but you didn't want to worry Ice, just in case it was nothing, because you knew he was doing an interview today. You also didn't want to call for an ambulance, because you felt like it would be an overshoot, and you definitely couldn't drive alone.

Another contraction came and you had to hold a kitchen counter as hard as you possibly could if you didn't want to fall.

- SHIT. FUCK. - weirdly, swearing helped a little, but when the pain retreated for a moment, you quickly dialed Bradley, because you knew that he had a day off. Since the memorable dinner, you two became much closer, and you treated him now as if he was your younger brother. That's why you sighed with relief when he finally answered. - Where are you...? - you were out of breath and he immediately realized that something was wrong.

- I'm actually on my way to you, I'll be there in like two minutes.

- Oh thank gods... You'll have to take me to the hospital, so don't even bother coming in. I'll be waiting outside... - you've said. Bag. There was an emergency bag prepared just for this occasion and you took it with you.

- Is everything ok? - you only groaned in response, because another contraction came.

- I'm... I think the labor started. - you've said through gritted teeth.

- Oh shit, it's early! - he sounded a bit panicked. - I'm pulling in... - he said when you were locking the door behind you. - I'm here, I'm here! - he run out of the car and was near you in less than a second, taking the bag from you, and offering you his arm, so the walk to the car would be easier. - How do you feel? - you only shot daggers from your eyes at him in response. - Not talkative today, got it. - he helped you get into the front seat and pushed it as far back as he could, while you disconnected the call between you two, and immediately called 911. - What are you...? - another killer look from you shut him up really quickly.

- Hello, My name is y/n Kazansky and I'm in labor. I will be in a blue Ford Bronco riding to St. Barts from the south, most likely over the speed limit. I don't know the exact route, but I would really appreciate not being... FFFFFFUUUUCKKKKKKKK!!!!! - you screamed while Bradley started the car and pulled out of your driveway. - Sorry about that. Contraction. I know it's not conventional, but we would really appreciate not being stopped or chased. - you saw the surprise on your temporary driver's face when he immediately started speeding up.

- I don't have any patrols in the area, but I'll relay the message. Wait... There is a firetruck coming down from the highway, I can ask them to escort you to the hospital. - the lady on the other end of the call was extremely helpful already.

- Yes! Thank you very much! - you tried to breathe as calmly as possible and not push yet, considering that your water didn't break.

- I will also let St. Barts know that you'll be coming, so the team will be ready for you. How far apart are your contractions? - she was surprisingly calm, but that must have come with the job; after all you couldn't just lose your temper answering the emergency calls.

- You're an angel. They started maybe two hours ago and are now 4-5 minutes apart. - you sighed with relief, while Bradley swirled harshly to the left.

- Just here to help, ma'am. Can you tell me how dilated you are?

- I can't exactly see and I'm not gonna ask the driver to look under my dress now... I'd rather just get there as soon as possible. I see the firetruck! - you exclaimed happily.

- That's good, I just got the confirmation that they noticed you too, so it shouldn't be too long until you'll be with your doctors. - she remained calm till the end.

- Thank you so much, really. I'm gonna hang up now because I have to call my husband and tell him what's going on. Thank you again.

- Happy to help, ma'am. Good luck! - you laughed in response and finally ended the call when the firetruck in front of you turned it's sirens on.

- I didn't know you could do that with emergency numbers... - Bradley mumbled under his breath, still in panic mode. - But good thinking! - you could only grab something and scream because another contraction came and almost knocked you out. - I'm so glad I won't have to give birth... - he realized what he said as soon as the words left his mouth. - No, no, no, no! I didn't mean it like that! I'll shut up now! - if looks could kill, you'd be currently in a car accident, because Bradley would have died behind the wheel.

You finally collected yourself enough to dial your husband's number and put your phone on speaker. And there was signal after signal; he wasn't answering. So you tried again. And again. Until you arrived at the hospital. Bradley jumped out of the car and helped moved you to a wheelchair, while your oby-gyn was checking how dilated you were.

- Thank you, guys! - you shouted at the firemen, who helped you get to the hospital in record time. Some of them waved at you, and a few gave you thumbs-up. - Hi doctor Montgomery! - you said when her hands were finally away from your... nether regions.

- Hi, y/n... I guess we're doing this early. Is Tom coming in? - she gave you a soft smile and took the latex glove off, while a nurse started wheeling you into the building.

- Bradley, grab my bag when you'll park the car! I'm in good hands! - you shouted behind you. Everything was happening so quickly that you had trouble processing what exactly was happening. - Honestly, doc... I don't know. He's doing... WAIT! - the nurse stopped immediately, and your doctor looked at you confused as you dialed another number on your phone. Someone crazy and maniacal enough to actually do what you'll ask. In the meantime, you pointed at the television in the waiting room, where your husband was currently speaking about the latest navy investment, 16 new choppers.

- MAV! You have no idea how happy I am you answered. How far you're from Tommy? - you asked; the nurse wanted to start moving again, but you swatted at his hand.

- I'm right there, why?

- Give him your fucking phone. Now.

- Now? He's on live TV... - he said cautiously.

- I know, I can see that. Do you honestly think that I would have asked if it wasn't imfuckING SHIT.... - another contraction came, and you felt your water finally breaking. Doctor Montgomery dove under your dress once again.

- Y/n, we have to move to a birthing room, you're 6cm dilated! - her voice told you there was no room for a discussion, and yet you still tried.

- One sec, doc! I promise! I'll be good, just let me tell him I'm in labor. - you saw Maverick showing up on the TV, whispering something in Tom's ear, away from the camera, and passing him the phone. - Tom! You got to come to St. Barts now if you don't want to miss the birth of our daughter. - you could see his face dropping on TV.

- Are you...? - he stuttered a bit, but you couldn't even savor this moment of him not being fully composed.

- I'm fine, Bradley drove me, my water broke, I'm 6cm dilated, and it's happening. Like right now. Little Ms. Kazansky decided to follow her dad's mantra that being early is on time, and on time is late. So get your ass here as soon as possible. - you were speaking faster than you thought possible, and yet he didn't have trouble understanding you.

- I apologize, there is an emergency. - you heard on the phone, and his lips followed with a slight delay on TV. You saw him taking off the mic, grabbing Mav by the elbow, and running toward the newest investment. You managed to catch the last sight of them actually entering one of the choppers before the view changed to someone in the studio. - I'll be there. - he said. - And now be good to doctor Montgomery. - you only laughed in response. - I'm hanging up now, because we're getting up in the air. I love you. - you couldn't help but smile.

- I love you too! - and now officially you could focus only on your labor. - You saw that dr. Montgomery? - you grinned, and the nurse started moving your wheelchair toward a birthing room again.

- I did! And if I'm being completely honest, that was impressive. Although I can't help but wonder where he'll land. - you laughed through pain. - Ok, let's get you out of that dress and into a gown... - she helped you get up and undress, and was ready with a hospital gown. She also helped you onto the bed.

- He's a fucking COMPACFLT, he'll figure something out. - you laughed, when you were finally in the correct position, while the nurses were attaching all EKGs and other stuff to you. - Sorry for the swearing, it actually helps with pain... - you mumbled, and leaned on the raised part of the beb. - I guess it's already too late for the epidural. - you savored those couple of minutes without any contractions.

- Unfortunately, yes. - dr. Montgomery put a drop of gel on your stomach and put a USG wand to it. She went silent for a moment, but eventually, she smiled. - Ok, everything looks perfect. She's in a perfect position, the umbilical cord is visible and out of the way, her heart rate is normal, and you're officially 7.5cm dilated. It looks like it's gonna be a quick one. - she explained and moved the USG machine out of the way. - Are you ready to do this...? - you heard a commotion outside of the room and Bradley's panicked and angry voice came through the closed door.

- You better let him in, because he honestly might break the door. - you laughed, avoiding replying to her question because you didn't want to start without your husband.

One of the nurses opened the door and Bradley almost fell to the floor.

- Y/N! Are you ok, what's going on? - he was holding your hand in an instant, but he chose a poor moment because another contraction hit you, and you couldn't help but squeeze your hands around his forearm as hard as you could. He let out a quiet squeal, but nothing more.

- I'm in labor. Without my husband next to me. That's what's going on! - you've said through gritted teeth.

- Y/N, she's crowning, you have to start pushing soon... - dr. Montgomery was serious, and yet your stubbornness wanted to fight her so badly. That was until you heard a chopper nearing the hospital.

- That's Ice and Mav, go get them! - you slapped Bradley's shoulder, and he followed your orders without even thinking of stopping and asking from where exactly he should get them. But that wasn't your problem now, because there was another contraction, and you really felt the need to push, but you did everything in your power not to... Just a few more minutes...

- Y/N, I'm serious, if you won't start pushing soon, you'll be putting your daughter in danger... - you looked at her worryingly and you clenched your jaw.

- He's gonna be here any second now... - you wanted to cry because you had a plan. And it just shattered to pieces. But you still were holding desperately to the most important part of it, and you just couldn't let it go. Not yet.

- I know, sweetie, I know... But when the next contraction comes, I really need you to push as hard as you can, ok? I'll let you know when that will be, but please be ready, ok...? - her tone of voice was kind and soft, and you finally nodded. - Great. I'm here for you, and Tom will be here before she'll be out, I can promise you that. - you smiled a bit and dried your forehead with your wrist.

- Ok. - you exhaled when the door to your birthing room slammed open and you saw Tom, who was currently more than out of breath and red in the face. You didn't even see Mav and Bradley behind him, completely focused on your husband, who basically teleported to your side.

- Contraction is coming... Are you ready...? - dr. Montgomery asked and you nodded, pulling your husband's arm close to your chest and holding it tightly, almost like a teddy bear. - Hi Tom. - she welcomed your husband but shushed the other two men from the room. It was a miracle that when the next contraction came, you didn't crush Tom's arm.

- Good, good! You're doing amazing! - the doctor smiled while checking the situation. - I can actually see the top of her ears now! Tom, if you want to, you can get behind Y/n on the bed, like we practiced. - you sighed heavily, too tired and in too much pain for expressing complicated emotions.

- I love you... - you whispered when Ice was behind you, and you leaned into his strong body, which relaxed you almost immediately; muscle memory working faster than your brain could. - And I'm really glad that you made it.

- I love you too... And we'll talk about everything later because Bradley mentioned something about a firetruck. - he chuckled and you couldn't help but join.

- Another contraction guys, be ready... - dr. Montgomery said, and Tom wrapped his arms around you and intertwined your fingers together, so you would have something to hold onto.

This time you cried because it was just too much... Your scream full of pain echoed in the small room, and you felt your husband's lips on your neck, which surprisingly helped. You leaned more into him, actively pressing against him with your whole body and you could feel his muscles tensing. You knew he was whispering something to your ear, but you were in too much pain to actually process what he was saying.

- And we have the head! - you couldn't help but laugh through tears because you knew the worst part was still ahead of you. The good thing was, that everything was happening so fast, your brain didn't have time to properly catch up to was happening, because you were still in managing the crisis mode. - Another contraction coming! - why the hell they were so close together!? And why the hell you didn't realize earlier that you needed to go to the hospital? You'd be all nice and numb, but instead, you were digging your nails deep into your husband's skin.

You didn't know where one scream ended, and another began because everything started blending together. There was a moment when you felt something cold being pressed to your forehead, and another to your lips, but you weren't sure who or why did that. It did help a little though.

- Ok, sweetie, one last time, the shoulders are almost out! - the promise in dr. Montgomery’s voice brought you down for just enough to focus on that one last push, and after the massive amount of pressure, there was almost an instant relief, and you heard your baby girl cry, which instantly made you sob.  You could also feel Ice shaking behind you. - Tom, do you want to get here and cut the cord? - you turned your head to look at him, and you could just tell that he didn't want to leave you alone even for a second.

- Doc...? I know we talked about it being 20-30 minutes, but I feel the need to push... Like NOW.

- Oh! Then push! Now! Is everyone ok with me cutting the cord? - both you and your husband nodded, and you started pushing again. This time it took less than a minute and your placenta landed in the intern's hands, while dr Montgomery was checking and measuring your daughter. - Damn, that was quick! I'm a little bit jealous, not gonna lie! - she came back and put your baby girl in your arms. - She's perfect, all fingers and toes present, she's 48cm tall and she weighs 3.1kg. Lungs are fully developed and everything else looks good. I would still like to run a few more tests later, just because she's here 2 weeks early, but in my professional opinion - she's gonna be perfect. - You were registering what she was saying, but your whole focus was on this beautiful baby girl in your arms. She wasn't crying anymore, just looking at you with beautiful silver eyes. You knew there was a chance that this color would change over the next couple of months, but they could also stay the same since they were almost a perfect copy of Tom's eyes.

- Hi... - you said softly, and gently touched her nose with your finger and she fussed a bit. - It's nice to finally see you face to face... - you whispered again, completely ignoring the nurses who were currently cleaning you up because it simply didn't matter.

- She's perfect... And you were amazing.... - Ice whispered directly into your ear, looking over your shoulder at your daughter. - She's so tiny... - he added and gently cupped her head

- Oh, she'll grow... - you couldn't help but laugh. Considering how tall Tom was compared to you, you were genuinely surprised that she wasn't bigger.

- Did you come up with a name...? - dr Montgomery asked while she was filling up your file, and you looked at your husband and smiled.

- Yes, yes we did... Astrea... - he said and hugged you just a bit tighter, and placed a small kiss on the top of your head.

- That's a very beautiful name... Now I know we talked about it in detail, but I'm just gonna repeat it one more time... Try to feed her in the next hour, and try to get as much sleep as possible. How is your pain? - dr. Montgomery asked while she finished your paperwork.

- It's... manageable, at least with all the endorphins... - you replied, still lost in your daughter's eyes.

- I'm going to prescribe you something for it, and the nurse should be here any moment to help you with everything. I'm gonna go now, but I will be checking on you. And if you'll need anything else, just ask the nurses to page me, all right? - she smiled at you and nodded. - Are you ok with visitors? - you nodded again, gently cleaning your baby's head and face with a towel. You knew it was best to wait with a bath for at least a day, but that didn't mean she would have to be covered with amniotic fluid for that time. She was so quiet and so well-behaved. She didn't cry, just moved her arms a little, and just looked at everything around the room with those beautiful silver eyes.

- Do you need anything, dove? - Tom asked from behind you, also completely enamored with this little creature in your arms. He just couldn't fathom how such a perfect little thing was his daughter.

- Just... Stay there, ok...? - you leaned into him more, and allowed your head to rest on his shoulder. You were sticky from sweat and tears, but none of you cared.

- I'm not going anywhere... - he laughed quietly, and you hummed feeling the familiar vibrations behind you, and they did wonders in making you feel safe. He gently moved your hair from your face, and you melted into his cold hand.

- Hey guyyysssss... - Bradley whispered, a bit afraid that if he said something louder, he might scare the baby.

- Hi... - you replied and beckoned both of them closer. - Meet Astrea... - you couldn't stop smiling when you put her head a bit higher, so they could see her better.

- Hi Astrea... - Bradshaw's voice was still barely a whisper - It's a pleasure to meet you...

- Actually... We have something to ask you, kid... - Ice said, while the younger man still couldn't take his eyes off your daughter. You talked about it in detail over the last month and agreed on that; you just didn't expect that would ask about it so quickly. - We would like you to be her godfather...

- Hmmm? - he hasn't processed the request yet, still completely focused on Astrea. It was fun to watch his face catching up to his thoughts. - Are you serious? - he finally looked at you, still convinced that it might have been a joke.

- We're serious. - you replied and gently squeezed his forearm. - We figured that Mav already will have his hands full with you, and considering what huge help you were during this last month, we know we can trust you, and that's what's most important. - you smiled at him and only now you noticed tears gathering in his eyes.

- Yes! Of course, I will be her godfather! - he finally raised his voice above a whisper, and Astrea immediately looked at him with her piercing eyes.

- Then it's settled... uncle Bradley... - only now you noticed that Mav also had trouble keeping his face straight.

Since that memorable dinner, you had a serious, almost 4h talk about this whole situation, and - if you were completely honest - you felt more like a therapist than a friend... And there were moments when he wasn't treating you seriously, because how could you understand such complicated circumstance. He wasn't entirely wrong... But fortunately in the end everything was dissected, and discussed, and you two made peace about your intervention.

- Whoa, a lot of people! Is mama ok with that? - the nurse came in and was instantly the focus of the room.

- More than ok, thank you. They're family. - you smiled at Mav, while he tried to discretely wipe the tears that gathered in his eyes. He hasn't said a word since he came in, and if you knew that seeing a baby would finally shut him up, you might have gotten one earlier.

- Ok then. - she replied with a giant smile on her face. - How do you feel about a shower, dear? - she asked, and you honestly couldn't think of a better proposition.

- I'd love that... Ice, do you want to take her...? - you asked, but you already knew the answer. Of course, he would. And he did without batting an eye, finally holding his daughter for the first time in his arms. The nurse helped you stand up and only now you realized how much everything hurt, and that there was fluid running down your legs. - Bradley, my bag? - you asked and he pointed at the armchair, where your purple bag was. 

- Are ok to take the shower alone, or would you like some help...? - the nurse asked, and you were far past any shame.

- Help would be great, thank you, because there is no chance I'm gonna reach everything. Also, doctor Montgomery was supposed to prescribe me something for pain...? - you've mentioned because you were slowly coming down from that high of endorphins that pushed you through the whole labor.

- I know dear, everything is ready. But in my opinion, it would be better if we waited with the IV after showering. Will you be able to wait till then? - you nodded, while you were taking your towel, toiletries, and your personal gown from the bag. - Ok, dad... Off the birthing bed, we're going to wheel it out and bring the regular one, with everything fresh. - the nurse offered you her arm for stabilization while she was bossing everyone else around, and as if she willed it into existence, two younger nurses came into the room and started quickly cleaning all the mess from the labor.

Before you entered the bathroom, you took one last look at your husband, in full uniform, now standing up and holding your daughter who looked tiny in his arms; you could have sworn that she was much bigger half an hour ago... Ice looked at you with a huge smile on his face and mouthed a short, soundless "I love you".