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forteafy · 10 months

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Baby Steps | MV1

Summary: You've always been Mercedes golden girl; your life and career have been set out in stone. All it takes is for your ultimate rival to change that all.

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: Mild Smut, Childbirth, Angst, Mentions of Jos Verstappen.

26th November; the night of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix should have been the happiest of your life.

Not many people in the world can hold their head up high and say they have won a Formula 1 world championship, let alone three. Ever since your toothy grin and shy comments when first stepping into the paddock, you had been making waves in the motorsport world. Years later, under the attentive eye of Toto Wolff and Mercedes, you had become effortlessly cool and undeniably talented; the core makings of a three-time world champion.

The night of your first win was…you can’t even say a distant memory; the last thing you could vividly remember was linking arms with the golden boy of Mercedes, laughing merrily as you were guided down to the foyer of the extravagant hotel, the entire team with their warm comments and loving attitude ready for their new-found champion. The next day consisted of crouching over the porcelain throne, your insides rejecting any form of substance, the smell of tequila on your skin making you belch more. It was a cruel cycle, but one that every world champion had learnt.

It also hadn’t ceased you from repeating the identical routine the next year; the feeling was so nice, you had to do it twice. Ironically, you had also worn the identical bra and panty set of the first year; not that anybody had seen it. Boys were off limits during the height of your career. This was your choice, of course. PR would have given their overpriced marketing tools to see you on the arm of a successful man, thinking of the faux love story they could spin.

No, in order to be successful, respected; you’d sworn off any romantic relationship. You were not a figure to be held next to a man for beauty. Moreover, you were almost certain that if Toto saw a man within three feet of you, he’d frighten them off, in true fear that anybody would come near his youngest prodigy.

The third year had been set; the routine was laid out in front of you, ready to make mistakes you’d groan and then forget about by the fourth. Instead, you found yourself crouched in the cramped cubicle of the nightclub, a hand over your mouth and nose, attempting to muffle the gulps from your lips. Your eyes had glossed over, intensely focused on the piece of plastic fisted in your palm. Two blue lines, interlapped to create a cross. A plus sign. A positive sign.

You were pregnant.

19th October; a month prior to what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You’d been the personification of a peacock; feathers flexing as you walked through the paddock, your tenth pole position of the year resting comfortably on your shoulders. Heavy pats on your back, a cheeky wink towards the camera of Sky Sports and cheers from the crowds had guided your return to your motorhome, thanking your PR assistant as you slid into the only four walls on the track where there was a form of privacy.

Except there wasn’t. A figure was relaxed into your sofa with a photograph in his hands, eyes trained on your body when you’d entered the room, unknowing of their presence. A grin appeared on his smug face upon seeing you practically skyrocket out of your skin, noting the other person in your sanctuary. He eventually stands up, removing his branded Red Bull cap to place on your sofa.

“You shouldn’t be here, Max.” You scoff, snatching the polaroid out of his fingers, returning the photo to its rightful place; atop of the plush chilli Carlos Sainz had bought you for your birthday. (He’d also bought you a bullet vibrator, trying to remind you of your stubbornness, urging you to relax a little.)

“Nice photograph.” He comments, his blue eyes flickering over to where it now stood, propped up in pride. You sat centre of the track in Abu Dhabi; two younger figures sat between your legs. They both rested a chubby hand on your World Driving Championship trophy, huge grins at the shining object. “Friends of yours?”

“Sisters.” You mumble in return, removing the snapback from your head, balancing it on top of your shelf. The cool air finds the roots of your hair instantly, a wave of relief rolling through your entire body when your hand comes up to soothe your scalp. “Congratulations on…was it P16?” You gloat, hoping your rival would catch the message that you didn’t want him to be there.

Max feels his lips drop and eyebrows meet at the cold reminder of his own qualification result. He knew the season was drawing to a close, quickly at that, and the constant reminder that he would be losing another championship to Mercedes golden girl was the last thing he needed. The smug grin on your lips remains, turning around to slide your arms out of your race suit, letting the top half rest on your hips, sleeves hanging loosely at your legs.

“That’s why I came to see you.” He responds, standing up straighter, arms folded as his eyes train on your own movement. “It makes my losses look miniscule compared to your own.” His own grin has returned now, satisfied with his own response to the situation.

You had been playing this game for months. The first year of your relationship on the grid had been friendly, the second had been hostile. The third had been downright dangerous. It began to get to a point where the grid, the press, everyone had picked up on the relationship between yourself and the Red Bull driver.

“Hey, I’ll do anything to help you forget this will be my third World Championship.” You snap back, turning around to meet his figure, your own arms mimicking, folding against your chest. This time, you take a step closer. “Maybe next year Christian Horner will remember his ‘Precious Little Maxie.’

Max scoffs at the nickname you had given him, eyes noting the step you had taken. He responds, taking his own step. “Trust me. There’s nothing little about me.” His eyes meet yours when he finishes his sentence, and for the first time, Max Verstappen has left you completely and utterly speechless. Mind goes into overdrive, years of hatred are forgotten has his hands fly out, grasping each side of your face, meshing his lips to your own.

Your first thought is to push the swine away, slap him across the face and scream for Toto Wolff to grab him by the collar. Clouded, spaced out; your mind begins to crack, your only thought is how good his lips feel against your own, how soft they feel against your cheek, how sinful they trace against your neck.

Max’s palms had originally rested on your cheek, they had begun their trail, slithering down your sides, grip tightening as they reached your hips, forcefully pulling you towards his body, grinding his crotch against your own, the desperation of his member clearly noticeable.

A gasp emitted from your lips, feeling his teeth begin to nip across the soft skin of your neck, desperately searching for that one spot that would make you crumble. Max’s hands make quick work, one wrapping around your waist in order to keep you secure, the other grasping you fireproofs, race suit and panties in a fluid motion, exposing the sweet centre he had been craving. Nimble fingers trail around your entrance, swiping a finger against your most sensitive bundle of nerves, rewarding him with the most sinful sound he had ever received.

“Max-“ You gasped, mind clouded by lust, how your desire of this man had built from your core the moment you had seen him in person, years ago. “Max, please-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He mumbled, his own hand pulling down his trousers and underwear, rubbing his shaft for preparation. “Do not ruin this fucking moment.”

In a swift motion, Max has you pinned against the wall of your driver room, the cool wall sending a shiver against your skin. You barely have time to register the coolness dancing across you before your mind is overwhelmed by the feeling of his length slipping into your wet folds, and there is truly nothing little about him in that moment, mind sent into overdrive when he brings his lips back to yours.

19th December, twenty-three days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You had finally thrown yourself entirely into a distraction; Christmas. You’d flew back to Brackley alongside your teammate, both of you returning to the Mercedes base before retiring for the holidays. There had been no string short of invites flooding into your inbox, asking if you wanted to join them in any festivities. Anything at this point was a wanted distraction from the impending coil growing in your stomach, both figuratively and literally.

And so, you attended a Christmas Market alongside George and Carmen, passing on the mulled wine the two had insisted on trying. You’d gone to see Jack’s Christmas performance alongside Toto and Suzie but declined going to the fish restaurant they had mentioned; (you’d read somewhere in your first week of sheer panic that you could no longer go near fish whilst pregnant.) You’d gone to Lando’s new apartment in London but had seen the scowl on his face when you’d complained about your ‘bad stomach,’ and couldn’t do any heavy lifting of decorations.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve; Lewis had come to your family’s home, presents for your younger siblings, parents and yourself, of course. He’d sat politely, sipped on your mother’s tea, laughed politely at the antics building up towards the big day itself.

Spending time with somebody for three quarters of the year will teach you a lot about them; Lewis knew you like he knew each twist and turn of every track he’d raced along during the years. He knew you laughed with your whole stomach to the point where you had to grab something for support; that before every single race you would have your ‘top secret handshake’ with your race engineer, (you insisted your race would always go more smoothly if you did so, the last time you didn’t had resulted in a DNF.)

What Lewis knew most, was you were a complete and utter sucker for anything with chocolate. He had seen you practically sob when your trainer had found protein brownies that would work in your diet. So why did you decline your mothers’ sweet desserts when offered around the lounge? Why did you seem to hold your breath when the scent of treats was wafted under your nose, almost as if you’d vomit if you came into contact with them?

Carefully, your teammate placed his mug down on the low table, wiggling out of the space between your younger sisters; both were entranced by him. In any other situation, he would have sat there for hours, listening to their oh-so-sweet stories. Instead, he whistled for Roscoe, watching as the dog stooped up from his position by the fire, tottering over towards his owner.

“I’m going to take Roscoe out for a wee.” He nods towards your figure, slouched on the opposite sofa. “You coming?” The way he phrases his question; you can tell it’s not a question, it’s a command. You nod, placing down your own mug, stretching as you pulled yourself away from the leather recliner.

Your sisters were now engrossed by one of the presents Lewis has insisted they had to open early. Your mother and father were running through their guest list for tomorrow; nobody seemed to notice as the two of you slipped on your outerwear, whistling for Roscoe as you stepped through the dining room and onto the porch of the family home you had gifted your parents almost 1 year ago now.

Lewis’ eyes meet yours the moment you had closed the ornate doors. You struggle to meet his gaze; you know he has begun to put the pieces of this metaphorical puzzle together. He barely waits for the sound of the door closing before he starts to speak, the mannerisms he reserves for his teammate in instant appeal.

“Alright. What’s happening then?” He asks almost instantly, motioning for you to walk alongside him, taking the scenic route of the large garden. “You’d never turn down sweet things. You do everything to make your mother smile, why would you turn down her cooking?”

“I’ve just gone off that kind of stuff.” You mumble, not really thinking about what you were saying. You’d later remember to be more careful with your responses. You were not expecting him to piece it together so quickly through his own train of thought.

“Oh, my sister was like that when she was pregnant with-“ He cuts himself off, ceasing his steps when he realises what has escaped his lips. His head snaps back to look at you, and his heart melts. You, his self-assured, sweet teammate, now with tears in your eyes, a visible shake running across your body. He’s not stupid, he’s far from it.

“You’re pregnant.” He almost whispers, seeing how the words are visibly affecting you. Lewis says nothing, instead pulling you straight into his chest, arms engulfing you as he feels your body loosen, silently shaking with held back tears of being reminded of your current situation. “But…how?” He murmurs, loud enough for you to hear. He knew of your dating rule. Even outside of the press, no man ever seemed to be enough to knock you down, let alone knock you up.

You can’t tell him, not now. You couldn’t tell him. You had to tell him.

“Max.” You whisper, barely able to have the name on your lips. Lewis’ brows furrow. He knows in his heart he is right, but he doesn’t want to be.

“Fewtrell?” He responds, referencing to Lando’s oldest friend. You had been to see them recently, after all.

“Verstappen.”

Lewis’ isn’t sure what to say in that moment. Instead, he simply keeps you in his arms, in this moment at least, he can keep you warm, safe. Away from questioning eyes and the stories which will surely follow you until the end of time, until the end of your career. Instead, he asks the one question which you had been blocking out for oh-so-long, that you had been putting off since you threw yourself into these festivities.

“What are you going to do?”

6th January, 41 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

You knew what you were going to do.

You knew from the moment you had been called into your first ultrasound scan; by this point, only a few select people knew of the situation. Lewis. Your parents. The delivery driver at Dominoes Pizza whom had given you a strange look when handing over a pizza with no cheese, but three lots of spicy peppers.

Going to your first ultrasound alone had been terrifying; bringing somebody along would have drawn too much attention. You had played a mighty risk by going alone, hoping you wouldn’t be recognised. You didn’t want Mercedes to catch wind of the happenings, instead hoping nobody would openly tweet about your live location.

Your nurse doesn’t recognise you; if she does, she doesn’t show it. She’s polite and kind, makes sure that you haven’t used the bathroom in four hours, something to do with amniotic fluid. The cold jelly on your stomach sends an odd feeling through your body, as if cold cream was balancing on your tummy. There’s a sharp prod, a poke, and then you see the nurse smile.

“Ah, there they are!” She glows.

And there they are. Sat there, in your stomach. A small curve, to anybody else, a completely unidentifiable shape. But to you? The most precious shape that was completely and utterly undeniably yours. How you could have thought that you could go through life without knowing them is beyond you.

That was the moment you knew what you were going to do.

All you had to do now, was tell Toto. No big deal.

23rd February, 89 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

“Horner!”

Toto was known to be larger than life, and his voice only proved that theory as he stormed out of his Paddock Office, completely abandoning any information being presented about Pre-Testing in Bahrain. Instead, he’s seeing red, he’s seeing that Horner’s complete and utter dickhead of a driver has knocked up his winner. His current champion. (With no disrespect to Lewis, of course.)

Your teammate had been there, holding your hand when you had broken the news to Toto, your race engineer and your trainer. Your PR assistant was aware of the situation, currently attempting to make a game plan of how to handle the situation. She was adamant you needed to remain in the paddock; you still needed to be a part of the sporting world, even if you weren’t driving.

At first, Toto thought it was Lewis’ baby, ready to bang both of their heads together and reprimand them for not being careful. When it had slipped whose child it was, (Toto was well aware of your rule too, he was just as confused as Lewis had been when he’d first found out.) Toto didn’t care about anything. More importantly, he didn’t care that your pregnancy wasn’t public knowledge.

Toto had stormed into Red Bull’s garage, much to the widened eyes of Christian Horner. Despite being shorter, he instantly holds himself against the Austrian, arms folded, a smirk on his face at the entrance of the unwanted guests.

“How can I help you, Toto?” He smirks, ready for some remark. Instead, Toto leans to Christian’s ear, murmuring something unhearing to the rest of the garage. You can take a guess to what is said however, judging by how pale the Red Bull’s Team Principle had gone. In one swift move, he motions for Toto and yourself to follow him, calling out to his own team.

“Send Max to my office. Now.” His voice is unrevealing, but his skin is growing paler by the minute.

You had never been into a Red Bull garage, and yet now you sat in Horner’s own office, amazed by the fact their colour schemes and trophies could be carried around the world. Mercedes kept theirs at home, sometimes plain and simple was the way to go. You began to wonder if you should bring your trophies to your next races, maybe it would give the team a reminder of what can be achieved.

“Sit.” Horner motions to the couch in the office. You take a seat almost instantly, overwhelmed by the entire situation. Lewis places himself next to you, an arm around your back protectively. Toto refuses to take a command, instead remaining standing, arms folded, a glare of hatred towards Christian.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” The Red Bull team principal scoffs. “I didn’t tell Max to sleep with your little prodigy.” He may not be showing it, but Christian himself was downright livid with his driver. Max needed to focus; the team needed to focus on gaining back a world championship. Max was scarily focused, but when it came to the women in his life; his mother, his sister, his new little girlfriend Christian had seen in the paddock earlier that day, he would change, they became his focus.

“You need to keep that boy away from my team!” Toto retaliates. He could have gone deeper, he was all but ready to drag Max into the middle of the track and hold him there, letting Lewis drive into him at full force. Before any more threats could be thrown across the office, a door opens, the present grin on Max Verstappen’s face wiped instantly upon seeing Toto, Lewis and yourself.

“Max.” Christian starts, arms folded, the voice he used to reprimand his children now present. He can’t continue his phrasing however, before Toto scoffs, pointing an accusing finger towards the driver.

“You!” He roars, instantly forgetting the plead you had given him half an hour before, longing to keep this news as quiet as you could for as long as possible. “You couldn’t keep away; you have ruined my team! How dare you knock her up!” Toto is only stopped when you jump up from your seat, grabbing both of his arms in an attempt to stop his frantic ranting.

It takes Max a moment to process what has been said, he’s always struggled with quick responding when it’s not on a racetrack. It hits him all at once. Your pregnant. You’d slept together a month ago. Without protection, purely in the heat of the moment. Max Verstappen was going to be a father alongside his arch-rival.

“You’re pregnant?” Max can’t help his questioning, catching your eyes for the first time since entering the room. You can only offer him a nod, unable to form words in that current moment. “And…it’s mine? Are you sure?”

Your blood ran cold, you finally understood the rage that your Team Principle. You turn around, eyes darkened, shaking your head in pure anger. “Who else have I slept with, Max? You want to tell me that?” The audacity of this man. How dare he question you.

“You’re not keeping it, right?” Christian is the first to question. Max’s eyes gloss over, coughing lightly before overtaking the conversation from his own Team Principle. “I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.” His own skin mimics that of Christian; he turns as pale as the white lines of a hard tyre.

“You’re not-“ You cut yourself off, instead opting to keep silent. You had nothing else to say. Max had made his stance on the situation clear. “I don’t need you, Max. I can do this myself.” The entire room watches as you pull away from Lewis and Toto, never once looking at the father of your child.

10st March, 105 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

The Monaco Grand Prix was usually the highlight of your year; champagne podiums, speed boats and the comfort of sleeping in your own bed. However, this time you were not watching it from the screen of your car, nor the comfort of the paddock. You’d opted to remain at your apartment. For a start, the headlines which had been spiralling across the media were growing overwhelming. ‘Mercedes driver pulled out of racing until further notice.’ ‘Max Verstappen breaks up with new girlfriend after only weeks together.’ ‘Valtteri Bottas to pose for nude charity calendar.’

Maybe that last one wasn’t to do with your situation; you were all too aware of how your grid buddy could act in his down time.

Your second worry was the fact that your bump was beginning to grow adamant. It had only been around three months, yet the bump seemed almost ballooning. Every piece of clothing you tried on made you feel like it was more and more obvious. You didn’t want anybody seeing what was happening to your body. Besides, it wasn’t like the pregnancy was an entire secret anymore.

You hadn’t heard from Max since that day in the office. Toto had found you crying an hour later, coaxing you to stop for your own health and the sake of the baby. For the first part of the racing season, your unfilled seat had been passed to George Russell. You’d smiled at each interviewer, telling the world you had an injury which made driving next to impossible at the present time. For each Grand Prix, you’d stayed sat next to Toto, cheering on the silver arrows. Maybe you hadn’t seen Max because you barely set foot outside of the garage.

The news had slowly begun to spread from driver to driver, though each remained loyal and hadn’t told the press of your true reasoning for stepping away. Charles had been around in an instant, helping you to talk through what had been happening. He was your neighbour, after all, he liked to check in when he could. You’d had a visit from Daniel, telling you his best friend was a…well, how he put it, ‘a grade-a cunt,’ for how he had reacted.

There was only one person, however, whom you had wanted to speak to. Sebastian had been a close friend, almost a mentor, during your first batch of Formula 1 seasons. He was also a father himself, maybe he would be able to explain to you Max’s stance on the whole thing.

You knew he was visiting Monaco that weekend for the Grand Prix. When your phone buzzed from your living room, you’d assumed it was him asking for you to come and let you into the complex. What you were not expecting, was the text on your phone from none other than the father of your child.

14:05: Max Verstappen

I don’t know if you have me blocked, I’m hoping you do not. I want to apologise for my reaction. It was a lot. I want to be there, for you and our child.

14:09: You

I appreciate the message. Thank you. My next scan is on Tuesday, after Monaco.

14:11: Max Verstappen

I’d like to be there. Could you send me the details, please?

14th March, 109 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Max Verstappen was not a practical man.

Despite telling him you would meet him at the address you had sent him, he’d shown up to your apartment just before you were set to leave. Standing in the lobby of your apartment complex, a large bouquet of flowers resting in his arms. You could have sworn you’d never seen Max outside of jeans and a Red Bull polo shirt; it was refreshing to see him in crisp shirt and cargo trousers.

“You didn’t have to dress up.” You mumble, looking down to your own outfit; a soft summer dress seemed positively ordinary; hair loose around your shoulders. It was just a scan, after all. It wasn’t as if the two of you would be going on a date; you hated the man stood in front of you. However, a smile is soon nestled on your face when the man offers you the bundle of flowers, offering a warm grin alongside them.

“You look nice.” Max nods, motioning towards the exit of the complex. His car was parked directly outside, as in order to avoid the press whom would undoubtedly be looking for the drivers in Monaco. The flowers decorated your arms, carefully resting them on your lap before adjusting your seatbelt. “Do you need anything?” He looks back to the complex, concerned if you had forgotten something.

“I just need the bathroom.” You mention half-heartedly. Max’s eyes widen, ready to step out of the car and lead you back into the apartment. “Oh-“ You cut yourself off, having to explain the situation. “No, I need a full bladder for the scan, so they can see the baby.” The man nods in understanding, sitting himself in the driver’s seat, looking both ways before beginning to start the route towards clinic.

The car ride between the two of you was unusually peaceful; Max made light conversation, filling you in on the antics of the paddock from that weekend. You can’t hold back the laugh from your lips when he mentions Christian Horner slipping off his high seat when excitedly jumping to his feet. You missed the paddock; you missed the feeling of racing; you especially missed the banter between your friends. You’d have to return, sooner rather than later.

When the two of you pulled into the car park, Max was quick to step out of his seat, opening the car door for you. You offer him a quiet thanks before making your way into the building, side by side. The nurse you had previously seen gives you a smile, delighted to finally see the father of the baby alongside you.

Max had silently followed you into the room; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, quite the opposite. The man was taking in every piece of information that was being given, silent notes in his mind on each aspect. He’d keep the baby safe; he’d keep you safe, too. Ever now the gentlemen, he helps you to lie down on the seat, your bumped stomach revealed through lifting the skirt of your summer dress.

He can’t help but notice the soft underwear decorating your lower half. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked, after all. That’s how you had got here in the first place. His thoughts are soon side-tracked when seeing you wince from the coldness of the jelly and the cramp of the scanning machine. Max’s hand trails, feeling your own resting aside your body. He can’t help but hold onto it, trying to offer you some sort of comfort. Maybe it’s the sudden nerves, but your hand grabs back just as tightly, feeling his thumb rub carefully against your knuckles.

“You okay?” He mumbles, trying to keep a low profile from the nurse. You can only nod, comforted in the way your…rival…was now holding your hand so preciously.

“Now…” The nurse begins. “I wanted to check with you both, you mentioned wanting to find out the gender of your child.” Her question is directed towards you, Max’s eyes darting between the two women in the room. “Of course, if dad doesn’t want to know, he can leave-“

“Oh, no.” Max interrupts, mind racing at a thousand thoughts per minute. “I’d…I want to know too.” He agrees, nodding in synch with you.

“Well, congratulations. You’re having a beautiful baby girl.” The nurse confirms, turning around the screen to you both. The undefinable shape you had seen mere weeks ago had developed, becoming a more shaped being. You could see the baby forming, eyes widening in shock. Your eyes glanced over to Max, his grip tightening on your palm.

You didn’t miss the glossed tears in his eyes. He knew in that very moment that this baby, this moment was…everything to him.

2nd May, 158 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Overnight, Max Verstappen had truly wiggled his way into your inner circle. The two of you had barely said ten civilised words to one another since meeting all those years ago. Now? There was a string of texts almost every morning, asking how you were feeling, to let him know if you needed anything. You had truly begun to push the limits of his patience. The man had showed up your doorstep one morning with a bag of cinnamon pretzels after hearing your cries down the telephone line.

Right now, the two of you were basking in the bliss of your little bundle of joy; there were still a lot of heavy conversations to come, but the first wave of nerves had passed, you were now simply excited to meet the little being growing in your stomach.

The two of you had developed a successful co-parenting system to work your way through the pregnancy; Max had engrossed himself in endless copies of baby books. Daniel had found him one afternoon in his driving room, highlighting a textbook on what the main causes of a baby crying could be. He’d started to keep a calendar of every appointment that he’d attend alongside you, notes on the dates that you’re feeling a particular sickness or swelling. If you won’t bring it up with a doctor, he would.

Max tries to convince himself it’s to keep his baby safe; of course, you need to remain healthy too, but he doesn’t care about you, not in that sense.

It isn’t until he receives a phone call from you one afternoon, pleading for him to come and collect you from a friend’s house; your car had broken down and your Uber application wouldn’t seem to find you a driver that wasn’t half an hour away. Max had shown up at the doorstep ten minutes later, knocking on the door to signal your arrival. When there was no answer, he took his own incitive to investigate the back garden, hearing the light sound of music, chattering adults and giggling children.

The garden is in full swing; you hadn’t mentioned it was a party; an extravagant one at that. He’s taken aback by the decorations, a giant bounce house and the most enormous birthday cake he had ever seen.

His heart almost stops when he sees you.

You, hair framing your face beautifully, a pale pink dress hugging you in the most delicious way. Your attention is focused to the toddler on your hip, your godson. How on earth could you think you were not ready for this? You pulled faces at the young being his giggles screaming through the air. Max had always thought you were pretty, but now he could only see you as a goddess.

He’s convinced himself, after all. He doesn’t care for you. He worships you.

9th June, 196 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

“I think we should move in together.”

Max’s attention is drawn up from his phone. Christian and himself had been texting backwards and forwards for the past few days; the driver was trying to rework his schedule so he could at least be with you for a week after the birth. It was getting closer; the world now knew of your pregnancy, the media torn between harsh critics and positive glows.

What they didn’t know was the father of the child was your sworn enemy.

Maybe, enemy was a word you didn’t wish to use anymore. A friend didn’t seem right, either. A mix of late-night conversations, spooning ice cream to one another whilst binging a new Netflix series and picking out a bundle of pink pyjamas had drawn the two of you into an undefinable relationship.

“You know…” You continue. “I want…her to have both her parents about. I don’t want her to grow up in a broken household.” It was true; you’d seen how it could affect people, especially the man who was sat by your side. He understood, completely and utterly. After what he had been through, he wouldn’t wish that on anybody, least of all his own flesh and blood. His own baby.

“I missed my mother…a lot when I was younger.” He referenced his parents’ separation, how he had barely seen his mother and sister whilst growing up. “I wouldn’t want that for her.” Max rests a hand on your stomach, a soft smile on his face when he looks at you. Even with no makeup, a hoodie which was way too big for you, you were still positively glowing. “Why don’t we have a look tomorrow? Find somewhere around here with enough space for us all.”

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine, but you’re painting the nursery.” You mumble in response. A small laugh emits from both of your lips. However, yours is soon replaced with a sharp wince, a rumble in your stomach. Max, whom still had a hand resting on the bump immediately stops laughing, both of your eye’s meeting in shock.

“Was that-” He cuts himself off when he feels the movement again. It’s a kick. The baby is kicking.

“She’s awake!” You laugh, placing your hand carefully across Max’s. You gently guide it across your stomach, tracing the sharp movement in your stomach. “We must have woken her up. Sorry sweet pea.” You direct the last part of your sentence to the baby in your stomach.

Max gently removes his hand from your stomach, his head tiling closer to your bump. The baby can hear him. She’s in there, nestled and warm, awaiting her welcome into the world.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He mumbles, voice thick from holding back heavy tears. “It’s your Papa.”

He doesn’t miss the small laugh from you, entirely entertained by this whole situation.

“I know I can’t see you yet, but you’re the most beautiful girl I could ever ask for. Just like your mother.” He finishes, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. Softly, he lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your temple, heads resting gently against one another as the next episode of your series began to play.

29th June, 216 days after what should have been the happiest day of your life.

Spa-Francorchamps was the last race on the calendar before the summer break. It was also the last time you would be able to be in the paddock without a baby strapped to your side.

It had been magical, when walking into the Mercedes garage. Cheers had erupted upon seeing their golden girl return to the paddock. Lewis had barely been able to contain himself, pulling you into the tightest hug which could be imagined. Toto had almost started crying, kissing the top of your head and resting a hand on your stomach, declaring the baby as his unborn prodigy.

There had been no end of drivers coming to meet you, too. Charles and Carlos had declared how much they had missed having you around, presenting you with a baby blanket and beanie. Your heart had melted when they explained their mothers had taught them how to knit, both wanting to make a present for you, stitched with love. You’d almost started crying, hormones were in full swing in the third trimester, kissing both on the cheek and thanking them endlessly.

Yuki had walked up to you that afternoon too, presenting a small Tupperware box. He had noticed you’d completely rejected fish, and most of all sushi, so instead had made you a batch which was pregnancy safe. The two of you had tried a piece there and then, declaring it as quite possibly the best thing your tastebuds had found since pregnancy had altered your tastebuds.

Daniel had come to find you, telling you to meet him in his garage, that he had a surprise for you both. Both, meaning you’d probably have to find Max, too.

His garage was only a short walk from where you’d been set up in the Mercedes camp. You’d began to make your way over there, hoping you’d bump into the father of your child on the way. You’d last seen Max that morning, having driven you to the paddock himself. He’d become…fiercely caring since the evening of feeling the baby kick. He’d slept in your bed that night, you are resting against his chest, a form of comfort in the third trimester.

What you hadn’t expected to see, as you turned the corner, was a beautiful girl, hands resting on Max’s waist, her eyes sparkling, lips moving. You couldn’t see Max’s face, his cap hiding any expression, but your heart knew that he’d be smirking, basking in the attention.

Loving the attention of a beautiful girl, one that wasn’t pregnant with his child.

You couldn’t…understand why you had suddenly cared so much about who he was interacting with. When you’d first started this whole…adventure, he’d still been seen in clubs, leaving with different women on his arm every weekend. You’d hit the second trimester; his party and escapades had stopped, his sole attention of women being on you.

Maybe that was it. You’d grown to like the attention of Max. Whether it was as the father of your child or…something else.

Your hormones were truly beginning to overtake you, feeling tears trickling out of your water line. You had to look away at that moment, you couldn’t keep looking at the events unfolding in front of you. Your mind traces back to that morning in Christian Horner’s office, how Max had turned pale, not wanting to be burdened with the birth of his child.

‘I’m- I’m not ready to be a father.’

Maybe he wasn’t. But you were ready to be a mother.

8th August, 255 days since what should have been the-

You couldn’t handle this.

The pain was beginning to seethe through your stomach. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was all wrong, it was happening too quickly.

Since the incident at the paddock, you’d been radio silent towards Max. He wasn’t too sure of how it had come to be. All he had known was you’d taken yourself home from Spa, telling him that you’d needed to fly home to be with your parents before the birth.

One day without a phone call was okay, he suspected it would be due to the time zones. Two was…a little odd. After three, he was frantically packing a suitcase, trying to get hold of anybody who would possibly know your parents’ address. He’d resulted to finding your teammates phone number. After he was met with a string of questions, asking how on earth he had gotten hold of his phone number. When Max had explained you had gone off the grid, Lewis had simply scoffed.

Of course, Lewis had known what had happened. He’d seen you return to grab your bag, eyes glassy as you offered the team a quick goodbye, promising to bring the baby to meet them all as soon as possible.

The driver had been the one to guide you back through the paddock. Despite not racing together for almost six months, he still had your mannerisms sketched into his mind. Eventually, you’d confided in your closest friend, letting the tears fall freely as he guided you back to your Uber, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a silent promise that he would be there if you needed anything, if there were any more thoughts or issues.

He had no issue telling Max his thoughts over the telephone. Despite Max’s answers, there was no excuse. ‘You were hormonal. How did he think you felt when seeing Max with another woman, even if it was innocent, she didn’t seem to be in that stance.’

That was the case. It was an ex-girlfriend, she’d been in the paddock that afternoon, seeking out the world champion in an advancement to get them back together. Max had no intention of going there, not when he was during finding something, some gesture to show you of his advancing feelings over the past few months. That was why he had asked Daniel to get you to his garage. He would be able to surprise you, tell you how he was really feeling, how he loved you, and not just for being the mother of his child.

After copious amounts of pleading, Lewis had eventually sent over the address, giving Max a dire warning as to if he upset you again.

The flight to your home had been fast. He couldn’t thank his assistant enough, getting a hire car set for the moment he stepped out of the airport. However, turning up at your home to find your father, arms folded, and eyebrows raised at Max’s sudden appearance. Your father barely said two words, just told Max you had gone into labour.

Max’s blood had run cold upon that realisation. He wasn’t there; he wasn’t there to hold your hand when the pain started, to hold your hair up and get some coolness to your overheating skin. He wasn’t there. Not for his little girl, and not for her mother. Being a Formula One driver in that evening was the most helpful thing in his opinion, arriving at the hospital in record time.

Car thrown carelessly into a parking spot, he’d sprinted into the reception, a nurse resting a hand on his arm when seeing the pure shock registered on his face. He couldn’t get any words out properly, simply repeating your name, that he was the father of your child. He wanted to see you, he wanted to see his baby.

The nurse nodded, motioning for Max to follow him down a corridor. He didn’t like the coldness of the building. You probably felt so alone. Every time he had come with you to a clinic appointment, he’d notice the change in your demeanour, how you felt uncomfortable. You should have opted for a home birth; you would have been calmer. Safer.

Max eventually reached your hospital room, heart breaking at the sounds from the other side of the door. You were in pain. That much was obvious as he opened the door. Your mother wasn’t present. He knew your stubbornness, knowing that you would have wanted to do this without her. Maybe, you’d want to do this without him, too.

His train of thought was interrupted, hearing a voice he had missed oh-so-much for the past three days.

“Max.” You cried, tears rolling down your cheeks. The gas wasn’t working, the epidural hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to feel ever piece of this.

The man sprang into action; in an instant, his jacket was removed, revealing his soft t-shirt and trackpants. A seat was pulled up to the head of your bed, Max sitting himself down, one hand running across the top of your head, the other arm resting by your hands, letting you grip into him as deeply as you needed to.

“Shh. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” He mumbles. Soft words of Dutch come from his lips; you’re too far gone to understand his words in English, let alone his native language.

“You- why did you come?” You sob, feeling another contraction wash over your stomach. You can’t help but sob out, overwhelmed by the physical pain of the baby, the emotional pain of Max after seeing him in the paddock with that girl.

“I couldn’t leave the love of my life to meet our baby girl alone, could I?” He responds, leaning upwards to press a soft kiss to your cheek. He can taste the salt from your tears. He swore there and then, you’d never cry again. Not if he was around. You’d stay with him in the paddock, you and his baby girl. He’d make you laugh at every available opportunity. He’d shower you both in gifts; he’d give his girls everything they’d desire. If one day you decided to return to racing, he’d retire there and then to let you peruse his dream.

“Okay, okay. We need to push.” The midwife insists, seeing the pain flush over your cheeks. Max is there, clasping your hands, running a palm across your cheek, promising that oh-so-soon, your baby girl would be here, she would be in your arms, you would be complete.

There’s a sharp scream from you, and then the tiniest cries from the end of the bed.

She was here. Bloody, high pitch screams fill the room as the baby is placed onto your chest.

A wave of relief flushes over you, lying back into the cushions, sobbing in hysteria; your baby girl had been welcomed into the world. Max this time, can’t hold back his own tears, aiding the midwife in cutting the chord, eyes in awe as he watched the midwife gently rub a cloth against her soft skin.

“She’s here.” You whisper, the midwife aiding you in wrapping your daughter in a pink blanket, her wails cooling down, eyes blinking up to her mother. The blue eyes, identical to those of her father.

Her father in question had sat back in his chair, eyes transfixed on the bundle in your arms. What he isn’t expecting is for you to motion your own arms towards him, letting the man cradle his daughter. It’s so…natural. Your heart fills with adoration; how you could ever believe you hated this man was beyond you.

Eventually, the baby is placed into the cradle, deep in slumber. Max hasn’t moved from your side, one arm around your back, both of you transfixed onto the peacefully sleeping child.

“She’s here.” Max repeats for the hundredth time, eyes still focused on the sweet girl. His head turns to you, there’s no better time to say it. “I’m sorry. For not telling you sooner. For not telling you how much I care about you.” He murmurs, hand finding yours, clasping them together.

“Yeah?” You tease, running your free hand through his soft hair, feeling his head press into your touch. His touch subsides, leaning in ever so gently, pressing his lips to your own. It’s soft, it’s unexpected, but it feels so, so right. It’s only interrupted with the soft cries from your baby once again.

“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?” Max laughs, his moment being disrupted by the baby. You can only laugh as he stands up, scooping up the baby into his gentle grasp.

9th August, 1:06am. This was the happiest day of your life.

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justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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dekariosmagic · 8 months

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Safe and Sound- Gale x Tav/Reader

Paring: Gale Dekarios x Tav/Reader (Referred to as Tav)

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Word Count: 1,515

Description: Gale seemed to take the news from Elinster fairly well, or so it appeared.

Other Things: Fluff. Hurt comfort. Uses lyrics from the song "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift. Pre-relationship (but they're basically there).

Warnings: Panic attack. References to potential story canon suicide.

Elminster’s news had been a bombshell in and of itself on the party. Gale had seemingly taken the news in stride, perhaps the best in the camp.

Gale made dinner as usual, while everyone avoided the singular topic on all their minds. Tav assumed no one knew how to bring up the topic to the man himself.

It wasn’t until Gale finished his own portion and took off to his tent for an early night, did the rumbling start.

Tav did her usual rounds, trying to ignore the feeling of a rock settled in her chest. And with each companion she talked to with their collective rage and disgust toward the situation and goddess of magic, it just seemed to get heavier.

It felt good to know the rest of them were all on the same page. That they’d rather fight the goddess herself than willingly give up their wizard.

Hells Tav was ready to take the goddess on herself, as foolish as the task would be. The fact Mystra felt she could demand that of him. The ultimate sacrifice to end a threat to her power, and get rid of a loose end in one go. She’d not spoken to him since the orb incident, and this was how she broke the silence?

Her heart hurt for Gale and herself. The entire situation couldn’t be easy, not nearly as easy as he made it sound as he accepted the mission from Elminster at least. Hearing from an ex of a relationship that ended so badly would be tricky, make her his goddess of magic and it was far more complicated.

And her own feelings complicated it. She wanted to grab him by his shoulders and scream. Tell him to defy Mystra, to think, to not accept this outrageous thing he’s been asked to do. To spurn Mystra’s words and stay here, with her, in this… whatever they were building.

She’d become far too attached to him already. But everyday at his side just added to the growing list of things she adored about him. The one bright spot in a bleak road ahead.

Walking to the front of Gale’s tent, Tav freezes as she contemplates calling out to him. Whether she should try to talk tonight, or leave it for later after he’s had more time to think. Or just let him stick to his own resolve entirely…

Her thoughts are cut short at the sound of a broken sob on the other side of the fabric.

Without a thought, she slips into the tent and throws her arms around his midsection from behind. His body tenses in surprise, but it does little to interrupt the next sob from his lips.

She squeezes him tighter as his body shakes, using one hand on his front to rub slow circles on his stomach as she rests her head on his back.

“Y-you don’t h-have-“ Gale begins before slapping a hand over his mouth trying to stifle the next sob, sucking air in desperately around it.

“Gale, I’ve got you. It’s ok to let it out. I’m staying right here, I promise.”

She feels him nod more than sees it. She sways them slightly as he shakes, taking a moment to spin herself around his body and hold him more tightly from the front.

His arms quickly wrap around her, his face pressing to her hair.

Her fingers rub gently into his back as she softly starts to hum a melody, his tears running down onto her as he tries to mumble an apology.

She holds him for what felt like hours, lost in their own moment. His shaking lessens, and the sobs dwindled to small hiccups over time.

Turning her head to glance around the room, she spots his bedroll a few steps away.

“Let’s lay down,” she says softly, backing them toward the bedroll and carefully tugging him along with her.

She drops down to her knees when she reaches it, grabbing his hands to tug him down to the bedding with her. Adjusting his pillows around and finding a blanket, she lies on her back and holds her arms out to him.

He studies her for a moment before laying down and snuggling into her, his head resting on her shoulder as she pulls the blanket up around them.

Her fingers slowly card through his hair as he buries his face against her neck, a shuddered breath leaving his lips as his hand grips at her shirt fabric on her stomach.

She resumes her humming after they settled in, his face turning from her neck to glance up at her.

“What are you humming?” He asks quietly, his voice raspy and unsure.

“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go. When all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said don't leave me here alone,” she sings softly to the melody she’d been humming.

“Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone.

“Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound,” she finishes singing, rubbing a hand along his arm.

“My mother would sing it to me at night when I was upset,” she finally answers. “When times are hard now I hum it to myself. Quite often lately if I’m to be honest.”

“It’s beautiful,” he responds, his eyes reddened and puffy, but looking at her with adoration. “You’re beautiful. And I’m undeserving of your company.”

“Oh hush,” she says and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re deserving of far more than you believe. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to have people care about you, and you deserve to live.”

“I… I don’t want to die,” he whispers after a moment.

“Good, hold onto that,” she says squeezing him closer to her. “I will find another way. We will. There’s always another way. I’m not going to give up on you. You’re enough as you are Gale.”

His face presses back up against the juncture between her shoulder and neck, a shaky exhale on her neck, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear as she feels him smile against her skin.

“Would you stay here with me tonight? Only if you’re comfortable with it,” he asks quickly, keeping his face hidden from her.

“Of course, I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite wizard,” her fingers go back to playing with his hair.

“If you only know one wizard, I’m both your favorite and least favorite,” he jokes with a dry chuckle.

“I’ve met a few, but you make a good point. I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite person,” she amends.

His hand drifts from her stomach to her side, holding her closer to him, “If you continue this I might believe you and you’ll be stuck with me, then you’ll be sorry for throwing those words around.”

“Is that a promise?” She grins and lays her head against his.

“Promise?”

“If I keep saying you’re my favorite and that I care about you, I’ll be stuck with you? Because I can easily keep repeating the truth each day.”

“I-I don’t know what… I mean, I still have that order and I might, but maybe,” he stumbles over his words, his brow scrunching in thought.

“You don’t have to think about it right now,” her hand lightly grips his chin to turn his head so she can see his face and presses her finger between his brows. “No decisions, sacrifices, or answers are needed right now.”

He blinks rapidly in response, tears building in the corners of his eyes again as he searches her face then nods, lolling his head back against her shoulder.

Tav lets her fingers drift down his cheek, then follows along his jaw slowly, enjoying the prickle of his beard on her skin.

He stretches some in her embrace, leaning into her touch, his eyelids drooping.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake,” she promises as she feels sleep starting to come to her as well.

“A wondrous sight to awake to I’m sure,” he smile softly, his eyes drifting shut.

Tav continues to stroke along his cheek and jaw until his breathing evens and his nose twitches in his sleep when her hand accidentally brushes against it.

Holding back her chuckle, she wraps her arm back around Gale and snuggles her face against his hair, letting her own eyes drift shut.

She sends out a quick prayer, to any god that may listen, that she find a way to get them all through this. Her new little odd family would all make it through this intact, or she herself would die trying. His goddess may have given up on him, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to.

--------

My Main Account: @lykaonimagines AO3 User: Lykao (Marvel, Sherlock, Cyberpunk 2077, and other video game fics)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale dekarios x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate #fanfic

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miquella-everywhere · 3 months

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Miquella and Griffith: Why the comparisons make no damn sense

So instead of me screaming to the sky, "Waah Miquella is Griffith theories make me so mad grrrr I hate them so much" I've decided that I'm going to do an analysis between the two characters and dissect why the comparisons and Giffiths influence on Miquella makes absolutely no damn sense.

So first and foremost, warning: I will be talking about and spoiling Berserk, so if you wanna read it for yourself then steer clear of this analysis

So to start off let's discuss Griffith and his character/motivations in Berserks story: Griffiths whole goal from childhood was to establish his own country, his own paradise and to achieve that goal he first established his own mercenary group The Band of the Hawk. Griffith was beautiful and charismatic and the people who were apart of his band all looked up to Griffith and admired him, placing all of their hopes and faith into him and his dream.

But as the story goes on Griffith hits an all time low point, and after essentially being tortured for a year, which makes him emaciated, weak and practically crippled for life, all of Griffiths dreams seem like an utter impossibility as he is left as nothing more than a shadow of his former self.

That is until he decides to cast everything aside to become a God.

And by cast everything aside I mean that he betrays his companions, his Band of the Hawk, and sacrifices their lives to untold evils in what is absolutely the most genuinely horrific and unsettling imagery I have ever seen from a work of fiction in my entire life.

(Going off topic but I cannot stress this enough that if you decide to read Berserk understand that the violence shown pulls no punches with its depictions and involves both heavy gore and sexual violence. Especially the sexual violence)

Anyway, what makes the Band of the Hawks sacrifice so jarring is that these people all loved Griffith. They adored him. Backed him every step of the way and were the ones to go and rescue him as he was being tortured, and they all mourned the pitiful state that he was in when they found him. But regardless they STILL tried to be hopeful for Griffiths sake.

The Band of the Hawk loved Griffith and that is why Griffiths betrayal of them hits so hard and is why Griffith is known as one of the most evil characters in fiction.

And all of these reasons are precisely why Griffith is such a good and compelling character.

From the beginning of Griffiths introduction you could tell that something was... off about him. But at the same time his charisma and big ambitions painted him in a sympathetic light and you rooted for Griffith. But as the story went on you could see how Griffith was going deeper and deeper into the darkness and, quite frankly, his subsequent torture is entirely his own fault because he made several stupid and completely avoidable choices.

And it's all because Griffith at his core is selfish.

And it's for exactly these reasons why it's so baffling to me that so many people believe that Miquella is going to be just as evil, or worse, than Griffith.

Because in truth unlike Griffith, Miquella is not selfish.

The main problem that I have with the Miquella is Griffith comparisons is that all of those theories hinge entirely on the Bewitching Branch item description, and so many people have gone out of their way to spin Miquellas ability to compel affection as definitive proof that he is manipulative and evil, meanwhile conveniently ignoring everything else that Miquella has done in the lore.

So for a single moment, let's pretend that the Bewitching Branch does not exist and take a look at all the other lore that surrounds Miquella:

Miquella has dedicated most of his life to curing Malenia, his twin sister, of her crippling disease, and has even crafted prosthetics for her as well as an entirely new type of God Repellent Metal, which can halt the effects of said disease

He was a Golden Order Fundamentalist but ultimately abandoned it because it could not cure Malenias sickness

He created a Haven for those who are outcasts in the eyes of the most dominating and repressive Order in the Lands Between

He watered said Haven/the Haligtree with his own blood so it could grow into something that could rival the Erdtree

He used his identity as St. Trina to sing to and ease those who have been afflicted by the Frenzied Flame

There are several statues that depict Miquella and Malenia embracing eachother, 1 in Altus in an area dubbed Miquellas Hideaway and several all over the Haligtree. The fact that this statue is the dominant imagery found at the Haligtree really hammers in the fact that the twins love eachother, and that the Haligtree isn't just Miquella's, but Malenias home as well

He also has a clear affection/love for his brother Godwyn as the statue at the Haligtree depicts him embracing his siblings and even created a sword to commemorate Godwyns death and prayed for him to Die a True Death.

The soldiers of the Haligtree came across a bitter revelation as they await Miquella(presumably they feel immense guilt for being unable to protect their Lord) and explode with light, which they hope will guide Miquellas return and no Miquella did not put the light in them to make them explode there is absolutely zero proof of that, looking at you vaati

And now to be fair, lets get into the comparisons that are shared between the Griffith and Miquella:

Both are highly charismatic and beautiful individuals to the point where both Griffith and Miquella are mistaken for being girls.

The Eclispe imagery. For Griffith the Eclipse is what allows him to ascend to Godhood(after sacrificing the people who love him) and for Miquella the Eclipse is presumably how they are trying to resurrect Godwyn (Miquellas plans for the Eclipse are mostly unknown/vague at this point)

The Egg. Griffith and Miquella both go through a type of metamorphosis involving being encased in a cocoon/egg.

And honestly that's kinda it. The straight comparisons between the two are highly lacking and purely thematic in my opinion, especially when you consider everything else going on between their respective characters.

So to summarize, the good things that Miquella has done outweighs the bad and that is why Miquella is, in actuality, the exact opposite of Griffith. Unlike Griffith who is selfish, Elden Ring canon points to Miquella being a compassionate and loving individual, and if anything, he is a complete inversion to Griffiths character.

With the points listed above a majority of the in game text highly suggests that Miquella is kind and altruistic, and with the newest text regarding Miquella in the DLC:

Points to Miquella potentially being selfless and self-sacrificial.

And also, I've seen several people argue that Miquella wants to become a God so he can create his own utopia/Falconia like Griffith did. And I'm like.... Uuuum okay well, there is a big problem with that argument along with an elephant in the room that's being completely ignored, and that is the fact that Miquella has already created his utopia/Falconia with the Haligtree and Elphael.

So as of this moment Miquellas exact goals are completely unknown, what he is doing in the World of Shadow cannot be determined until the DLC arrives. But my point remains that so many people seem to think that Miquella will be evil based off of, in my opinion, evidence that is completely lacking in substance, along with the pervasive belief that since Elden Ring has drawn inspiration from Berserk/Griffith it means that Miquella will end up as a similar type of evil character as Griffith, all while ignoring the things that Miquella has done in canon that sets him apart as his own character.

So I've said my piece and what I believe in, so I'm just going to leave this analysis with this last statement:

The good that Miquella has done and committed himself too in the Lands Between completely outweighs the singular implied evil of the Bewitching Branch.

#uri posts #elden ring #miquella the unalloyed #elden ring theory #shadow of the erdtree #also yes this is griffith slander i think he is a dumbass lol

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ant111fragile · 1 year

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MY VOID SUCCESS STORY!!

My Void state Journey+Baby steps

I first came to know about the void state when @gorgeouslypink shared her success story and like everyone else I got obsessed with the idea of having everything at once since I didn't put my all in manifesting and couldn't manifest consciously except for ice cream that shit always manifests lmao. So like I said I was obsessed I started trying like any amateur but every time I'd lay on bed and affirm i wouldn't even realise when I would fall asleep and wake up to the same shit but one thing good about me is i would never spiral.. So for more than a couple months I tried the 10k affirmation challenge for void concept/void state affs cuz everyone was suggesting it but guess what i never actually completed it. I would start over and over cuz I didn't had no consistency and never completed it until last week I FINALLY did!!

What I think worked for me

I actually completed the 10k aff challenge and reached 12000 affirmations on 7th jan It didn't have any specific effect on my mind since I feel like I had always believed in my vc but I think what went right was my brain ACTUALLY REALLY was saturated after the consistent affs I fed myself with. And then at night of 8th Jan I tapped into the void.

Entering the void+experience.

So i went to bed at the usual time I'd always attempt the void and this time I sat upright on bed with pillows to support my back well. I put on the void state/epsilon waves subliminal by slade. From YouTube (this shit is good.)

youtube

and did my routine as I had scripted : I counted till 300 with deep breaths but you can count less. I did it cuz it takes me too much to relax and kinda concentrate (Till then I had already experienced the being pulled in feeling and it had went away but I was calm I did not even pay attention to it.) My body was numb by then and I started to affirm "I am in the void state " Bringing back my normal pace of breathing. After a while i started to float and get the usual symptoms like spinning and and an inner earthquake lmao but yeah I tried my best to keep focusing on affs which automatically results in ignoring symptoms. again that ascending feeling of being pulled came back. So I kept affirming and I visualised the black hole kinda shit in my head take me to the void and the next thing I know I'm in a completely feelingless place no subliminal sound and I was damn relaxed but that the same time too excited and even though I didn't like instantly got thrown out I still got out without even affirming I kinda forgot? Sounds funny but might happen. That's pretty much it. So I took a day off to relax and sustain that feeling I'm entering today again to manifest my desired life.

Tips + advice

‌do not follow somebody else's methods if your conditions don't align with the routine or something.

‌try the 10k aff challenge for your vc. If you don't enter at 10,000 try 15k then 20k then 30k and don't fck with me you'll reach by then alright.

‌since it's your own state you just have to tap into it sooner or later you will so don't be stressed and attempt. Just tap into it cause you will.

‌everytime you wake up to your same reality affirm you are one step closer. Or you did enter and you're entering again. Don't repeat the old story.

‌subliminals or music they only serve to relax you only you hold the ultimate power.

‌don't look/ask for methods. There are enough methods already and it's only a matter of time when you'll find your own.

‌chile

All the blogs who helped me with my mindset shift are @uniquelymeandmyworld @rosellesworkshop @fleurlx @konniesreality @gorgeouslypink thank you all so much for everything you guys do it's literally selfless and I can't with the people who throw shade on y'all!!

Also thanks to @voidsuccess they really help with the success stories!!

#law of assumption #void state #void success #🌟 void success #i am state #affirm and persist #loa #void #manifestation #Youtube

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herrscherofinsanity · 7 months

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Anything for you

Summary: Nayeon would do anything for her girlfriend, even getting over some of her biggest pet peeves.

Fluff

Im Nayeon x fem!reader

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: This is me being kinda back. In honor of Twice's 8th anniversary I wanted to write something for my ultimate bias; I'll be back simping for the aespa girls soon, I have lots of ideas... I just need to find time to write them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and also thank you for reading!

____________________

“Hey can you pause the movie for a second? I really need to go to the bathroom”, Momo whined as she got up from the couch making the other girls groan.

“You always do this!”

“It was just getting to the good part!”

“Can we kick her out?”

“Is one night of peace and quiet too much to ask?”

You chuckled, watching the chaos unfold; a warm feeling spreading through your chest when you felt your girlfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hold. You turned your head towards her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

“You find this amusing?” Nayeon whispered, not wanting to draw unwanted attention towards the two of you.

“I do” you whispered back, a playful grin on your lips, “you girls have quite the bond, I’m jealous”.

“There’s no need to be jealous, babe” she said, kissing your cheek “you’re my favorite anyway”.

Before you could reply, another voice cut you off. “What do you mean she��s your favorite?!” Chaeyoung complained, wanting more drama to unfold.

“Jihyo, the couple is being annoying… again”, Tzuyu said.

“Oh, leave them alone” Sana said, your girlfriend sent her a grateful smile, but Sana’s sentence wasn’t over yet. “Nayeon can’t help the fact that she’s whipped”.

The members laughed, teasing the two of you relentlessly. Your girlfriend shot you a defeated look, so much for spending a relaxing time together without any interruptions.

“What are we talking about?”, Momo asked as she made her way back from the bathroom.

“Nayeon being stupidly in love with y/n” Jeongyeon replied nonchalantly; your girlfriend silently sulked behind you.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you two something?”, Mina looked towards you, a curious expression on her face.

You sent her a gentle smile, encouraging her to ask her question.

“When did you realize you were in love with each other?”.

An innocent question, but you felt as if you were about to go into cardiac arrest with the way your heart dropped. Nayeon wasn’t that far behind you, she felt as if the living room started spinning. On the other hand, both of your reactions left the girls feeling clueless. Why were you being so awkward? Surely you two had already… wait.

“W-well, we haven’t-” Nayeon began.

“Actually, I know the answer to that question!” Jihyo exclaimed, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“What could you possibly be talking about?” Nayeon hissed, shooting her fellow member a suspicious look; the whole interaction caught your attention.

“I would also like to know” you cleared your throat “…please”.

Nayeon looked at you with what you could only describe as pure panic, “baby, I really don’t think-”.

“Jihyo! What are you stalling for?” Jeongyeon exclaimed.

“Yeah! Go ahead and tell us!”

“Okay!” Jihyo exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Gather ‘round kids! This is the story of how I realized Nayeon was without a doubt, head over heels in love with y/n!”.

____________________

Two months ago.

"You can't be serious".

"I swear! They kept calling us 'wig group', Sana was about ready to lose it" your girlfriend, Nayeon said, her tone full of amusement.

You laughed at her story, not fully believing it, but still amused by how creative her fans could be.

Im Nayeon, better known as Twice’s Nayeon, but to you she simply was Nayeon; the same girl who nervously asked you to be her girlfriend 3 months ago.

You two were introduced by your mutual friend, Yeri who had spent weeks going on and on about how she knew the perfect person for you to go out with. You were incredibly hesitant, but you eventually caved and agreed to give Yeri’s friend a chance.

Nayeon surprised you in the best of ways; after your first date, you couldn’t help but agree with Yeri, she really was the perfect person for you. The loud girl carved a permanent place in your heart for herself and nothing could come between the two of you; not the hate comments, not your companies, and definitely not the malicious rumors surrounding your relationship. Being with Nayeon was definitely worth it.

“We should get going, babe”, she said with a sad smile “you have a photoshoot and I’ve got an interview; we can’t stay any longer”.

As if to mock her, right in that second it began to pour. Nayeon looked at you in shock, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the troubled expression she wore. You knew perfectly well you would have to find a way to leave the small café you were currently hanging out at, your schedules depended on it, but still, a few extra minutes with your girlfriend couldn’t hurt.

“We’re going to have to make a run for it”, you sighed, the responsible part of your brain outweighing the not-so-smart one.

Nayeon looked at you with a frown on her face, her gaze kept moving between your frame and the raging storm outside. “You’re not wearing a jacket, y/n”.

You hummed, “it doesn’t look like this rain is stopping any time soon, we can’t afford to wait”.

“You’re going to catch a cold”.

“Maybe, but you know the deal, our relationship must not interfere with our careers” you rolled your eyes as you recited the same speech that had followed you around for the past month.

“Stay here”, she said sternly, “I’ll be right back”. You frowned, but followed her instructions. Not even five minutes later, Nayeon was back with a black umbrella in her hand.

“Where’d you get that from?” you asked her, she definitely didn’t have an umbrella when you got here.

“I just bought it” she grumbled, “I’m not going to let you get sick. Now come on, we really should get going”.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Jihyo was currently waiting for the rest of her members to finish getting ready, they had an interview lined up and who knows what else might get magically booked along the way.

In an attempt to entertain herself, the leader unlocked her phone and tapped on the Twitter app. She mindlessly scrolled through her timeline, nothing truly catching her attention; that was until she came across two familiar figures.

Several pictures of her fellow member and her girlfriend greeted her. Now, Jihyo wasn’t surprised by the pictures in general; Nayeon, despite the countless warnings, was always going out of her way to show off her relationship. What truly surprised the group’s leader was the fact that the eldest member had an arm securely wrapped around you, her other hand too busy holding an umbrella in an attempt to shield you both from the rain.

An umbrella?

Before Jihyo could think about it any further, Nayeon made her way into the dorm.

The first thing the oldest Twice member did as soon as she got home was throw the umbrella somewhere far away from her, a sour expression on her face. Jihyo let out a loud laugh, not believing the sight before her very eyes; the leader’s laugh finally catching the other girl’s attention.

“You’re such a simp, Im Nayeon”.

_____________________

Loud laughs bounced back and forth across the Twice dorm and Nayeon wished she could disappear. What would you even say to that?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why did that make you realize she loves me?” the members gave themselves whiplash with how fast they all turned to look at you.

“You mean she never told you?” Dahyun asked.

“Told me what?” you asked nervously, Nayeon whined, wrapping you in an even tighter hug.

“Nayeon absolutely hates umbrellas, y/n” Jihyo explained. “She hates them so much, back when we were trainees, she used to wear a box on top of her head whenever it rained”.

“Even to this day!” Sana continued, “whenever our managers try to help her out with umbrellas she runs away” she giggled.

“But somehow all of that goes out the window when it comes to you” Jeongyeon smirked, “you have her wrapped around your finger, y/n”.

“Nayeon can’t have her princess getting sick” Momo teased.

The girls kept throwing jabs here and there, but you tuned them out, trying to focus your entire attention on your blushing girlfriend. You sent her a soft smile, she returned it immediately, feeling absolutely at ease once she saw that sparkle in your eyes.

“Do you really hate umbrellas that much?” you laughed.

Nayeon groaned at your question, feeling embarrassed all over again. “I do, I really really do”, she paused to steal a quick kiss from your lips, “but I love you way more”.

You beamed at your girlfriend, feeling on cloud nine when you finally heard her say those words you had been longing for.

“I love you too, Im Nayeon” you said, pressing your lips against hers in a sweet kiss.

“Jihyo! The couple is being annoying again!”.

_____________________

A/N: Everytime I think of a one shot I always have the idea that it will be roughly 500 words, and somehow I always end up going past 1k, oh well.

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any requests or anything like that feel free to let me know :)

#twice imagines #twice scenarios #twice x reader #nayeon imagines #nayeon scenarios #twice #nayeon #twice nayeon #im nayeon #twice fluff

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harleehazbinfics · 3 months

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I love your cannibal reader works so much!! There’s just something about a psycho being in love and obsessed with another psycho that acts indifferent but actually cares and is possessive about the other :,))

Would the reader give their soul to Alastor when they realise they can, like would they think of it as some kind of marriage? And would Alastor even want it ?

I enjoy their dynamic very much <33

short answer: Alastor won't take it. He has this weird moral code and that same as Nifty (which i believe) he doesn't own her soul she just tags along with them, and that after spending decades together with you he treats you more of an equal rather than someone that actually serves him despite the reader acting like a servant. On the reader's part they are willingly serving Alastor since it's like their main love language alongside feeding him. (Besides, he already gets the benefits to all of the reader without the deal) 🤷‍♀️

a/n: i've actually thought about this when I was starting the spin-offs before the actual oneshot if I should go with Sir or Master. I stuck to Sir because not only does he not want to own their soul but also, i want Alastor to fall into reader without making it seem forced??? i guess, that because they're in a contract doesn't mean that he just falls for them just causeee~

NOW THAT ANSWER BUT IN STORY FORM:

--- CannibalChef!Reader Link

"Sir Alastor? Why won't you make a deal with me?"

He raises his brow at you making him stop from sipping his drink. Eyeing you as you hugged the teapot looking to the side with sadness dripping from your eyes.

"What brought this on?" he asks with a closed lipped smile putting down his coffee cup.

"Well, after arranging this deal for you. I thought how lucky they were to have that bond with you," you pouted.

Earlier you had served Alastor and a medium ranking demon while they arranged a deal, quid pro quo. Seeing their exchange made you feel sad and lonely. Sure, you were already pleased that you could be with Alastor but something about having a deal with him made you feel very envious about them.

His smile widens and replies, "You're jealous of those souls that I have ownership to?"

You let a whimpering noise when he said ownership making him grin at your silliness. He stands and faces you making you look at him, somewhat confused if you should be admiring him or still be pouting.

He takes his hands and holds your face under your chin and squeezes your cheeks together making your lips puffer up. Ultimately, the skinship makes your eyes finally change into their obsessive heart shapes.

"Why be jealous of some insignificant demon when you should only keep your eyes on me," he more so demands of you, making you flush red nodding along.

He dips his head closer to yours and says, "Besides I own more of you than just your soul. Understood?"

He lets you go and sends you a close eyed, tight-lipped smile achieving an innocent look, hoping that you don't fold over yourself from his unusually genuine look.

"I understand! ... is you eating me still on the table?"

Taglist:

@kimkimmm2411

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #the radio demon #cannibal chef reader #harleehazbinfic #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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flutterbyoz · 10 days

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This may be a bit of an unpopular opinion but I'm going to say it anyway, I don't really care either way whether we get a big reunion with everyone or not. Sure, it would be nice to see them all together again but it's not high on my list of priorities and to be honest I don't think it's that high on the list for Rick and Michonne either at this point. I get that it's something many people want to see and I do think it will happen eventually, just not yet. What I don't like seeing is this idea that a reunion between Rick and Daryl is somehow more important than the reunion between Rick, Michonne and their kids. This is simply not true, Rick will always and forever put his wife and children above everyone else, including Daryl.

Now, as for the future of Richonne on-screen, I personally think there is a good chance we will see them again. The way Andy, Danai and Scott are very careful when answering questions regarding this tells me that there is hope. I personally believe that Andy and Danai especially would say if they were done, they wouldn't give such vague answers when I think they know how much the fans read into every word they say. From Andy saying he saw TOWL ep 6 as having a dot dot dot after it, to Danai mentioning in a video that she would like to work on getting to know more people on the crew of TOWL on the next one and then Scott saying he doesn't want this to be the last we see of Rick and Michonne and although all he has are dreams at the moment, he has ideas for at least two more stories and they do have a good track record of dreams coming true. Maybe it's just me being hopeful but these things do make me think something may be coming.

With the show being so incredibly successful, I think AMC would jump at the chance to greenlight another season of TOWL or even another spin off if/when the fabulous trio wish to come back But, they need to give Andy and Danai complete creative control again, I think that is something they feel is very important and it was proven to work perfectly in S1. If they have control then I know we will be in safe hands.

Obviously I have no idea what will happen and I could be wrong on all of this, it could just be me hoping beyond hope that Richonne will be back on my screen again at some point in the future or it could really be that they are planning something and to be honest I think the three of them already know if they're coming back or not by now and we will just have to wait.

Whatever happens, we have been truly spoilt with Richonne and I couldn't be more grateful to Andy and Danai for bringing us these amazing characters and this truly beautiful relationship. I began watching TWD for Rick and Michonne and though I came to love other characters, Richonne are always number one for me. And if I can see them again, see them on my screen being the ultimate power couple, happily married and raising their kids then it will just add to the overflowing feast we've already been gifted.

There is no other couple like Rick and Michonne, they really are the gold standard and a level of perfection that for me, has yet to be and likely never will be, emulated.

#richonne #the walking dead #the ones who live #rick x michonne #rick x michonne grimes #rick grimes #michonne grimes #twd towl #Richonne future #ultimate power couple #No one is doing it like Richonne #I could write a whole thesis on the perfection that is Rick and Michonne Grimes #I need them back in my life #TOWL season 2 please

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ilovewriting06 · 4 months

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Hello friend, I wanted to know if you can make one of Scott McCall, where is he married to Isacc's younger sister, Scott and Yn are celebrating Scott's birthday party, so after the party they have a hot moment, smut, a few weeks go by and Yn discovers that She's pregnant so she tells Scott then the others.

Tanks and your work is amazing 😻.

I hope you enjoy it Anon!

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

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Scott chuckles at my enthusiasm before pushing me away from him, and ultimately off the bed. I squeak when I hit the floor causing Scott's head to pop over the edge, "Shit! Sorry! You okay?"

I fake pout and sniffle, "No, you hurt my feelings."

He rolls his eyes before getting out of bed and stretching. From my position on the floor I get a wonderful view of his toned abs flexing and I can feel myself start to drool from the memories of last night.

I jump when Scott snaps his fingers in my face, "Ay, get your head out of the gutter, I'm too worn out from last night." I roll over to push myself up as I scoff, "Some alpha werewolf you are."

I don't get a chance to crawl to my feet when I'm picked up like a ragdoll. When I'm set on my feet I come face to face with a smirking Scott, "How's that for an alpha werewolf?"

I roll my eyes and walk towards the bedroom door as I speak, "10 outta 10 for strength. Sadly, strength doesn't help your endurance or performance."

I'm walking down the stairs of our two story house on the outskirts of Beacon Hills when I hear Scott squawk and run out of the room, "What's wrong with my performance?!"

I walk to the kitchen deciding to ignore him but that plan is thwarted when I'm caged against the counter as Scott looks down at me with a raised eyebrow, "If I recall, my performance was just fine last night."

I bite back a smile as I deadpan, "Sure." I go to wiggle out of his hold but his arms tighten, "Nuh uh, don't sure, me. Those noises you were making last night tell a very different story."

I finally smile and peck his nose, "You're right, you're performance is perfect." I pause and watch him smile before I sigh wistfully, "If only your endurance was too."

I dart out from under his arm but he catches me by the waist, "You listen here you little twerp, my endurance is just fine, when I'm not hungry."

I relax in his hold and spin around to face him, wrapping my arms around his waist, "So, what you're saying is that if I feed you, you'll fuck me?"

"Please don't."

I spin around and squeal before tackling Isaac, "Izzy! You made it!"

He chuckles, "Of course I did, couldn't let my brother-in-law celebrate his 25th birthday with only one Lahey, that's just boring."

I hear Scott scoff, "Excuse you, she's a McCall now, has been for almost two years now, thank you very much."

I step away from Isaac in time to see him roll his eyes, "Whatever, she was a Lahey first. Anyways, you mentioned food." He directs the last part at me and I chuckle, "Yes, yes, come on wolfies let's go get breakfast."

They both groan as Isaac says to Scott, "She's hanging out with Stiles too much." I turn around and scoff, "There is never too much Stiles, he's literally the only one that knows how to keep dipshit over here from doing something stupid. I'm married to him and I still don't have the best luck with talking him down from doing something dumb."

Isaac rolls his eyes, never having liked Stiles too much, and Scott pouts, "It's my birthday, you aren't supposed to be mean."

I pat his cheek before walking to the fridge, "What do you two want for breakfast?"

"Waffles!"

"Pancakes!"

"Hey, it's my birthday, so I get waffles!"

"Yeah, and I just spent 13 hours on a plane to come wish you a happy birthday, so I want pancakes!"

I groan remembering why Melissa's house almost fell to the ground when all of us were still living there.

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

I smile and pull Stiles into a hug when he walks through the door. He chuckles and sways us side to side, "Hey, Y/N/N."

I place a kiss to his cheek as I pull away, "Hey, Stiles. Where's Lyds?"

He rolls his eyes before looking towards the door, "Last minute makeup touches so she's 'presentable' or something, I don't know with her sometimes. She doesn't listen to me when I tell her she's beautiful without makeup."

I snort and grab his hand dragging him to the kitchen, "Well, since you're hear I need your cooking expertise."

When we get to the kitchen he raises and eyebrow, "Alright, what's wrong? We went over all the plans for this yesterday so something else is wrong."

I shake my head before playing with my fingers, "You know how Scott has wanted a baby for awhile?"

He nods before his eyes widen and he whisper shouts, "You're pregnant?!" I shake my head and shush him, "No, but I need you to do me a favor."

He crinkles his nose, "I mean, I'm flattered really, but you're like my little sister sooo..."

I can hear the sarcasm so I smack the back of his head, "Would you shut up and listen?"

He nods and actually focuses so I put on my best smile, "I need you to let Isaac stay with you tonight."

Stiles' mouth drops and he scowls, "No, no, absolutely not. He can't stand me, I can't stand him, we have like this silent agreement. Besides even if I agreed Lydia would have to agree and more importantly so would Isaac. Also, why the hell do you want him gone so soon after him getting here?"

I give him a look and his eyebrows furrow as he thinks about it before realization spreads across his face, "Aw, ew, that's just gross! I didn't need to know that."

I put on my best puppy eyes and pout, "Please, please, please! You'll get the title of godfather and best uncle, I swear. Not to mention this is the only birthday gift I got him, well, planned for him and it wouldn't be fair to force him to wait a week until Isaac leaves for his birthday gift, plus I'm ovulating right now." I really regret agreeing to Isaac's rule of no sex while he's in the house and I really regret getting Scott to agree to it too.

Stiles groans before nodding, "Okay, okay, you get Lydia and Isaac on board, then I'll agree."

I nod before yelling, "Isaac! Come to the kitchen for a second!"

Not even two seconds later Isaac comes bounding into the kitchen before stopping and sneering at Stiles, "Stilinski."

I roll my eyes before filling with pride as Stiles ignores Isaac and just looks at me. I turn to Isaac and clasp my hands together, "So, you'll be staying at Stiles and Lydia's tonight."

Isaac snorts, "As if, I'd rather stab my eyes out with a toothpick than stay with Stiles."

This time Stiles speaks, "Oh shove it, Scarfboy. I wouldn't have agreed to it if she wouldn't have asked me. I actually listen to what my sister has to say, maybe you should try it."

Any pride I had felt slips away and I groan because I know where this is going.

"I'm sorry, did you just call her your sister?! Listen here you no good, dirty rotten, son of a bitch, she's my sister. Has been for 23 years and last time I checked she didn't even know who you were until she was 14! Stop trying to steal my sister just because your mom died before you got one!"

Stiles' jaw tightens as my mouth drops, "Isaac Daniel Lahey, that was out of line, and you know it! What is wrong with you two, you've been after each other's throats since you met?"

By this point Scott is now in kitchen with wide eyes but I'm more interested in finding the real issue between these two.

Isaac is the first to answer, "He just swept in and stole you away, you were all I had left and he almost stole you away from me."

My mouth drops open but I'm surprised when Stiles' anger dwindles slightly, "Dude, that was never my intention! Yeah, I claimed her as my pseudo sister but that's because we spent so much time together. One of two things was gonna happen, we were either gonna fuck, which, ew, no offense Y/N/N, or become like siblings!"

I nod agreeing with Stiles because that is exactly what happened, "He's right, we bonded because we're both humans in the world of werewolves, kanimas, and banshees."

Isaac scoffs, "That bullshit, really? The only humans?"

I scowl and now my anger is flaring up, "Yes! Stiles and I were always left behind because we weren't as fast or as strong as you. Which to an extent I can understand, but Isaac, you shut me out. You got these super cool powers and we got away from dad, but after that, you just pushed me away!"

Isaac's eyes widen, "That isn't true!"

"Yes it is, and you know it, I can see it on your face! Not to mention you ran away to London when things got tough! When I needed you most you were thousands of miles away, and fuck if that didn't hurt!"

Isaac falters before he responds in a softer voice, "But...Allison."

I stiffen and I feel a hand on my back and I realize Scott had moved over to stand by me at some point. I huff trying to remain calm, "Yeah, well you weren't the only one that lost her, we all did. She was Scott's first love, Lydia's best friend, and like the older sister I always wanted, and Stiles." I take a deep breath before moving closer to Stiles and grabbing his hand squeezing it in reassurance, "God, Isaac, Stiles blamed himself for her death for months. You have no idea how much he went through, yet you still treat him like shit over some false assumption he stole me away or something, and I've heard you on more than one occasion imply that he had something to do with Allison. Even though I know you don't believe that."

I take a breath and I can physically see Isaac's face soften at the mention of Stiles blaming himself for Allison's death. I move back over to Scott needing the stability he offers me before speaking again, "Listen to me Isaac, I love you with all my heart, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel that same love for Stiles. Hell, I have the same love for Lydia too, it's the love between siblings. But you have to believe me that I didn't replace you, I just added to my family, but you were never, ever replaced."

I glance at Stiles to make sure talking about Allison hasn't affected him too bad before turning back to Isaac as he visibly relaxes. I think we all tense up slightly when he pulls Stiles into a hug which has Stiles looking at me as if he has no idea what's going on. I shrug just as clueless as him before I hear Isaac whisper, "Jesus, Stiles, that wasn't your fault. I-I thought you knew that, but I should have known your guilt complex wouldn't allow for that."

I sniffle and hold back happy tears before turning to face Scott, "I'm sorry we had such a big fight on your birthday."

Scott's eyes widen as does his smile, "Are you kidding me?! Babe, this is the best birthday gift ever!" I hear Stiles snort slightly at that comment before him and Isaac are hugging it out again.

I look up as the sound of high heels make their way to the kitchen before Lydia stops in her tracks with wide eyes, "What the hell did I miss?"

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

I smile and look around at the family all packed into the living room. Noah and Derek are talking about only god knows what, Liam, Isaac, Scott, and Stiles are crammed on the couch as Scott and Liam help the other two boys get to know each other a little better. Lydia and Melissa are currently in the kitchen helping with last minute preparations, oh crap yeah that's why I'm out here, "Who's in charge of grilling?"

With that all the men accept for Derek and Liam jump up and I roll my eyes, "Okay, no to literally all of you except Noah. Literally don't know why I even asked."

The boys scoff in indignation and I raise an eyebrow and look at them, "Scott you burn everything, Isaac you literally burned water, I'm not trusting you with a grill. I turn to Stiles and smile sympathetically, "Stiles, oh darling Stiles."

Stiles narrows his eyes, "I feel like I'm about to get made fun of." I shrug before saying, "Stiles, I don't trust you with fire. Don't get me wrong you're a hell of a cook, but I don't think grilling is for you. You'd burn your eyebrows off somehow, and trust me, you'd look even worse with no eyebrows."

He rolls his eyes before slumping back onto the couch and muttering, "Bitch." I roll my eyes and Scott smacks him with a throw pillow, "That's my wife, be nice."

I kiss Scott's cheek and grab the pillow, "Thank you for defending my honor but it's fine, it's normal. He calls me bitch and I call him asshole, dick, bitch, dipshit, idiot, bastard, stupid, bitch ass pu-" This time I'm cut off by Stiles, "Alright! We get it, you call me every name in the book of insults. I love you too."

I snort before turning back to go into the kitchen with Noah following behind me.

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

Everyone is playing an aggressive game of football in the backyard, with Lydia as referee, while Melissa and I clean up in the kitchen. I glance out the window as Isaac tackles Stiles to the ground before Stiles flips him the bird as he pushes himself off the ground.

I snort as Melissa hands me another dish, "I think those two are going to get along just fine." Melissa hums in agreement before asking, "So, when were you going to tell me you were trying to get pregnant?"

My mouth open and closes like a fish as I look at her, "W-what? H-how did you even know that?"

She smiles, "I accidentally pulled up your record the other day and saw all the tests you had done, I didn't look at the results though. I didn't want to overstep too much."

I blush and play with the dish towel I'm holding before leaning on the counter, "I wasn't sure I could have kids, that's why I had all the tests done. Scott's wanted kids ever since we started dating but infertility runs in my family and I wasn't sure if I could even get pregnant. I told him before we got married and he said he didn't care and that we could adopt but I could see how much he wanted one of his own."

Melissa frowns and dries her hands before laying one on my shoulder, "Oh, Sweetheart, what did the doctors say?" I feel a small smile tug on my lips, "They told me I'm perfectly healthy and shouldn't have any trouble whatsoever with conceiving. That's, uh, that's actually his birthday gift from me."

Her eyes widen before she squeals quietly, "I'm so excited! I've been wondering when to expect a grandchild but I didn't say anything since it wasn't really my place." I chuckle as I lean into her, "Well, I have a feeling you won't have to wait much longer."

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

When the door closes and everyone has left I turn to Scott with a smile, "So, how was your birthday?"

He grabs me by the waist and pulls me into his chest, "Well, Stiles and Isaac becoming friends is by far the best birthday gift ever."

I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and play with the baby hairs on his neck, "You haven't gotten your gift from me yet, lover boy."

He smirks and hums, "Does this have anything to do with why you sent Isaac home with Stiles and Lyds?"

I blush suddenly feeling nervous before clearing my throat, "Well, that's part of it."

He raises an eyebrow while smirking, "And what's the other part."

I suck in a breath as butterflies dance in my stomach, "I went to the doctor and I had some tests done, just to be sure." His hands tighten on my waist and I can see the confusion and concern on his face, "Are you okay?"

I smile and nod, "Yeah, I just, I think its time we throw out the condoms."

His eyes widen before his smile does but when he processes what I said he's cupping my face, "You can get pregnant? They said that?"

I nod wrapping a hand around each of his wrists, not to pull him away but just to feel him, "Yeah, they said my chances of getting pregnant are high, and I'm actually ovulating today sooo..."

I'm cut off by a kiss and when he pulls away he laughs, "I lied, this is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for!"

I smirk, "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get to the fun part."

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

"Oh god, Scott!"

At the moan of his name he sucks my clit into his mouth as his fingers pump in and out of me faster. I whimper and grab his hair pulling him closer, "S-so close."

Right as I'm about to drown in ecstasy he pulls away. I whine and try to pull him back to where I want him but he ignores me and makes his way up so he is directly above me.

He leans down and captures my lips in a sloppy kiss and I moan as I taste myself on his lips. I feel him shift ever so slightly above me before my eyes are rolling back as he enters me in one go. The groan he lets out is the most beautiful sounds I've heard, up until he rasps, "Fuck, Baby, I forgot how good you feel without a condom."

I thrust my hips up and arch into him as he moves getting faster with each thrust. I mewl as he leaves kisses up and down my neck, "Faster."

He growls lowly against my neck before moving faster than humanly possible and it has me screaming his name. "Oh, fuck, don't stop!"

On a particularly hard thrust I whine out his name as my nails rake down his back, no doubt leaving quickly healing scratches. The one thing I complain about when it comes to his werewolf powers is that I can never mark him like he does me. When I told him he just shrugged, chuckled, and then told me that in a few months he'd have a ring on his finger that would get the message out loud and clear that he was taken.

When he figured out I was genuinely sad about it he surprised me by getting my name tattooed on the inside of his left wrist. That was my best birthday gift I ever got.

I'm brought back to the moment when Scott mutters, "So close, you want a baby, I'll make sure you get it." I moan as he circles my clit urging me towards my high.

I arch my back, digging my nails into his shoulders as I cum with a shout of his name and within seconds he's falling over the edge and spilling inside me.

When he collapses beside me he brushes hair off of his forehead before asking, "You think it'll take?"

I smile and shrug, "I don't know, but the doctor told me that if we really want to get pregnant we should have sex at least once a day."

He growls and rolls us over before smirking, "Oh, don't you worry, that won't be a problem. Any chance we get, I'm fucking you until you can't see straight."

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

It's been about a month since Scott's birthday party and true to his word, if we had even five minutes alone he was filling me with his cum. Even with all the trying I haven't shown any signs of being pregnant, no nausea, no weird food cravings, no extra tiredness, not a single sign.

Every day that passes I get a little more disheartened and wonder if the doctors got it wrong, if I really couldn't have kids. I never brought up my worries to Scott because he was convinced it would happen soon, and I didn't have the heart to discourage him.

I'm currently home alone standing in the kitchen when the front door opens and Lydia comes swooping in, "Hey, Y/N/N."

I smile and look at her, "Hey, Lyds, what's up?"

She slumps onto a barstool at the island before groaning, "Nothing, just the usual, period cramps and mood swings. Poor Stiles thought I was going to break up with him last night because I was so bitchy."

I snort, "That'd break his poor little heart, especially since he's got that engagement ring still stashed in his sock draw."

She laughs and shakes her head, "Nope, he moved it. I don't know where to but I think he has a suspicion that I found it. I'm just proud of myself for not looking at it."

I laugh as I slather mayonnaise on a piece of bread when Lydia grimaces, "Geez, is your period coming? Last I checked you only used a little bit mayonnaise, not a whole jar."

I roll my eyes before I falter a little bit, she's right about the mayonnaise and when I think about it, my period should have came last week, but it didn't. I feel my heart flutter at the thought before blocking it out and turning to Lydia, "I dunno, maybe."

She nods before getting up and rummaging through the cabinets, "Oh my god, really Y/N/N?" I turn to look at her and see her holding up a bag of dill pickle chips, "These things are an abomination."

I groan and roll my eyes, "No they aren't, besides, I like them. They have just the right amount of vinegar."

Lydia narrows her eyes and looks me up and down before humming. I furrow my eyebrows before it hits me, I don't like vinegar, in fact I despise it. I can't help but think that this is it, these are the signs I've been looking for and I completely overlooked them.

Lydia grabs a granola bar before turning to me, "Anyways, I came over to see if I could borrow that book we found the other week in that weird witch's hut."

I nod and hum, "Yeah, sure, it's in Scott's office on the second row of his bookshelf on the right side of the door when you walk into the room. I think it's the fourth book in." She stares at me in amazement, "Sometimes I forget how good of a memory you have."

She's there for about another thirty minutes before she heads back down the street towards her and Stiles' house. As soon as she's out the door I run up the stairs taking two at a time until I burst into Scott and I's bathroom.

I rummage through the cabinet until I reach the pregnancy test that was laying, buried, in the back. I look at the box as I take a deep breath reminding myself that there is still a very strong possibility that it'll be negative.

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

I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the timer to go off. The house is completely silent except for the sound of my foot tapping on the tile and my quiet pleas, "Please, please, please, be positive. Please be positive."

When the timer goes off I turn it off before bracing myself that there's still a chance that it's negative. Even though I was so impatient for the timer to go off I stand in the bathroom staring at the test for another two minutes before I finally get up the nerve to look at it.

I take one last deep breath before grabbing the test and flipping it over and I can't help the excited scream I let out when I read the words on the small screen, Pregnant, with a little 3+ under it.

I sit on the edge of the tub in surprise, I can't believe it, all this time I was stressing about whether I could get pregnant or not, I was, pregnant.

Wait, if I'm pregnant, why hasn't Scott heard the heartbeat? I grab my phone and breath a sigh of relief when the great powers of Google say that a babies heartbeat usually isn't heard until 5 1/2 weeks, which means I more than likely got pregnant on his birthday or right after.

Oh my god, Scott! I have to tell Scott!

I run down the stairs grabbing my keys before stopping and thinking this through, okay, its 11:30 Scott's lunch break is at 12:30 and he always comes home even though I've usually already eaten. He has to be back at Deaton's at 1:30 which means he'll have time to process the news before he goes back to work.

I hang my keys back up before making my way to the couch and turning on the tv, okay, I only have to wait an hour, it's not that long.

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

This has been the longest hour of my life.

By the time 12:30 rolls around I've paced through the whole house about fifty times and when the front door clicks shut and I hear Scott yell for me I can't help it, I shriek.

Before Scott has a chance to brace himself I've tackled him in a hug. He holds onto me as he chuckles, "Well, someone's glad to see me."

I mumble into his shirt but he pulls me away with confusion and amusement on his face, "What?"

I chuckle as my cheeks hurt from how wide my smile is before I repeat myself, "I said, I'm pregnant."

His mouth drops and he stutters, "Wha-what?"

I run into the living room grabbing the test off the coffee table before running back to him and handing it to him. He looks at it and his eyes widen even more, "Three weeks? My birthday..."

I nod and chuckle, "Yeah, your birthday."

The surprise leaves his face and before I know it I've been swept into his arms as he laughs, "You're pregnant! We're having a baby!"

I chuckle and agree with him before he shouts, "Best birthday gift ever!"

#scott mccall #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall smut #noah stilinski #melissa mccall #lydia martin #isaac lahey

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chimaerakitten · 7 months

Text

I’ve been thinking today about off ramps in long running stories, especially book series.

By that I mean like, places where a person could stop reading and have a satisfying ending even if they’re not yet at the actual ending. (Someone tell me if there’s an established Tvtropes name for this I’m missing.)

Now, a lot of book series will have an off ramp at the end of book 1, because many first books are written without promise of a sequel. Like sure, there might be a sequel hook, but the actual second book is still up to publisher whims in most cases. So you can read All Systems Red or The Thief or A Madness of Angels and have a perfectly satisfying ambiguous-end sci-fi story or middle grade fantasy romp or inverted murder mystery revenge quest without ever picking up book 2. This is definitely an off ramp but it’s not necessarily the interesting or revealing kind because again. Whims of the publisher.

There’s also stories that have an off ramp after every installment. Leverage is famous for this—they had a philosophy of having every season be a satisfying ending, which says a lot both about the writers and about the story they were trying to tell.

But I think the most interesting ramps are the ones where by design or by circumstance, there’s a single off-ramp somewhere in the middle. One spot where unless someone tells you there’s more, you’d never be unsatisfied with leaving halfway through.

Sometimes these will be signaled in some way, where there’s a big timeskip after the off-ramp, or the series changes names or has a spin-off, or the POV changes, or after book 3 the author publishes a short story collection before hopping back in to novels, or the series suddenly jumps from being only novellas to a chunky 120k novel. (The Raksura books, Percy Jackson/HoE, Matthew Swift/Magicals Anonymous, and Murderbot all do one or more of these)

But sometimes off ramps aren’t visible in series order or marketing. Sometimes they’re organic to where a story happens to leave off at the end of an installment.

The queen’s thief has one of these after King Of Attolia. I know this was a satisfying ending because for seven years I thought it was the end. My local library didn’t have A Conspiracy of Kings, so I thought it was a trilogy. And you really can leave it there! KoA ends with Gen back in his element and recognized as king, the main internal threat to Irene neutralized, and peace on the peninsula. The Mede aren’t yet the immediate threat they are in the back half of the series, since up through KoA they’re mainly represented by the magus’s vague warnings and Nahuseresh, whom Irene thinks circles around. There’s no real reason to assume the Mede are a threat within the scope of the series. Now I absolutely prefer getting the whole story, but KoA is a damn solid off-ramp for anyone who feels like exiting there.

And that’s one kind of off ramp where the end you get is pretty similar in tone (mostly happy) to the one you get if you go on to the rest of the series. I’ve also read books where you can off ramp successfully right at the lowest point in the series and get a tragedy out of a series that ultimately ends happy, or leave at a high point and get a happier end than the main one, or exit at an ambiguous point and continue on with ambiguity. The Giver sequels make it pretty clear what happened to Jonas and Gabe at the end of the book. but you don’t have to read them or have that question answered if you want to.

I don’t have a really solid conclusion to draw here except that I think the positioning of off ramps says a lot about authors and stories, and choosing whether or not to take an off ramp says a lot about readers.

#I know multiple people who refuse to recognize the giver sequels #which has always been odd to me because I quite liked them and never thought Jonas died in the first place #meta #the queen’s thief #tqt #Murderbot #the kitten rambles #murderbot’s off ramp is after exit strategy if that wasn’t clear #Raksura’s is after siren depths #this post partially brought to you by #the realization that one can stop reading Temeraire at the end of book four #and get a tragedy where the horrors of empire cannot be stopped #and will crush anyone trying to change things

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sepublic · 1 year

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If we do get a Raeda prequel, it’d be really cool if the whole show was framed as a flashback/story being told to the kids, Them’s the Breaks, Kid used as a template for the show it also functioned as a backdoor pilot for; So the beginning and/or end of each episode brings us back to the present, probably during the four-year time skip at the end of TOH.

This allows the protagonists of the prequel series to reflect on how they’ve changed since then, how they’ve grown, how things went wrong here, yet ultimately went right decades later down the line... Thereby minimizing the tragic, foregone conclusion we’re bracing ourselves for, because not only do we know the story doesn’t end there, we can be reminded in the spin-off itself!

Plus, having these scenes in the present could allow the spin-off to function as both a prequel but also a stealth sequel, too; Giving us more updates on how things have changed for the cast of the main show, making flashbacks relevant to real-time events, etc. Have the return to the present act as the conclusion to a storyline set up in the past, so we still get to see our beloved characters one last time, as we left them! At the very least, maybe a finale for this Teen Raeda prequel does a Where Are They Now to bring us back to the present.

#the owl house

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chicago-pd-is-weird · 2 months

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Jay Halstead x Reader Oneshot

Synopsis: Jay and reader are together, and reader works at Med in ED with Will. Reader has a lot of anxiety because Jay is a cop, thinking every cop that is brought in may be Jay.

TW: anxiety/panic attacks is a main theme in this, also some mention of blood and doctor-y stuff because reader works at Med in ED

Requested by: @sorry-i-spaced

Thank you so much! This was fun to write!

Any other oneshot requests, please DM me! :)

“We got a Stevenson!” A paramedic called out as they rolled into the ED. You and several other doctors sprung into action, running toward where the paramedics were coming in. ‘Stevenson’ was the code name for a cop, to let Med know who it was, no matter if they were in uniform, plainclothes, or undercover.

“(Y/N)! Rhodes! Trauma three!” Maggie’s voice called from the desk. Working in the ED was no walk in the park, especially in the middle of Chicago. You made your way quickly to where Maggie pointed you, picking up the pace as they wheeled in a man who was surrounded by cops. You pushed through the crowd and into the room, seeing the man on the gurney with three bullet holes in him. You helped get him moved over, then assessed the damage, Dr. Rhodes right behind you to help.

“Three bullet wounds, center mass. I’m assuming this is the perpetrator, not our Stevenson?” You spoke out loud. Some of the officers outside the room confirmed your thoughts.

Your heart was already pumping from the adrenaline as you worked on the man, but you couldn’t help it as it beat faster, hoping the officer shot wasn’t Jay Halstead. It made you especially nervous when the officers outside the room talked amongst one another, saying the man shot was a detective. Bile started to rise in your throat, but you were pulled back by the monitors beeping rapidly. You took immediate action as you snapped out of your anxiety for just a few moments.

You finally stabilized the man enough to take him to surgery, letting the nurses and techs take him with Dr. Rhodes. You backed away, looking around the room at the mess that had been made. For a moment, you stood in silence, looking around at the blood and various instruments that were around the room, as well as the blood on your gloves and scrubs.

Blood. You saw it every day, and yet, you couldn’t help but get a nauseous at the sight. You thought maybe that detective, who was fighting for his life, was bleeding out. That maybe it was the man you loved. Maybe he was in the other room, clinging to life, and here you were, trying to save the man who shot him. The notion made you sick to your stomach. You ripped off your bloody gloves and left them in the room, quickly moving to the nearest bathroom to empty your stomach of your breakfast. You panted in between heaves, gripping the toilet for dear life as you trembled at the thought of Jay dying and you saving the man who killed him.

You and Jay had met through Will, one of your coworkers and closest friends at Chicago Med. Will and Jay were brothers, and both had taken a liking to you at first, but you ultimately decided that romance with a doctor at the same hospital as you would be too complicated. You never expected the anxiety that came with beings cop’s girlfriend, though. You’d been prone to anxiety in the past, but it ramped up when you started getting serious with Jay. You had episodes like this a lot, no matter what cop came in. It had never been Jay in the past, but it only took one bullet in the wrong spot for him to die.

When the nausea passed, you slowly pushed yourself to your feet, though still unsteady as your head spin. You flushed, washed your hands and face, then made your way to the locker rooms to change out of your scrubs and into a fresh pair. When you re-emerged, you were met with Will, who gently pulled you aside before anyone else could see you. “Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Will already knew the answer to that. He was the only one who knew the full story about these episodes you had at work. Although Jay knew some of it, especially about your anxiety, he didn’t know the full picture, and you’d sworn Will into secrecy over it.

“Will, it wasn’t him, was it?”

“No, (Y/N), Jay is fine. I talked to him just a little bit ago. He is investigating this with Intelligence. He might still be here. He was looking for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, but nodded. You were relieved, but needed to see for yourself. You walked with Will back to where he’d last seen Jay, your stomach settling down as you saw him standing with Detective Lindsay, talking to Maggie. You walked over, leaning on the counter with a hum beside him, hand reaching out to rest atop his on the counter.

Jay smiled when he saw you, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “Hey, was looking for you earlier. That perp going to make it?”

Instantly, your anxiety faded away, as if it was never there in the first place. Jay had that effect on you, especially when he was upright and acting like himself. “It’s touch and go, I think,” you said with a soft sigh. “We did what we could. Rhodes took him to surgery prolly about a half hour ago. If he does make it, it’ll be a hard and long road.”

Jay hummed and looked up at Will, who had taken a place behind the counter with Maggie. “And what about the detective?”

“He’ll make it,” Will replied. “Barring complications, he should be back on the job within a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Jay replied, shifting his gaze back to you, unable to help the smile that pulled on his lips. “Hey, don’t look so down. We’ve got this.”

Your eyes met his, not realizing you’d looked upset. You smiled at him, nodding. “I know,” you replied. “It just must be hard that it’s one of your own, yaknow?”

“The risks we take,” he said with a small shrug. His statement was so nonchalant, which you didn’t like. You had to force yourself to focus on anything else to keep your rising anxiety at bay. Jay and Erin left soon after, and you shuddered, but moved back to work, checking on some other patients.

— —

“Stevenson incoming!” Maggie’s voice called out. You froze, looking up from the computer you had been typing at, swallowing hard. Your mouth ran dry, as stats were called by the paramedics. “Male, mid-thirties, stabbed multiple times.” You stood quickly, but Maggie didn’t assign you to it. You probably wouldn’t have been much help anyways, seeing as you were on the verge of an attack.

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality as you gasped, looking behind you to see Will. “Come on,” he said softly, nodding to you. “It’s okay, come on.”

You let out a shaky breath, walking with Will out to the small break room. He got you coffee, which you took whether you liked it or not. It was something to pull you back into reality. “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Will said, shaking his head. “I get the same feeling every time, but Jay just texted me that we are meeting for lunch, so it can’t be him.”

“I shouldn’t feel so much relief from this,” you said, putting your hands to your face, wiping away some tears that had started to escape. “Someone is hurt, yaknow? But I… I’m so terrified of something happening.”

“Have you talked to anyone about this? Maybe Dr. Charles can help.”

“No, no,” you said, sighing heavily, sniffling and wiping your face. “I talked to therapists all throughout middle and high school. None of them even understood me. As far as I know, I’m just messed up mentally.”

“(Y/N),” Will sighed. “We’re all messed up mentally. We’re doctors.” He shook his head again, reaching over to put a hand on your arm. “Look, maybe you just need to find the right person. Besides, we know more about mental health and the brain now than we did then. There may be new tactics to help you cope, even if we can’t cure it.”

You were thankful for Will, nodding at his suggestions. “Maybe,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your face with your hands again, then coming back to down the coffee. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” he replied, nodding. “You’re not alone, alright?”

“Thanks,” you repeated. Just then, Will’s pager rang and he had to go, but he planted a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. As quick as he was beside you, he was gone, and you sank back down to the chair, looking at your empty coffee mug with despair. Maybe you’d never get better.

— —

The past few weeks had been filled with more and more scares. There was a serial killer on the loose who was targeting cops. Your body was racked with constant anxiety every time a Stevenson was brought into the ED. The only time you weren’t was when you were assisting with a surgery, so you stayed with Dr. Rhodes most of the time to ensure you were in surgery. It was better that way for the patients and for you.

The surgery you’d just assisted in finishing was a tough one. It was a kid who had fallen on a pair of scissors the wrong way. However, Dr. Rhodes was like magic, and your own hands remained calm and steady as you fell into a zen-like trance. You weren’t thinking of anything else but the surgery at hand. The anatomy and biology of the body lying below you. It was the only time and place you’d felt at peace, despite the circumstances surrounding the incident.

As you scrubbed out, washing your hands and arms, someone came into the room. “(Y/N)…” Will’s voice rang, a hand coming to your shoulder.

“Hey,” you said softly as you turned off the water and dried your hands. “What’s up?” Your mind was still calm, but when you looked up to Will, you could tell something was off.

“Don’t freak out on me, alright?”

“Will…?” You searched his face for the answer as he squeezed your shoulders with his hands.

“Just, promise.”

“Uh… I… okay…?”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, knowing that was good enough. “Look, Jay was brought in, but-“

“What?!” You didn’t let him finish before trying to push past him to find Jay.

Will kept you in place. “No, no, (Y/N), stop, it’s okay.”

“This is NOT okay, Will! How are you so calm?!” The bile had begun to rise in your throat as you feared the worst. Tears jumped to your eyes and you had to see him. You had to know Jay was alright, even if he wasn’t.

“Hey, hey, look at me. It’s Will. Look at me!” You looked back up to Will, his hands squeezing your shoulders again to pull you back, shaking you a little. “Look, see, I’m right here. Let me finish before you break down, at least.”

You scoffed, a small scoff to hide the soft laugh of that last remark. Although you were on the verge of an attack, that pulled you back from the edge a bit, making you shake your head. “Just tell me then!”

“Jay just had a gash on his arm from a piece of metal he ran across. He just ran into a piece of metal. His sergeant sent him, just to make sure it was good. He is not shot. He is not hurt badly. He is coherent and walking around. He needed a few stitches, but that’s all.”

You searched Will’s face for any sign of him playing down the injury, but you knew Will wouldn’t lie to you. You let out a breath, wiping your face. “No, I still have to see him though because… if I don’t, I’ll never recover from this feeling.”

“I know,” Will replied. “Come on, he’s in five. But you know if you go in there like this, you’re going to have to come clean?”

“I need to see him,” you affirmed as Will walked you downstairs to where Jay was.

When you got there, you walked in and pushed the curtain back over the door to ensure you had privacy. You nearly broke down as you saw Jay, his shirt off, a bandage on his upper arm. Whether from anxiety or relief, you had no idea. The emotions pulling you in different directions was crippling, and you just stood there, trembling as tears streaked down your cheeks.

Jay looked over you as you stood, frozen in time, hot tears racing down and dripping off your chin. He got up quickly, his soft voice finally hitting your ears. “Hey, hey, (Y/N), what’s the matter?”

As he caught you between his arms, you started to sob, nearly collapsing into his chest. “Fuck, Jay!”

Jay was surprised, but caught you with ease, holding you close to his bare chest. “What did I do this time?” He teased, trying to make you feel better.

You were barely in the mood as you took a fist to his chest, hitting him softly. “Don’t even joke, it’s not fair!”

Jay turned more serious, pulling back to look at you as you sobbed. “Hey… hey, just tell me what’s going on.” You couldn’t muster any more words, wiping your face with your hands. Jay pulled you over, sitting on the bed and pulling you to sit beside him. “(Y/N)?”

“I have… I have this… this intense fear,” you finally spoke, soft words only coming out with your breaths. “This intense… burning fear… all the time… that…” You swallowed hard, leaning into his shoulder on his uninjured arm.

“That what?” Jay prompted after a moment of silence.

“That you’re going to come in here and die!” You sobbed out, moving to cling to him again, arms around his torso. “Jay, every time a cop comes in here, I can’t take it! Anxiety and panic takes me over! I-I can’t! I love you so much, and I can’t lose you!”

“Hey, hey baby, you won’t lose me. You won’t.” Jay held you tightly against his chest once again, kissing your head. “Hey, come here, look at me.” He pulled back, letting you sit up and then gently taking your chin in his fingers. He tenderly pulled your chin up, then leaned down to meet you, planting a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he let out a breath. “Nothing will ever take me away from you… Nothing. Ever.”

With that, your emotions finally leveled out. You swallowed hard and reached up to cup his face, looking over his freckles. You smiled a little as your eyes met his. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he replied, matching your smile and leaning down to kiss you again.

#chicago pd #chicagopd #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #detective Halstead #detective Jay halstead #x reader #oneshot #fanfiction requests

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centaurianthropology · 1 year

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Why C3E51 worked so well (a DM’s perspective)

I have seen a lot of absolutely bananas critiques of C3E51 (thankfully not nearly as many around here, far more on Reddit, which I should not have visited). And the ongoing theme of those critiques is that Matt should not have imperiled former PCs, and if he brought them in should have either done lengthy side-bars with those characters or let them win the fight against Ludinis and have a chance to take him out themselves, since they’re ‘god tier’ or ‘high level’ and that makes ‘logical sense’. What these critiques really boil down to, IMO, are people who were really invested in the former campaigns upset that their faves didn’t get to do cool things, treating it more like a TV show than a game. But even as a TV show, that would have been disappointing from a narrative perspective. Because even in a TV show, this is a sequel spin-off show, starring new characters. The story is about THEM. And more importantly, the game is about the players and about telling their story.

So let’s break this down from a DM perspective. How do you build a Kobiashi Maru situation for your characters? For those of you who aren’t familiar, the Kobiashi Maru is a Star Trek term for a scenario designed from the jump to be unwinnable (Kirk beat it by creativity, but later admitted that he missed the point of it). In Star Trek this was done to test what a future officer would do if faced with certain failure. In a D&D game it’s a little more complicated. Part of it is to set up the BBEG, put their plan in motion, and set the stage for the next leg of the game. But it’s also to give your players, who are clearly into it, a darkest-hour scenario. Not every player group is going to be into facing down the Kobiashi Maru, and it’s clear from the aforementioned critiques that a lot of them are on Reddit. Power-gamers who always want to win are not going to enjoy this sort of storytelling, but players who are really into RP and working through difficult times and failures will eat this stuff up. And this is absolutely the sort of table playing on Critical Role. There is a level of trust there that can only be built after years of working together, and this was finally the moment when Matt could pay off years of planning and campaign-spanning set-up.

Matt carefully plotted the structure of this episode out to give maximum agency and impact to a party of dramatically under-leveled characters. And they knew going in they were under-leveled. This wasn’t a surprise, but a potential suicide run by people who knew they weren’t the heroes they needed to be, but were the only heroes in the right place at the right time to try anything. So they came up with as good a plan as they could, and executed it fairly well, all things considered.

They knew they couldn’t take on Ludinus directly (and this was a great way to demonstrate exactly how much he had planned and how long, to bring in elements from C2, hints we’ve had for years about Ludinis, only to reveal it went deeper than any of the characters could have imagined), so Matt gave them some winnable objectives. This is a great way to keep the characters invested in an unwinnable scenario: the ultimate outcome may be beyond the characters, barring some insane genius or incredible rolls, but they can still help. They can do something that will have a tangible impact on events and hinder the baddies enough to give them another chance at a rematch and a way to stop the apocalypse when they’re higher level. So Matt gave them the batteries: take out as many as you can. While this would not stop the ritual, I suspect that the more they took out the more Ludinis would have to drain his own power to make the key work, and the longer the process would take. Knocking out the feywild key, as well as multiple power sources turned what would have been an instantaneous event if they had done nothing into a more drawn-out affair which, I suspect, could be stopped or even reversed. It gave them a window to come back and demand a rematch.

Then we have the high-level PC allies, and how to play with those sorts of characters without pulling focus from the PCs. Matt handled this very well, by having the players roll for their former PCs, taking the specifics of their actions out of his hands and letting the dice of the former players decide. He also revealed that Keyleth’s involvement, and baiting Vax with Otohan’s permadeath poison, was key to Ludinis’ ritual, which was why she couldn’t just dive in and clean everything up. But again, because of this story, it ties less back to Keyleth and more back to Orym. That was the point of the attack on Zephrah, to get her attention by getting her to look into who did it and then coming to get some payback, but the little guy on the ground has always been caught in the middle. Orym has been Ludinis’ unwitting pawn from the off, his family’s deaths merely a means to an end, and that is vicious and amazing set-up for character growth for him.

Beau and Caleb had to be there by the logic of the story. It didn’t make sense that Caleb would sit out a world-ending event orchestrated by a Cerberus Assembly member after spending years trying to take them down. Beau would obviously go with him. It also made sense that they would be the only two there, because they were scouting when Ryn got taken down, and after that were trying to keep a low profile. Shit accelerated too fast for them to call in reinforcements.

Which is the in-story reason for them to be there, but isolated and vulnerable, making them useful allies and wildcards (who likely could have been more useful if ultimately failing as well, but failed early thanks to Liam and Marisha’s rolls). But they were still outmatched. I have no idea what the challenge rating of Otohan, Leliana, and Ludinis are, but we know Otohan was considered ‘beatable’ back in Bassuras. That indicates she’s the lowest CR, particularly with the glowing weak-spot on her back. But she can still wreck a level-20 PC if she gets the jump on her, which she did. And that meant that she remained a massive threat. Caleb and Beau were playing it smart, keeping to the shadows, but still got caught by Leliana. Between dice rolls, careful planning, and some great enemy design, Matt really set up a team that could take on high-level players and win. And he made it clear that Ludinis did not leave this to chance. He has the best people he could muster after 1000 years of planning. Nothing short of a miracle could have truly stopped them.

Which is why we cut back to Bells Hells. Because ultimately this particular story isn’t about Keyleth or Vax or Caleb or Beau or any other former PCs. This is about the current party being caught up in events much larger than them and having to rise to the occasion. This is the story of the schmucks sent in to take out the batteries, but who have personal beef with the big bads. Ludinis orchestrated the plan to attack Zephrah to bait Keyleth and draw out Vax, and Otohan carried it out. And he used Orym as a pawn throughout all of it. This makes taking them down, but especially taking Otohan down, the cornerstone of Orym’s personal quest. Letting an NPC take her down would be taking away a critical part of his motivation and goals, which is an absolute no-no for a DM. NEVER bring in a god-tier NPC and take away player agency or story beats. Especially never have them resolve important player goals and backstory events! Every NPC, even the powerful ones, are there to support the story the players are telling. So of course Keyleth wasn’t going to take out Otohan. Of course she wasn’t going to stop the ritual. Beau and Caleb might have been able to do something more if Liam and Marisha hadn’t rolled so badly for them, but ultimately, they had to get caught or fail in another way.

For the sake of gameplay, Bell’s Hells had to be the only functional team. They had to be the ants that were beneath Ludinis’ notice long enough to really accomplish something. And as much as it feels like they failed, they had minor victories: Laudna and Ashton took out more batteries, making Ludinis drain his own power to kick off the apocalypse. They only failed to take out Otohan’s backpack by 2 HP, which showed them that she was an achievable goal in the future. If they had rolled a little better, they probably could have taken her out entirely, which would have felt like a big accomplishment for them. Imogen made her mother pause in her assault before doubling down. This leaves open very interesting future beats for their interactions. Can she ultimately redeem her mother or would she have to take her out? Every step that Matt set up in this episode, from the reveals about Ludinis’ plans and Orym’s past, to Imogen’s interactions with her mother, to Chetney and likely Ashton finding themselves staring down their own backstories after the party split, was focused on this party, on getting them ready to step out of low-level play and advance.

And that’s the point of E51. It’s not a climax of the story, but the ultimate set-up. It’s putting all the pieces onto the board in a way that all the characters can now recognize. Yes, unless the players came up with something genius, the apocalypse was going to kick off, but their actions slowed everything down to a place where it could be combatted. Yes, the god-tier former PCs were always going to get neutered, because this is Bells Hells’ story, and you cannot have NPCs fix PC problems. They might have been able to do a little more before this happened, but the dice rolled.

And it’s honestly good for the PCs how things turned out. They have a clear objective, but are split up. This gives them great incentive to level up, explore character backstory, deal with their personal shit, get stronger, and then come back to kick the asses of all three of these villains (or possibly redeem one, we’ll see). Their powerful allies are now temporarily side-lined. Keyleth is badly hurt and will need time to recover. Caleb is collared and will need time to get that removed. Beau is likely up and moving now, but will need to safeguard Caleb for a while.

The Bells Hells are on their own. The Darkest Hour has come, and it’s time for them to rise up and go from nobodies to heroes. This is their true call to adventure. And as a DM, it was so cool seeing how Matt set up all the pieces over the campaign, only to pay them out in such a satisfying and motivating way in this episode.

#Critical Role #Critical Role spoilers #I really liked this episode #both as storytelling #and in terms of structure #this is how you do long-term setup #and payoff for a villain #he had planned for everything #but this annoying party of gnats muching up his works #and the gnats are going to be what takes him down #that is such a good way to let a low-level party get set up to take on a high-level villain!!#anyway #this is to combat some of the negativity I've seen toward this episode

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sugar-plum-writer · 4 months

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A God Has Descended to Earth

Paring: Gojo Satrou x fem!reader Tags: God complex, one-shot, what happens when a god like existence on Earth makes you wonder? if all the gods you knew were fake A/n: I just wrote this after being inspired from Lana's - "Salvatore", I have listened to it many times but this version of it being in a cathedral unblocked my writers block. The echo, the reverberation, and blue cathedral inspired me to write some lines and it evolved to this lol~ I hope you guys like it! pls leave a comment for any feedback if you like it!

Throughout the lands and the sky above, beyond the glistening stars the breeze itself seemed to freeze to not disturb his walk. Black, white and blue sky, a gold painted sun cathedral with echo's of power resonating through each crevice swirling like the depth of oceans, and storming like a titanic on the clouds

Stepping down he looked like a God

using the sky itself as a staircase he stepped down, elegantly- playfully smirking, he needed no cathedral, he needed no church or temple, why? The sky was his, the sky was the cathedral, the only place high enough for a man like him to look down on the world and be worshiped.

No throne was worthy enough for him, none dared to bear his weight, no gold or diamonds needed to show his wealth, Afterall, which diamonds could ever compare to the azure blue painting his eyes reflecting the sun and the ocean in it's wake.

The sky was his, it exists because he exists, with just a drop of his power thousands could be ripped till bones and daggers cannot be forged. Having the strength to take the Earth from the back of Atlas and bear it on his mere hands; spinning it like a child spinning the globe. As if it was the most weightless object in the world.

How did such a man exist- was beyond you, having heard about him through many people, calling him annoying, cocky, over-confident, but one thing the whole world agreed on- he was the strongest. You laughed it off as you heard many things related to him, so many stories a 1000 nights couldn't match up, wondering if you could meet this man known as the strongest yourself

Until, you saw him, the man himself walking down from the sky

Sharp cuts on your body stung dripping with blood, making you beg your nerves to stop feeling this piercing pain. If it stopped you could focus more, hot blood drenched a side of your face, blurring your vision hazy, it smelled like iron and tasted disgusting on your throat making you want to vomit

Seeing him made your breath stop, world stop, the chaos fell silent and deaf to your ears- looking at him breathless as he walked towards you not even realizing the curse you were fighting was still alive

With a light grin he raised his hand

"Red"

Such a simple word, just 1 syllable

Obliterated half of the area you were standing flat, grimy blood of the curse splattered on the wall behind you- with a crater big enough to hold an elephant, but rather than horror it looked like a painting- a painting of raw power

Is this what ultimate power looks like?

The curse you struggled to fight against, gasping for breath in every killing blow, small cuts graced your body making your skin be basked in crimson, nearly dying fighting this curse and for him it was just

One Syllable

You stared at him, stunned to speak, he did not avert your gaze rather kept looking in your eyes, the azure eyes melting into your own- evoking the feeling of your soul being consumed by him

Gently raising his hand- he brushed your hair aside- though his hands got covered in your blood he paid no mind

"My My~ that's quite an expression you've got their my dear"

leaning in his lips close to yours- inches apart- gaze unwavering looking into your heart

"A-Are you a God?"

You do not know why such words came from your mouth, they just did, as if wanting to know, if the god you have been worshipping your whole life was fake

"Am I?"

He chuckled

"If I am, will you go down on your knees and worship me? will my name be the only prayer on your lips? Answer me dear? Will you?"

With a light smile he said the words as if they are weightless- even a god declaring his words would make himself look mighty, is he above a God?

"If so"

"Kneel"

Link to my Masterlist in case you want to read other works of mine

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foreverisntenough · 2 months

Text

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestions, smut love bombing, occasionally sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 20 - ‘You’re Mine’

“C’mere yeah? Don’t be silly.” Trent pulled you towards him in a direction away from the bar and other people.

“I’m not, it’s just still weird sometimes for me that’s all. I don’t think you understand.” You said in much more of a serious tone than he was expecting, shaking your head refusing to look him in the eyes.

“You actually upset right now?” He probed as his brows furrowed confused that you’d be jealous over him taking a picture with a fan especially after he just told you all the things he had planned to do with you once you got to the bedroom. It didn’t usually phase you. You’d oblige and happily take the photos for fans knowing you’d be the one sleeping next to him but seeing women touch him in front of you so blatantly stirred something inside you a lot more recently.

“No, but if random men just stopped me for pictures while I was out with you and had their hands all over me… would you be happy with that?” You snapped back spelling out the reality of why this did bother you a little. Imagining the roles reversed sent Trent’s brain spinning.

“They’re not all over me...” He paused looking into your eyes trying to assess if a fight was unfolding. “Men aren’t fucking touching you. That’s not happening is it? These girls… nothing. Don’t worry about it. It’s me and you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your hair trying to calm this conversation down. You didn’t want to fight back, explain to him that ultimately it was starting to bother you how anonymous you were. A fight wasn’t a good idea in the middle of his tournament, out with other people, away from home, drinks involved it just wouldn’t end well so you bit your tongue.

England was hosting a party for the families before the knockout stages began that night and the boys were granted a few days off. You weren’t nervous per say but it definitely stressed you out thinking about potential conversations about your relationship. How vocal was Trent about you to his teammates? You were uneasy at the thought and uncertainty. For some reason the anonymity of you to the public was starting not to sit right. It was some comfort that Jobe was also with you, it kind of diluted the fact you were walking into an event with two players that had curated quite a cult following online, knowing the team followed them religiously with cameras. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that helpful to come with Jobe because he was falling into their wake, he just was too young for people’s focus to land appropriately yet but it was coming in slowly. Despite your apprehension, your worries were pushed aside as you eased through conversations, Trent kept you close. He did talk about you to everyone. Everyone on the team knew of you. You knew he was proud to call you his, you knew he was just saving you from a media onslaught. It was later into the evening when you really let your angst earlier go and just relaxed. Everyone there had the same worries about The Sun or Mail running wild with stories about them, you weren’t something special. Sure, maybe you and Trent teed up perfectly for a sleazy article but it was fine, you were overthinking things and you were there to support T no matter what it meant it created for you.

Bukaya Saka had picked up a big following on TikTok the second he created an account… as expected. He was filming asking the team questions throughout the tournament. One big topic he was posting a lot of was asking what players were listening to. He was running about the party tonight filming another video only now including friends and family. His iPhone flash on, asking if you could name one song for the tournament, what it would be. Harmless.

“Saks!” You said with a big smile his phone’s flash illuminating every pore on your face as you stood next to Jude stopping your conversation about something mundane momentarily.

“What we saying? Song of the tourney?” Bukaya asked with the light still absolutely blinding you in the dark night. You gave an answer but he wasn’t happy with it.

“Nah, not having that. You two need time apart, you can’t pick the same song as him, give me another one.” He pushed implying that you had seemingly chosen the same song Trent had.

“Just in general? An all time song or a new one right now?” You peppered him with questions trying to stall to think of a good answer.

“Why’d you need so much information, cuz, answer it.” He sighed in frustration, throwing his head back dramatically.

“I feel like you’ll be disappointed regardless!” You over exaggeratedly complained.

“You've been catching up though you know… little Dave, you love Professor X” Jude squeezed your shoulder butting into the video laughing. “You've been doing good learning the UK classics.” He was teasing you but it was also true. So many boys in your life; Jude, Marcel, George, Curtis… they all enlisted and pressed so hard to ‘teach’ you the staples you had to know.

“Just give me something, America.” Bukaya teased still pushing for you to give a better answer.

“Fine, fine. I’ll give an artist I listen to a lot. Even been approved in my house.” You giggled at how silly this all was. “I’ll give you a New Yorker too, any Dusty Locane. I think you’ll like it.” You answered knowing you had introduced Trent as well and he was down.

“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll take it.” He was finally satisfied.

“Now get that light of my face, please! I’m blind now.” You pushed your hand to cover his camera but the video still caught your voice. The video cut to someone else’s answers. He posted an edited version of the conversation to make it shorter but the TikTok definitely included you and people were certainly interested in your cameo.

‘Tell me right now who that American girl is with?’

‘Bro Alexander-Arnold’s girl being American threw me’

‘The way my head spun when she opened her mouth’

‘American is leng, who’s is that?’

‘Dusty Locane was a wild shout. What a gyal’

Comments came piling in about your accent, nationality, leading to people pulling videos of times they’d met Trent trying to see if they’d be able to make out your voice in the background when you had been there. It wasn’t a secret but it shook people up trying to work out how the two of you connected and make a story out of it. In turn and in usual fashion, articles began to bloom across the internet…

‘Transatlantic Trent, The England star is apparently dating an American!’

‘Everything we know about the secret relationship the Liverpool and England player has with a mystery American’

‘She’s American! More about the England international player’s girlfriend revealed’

‘Who is the American at the at The Euro’s cozied up with Trent Alexander-Arnold?’

You sat with Dianne watching the semifinal. The whole tournament seemed to buzz by and you lost track of the days hiding in a hotel, barely able to see Trent, hounded by media, stories continually published making up BS about you. They didn’t even have your name yet they wrote like you’d personally given them an autobiography.

“Going to be alright.” Dianne confirmed her hand coming to pat your thigh. “There’s always a flare up and then it’ll die out.”

“I’m sorry.” You softly said watching the opposition goalie make an easy save.

“For what? Being you? You didn’t do anything hun. People love to fuss over little things. We’ll be alright.” She tried to console you.

“I don’t want to make things more difficult for him.” You shyly said worrying about the implications. The way the internet obsession may be weighing on Trent.

“You’re not. The only thing he cares about is if you’re okay. Yeah, hun?” Still trying to reassure you.

“Yeah.” You repeated her words but not with the same conviction or belief. You winced as Trent made a tackle, the balling going out of play. You sat on your hands to try to stop the nerves. You could feel the rise of your rings under your body. Your legs were shaking when the whistle finally blew for half time. People milled about but you and Dianne stayed put. The media had really ramped up the attention on you but true to the plan, you, Trent, his family, and his PR team gave nada.

You sat quiet as the last seconds of the match ran out and England advanced. The Euro’s Final arrived and you felt absolutely sick. It ended with an England defeat. You felt like your heart had shattered seeing the boy you loved more than anything in the world lay on the pitch in front of you crushed. His jersey pulled over his head. The look on his face had you trying to hold back tears. You were distraught for your T.

It was not a fun night. Trent’s sadness progressed into him just being pissed. You had never really seen him as angry as he was right now. You sat quietly holding onto his hand in the car. Not a word exchanged when his head fell on your shoulder with a sigh. You could see his skin pinch together as he shut his eyes tight.

“I know…” you whispered, pressing your lips to his temple, brushing your hand over his head.

“I…I c-can’t…” he couldn’t get words out. It was so silent back at the hotel. He had to go on the flight with the team, stand in unity despite the loss so you couldn’t even travel home together. You were set to reunite back at your house. You just felt lost anxiously awaiting until he arrived. You didn’t want to ask any specifics about times, you had a general idea from his updates but his texting was sparse. When he did come into the house it was like the sun disappeared. It felt dark, it felt cold, it didn’t feel like your happy home when he was like this. You let him mope about waiting for him to come to you… and he eventually did. You sat on the couch on your phone, a silly romcom on tv in the background.

“What’d you watching…” he asked but it was so meek it barely sounded like him.

“Nothing, you want to watch something?” You asked your heart beating out of your chest, almost jumping at the chance to talk to him. You started to get up when he moved towards you and slumped onto the cushions and you.

“Nah, can you stay here please.” His arms wrapped around your waist, his head coming lay in your lap, his body curled to fit on the couch. You only hummed. He just shut his eyes and layed there quiet while you scratched his back. Your nails gliding up his spine and back down again, tracing little shapes and figures under his t-shirt.

“I missed you.” He mumbled into the material of your sweats nuzzling his face in further, his arms wrapping tighter around you.

“Yeah? I missed you too, baby.” You cooed, trying to suppress the smile. You knew it wasn’t good he was this upset but knowing he needed you felt good.

“So much” he said so quietly you barely could hear it.

Ever since Trent got back from the tournament he was so clingy. He followed you around like a puppy dog. Asking to cuddle with you constantly and you let him. You were headed on your holiday soon and you wondered if he was going to be like this the whole trip. If the loss would really shake the group. You all agreed to go regardless but the thought of Jude and Trent sitting in silence refusing to go to the beach because they’d be in a bad mood burned in your brain. Your best friend was flying in tomorrow and you were happy but you were simultaneously plagued with worry about T.

You found yourself on the couch, another film, your fingers rubbing his back gently again, scratching his skin softly. He’d shiver every once in a while sensitive to the touch, groan or mumble something incoherent about the plot, and then dig deeper in your lap. You just smiled, placing kisses on him. As it got later in the afternoon though you’d had enough, it was time to move your bodies, you had to pack, you needed to eat a vegetable and not just lay in this feeling of defeat. He couldn’t do this to himself.

“Baby… Pretty boy, come on.” You cooed, taking your hand off his back and dragging it up to brush over his raised cheekbone.

“No.” It sounded a little harsh and you felt his body tense but he relaxed a millisecond later. “Wanna lay on you.” He whined trying to nestle further into you which at this point was physically impossible.

“Come on, yeah? Let’s go eat some lunch out in the garden, get some air. Hmm?” You sang to him pressing soft kisses all over his face.

“Baby..” he grabbed at you with little strength.

“So needy T.” You giggled teasing him. He only hummed at your hands running back over his shoulders, your nails dragging down his back. “Gonna get up for me?”

“Mmmhmm.” He hummed pulling himself up but leaned his whole body weight onto you immediately again. His head resting on your shoulder. His hands caressed over your body before coming to play with the little clovers of your Van Cleef necklace.

“You remember when I gave you this?” He whispered. His eyes looked so sad it hurt your heart.

“Of course.” You smiled at the memory sitting in his then foreign room at the time in his mum's house. He looped his finger under the necklace and pulled a little causing your head and neck to move, your lips coming to now press against his.

“I want that back.” He murmured.

“What?” You asked unsure what he meant. What did he want back?

“The nativity that I could just keep you all to myself. Like the whole world wouldn’t become as infatuated with you as I am.” He babbled a little bit, his lips ghosting over yours.

“They’re not… but I understand the sentiment. I’m always just yours though, T….” You paused anxiously rethinking if it was true. “Right?”

“Mine, baby. Want everything with you. Hmm?” A smile formed on his face. You hadn’t seen it in awhile. It was hard to forget how beautiful it was but everytime it still amazed you just how pretty he was.

“Everything?” A smile pulled on your lips now seeing his.

“Yeah, everything.” He confirmed pulling you in for another kiss. Before you could get to the kitchen to even consider what you might have for lunch, Trent pulled you onto his lap. You straddled him, your legs on both sides of him, his face directly in front of yours.

“You know I want everything with you… the lot. Build a whole life with you.” He talked slowly as you watched his lips move. You draped your hands around his neck, your nails scratching gently on his skin again.

“I want that to. You know, T?” Placing a soft kiss to his perfect lips.

“I mean it.” His hands started to caress your back under your shirt drifting higher up.

“And so do I.” You clarified. You both were beating around the bush about the pregnancy comments you had yet to address. You could feel the tension rise in the air as well as his dick beneath you. You initiated a pretty messy makeout that progressed to pulling both of your shirts off. His hand gripped some of your hair, grabbing at the nape of your neck and pulling your head backwards. He followed your mouth, biting onto your lip then pulling away. His kisses returned and trailed down over you and then sank onto a particularly sensitive part of your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth hard. You moaned in response, you could feel his tongue massaging over the spot as he continued to suck. You hissed in pain but also pure delight when you felt his teeth bite against the spot. He worked his way down to your exposed chest. He squeezed your tits lost in the feeling, loving how they looked. Your tits under his huge hands was just his favorite thing but he couldn’t stop the intruding thought of if they’d change when you got pregnant.

“You’re perfect, do you know that?” He asked pulling away eyes focused on your tits only to hear you hum in response. His hands drifted off them and his hands gripped your waist harshly as you grinded your now wet core on him. His hands softened though as he moved them over your stomach. “You’ll look so perfect pregnant.” The words fell out of his mouth, you stopping immediately in shock.

“What did you say?” You did hear what he said, but you wanted to hear it again to make sure you did hear it right. Was he being serious? He hummed, pulling you into another kiss but you just as quickly pulled away. “T…”

“Yeah, you heard me. You’d look so sexy.” He cooed. His eyes were locked on yours. He was very serious. This is not how you thought this would come up again.

“Oh yeah?” You started to giggle, a little flattered but also out of pure shock. “Is that what you want? You want to get me pregnant?” You asked, still giggling looking at him.

“Baby” grabbing your face now. Your giggles stopped almost instantly. “I’m so fucking serious right now. I want that.”

“Are we really having this conversation?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah…” he looked at you confused in why you were hesitating.

“Can I put my clothes on? I thought we were like messing about.” You said shyly.

“No, I like you like this.” He let go of your face, his hands back on your body caressing your skin.

“T… this is serious” you tried to explain.

“…and I’m serious. I’m serious about you, about us, I want a baby with you. Do you not want that?” He asked so blatantly, he looked hurt, offended, the look of defeat back on his face.

“No…” you mumbled. His hands dropped from your body immediately. “No, no, not like no. I meant ugh.” You sighed frustrated at how your words were coming out. “I meant no, yes, of course I want that. I didn’t know you did or if what we said in bed months ago was serious, I don’t know I was scared.” Your head fell onto his chest. You felt so vulnerable.

“I know, baby. I didn’t know either but I’m tired of pretending that’s something I’m not thinking about every time we have sex now. Yeah?”

“Yeah…” you muffled into his chest.

“C’mere. I really want a family. Do you want that?” He asked, pulling your chin up to look at him. His face looked so perfect, his lips in a little pout, his eyes glistening, his skin glowing.

“I want a family with you.” You confirmed. “After Greece, can we have a proper chat about this? I don’t want to rush this, baby. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Like embarrassingly a lot but we need a proper discussion. I didn’t know if you wanted this too.” Confessing you were also really wanting this.

“I told you I want everything with you. I mean everything. I want to have kids with you. I want to have a family with you. I want it all with you.” You got shy at his words again and hid your face in his neck. “What’d you being shy for? C’mere.” He started placing kisses all over your exposed skin. “Think you would make the most perfect mummy, yeah?” He started to giggle in between the kisses.

“T…” you whined your lips rolled into a pout at how cute he was. His eyes completely lighting up at the idea.

“Would you wanna be a mummy?” His hands came to rub over your stomach as he started to laugh a little again.

“To your babies?” You looked directly at him now. “Of course. Absolute dream.” You fell into giggles beaming with the idea. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off either of your faces if you tried. You felt like you were going to cry out of excitement and joy.

“After Greece then.” He told you placing a kiss on your lips.

“After Greece.” You confirmed returning the kiss. He hugged you tight to his chest. His hands held you so firmly, he always made you feel so safe. Your cheek squished against his, his facial hair slightly tickling you.

“I love you so so so so much,” you whispered in his ear pressing your lips back against his skin. He hummed squeezing you a little tighter.

“I love you” He whispered back. You wanted to hear him say that for the rest of your life. You cuddled into his warm embrace a little more before he stood up with you still in his arms, picking you up with him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him tighter. You nuzzled your face into his neck pressing soft kisses against his skin.

“What’d you want to eat, my pretty girl?” He cooed, walking with you stuck to him towards the kitchen.

“Wait, T! Wait, I need my clothes!” You yelled halfway there realizing you were still topless pressed to him. You started to giggle and so did he.

“Nah, don’t need ‘em. You’re good just like this. I like you like this” he laughed, continuing on his way to the kitchen.

It was the night before you all left for your holiday in Greece. It was going to be a decent sized group traveling together out of Liverpool. Jude, Jobe and another friend were meeting you there because they were coming from elsewhere. Your bestie, Lauren, was coming and you were giddy with excitement to see her but also after your conversation with Trent you were just generally in an amazing mood and having some amazing sex in the last 24 hours. You hadn’t spent proper time with Lauren in ages let alone gone on a holiday with her. Yeah, this was going to be different than your previous trips you'd taken considering you were now living with your serious boyfriend discussing babies but she could still do as she pleased, she was single, and she loved being single. Lauren was way more outgoing than you and brought out a more… let’s say brave… side of you, for sure. You had met in university and bonded over similar lifestyles and interests. It involved a lot of partying, stupid decisions but built an incredibly trusting loyal relationship. You and Lauren were a match made in hell for men. You filled every vice. Aesthetically, you couldn’t be more different in appearance and in taste. Lauren had a body. She was caked with a face card that never declined. She constantly flirted, it was just her natural state. She was incredibly sweet and nice, she just didn’t have a great filter. You had more of an aura. A little mysterious just given your introverted nature but people were drawn to you. You radiated a glow that had men drooling. You were pretty like a doll, like a model or ballerina. You were clean cut and politely shy… until you were comfortable and you were comfortable with Lauren. She was flying from New York to your house and you couldn’t wait to be back together.

When she arrived you practically screamed running to the front door, even though you had offered to pick her up from the airport. She had visited before but hadn’t seen the house completely finished, lived in yet. You were a little nervous about the trip mixing different groups of people but overall excited. Trent was playing some video game so you and Lauren were upstairs alone packing your bags, re-trying on your outfits for her just to be sure they all hit.

“I literally cannot wait to go out! Like I love Mykonos.. I cannot!” She gushed holding up a practically see through mini dress imagining herself in it at a club.

“I’m honestly just excited to drink and sit in the sun like pleassse.” You whined, throwing a bikini in the Rimowa. “What’s going to be your first drink?” You questioned trying to think of your own answer.

“Can I be basic? I just want tequila, rocks, lime. On repeat.. put it on tap.” She giggled.

“Oooo yeah” you hummed “That sounds so good.” You said when Lauren stopped folding some of your clothes to stand up.

“Well what’s stopping us from starting now! Come on!” This was the problem with Lauren. Her ideas never came with a solid retaliation. You couldn’t find an argument. Why not? You had nothing to do tomorrow but sit your ass on a private plane to Greece. You two giggled downstairs headed to the kitchen when you told her you’d meet her there, you just wanted to tell Trent.

“Baby…” you cooed, stepping into the room walking over to his chair dragging your hands over his chest from behind him before trailing your nails back up. He cocked his head to look at you. He was met with a bare shoulder and was a little confused. So he grabbed at your arm pulling you to stand in front of him.

“Where are your clothes…hmm?” his hand outstretched caressing your body in front of him. It was a little early for you to be getting into anything for bed.

“I was tying on my outfits” you giggled at his touch squirming away but his hand grabbed your waist firmly “this is what I ended up in, I guess.” Shrugging. You were in a little cotton bralette and satin flounce shorts.

“Yeah…? That’s why..?” He was questioning your intention of waking in interrupting his game wearing such little clothing. “C’mere.”

“No, no, no! T!” You squealed when he pulled your body towards his. “I was on my way to the kitchen! Serious!” He didn’t appreciate your resistance so he met you halfway, scooting forward, his face coming to kiss your bare stomach.

“Yeah.. what for?” He spoke against your skin, still pressing wet kisses onto you.

“We’re making drinks… was coming to see if you wanted one, baby” You said, picking his head up off your body, looking for a genuine answer. He could tell you actually were telling the truth so he just slipped his hands around you squeezing your ass, keading it.

“Not now, I’ll come in a little, okay, beautiful girl?” He cooed looking up at you.

“Mmkay baby. Love you” you said, pulling away from him, slipping away from him leaving, before running back into the room to place the kiss on his cheek you forgot. He shook his head at your childish behavior but he was happy if you were happy.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You came rushing in with a silly smile from Trent’s kisses. Lauren was sitting at your kitchen island scrolling on her phone waiting.

“He’s got you down so bad” she said, shaking her head laughing.

“Nah” You tried to deny it poorly.

“Makes me happy Y/N.” She said genuinely leaning onto your shoulder. It was a tender moment placed neatly between your usual nonsense.

You connected your phone to a Bluetooth surround sound speaker, putting on a favorite of you twos. ‘Unforgettable’ French Montana pumped through the big room.

“Stop! Haven’t heard this in a minute.” She said laughing while getting off the stool. “Okay, where’s the liquor?” she said, opening random kitchen cupboards. You pulled on her arm with a big smile on your face for her to follow you into a little enclave down the hall that was a full bar. It was gorgeous marble with gold barware. It didn’t get used a lot but it was one of your favorite looking spaces in the house. “What the fuck!” She gasped with her jaw slacked.

“Honestly... sometimes when I go to make a drink I expect to be getting some cheap tequila. I forget I’m not drowning myself in alcohol at university and am an adult.” You laughed grabbing for a big brown tinted glass bottle of Don Julio 42.

“That never happens to me. I still drink that shit.” You both broke into a fit of giggles. “Not all of us are married to famous athletes.”

“Relax, I am not his wife!” You rolled your eyes at her overzealous comment. God, did that comment get cemented into your brain though… You’d love to be his wife and after the conversation last night you started to think that could possibly happen.

“Give me a plastic cup, a beer soaked floor, an investment banker, and a dollar slice and I’m happy.” She pulled the bottle from you to pour some into a glass you placed in front of her on the marble.

“That’s just not true…” you corrected her. Lauren and you loved a crap bar as much as the next person but you both grew up comfortably, you lived privileged lifestyles, you toyed with expensive shit as if it was nothing. Everything was available to you. It just wasn’t your entire personality. Trent knew everything about you but you kept your upbringing pretty hush since you moved to the UK.

You two had made your way back to the kitchen gossiping, sitting at the island after a few shots, pulling out ingredients to make cocktails after being too drunk for more shots but too sober to drink straight tequila on the rocks. Your plan to make a drink snowballed into you two dancing around the kitchen in scantily clad clothes, drunk off tequila, screaming dirty lyrics to your favorite songs.

It started with you leaned against a counter top trying to assemble the cocktail shaker when ‘Surround Sound’ by JID and 21Savage came on and it ended with you whining on Lauren, you two in fits of giggles. Your asses hanging out of your shorts, shaking. Your hands touching on your body, rapping the nastiest lines. You wouldn’t normally dance so slutty in front of other people, your close friends I.e Lauren, sure, maybe Trent as a joke but you two were just drunk messing about.

Marcel was bringing two of his friends to Greece and they had decided to stay over at yours to make things easy in the morning for the flight. He had a key to the house so he let them inside but was confused when he heard heavy bass vibrating from the kitchen. His friends looked at him for some sort of answer but he shrugged just as confused as them.

You were still throwing it back on Lauren joking when the three boys came into the kitchen. If they weren’t younger boys, baby-brother-like figures to you, you probably would’ve been mortified but instead in your drunk state you squealed excited to see Marcel specifically, running around the island to wrap your arms around his neck, hanging off him.

“What we saying drunk girl?” He joked looking down at you clinging to him.

“You’ll drink with me right? I know you will.” Your words were laced with tequila shots. You had texted Trent to come be with you but he didn’t respond. It made you a little sad but you pushed it out of your mind with more liquor. He saw your text and heard the music but just wanted you to spend some time with your friend before he was back all over you.

You unlatched from Marcel to say hi to the two friends who were a little shocked at the scene and Marcel’s calmness in it. To the boys, there were two older girls, in little clothing, drunk, grinding on each other. To Marcel, well… he was conflicted. This came up a lot with you. You were objectively attractive. He knew that. You were like his sister, he didn’t think of you like that but he couldn’t exactly get rid of the fact that you weren’t when you were like this or in situations like when he could hear you moaning getting fucked upstairs. It was all very confusing for him, it was like his body betrayed him. He loved you like a sister so in turn his confusion transferred and just pushed the narrative of him trying to get with your friends more. It was only natural for a little brother to try to pursue them.

You completely forgot about a night out you had in London after Liverpool had won some championship last year when Lauren and Marcel had gotten handsy in some club with each other after meeting. You saw them look at each other when he walked into the kitchen. They didn’t hook up, you didn’t even think there was a kiss, just some inappropriate touches exchanged. That was kind of Lauren’s thing. She pushed men. She wanted to know she had them in the palm of her hand. Grinding on them, whispering, moaning, trailing her hands down them, dragging theirs up her, licking her lips… She called it women empowerment, you called it teasing. She had successfully gotten Marcel where she wanted him. If she wanted to fuck him, she knew she could, if she didn’t… she didn’t. It made you feel a little differently watching her do it to someone you cared about knowing the play. As she laid her mark again seeing him it reminded you that you hadn’t told Lauren yet, kind of as a joke but also so she didn’t freak out, that Jude was also coming on this trip. Obviously he wasn’t there tonight because he wasn’t coming from England. Jude was probably one of your favorite of Trent’s friends on his own but the wake he left everywhere he went could be a lot. It didn’t affect you but you watched it ensue tucked in Trent’s arms. He was beautiful, objectively incredibly hot but he was younger so you kind of drew the line there. You didn’t really want to think about the other things you knew about him…things you’d seen. Before you even met Trent you had shown Lauren a video of the two boys on TikTok. You lusted after them. The whole country of England did. It was a dangerous pair but so were you and Lauren and you thought you could handle it. It was bizarre now that it could happen in real life so you weren’t sure what to tell her and now Marcel was involved. You were drunk, the whole situation blurred in your brain.

“Picking something good, f’me” you felt your cheeks warm at the sound of his voice. You were leaning over the kitchen island scrolling through Spotify like it was a novel, reading each song carefully trying to build a good queue for everyone who were coerced into drinking heavily. Trent’s hands lacing around you, caressing your stomach, you just hummed, staring at his big hands moving over your skin. “Hmm?”

“Yeah, baby.” If he couldn’t smell it, he could hear it in your tone. You were drunk and he was only aiding and abetting the lustful thoughts about him you got when you were drunk. He pressed his lips to the back of your neck and kept them there. “You wanna have my baby?” He whispered laughing jokingly.

“That sounds perfect,” you confessed, pushing your ass back into him.

“Dangerous words to say right now, pretty girl,” he warned, smirking into your skin. He held you in his arms. You were practically stumbling around the house. The night had spiraled. Trent told you he had to go get ready for bed because someone had to wrangle everyone tomorrow to make the flight. So he kissed you squeezing your ass, you bitting at his neck.

“Come up soon. Okay, baby?” He whispered in your ear. You hummed and started to try to leave a hickey on his neck. “Okay, okay, okay. I love you, drunk girl. Make sure you make it back upstairs to your T, yeah?”

“Mmm yeah, baby.” You practically moaned moving back to his lips to get a kiss. Once Trent had left, you decided maybe it was time to wrap things up. No matter how drunk you were, you hated messes so you tried to clean the kitchen up… pretty poorly though.

There were plenty of bedrooms in the house for three boys but they all were slumped on the living room couch refusing to move, watching a rerun of some 90s footie game, they weren’t even alive for. It was weird so you just turned the lights off on them. Letting them fend for themselves until you clocked that Lauren was laying very comfortably in between Marcel’s legs. It didn’t bother you exactly, it wasn’t your place to say who could do what with who, you just didn’t want anything to mess with the holiday or let anyone’s feelings get hurt. So for tonight, you took matters into your hands because of a long travel day tomorrow and dragged Lauren to a guest room knowing she’d complain she didn’t sleep well on a couch hungover tomorrow. You both drunkenly giggled about how bad of an idea it was for her to go near your boyfriends younger brother but a part of you was sober enough to try to threaten her not to touch anyone night one

“Don’t ruin your other nights for something tonight.” You slurred laughing falling on the bed with her. You said it as if that was sound reasoning and would convince her. It wasn’t, it wouldn’t. You successfully got yourself upstairs moving slowly up the stairs carefully holding water and ibuprofen. You peeled the little clothing you had on off in your dimly lit room, trying not to wake Trent but when you saw his bare back exposed laying in your bed, you didn’t really want to put pajamas on… not at all really. You were needy. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, turned the lights off and crawled into your bed cuddling up to your sleepy boy. You started pressing pretty sensual kisses all over him; his back, his neck, his face, just anywhere you could really. He rolled over and hummed a little, waking up some.

“Baby?” He groaned quietly.

“You’re so sexy, T.” You whispered, crawling on top of him, continuing with your kisses. He went to wrap his arms around you instinctively and became very aware you were naked.

“Beautiful, what we doing? Let’s go to sleep, yeah?” He cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Your hand glided over his abs to the waistband of his boxers trying to get to him but he stopped you. “Baby, baby, baby, okay. Come on. Let’s sleep. Come just give me a cuddle.” He asked sweetly.

“T…” you moaned working kisses up his neck. Coming to his ear to whisper. “I want you to fuck me please. I need you.” You were essentially moaning.

“Nah, baby, not like this. You know I don’t like that. Not when you’re this drunk and I’m sober.” His reasoning was incredibly sound.

“Pleasssee, I want you.” You were desperate trying to beg him.

“You’re very sexy, baby and you’re making this really hard.” He sleepily said but you could feel him getting hard underneath you so you started to grind on him, your hips rolling on top of his.

“Yeah? I make you hard?” You drunkenly misunderstood what he said.

“Yes, you do but I’m saying you’re making this very difficult for me right now so please just gimme a cuddle and let’s sleep.” He laughed at your desperation.

“Baby…” you huffed, pressing your cheek onto his bare chest sad about the rejection.

“I’ll fuck you tomorrow, trust me okay? I’m sorry sweet girl. I love you, baby.” He kissed the top of your head.

“T…” you whined once more.

“Shhhh, sleep hmm?” He whispered.

“But T…” you tried once more.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, what is it?” He couldn’t help but smile, he was tired but you were cute.

“I want a family with you.” You whined quietly, your eyes fluttering closed as your head feel heavier on him.

“And I know that, baby. I’m gonna give that to you just not right this second.” He continued to laugh a little.

“What about getting married?” You whispered, starting to fade, lulled by his warmth and slow breathing. Trent’s eyes lit up though.

“You want that?” He asked sheepishly but excitedly. He figured you were being brutally honest right now so he thought he’d ask.

“Mmmm, want that so bad.” Your words slurred together a little so he stopped despite having a million questions for you.

“Okay, okay” he laughed. “I’ll give you whatever you want if you just sleep f’me now.” As he pressed a kiss to your head, smiling.

“Can I stay right here?” He could barely hear your question. It was so soft and muffled against his skin, you were layed completely on top of him.

“Course.” Pressing more kisses to your head.

When you woke up your head was pounding. It was terrible. You stirred still on top of Trent. He was awake stroking his hand up and down your back.

“Good morning, sweet girl.” He cooed. “Gotta get up.”

“I feel awful.” You moaned.

“Yeah, I bet.” He laughed “I’m sorry, how about I get everyone else up and let you sleep a little more than come get you. Yeah?” You could only hum in reply.

He went to wake everyone else up and was met with a very interesting surprise. There were only two boys on the couch asleep.

“Aye, get up” Trent yelled into the living room, the two boys stirring unhappy with the loud call. “Where’s Marce?” Trent asked but was met only with murmurs.

He walked to go wake up Lauren, it was then it occurred to him what had occurred to you. ‘Oh fuck’ he said under his breathe walking down the hall.

“Laur…” he called out. Knocking on the bedroom door before opening it a little. The dark room was lit by some sunlight seeping through curtains. There on the large bed, no blankets, a naked Lauren lying on top of an equally clothesless Marcel. “You’re a fucking idiot, Marce.” Trent said into the currently quiet room.

“Oh fuck…” Lauren hushly spoke. “Honestly, don’t. I know, I know…” Trent picked up a blanket and threw it at them.

“Don’t tell Y/N” Marcel told his brother.

“Don’t tell Y/N? Are you serious? Honestly…” Trent moaned, walking out of the room annoyed. He came back upstairs to you putting the situation he just walked into in the back of his mind.

“You know what you’re wearing, sweetheart? I’ll grab it.” He cooed trying to help you. You hummed telling him you had left a Jacquemus sweat set in the wardrobe to wear. Once you had pulled yourself together you sat on the edge of the bed trying to wake up. “Gonna take your bag downstairs, okay?”

“Kay. Thank you, T” you cooed rubbing your hands over your face trying to feel better somehow. Marcel and Lauren were now clothed in the kitchen and to be fair Trent was surprised that everyone was actually ready. The cars to take you to the airport arrived but you hadn’t come down yet so he went back up to grab you… only you hadn’t moved off the bed.

“Can you carry me?” You whined with a pout.

“Yeah, baby.” He laughed while picking you up under your arms. You wrapped your legs around him, kissing his neck. “Everyone ready?” Trent yelled carrying you down the stairs. There wasn’t really a response. The group all just shuffled into the cars. You felt how weird the energy in the car was when you looked at Lauren. Something was off, you knew she had been with Marcel you could feel it.

Last night, drunkenly, Lauren found herself absolutely freezing in the room she was staying in. She got out of bed and walked to look for the thermostat. With little luck, she went to the living room to see if anyone was awake and would know where it was.

“Marce” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah sort of, sweetheart, what’s up?” Quietly as he was really half asleep still. He slowly pulled himself up and walked round the couch and met Lauren. Lauren was in a little silk camisole and shorts set.

“I’m so cold, do you know where the thermostat is for around here?” She whispered.

“You look pretty cold…” Marcel cheekily said as he glanced over her figure then focusing on her hard nipples under the thin silk.

“Stop!” She tried to quietly squeal, slapping at his bare chest, covering her own. They walked down the hall.

“I thought it was around here but I’m not seeing it…” he paused. “Erm.. you know what come on, you’re staying in here?” He asked, walking further down a corridor to the room. Marcel walked into her bedroom and went immediately into the wardrobe.

“Why do you have so much stuff in here?” Lauren asked as she sat on the bed watching him.

“Usually the room I stay in when I sleepover and I do quite a bit especially when Trent’s away so I don’t know I guess it’s ’my room’ ” he used air quotes before he continued to riffle through a few things before pulling out a jumper of his. “You wanna borrow this?”

“Oh, thanks so much Marce. I’m sorry I took your room though, I didn’t know.” She cooed, leaning further back on the bed.

“It’s no big deal.” He said starting to turn out.

“Marce… do you like to sleep alone?” She asked pretty suggestively.

“Nah, not particularly.” He quietly laughed.

“I really don’t and it’s your bed, would you want to sleep with me, like share?” The question was laced with hidden seduction.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind… I wouldn’t mind” he replied with a similar tone. From there it spiraled from separate sides of the bed, to a loose cuddle, to sexual movements, to kisses, to laying completely on top of one another, to a full a make out… and the rest from there would be graphic. Let’s just say they fucked until about an hour before Trent went to wake them up.

When you arrived at the tarmac to board the plane, Trent indulged you and carried you on board. The crew took all the luggage. You got aboard and were practically ready to fall asleep from the jump, once in the air, Trent saw you squirming trying to get comfortable.

“Baby…sleepy girl, C’mere.” He cooed, gesturing you over to where he was sitting. You slugged your way over and laid on top of his lap, his arms wrapping around you tight, rubbing his hands under your sweatshirt over your soft skin. He held you close to his chest. You nuzzled into him. You hummed in contentment till you dozed off. He placed kisses on you any time you stirred whispering to you. “I got you, your Ts right here.”

•

This was a little rushed so idk… ugh! Swear we have some angst coming though 😳

Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 21 xx

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #you’re mine fic #taa x reader

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