#and can't go back to the doctor's before monday so

[penkura]

last forever [3/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: At time of posting, this is the most recent chapter I have finished. Chapter four will be worked on and hopefully posted tomorrow (4/29), then I will update every Monday, hopefully.

Your stress is through the roof, watching Zoro fight against Dracule Mihawk. You're wringing your hands hearing Luffy tell Johnny and Yosaku not to interfere, and it makes you want to jump over and help. You knew this was his plan as soon as name left Johnny's mouth before you all arrived at Baratie, you hadn't gotten the chance to tell him he should wait, and seeing his swords break, the large attack from Mihawk that left him bloodied and Luffy screaming his name now makes you wish you could go back and do that.

"Sis, we need your sewing skills!!"

Johnny and Yosaku brought Zoro onto a small ship manned by Usopp, one you'd probably be taking to go after Nami and bring her and the Merry back.

You're about to jump in and go to them, before remembering the one thing keeping you from doing so.

Damn it, I can't swim!

"You have to bring him over here! You guys know I can't swim!"

"We can't get close enough," Usopp yells and looks between you and Zoro, "He's bleeding really bad!"

Biting your lip, you barely notice Luffy wrapping his arms around you three times before he says your name.

"You're gonna fly!!"

"Wait wha–"

Luffy lifts you up and stretches his arms all the way over, making sure you've touched down on the boat before he lets go, arms snapping back as he tells you to help Zoro. You start getting your supplies ready, your heart pounding in your ears and you barely notice Zoro awake, lifting up Wado Ichimonji and making a promise to Luffy with heavy breaths and tears you've never seen before.

Actually, you've never seen Zoro cry before this day.

"Until I become…the world's greatest swordsman, I swear…I'll never lose again! Got that, King of the Pirates?!"

Hearing Luffy's agreement makes you smile as you stare at Zoro, quickly remembering you have to start stitching him up or he'll bleed to death in this tiny boat. Usopp starts you all in the direction Nami took the Going Merry, while Johnny and Yosaku watch you with tear filled eyes as you stitch up the gash from Mihawk down Zoro's chest, he's nearly fast asleep by the time you finish and cut the thread.

A very quiet word of thanks leaves his mouth before he's asleep, you simply respond telling him not to mention it, rinsing your hands in the sea water. Johnny gives you praise for being able to stitch up such a large wound, Usopp saying you were one of the best he'd ever seen for a makeshift doctor. You hear them, but don't respond, watching Zoro sleep instead. Despite his loss to Mihawk he looks as if he's resting peacefully, and that makes you happy to think about for the time being.

You're quiet as you place a hand on his face, stroking his cheek slightly while telling the others that he'll be alright, before removing your hand from his face.

You'd love to tell him how amazed you are and that you have feelings for him, but now's not the time. Maybe another day, when you aren't chasing down your friend who's stolen your ship and is going off to who knows where, and maybe when Zoro isn't unconscious from nearly bleeding out after taking on a fight he couldn't win (but oh how badly you wanted him to win it).

Right now, you have to focus on Nami.

+!+

How you all have now liberated three towns from Pirates or the threat of Pirates, you aren't sure. Your crew isn't anything like the Pirates your parents had tried to teach you to fear as a child. Luffy was far too kind and really only wanted to be King of the Pirates, but helping Nami came first.

Freeing her home from Arlong and his Fishman Pirates was the main priority of the day, and you were glad to lend a hand. Nami had become your best friend in no time, you had to help her. Even when you were told (ordered really) to stay back by Zoro, you made sure you were ready to help if needed.

And you tried. Tried to pull Zoro away after he'd beaten Hachi and was on the verge of collapse from a fever and his wounds from Mihawk, but he tried to shove you away and tell you he was fine despite the dizzied look he had. Arlong ripping his stitches out caused you to try again, trying to help him, but you were stopped by Johnny and Yosaku pulling you back, telling you not to bother because you'd just die.

Even seeing Luffy swap places with Zoro terrified you that he was going to be even more badly injured, but you were still held back by your old friends through the end of Luffy's fight against Arlong, finally freeing Nami and her hometown.

Your biggest concern afterwards was Zoro, but when you saw him later that day with a drink in hand you knew he was fine. Most of your time at the party was spent with Nami and her sister Nojiko, listening to Usopp tell his stories to the kids, and sharing Sanji's food with Luffy. Every now and then you'd look for and find Zoro, a few times smiling brightly at him when you caught his eye, which made him look away from you immediately.

Sanji, still brand new to the crew, noticed the looks you and Zoro shared that night. You were strange, your relationship with him, whatever it was, was strange to him.

Even stranger, he notices you leave Nami and Nojiko at one point, hurrying over to Zoro and latching onto his arm, making him lean in to hear whatever you had to say. He rolls his eyes while you smile, but doesn't shake you off, letting you move his arm around your shoulders while he has another drink.

You're weird, both of you. The rest of the crew isn't phased at all by the two of you being so buddy-buddy, but Sanji wonders what you two have going on. Are you together? How long have you known each other? Surely you only met when you each joined Luffy, right?

When Zoro leaves you to go look for Luffy, food, or another drink, whatever it is, you seem content to be left alone, until Sanji sees your shoulders drop and you look almost like you're going to cry. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, he's not sure.

But if Zoro said or did something to upset you, Sanji was going to make sure the swordsman paid for it.

+!+

The majority of your crew doesn't know of your struggles with nightmares. Normally they take the form of your parents, the man they were going to force you to marry, and being trapped in a loveless life in your home village where most treated their children like property to be sold. Your only solace there being your older brother who was protective over you. Being the one to help you run away, making you swear to never come back and to take his sword to protect yourself after he'd spent the last few years teaching you how to use it.

You were good at keeping those demons to yourself, to not worry anyone. The nightmares had been less lately anyway, you felt safe with everyone around. The six of you on your way to Loguetown, you and Nami snatching up the office area as your room, both turning in late in the night after long talks about numerous things.

Your bad dreams, however, took a new form that night. This time, the dream takes you back to Baratie, back to Zoro's fight against Mihawk, and instead of him waking long enough for his promise to Luffy, you're sitting beside him while he bleeds from the wound and you're unable to move. You can't bring yourself to start stitching him up, and before anything else happens, you've woken up.

While it wasn't as bad as the dreams about your parents, it was enough to shock you awake and into a seated position on your bed. Nami is still fast asleep in her own bed, apparently not having noticed or heard your heavy breathing from the nightmare. You don't know why your nightmares took this turn, you'd much rather deal with seeing your parents in your dreams than seeing your closest friend and ally dying in front of you, even though he was just down the hall and alive.

It's several minutes of tossing and turning before you decide to get up and sneak off to the boys' bunks, turning back to your habit you'd been determined to stop as more crewmates joined, but you can't help it.

The past nightmares have been enough to make you slip into bed with Zoro before, he never fought you over it and let you stay, let you continue when it was just the two of you, but with more friends you worried they'd all get the wrong idea.

And maybe they will, but if Zoro doesn't mind and it helps you sleep, they shouldn't complain or tease you. Hopefully.

Usopp and Luffy are both spread out on the floor, making you have to tiptoe around them to get to Zoro's hammock, not even registering that Sanji's is empty.

You're quiet while you slip in and under the blanket, wrapping your arms around Zoro and making yourself comfortable. You figured he was asleep when you walked in, but his hand moves to grab one of your own, thumb stroking the back of your hand while he waits to hear if you say anything.

You don't, Zoro doesn't mind, he knows you won't tell him the contents of your nightmares anymore, not after the first one. If you're unable to sleep, he's glad to let you join him and keep you safe. He promised he would do so, helping keep your demons away so you could rest.

Unfortunately, your peaceful sleep is interrupted early in the morning by Sanji shouting at Zoro to get off you, like he'd done something wrong when you were the one to climb into his hammock.

"What do you think you're doing to [Y/N]-chan, you moss head?! Get your hands off her!"

A pillow lands on your face, likely aimed for Zoro, but it misses him due to the fact his face is buried in your shoulder while one arm is around you. Normally your face would be red at this, but with Sanji still nearly screeching for Zoro to "unhand" you, all you can think about is crawling in a hole and dying.

Zoro gets fed up and eventually lets you go, taking the pillow that disturbed you both and throwing it back at Sanji with twice the force.

"Shut up already!! You're going to wake the whole damn East blue!"

"I will as soon as you stop violating sweet [Y/N]!"

Yeah you really want to just up and die right now.

"Who's violating her?!"

"You are, you savage!"

"How do I violate my own wife when she's the one that crawled into my bed?!"

Everything goes quiet, you don't want to know what look is on Sanji's face at the moment, but you're grateful for Nami coming in and telling everyone to shut up, even though she's a moment too late. Luffy and Usopp were awake and just watching the scene unfold, until Zoro's statement which makes Usopp's eyes go wide and Luffy laughs. He just knew you two wouldn't be able to keep this secret.

You're so embarrassed that you pull the blanket up over your now definitely bright red face, wishing Zoro and Sanji didn't feel the need to egg each other on and instigate all these petty fights.

When you finally decide to look and see what's going on, Luffy's still laughing, Nami is confused, Zoro's still got a glare set on Sanji, while your chef and Usopp are both looking at the two of you wide eyed, disbelief on their faces before there's one outburst from Sanji.

"Your WHAT?!"

+!+

It feels like an interrogation. You're in the kitchen still in your pajamas with Usopp and Sanji both questioning you and Zoro about your little marriage, Nami and Luffy enjoying breakfast to your side.

Zoro's completely unbothered by the whole thing, answering Sanji's questions with an annoyed look, while you answer Usopp's inquiries with your face still red from the way everyone was woken up that morning.

Eventually, they come to realize you two are only married to prevent the arranged one your parents set up, making Sanji sigh in relief and Usopp is slightly concerned but seems to understand.

“So, one more time,” you just can’t look at Usopp while he relays your situation once again, “You and Zoro got married to prevent you being forced into an arranged marriage, but you’re going to annul?”

You nod, taking glances at Zoro, who continues to glare at Sanji for waking you both too early. All of this was too much first thing in the morning, and you both had decided to keep this little marriage a secret from any new recruits, wanting only Luffy and Nami to know because you’d both slipped up with calling each other husband and wife without thinking about it in front of them.

"And you're just waiting for your parents to say something?"

You nod again at Sanji's question. "It's weird, I know but…I just can't go back there. My older brother told me never to go back, or I'd definitely be forced into that marriage."

"Your parents suck." Luffy nodded, still eating his breakfast when you look over at him with a smile. "But we'll keep you safe! We'll fight anyone that tries to take you from us!"

"No one's forcing you back home," Zoro doesn't look at you, instead moving to leave and start his training for the day despite not having breakfast yet, "I'll make sure of that."

There's something in the way he says it, as you thank everyone, that makes Sanji lean back in his seat and watch Zoro leave. Even with you both stating you were not in love and were going to annul the marriage as soon as you heard from your parents, Sanji swears there's something weird about the way Zoro treats you.

It might just be friendship, but it feels like something more that neither of you are saying. You absolutely could be hiding real feelings for each other, he knows that, the way you two speak to each other and work together seems to say so, but until either of you say anything, Sanji isn't willing to believe this is anything more than a sham marriage.

There's something else, he's noticed in his short time with you all, in the way you look at Zoro, the way you speak to him as well. Zoro's a tough guy, but you speak so gently and kindly to him, it's almost like you really are his wife and want to stay that way. Maybe it's just your dynamic since you two have known each other much longer than the other Straw Hats, but Sanji isn't convinced. You and Usopp break him out of his train of thought by asking for breakfast, which he proceeds to provide you both with a grin, deciding he'll have to ask you another time if you have feelings for the moss head swordsman. If your heart's already taken, he'll gladly leave you be, despite his rivalry with Zoro.

[fuckthisshitimin]

OK, it's over ten days of almost not drawing can the tendonitis go away now plz plz plz

[liebelesbe]

ok i have to think about this rationally & stop panicking so I can finally sleep. gonna talk to myself in the tags for a bit.

[harryshomebaby]

this is literally the worst i've ever felt in my life and i have to leave for work in 20 minutes

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 5 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob was willing to try to be friends with Anna, but he knew his feelings wouldn't go away overnight. The more time he spent around her, the harder it seemed to make that happen. When Bradley and Jake make a suggestion about Bob's dating agenda, Anna doesn't seem crazy about it. And Bob ends up even more confused by her actions than her words. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, mentions of cheating, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Being friends with Anna was one of the worst things Bob had ever had to do. But being around her while still keeping his distance was better than the alternative, so he had to do it. When she texted him, he responded immediately, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd like to hold her hand.

She was all smiles when he saw her again a few days later. This time, she was the one who invited him out for a cup of coffee on Saturday morning, and he jumped at the chance to go. After cancelling his breakfast plans with Mickey with the promise that he'd be at the bar before Dungeons & Dragons, he hopped in his truck and drove off to meet Anna.

He was early, but she was already there. "Hey, Bob," she said, waving to him from a small table near the back as he approached. She already had two drinks in front of her, and Bob's brow creased in something like annoyance as he made his way to her.

"I was going to pay for your coffee," he said, meeting her brown eyes as he dropped slowly into the empty seat. 

"You paid the other day," she replied, sliding the hot tea a little closer to him. "Plus, you bought me two books."

All Bob could think about as he looked at her tentative smile was the fact that he wanted nothing more than to buy Anna every book she wanted for the rest of her life. Massive anthologies and slim romance novels and poetry collections and autobiographies... he wanted to get her every single one that sparked her interest. He wanted to catch her attention in just the same way literature did. He wanted to be what she curled up in bed with after a long day.

Bob cleared his throat. "Thanks for the tea, but next time I'm paying."

"Deal," she said softly before blowing on her hot coffee with another smile. 

"Great. In that case, we can go out for an expensive lobster dinner," he told her with a little grin. "You already agreed."

Anna looked at him as she took a sip. "Is an expensive lobster dinner something friends would enjoy together?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Bob's heart started beating a little faster. "I think friends can do whatever they want."

She studied him for a moment before reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a book. "This is for you. It's from my own personal stash, so it's a little worn out, but I thought you might like to borrow it."

When he accepted the dog eared paperback copy of The Remains of the Day, her fingers brushed against his. "Thank you. I'll add it to my list of Dr. Webber recommendations."

She blushed slightly, and her hand went to her cheek as she said, "Dr. Webber. Sometimes I still can't believe I finished my doctorate after putting it on hold for so long."

Bob sipped his tea. "Why did you put it on hold? It's easy to see how much it means to you."

Anna chewed on her lip before she softly said, "I made some bad decisions, but I won't be doing that again. Do you want to split a croissant?" 

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

"So," Jessica said, heaving a deep sigh at lunchtime on Monday. She looked like she had just received some devastating news, and when Anna glanced toward her other friend holding her tie dyed lunchbox, she found a similar expression on her face as well. "It's true? You and Bob are friends?"

"You don't have to say it like that," Anna replied, dropping down onto the bench between the two of them with the weird looking tree behind her. "You were the ones who encouraged me to make a new friend in the first place!"

"We thought you'd snap out of it after like ten minutes alone with him again," Advanced Calculus said as she bit into the pretty lunch that Bradley had clearly packed for her. "Poor Bob."

Anna scuffed the toe of her old, beat up shoe along the concrete in front of her as she sipped her can of ginger ale. "It's not like I'm some amazing option or something," she muttered, remembering how adorable he looked when she handed him her own book for him to borrow. "Bob could do better."

"Anna!" Jessica gasped. "Don't say that about yourself! It's simply not true! You're the best!"

Anna swallowed hard, embarrassment starting to fill her up as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She wasn't used to being around anyone who said kind words to or about her. The fact that she almost couldn't handle hearing them was making her feel vulnerable. "I just mean... I'm not really emotionally available, so it would be in his best interest to stop returning my crush on him." She was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to stop her own feelings at this point.

The other two women were quiet for a beat, and Anna started to get nervous, but then there was a fancy container of veggies and some sort of dip being held out in front of her. She helped herself to a carrot stick as her friend finally asked, "Are you ready to talk about Kevin?"

She crunched hard into the carrot before saying, "I don't like to talk about cheaters."

Jessica made a disgusted sound and said, "That's probably half of the male population. But... I think it's safe to talk about Bob." Anna groaned, and Jessica quickly added, "Okay, fine, I'll stop now!"

"Kevin cheated on you?" Advanced Calculus said, cutting right to the chase. "What a fucking dick."

"Yeah," Anna whispered, wondering why this lunch meetup was becoming so emotional. "It went on for years, as far as I can tell. I was just too busy working and trying to stay above water to notice at first. He's... still with her. I think." But Anna knew the truth; all Kevin really did was find an upgrade and stick with her. He found another medical doctor with a thriving career, just like himself.

"Men are disgusting," Jessica said ferociously. "I was going through a bit of a rough patch when I met Jake, so keep your head up, okay? There are some good ones out there."

Anna snorted. "I think the two of you found the only good ones left."

"Nah. But I do think they might all be in the Navy."

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

Bob was surprised on Friday night when he got to the Hard Deck a little later than usual and found Anna there. The deep copper of her hair was illuminated by the lights above the pool table as she stood next to Jake, sipping a glass of ginger ale. She looked like she belonged here now, even though it was just her second visit, and when Bob got closer, he could hear her asking Jake about him.

"So everyone has a call sign? In the entirety of the United States Navy?"

"No," Jake replied with a chuckle. "Not everyone."

"And your call sign is Hangman? And Bradley's is Rooster?"

"That's right."

"What's Bob's?"

Bob smiled softly, enjoying the fact that she was asking about him without realizing he was standing right there. "It's just Bob," he said, making her jump a bit in surprise as she looked up and found him immediately with her dark eyes.

She examined him with a soft smile on her lips. "Just Bob. I think I like that better. I'd probably want to be just Anna if I had a call sign. Do you want to play pool with me? We can lose to Jessica together."

It took Bob a second to put everything together in his mind. Anna wasn't making fun of his call sign where everyone else usually would have been. And now she was holding out a pool cue toward him with a hopeful look on her face that was slowly starting to fade away as he stood motionless. "Yes," he finally said, reaching out to take it from her. Just like at the coffee shop, their fingers met briefly, and Bob just wanted to hold her hand in the worst way. And maybe try to count her freckles. And maybe kiss her. He cleared his throat. "I'd love to play. Losing to Jessica is so much fun."

"It's everyone's favorite way to spend a Friday night!" Jessica replied, brandishing a Sam Adams in one hand and a blue chalk cube in the other.

"No way, Smart Girl. I like what comes later even better," Jake replied, wrapping his arm around her waist, and Bob had to look away as he kissed his girlfriend. Jake had been talking about engagement rings in the locker room the other day, and Bob was sworn to secrecy. 

He promised not to say anything. He wouldn't. The two of them belonged together, and Bob could tell how happy they would be, but he still felt nauseatingly jealous of their love. Especially when Jessica kissed Jake and whispered, "Save the dirty talk for later."

Bob's eyes found Anna's as she got the table set up. He was going to work really hard at this friendship thing, but someday when he inevitably saw her with another guy's arms wrapped around her, hugging her, he was certain he was going to have to excuse himself from her presence. But for now, all he could do was look at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, touching her cheek after she set the eight ball in place.

"Just a cute smile," Bob replied, and then he had the distinct desire to disappear as said smile grew a little bigger before she pressed her lips together. Clearly he couldn't be trusted not to make things weird. "Let's play."

They were about five minutes into the game when Bradley and his wife walked over, and Bob was really enjoying the way Anna accidentally bumped into him. Twice. But then he was reminded of the other topic of conversation that had been brought up in the locker room at work.

"Hey Bob, you still thinking about downloading a dating app?" Bradley asked him casually. Anna fumbled and dropped the blue chalk that she was holding. Bob picked it up and handed it to her, but she didn't even meet his eyes when she took it.

"Uh, I might," he replied, watching Anna miss her shot at the nine ball by a mile. Bradley and Jake were the ones who mentioned the app to begin with, and when Bob showed the slightest bit of interest, they ran with the idea. "Still undecided."

"I can help you make a profile," Bradley said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll just have to let me know if you'd rather find your soulmate or be knee deep in as much pussy as you can handle."

Bob felt his cheeks warm up as Bradley's wife smacked him on the chest and told him to be quiet. When he chanced a glance at Anna, she was already looking at him with wide, brown eyes. Truthfully, Bob kind of wanted to find his soulmate and be getting a lot of pussy, but just from that one person. 

"Can we talk about this later?" he muttered, sinking the nine ball for his team when it was finally his turn.

"Sure. We can download it later," Bradley said with a smirk that didn't quite sit well with Bob. That wasn't what he meant at all, and now Anna wasn't even looking at him. It took him bringing her another glass of ginger ale for her to even acknowledge he was still there.

"Thanks," she said softly as she took it from him. They'd been trounced by Jess and Jake, and now they were standing off to the side together. "You know," she added, "if you download a dating app, you'd probably get a lot more attention if you put up a photo of you in your uniform. Or one of those jumpsuit things."

Bob shook his head and looked at his feet. "You'd swipe right?" he asked before he could think better of it.

Anna laughed and said, "Honestly? I'd swipe right if you were wearing your Dungeons & Dragons shirt."

Once again, he didn't know what to say. She only wanted to be friends with him, but this was the second time she told him she found him attractive. "It's called a flight suit," he said, waiting for her to meet his eyes. When she did, she looked confused. "Not a jumpsuit."

She smiled again at the clarification. "Well, whatever they are, I like them. And the call signs. Especially yours. You seem like you don't need a lot of fancy stuff. Just Bob."

"Just Bob," he whispered. He didn't need anything fancy, but right now he sure wanted Anna.

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

On Tuesday at lunchtime, Anna was the first one to the bench, and she had to sit there awkwardly and hope that her friends showed up. She could be back in her office, alone, thinking about what she wanted to do in her next Feminist Literature lecture. She was about to text them when she glanced up as Jessica's glasses reflected the bright sunlight, and both women were heading her way. Then she saw her beat up copy of The Remains of the Day held in the same hand that was holding the tie dye lunchbox.

"This is from Bob. He gave it to Bradley to give to me, and I had to promise to give it to you."

Anna took the book from her and whispered, "Thank you." Had Bob already finished reading another of her recommended books? Was he really this perfect? That's when she noticed there was a slip of paper peeking out between the pages, and she barely heard her two friends talking as she pulled it out.

Anna,

You really need a bookmark. All of the dog eared pages made me feel terrible for this poor book as I read it. I enjoyed the story immensely, but seriously, you need to stop folding the pages over to save your spot. Unless it was your intention to bring an element of horror into the tale? If so, well done. Also, now that I have your attention, do you feel like grabbing a drink on Thursday evening? We could go to Chippy's and eat some of the best peanuts in the world. Just text me and let me know.

Bob

She whimpered softly. Everything this man did delighted her. She wanted to recommend a dozen more books to him if it meant she could have one more little handwritten note to tuck away. Or to use as the bookmark that would keep him from stressing out about the pages.

"Earth to Anna," Jessica said, waving a hand in front of her face and making her finally look up. 

"Bob asked me to go to Chippy's with him," she blurted out, holding the note tight in her hand. 

"Oh!" Advanced Calculus gasped. "You should go!"

"No," Advanced Physics whined. "That was supposed to be a girls' night outing!"

"I want her to go. It's the only thing that will get Bob off the dating app. I can't believe Bradley brought that up in the first place. He doesn't know a damn thing about it."

"I want her to go with us for the first time!"

Anna looked back and forth between the two of them, that familiar whiplash feeling returning as they argued with her in the middle. But in the meantime, she got her phone out and texted Bob.

If we go to Chippy's without Jessica, I think she might have a fit.

Bob must have been on his lunch break as well, because he wrote back a minute later while the two of them were still arguing. 

Bob Floyd: All the more reason to do it, really.

Anna laughed quietly as she told him about her office hours on Thursday, promising to meet him for some life changing peanuts at 7:15. Then she put her phone away and announced, "I'm going with Bob. The three of us can go to Chippy's on a different night."

Jessica looked mildly annoyed while her other friend looked smug and said, "Get him off the dating app. Those women will eat that sweet man alive."

But Anna knew she couldn't and shouldn't even try to do anything about that. Friends were supposed to be supportive of each other, and Bob was her friend. Just her friend. But when she thought about how much attention he was probably getting, it just made her so sad. She could have had that. She could have been the one with his beautiful eyes focused on her while she inhaled his delicious scent.

Maybe she'd just make one quick comment about the app when they were together. "I'll see what I can do."

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

Of course Bob would get dismissed early on Thursday when he had nothing better to do than wait around until it was time to go to Chippy's with Anna. He skipped the locker room shower, opting to head home to get ready instead, and it looked like Jake and Bradley were of a similar mind as they walked out to the parking lot at the same time as him.

"You said you'd share your lasagna recipe," Bradley said, annoyance laced in his voice. "Sugar really likes it."

"I said I would think about it," Jake replied smoothly. "It's not like you need help getting laid. It's not like you're Bob. No offense, Bob."

He just sighed and glared at the blonde. "I don't need help getting laid."

"Sure, pal," Jake replied as he approached his truck. "But I'll give you a free tip anyway. I'm going to go home and shower and pack up dinner. Then I'm going to stop and get some flowers for Jess, because girls like that shit. Then I'm going to her office hours where the combination of a homemade meal and pretty flowers will have her pulling her panties off as soon as I walk in."

"Please," Bob moaned. His stomach turned at the thought of Jessica, who made up a ridiculous voice for her D&D character, removing any article of her clothing. "Please stop. She's my friend."

"So is Anna," Bradley said with a smirk. "Did you download Tinder yet? Or are you going to stop and get some flowers and man up before you go to Chippy's?"

He didn't know how to explain to them that the last thing he wanted to do was push her away, and he was almost certain that a romantic gesture like giving her flowers would do just that. He also wished he hadn't even told them that he and Anna were going to Chippy's together. It was another excuse to see her, sure, but he was convinced she'd really like the peanuts.

"I have it under control," Bob muttered, passing Bradley's Bronco and heading for his own truck. Anna told him she'd made some bad decisions in her life, and he wanted to know more. Maybe going out tonight would be a way for her to open up to him a little bit. He knew from real life as well as some of the books he read that love could be built on solid friendships, but he tried not to tell himself that something like that could work out for him. Friendship was enough. 

"Robert!" Suzanne called from her open front door as he walked up the path. "You're home early."

"Hey, Suzanne. Yeah, got out early today."

"You know what you should do, Robert? You should spend this extra time getting on a dating app."

He paused with his key in the lock of his own front door and listened to the game show that she was watching as the sound filtered outside. "Thanks so much for that amazing idea, Suzanne. Have a great night."

It didn't take him too long to get ready, and while he definitely didn't want to show up at Chippy's with a bouquet of flowers, he came up with another idea. A better idea. And if he could manage to locate Anna's office in the English building, he would meet her there.

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

Anna had one student show up to her office hours, and even then, it was just so he could complain about how they were only reading 'books by girls' in English 522.

"It's Feminist Literature," she explained slowly. "The main themes and topics revolve around equality of the sexes and advocacy for women's rights. The female point of voice is what we are exploring this semester."

"But why is it all chicks? I don't really like these books."

She sighed and said, "Everything has been on the syllabus since the first lecture, and I haven't deviated from it. If you don't think you can handle it, then I suggest your drop the class."

When he finally left, she groaned and put her head down on her desk. Just a few more minutes, and she could go meet Bob. Bob Floyd. The man who read books by authors of every kind. The man who would probably enjoy sitting in one of her lectures. The man of her dreams.

"Fuck you, Kevin," she whispered before picking her head up and fixing her braid. When there was another knock on her door, she jumped in her seat. "Come in!"

And then there he was, pushing the door open and filling up her tiny office with his broad shoulders and handsome features. Bob smiled at her, and she immediately believed everything would be okay forever. "Hi," she whispered, standing up behind her desk, the large piece of furniture the only thing between them now. "Bob."

Then her eyes dipped down as he held out his hand. "These are for you." He was holding a six pack of ginger ale cans, and it was then that the smell of clean soap and hot tea invaded her senses. "An office warming gift."

"You're sweet," she said softly, and he smiled as she accepted the treat from him. "Thanks."

He just shrugged and looked around the room. "Nice place you got here."

Anna laughed. "You don't have to lie about it. You're tall enough that you could touch that wall with your hand and the opposite wall with your foot at the same time," she said, pointing from one side of the space to the other.

"It's still nice," he told her as he adjusted his glasses. "You must have two hundred books in here. And it smells like a library. And bread?"

She nodded and said, "That's because I'm near the cafeteria. You get used to it."

Bob's laughter and genuine smile had her whole body clenching. "Smells better than jet fuel. You ready to go to Chippy's?"

"Yeah." It came out like a whine. This felt like a date. She wanted it to be a date. She wanted to live in an alternate universe where she could feasibly date someone. As she set her ginger ale cans down and picked up her office key and tote bag, she started to make her way to the door. When she stopped, Bob bumped into her, his hands landing on her waist.

"Sorry," he muttered, and he put some space between their bodies immediately.

"It's okay," she replied, pulling the door closed and locking it. Anna couldn't control the thundering of her heart as they walked side by side down the hallway and stepped outside into the cool, evening air. What was she supposed to talk about with her friend Bob when she just kept thinking about his hands on her body? She cleared her throat as they walked quietly down the sidewalk toward the bar. "Did you wear your jumpsuit at work today?"

Bob's smirk made her giggle. "Flight suit, Anna. For someone who has a bunch of friends in the Navy, you could really use a tutorial. And yes, I did wear my flight suit."

She bit her lip and tried to picture him in it. "I liked your khaki uniform with all the pins on it."

His brow scrunched up as he looked at her, leading the way toward Chippy's. "When did you see my service khakis?"

Oh shit. She'd been staring at the selfie he sent from the bookstore so frequently, she just outed herself. "Um. You sent a picture to me. A while ago."

His features smoothed out as he held the bar door open for her to walk past him. "Right." His voice sounded a little deeper as she passed him. "Forgot about that."

She sure hadn't, and she never ever would. Scrambling for something to say as she walked across the sticky floor littered with peanut shells toward a group of students drinking beers, she blurted out, "I thought all Naval uniforms were navy blue."

When he pulled out a stool for her at a high top table, she took a seat. His voice was close to her ear as he said, "Your tutorial begins now. Can't have you embarrassing yourself like this next time you come to the Hard Deck. You want a beer?"

She wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing she needed was something that would amplify the way her heart felt like it was beating erratically right now, but she simply nodded. Then Bob disappeared, leaving her really wondering what this tutorial might include. She tracked his movements back toward the bar where an older man with a deep scowl on his face started to reach for two pint glasses. Bob pulled his wallet out of his snug pocket, and Anna was too distracted to realize that he was paying for something for her. Again. 

"Damn it," she groaned, realizing how quickly she was slipping tonight. She wanted Bob to explain in great detail everything about the United States Navy while she ate peanuts. She wanted to feed him some and let her fingertips brush his lips. "Stop it." He was returning to the table now, and she watched as two women at another table pointed at him subtly. He was so attractive, and the way he was carrying two full glasses cupped in one big palm left her dizzy.

"Here you go," he said, handing her one of the beers along with a big dish of peanuts. "Best peanuts in San Diego. I swear."

Anna took one and smashed it open as she said, "I'll be the judge of such things." Bob looked really sure of himself as he sat down opposite her, and as soon as she tasted it, she knew he was right. It was roasted to perfection with just the perfect amount of salt. "Oh, god."

"Told you," he replied, reaching into the dish for a few. "But don't tell Penny I said that. I don't want to break her heart."

And that was just thing about Bob. Anna would have believed him if he said he never wanted to break anyone's heart. His fingers brushed against her as they both reached for more peanuts at the same time, but he ended up scooting them a little closer to her. 

"There are some that are navy blue," he said, his eyes bright behind his glasses. "Uniforms, that is."

"I knew it!"

"But we hardly ever wear them," he added with a soft smile. "We wear the white ones even less frequently."

"White ones?" Anna asked as she took a sip of her beer, eyes fixed on Bob's fingers as he worked a peanut out of the shell. She could write poetry about his hands, they were just that graceful and strong looking. He was talking, but she could barely keep up with the conversation, and when she set her beer down, it was half empty. 

"But that's just when I fly with Phoenix," he was saying. "I've been getting tossed around from pilot to pilot recently, which I hate. But my flight suits are what I wear the most, followed by my khaki uniform."

"It looked nice on you," Anna whispered loudly, surprised that she said it out loud. Again. 

"You said that before," Bob replied, his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink. Would he feel warm to the touch? Why was it so hot inside Chippy's? Why did Anna agree to come here without the girls?

She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, wishing she wasn't so awkward. "Why did you study aviation? You seem like you'd have been a spectacular English major."

Bob shrugged. "A free ride to the Naval Academy is prestigious enough that you just don't turn that down. Where did you get your PhD?"

Anna hated answering this question, but she'd be honest with Bob. "I started out at Princeton, but it was expensive, and I decided to use my money for... other things. I finished at a state school. A New Jersey state school."

"But you finished," he said with a smile as she gulped down the rest of her beer in one go. "You've got more letters after your name than I do."

Anna laughed, because he wasn't wrong. "But you've got more letters before your name than I do. Lieutenant Floyd."

"No, I don't," he said easily. "Dr. Webber."

"Shit," she croaked, really feeling the beer now. "You're right. That sounds so badass."

"It is badass," he promised as Anna's head swam with warmth and desire and contentment. He cracked open another peanut, slipping it between his parted lips. She leaned in a little closer, and his eyes went wide at what she said. 

"Did you download a dating app? I don't think you should. The guys don't know what they're talking about, and you don't really need it. You could get anyone."

Bob studied her as she tried to keep her expression neutral, fingers spinning her empty glass around nervously in front of her. "No," he said slowly. "I didn't download an app. If I'm being honest, I think I'm still hung up on the idea of meeting someone and falling for them naturally. Like accidentally bumping into them in a bookstore." Her mouth went dry as he softly said, "That's kind of what I always wanted."

It was her. She was the one he bumped into before they even knew they had mutual friends. She was that girl from the bookstore. Why couldn't she have this? She wanted it, too! And now he thought she didn't. 

"It's okay," he said before finishing off his beer. "We can be friends." He set the glass down, and Anna felt his gaze move from her lips up to her eyes. "You ready to go?"

"Yes," she whispered, slowly reaching for her things. "Thanks for the beer."

Bob shrugged as he helped her down from the stool. "Any excuse to come to Chippy's."

As they walked past the clusters of students on their way toward the door, Anna waved to the bartender. "Does he always look that cranky?"

"Ol' Chippy? Yes. Always."

She made a point to wave a little more vigorously as Bob's hand found her side and guided her outside while she laughed. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a lightweight, and now it's my goal to get him to laugh."

"I have a feeling you'll be working on that mission for a while," Bob said close to her ear. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she whispered. "Just silly."

Bob couldn't seem to help himself as he chuckled and led her along the sidewalk with one hand resting softly between her shoulder blades. "I don't really know what that means yet when it comes to you, Anna. Let me drive you home."

"Okay. It's not far," she replied, trying to imagine what it would be like if Bob ever saw the inside of her tiny apartment as she rattled off her street address. She climbed into his truck with a little bit of help, and then he reached for her seatbelt before pausing and placing it in her hand. 

"Buckle up," he told her as she stared down into his face.

"I will," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "If you promise not to download that app."

His lips twitched into a smile. "You have my word."

Bob walked around the front of his truck before climbing in and starting up the engine. He played with the radio dials while he drove as Anna breathed in her surroundings. Everything smelled good in here where Bob's fresh soap scent seemed to blend with the tang of jet fuel. She had to press her thighs together as she imagined running her nose along the front of his flight suit before he got himself cleaned up after a shift at work. 

"Oh no," she whispered as Bob pulled up to a red light a few streets from where she lived. Sky Writing's poetry swirled around in her mind, and she was afraid she might have whispered the words out loud when Bob turned and looked at her in surprise. 

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

She thought about the words she had memorized once again. Passion pulses through my veins like a wild river. Binding me to you in a dance of fire.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, still sitting after the light turned green.

When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

But Anna had reached her limit with Bob. She released her seatbelt and leaned toward him, feeling more and more sure of herself the closer she got to his mouth. Then she pressed her lips gently to his and whimpered as she kissed him. Bob reached out and ran his graceful fingers along her cheek, and Anna melted into him before he abruptly pulled away. 

"Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, voice raspy enough that she was forced to consider that she just kissed him.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob."

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

I can't decide if that was a mistake or not on Anna's part. But the longing got to be too much for her. She wants him badly. I hope she doesn't go into hiding. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[thetriumphantpanda]

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Monday)

Summary | Day One of your trip to the lake house with Joel and you can't keep your hands off each other. It's all about making up for lost time.

Warnings | Fluff, 2(3?) lovesick fools, mentions of food and alcohol, explicit smut, breeding kink, oral sex (F & M Receiving), unprotected PiV sex (We can't all have a sexy Joel Miller to make us pregnant, please wrap it up), talk of UTI's (Honestly, not worth it, PEE AFTER SEX PLEASE), as always, Tommy kinda getting cucked and Joel just being Joel.

Word Count | 5.1K

Authors Note | The love that this series has received already, without me even posting a chapter has been overwhelming and I am so grateful to you all for being so enthusiastic about this. This little trio means more to me than you can ever imagine and I'm so incredibly happy to be able to bring them back to you. I would love to know what you think about this first instalment, so please leave your comments, reblogs and my ask box is always open if you want to scream about this with me. If you enjoyed this then please consider leaving me a tip on my Ko-Fi here.

SEASON TWO OF TRIAL & ERROR. Read the first instalment here (This probably won't make sense without it.)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You press a kiss to Joshua’s forehead as he keeps his hands around Tommy’s leg. He’s four now, toddling about, like a perfect little human, and still, whenever you see him, your chest swells with happiness and love in a way you didn’t think would still be possible. 

“You be good for daddy, okay?” You smile, ruffling the hair on top of his head, before bending down to his height, opening your arms for him to fall into as he hugs you, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, and I’ll call every day.” 

A whole week away from your baby boy was daunting. You don’t think you’ve ever spent longer than twenty-four hours without him, but you know he’s in good hands. His dad knows what he’s doing, you’re not worried. 

Tommy has picked Joshua up into his arms, the little boy clutching onto the collar of his shirt as he leans down to lock his lips with yours. You smile into his kiss, letting your hands drop to his waist to pull him a little closer to you. 

“You make sure you give the old man a run for his money, okay?” He smirks when he pulls away, hand running over your hair. 

“He’ll wish he hadn’t come up with idea.” You whisper back, one last chaste kiss to Tommy’s lips and Joshua’s head. 

“You ready?” Joel asks from across the truck, sliding into the driver’s side. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.”  

Joel is nervous. He very rarely feels like this in his older age, especially when it comes to speaking to Tommy. They’ve grown up together, he basically helped raise him, had countless awkward conversations with him, including the one that got him here in the first place, waiting patiently for his birthday so he can steal away his girl and have one night with her all to himself, but he’s still nervous. 

It's the end of summer, Sarah will be leaving for college in the next few days, dead set on becoming a doctor, so Joel’s decided the only way to celebrate his little girl going off and doing what neither he nor his brother could do, and to ease the impending loneliness he’s going to feel at having this big house all to himself, is a cookout. He’s fed everyone, spent time keeping Joshua amused so you and Tommy can eat in peace, and now, a few beers in, he thinks he’s ready. 

He walks down to Tommy, who is cleaning the grill off, listening to the sounds of you and Sarah chasing Joshua around his garden, trying to tire him out. He puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes and they share a smile between them. 

“You alright, brother?” Tommy asks, brushing down the last of the grill. 

“I’m good,” Joel replies simply, “But I have something to ask you, a favour.” 

“Anythin’ for you brother.” He smiles, setting down his cleaning tools and picking up his beer. 

“I know we never discussed it, between us, but what happens between me and her, it makes me happy, y’know?” 

Tommy’s smile gets bigger, and Joel knows that because it’s all his brother has ever wanted for him, to be happy, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful for the man in front of him. 

“I know second time around it’s takin’ longer than we’d all like,” Joel sighs, you’d all been trying for months for the second baby – people had told you second time around was easier, but whoever decided that was a damn liar, “I just wondered, y’know, ‘cause she’s stressed and all, whether I could take her away?” 

“Take her away?” Tommy asks, eyebrow cocked with his lips on the bottle of beer. 

“Not from you,” Joel stutters, “Just for a week, somewhere quiet, I don’t know, the lake or somethin’, just see if her relaxin’ might help things.” 

“Where were you thinkin’?” Tommy asks. 

“I’ve been lookin’ and there are some nice places up in Colorado,” He rubs the back of his neck, not wanting to admit to his brother that he’s trawled the internet late at night trying to find somewhere he can afford, that in his mind he has it all planned out, “Close enough that we can get back if anything happens with Josh.” 

“I don’t know that she’ll get the time from work, Joel,” Tommy sighs, “It ain’t that I don’t want her to go, I know she’d love the time away, but she’s pressed.” 

Joel turns around and follows Tommy’s eyeline, you’re sitting on the grass with your back against the veranda, watching as Sarah plays with Joshua a little further away. Your head is leant back against the wood and Joel can tell you’re exhausted. A full time job, plus being a mother, whilst Joel’s got Tommy working longer and longer hours so they can finally get their business off the ground properly. 

“When was the last time she was anythin’ but a mother?” Joel asks, turning back to his brother, “Come on brother,” He pleads, “We can give her a break, give her the chance to be just her again,” Then he decides to sweeten the deal, “I’ll even give you the week off work.” 

“You really don’t have to beg me Joel,” Tommy insists with a smile, “If she can get the time off work, then you can have her.” 

You’re three hours into the drive. Joel has insisted he can make it in one go, with a few comfort breaks on the way, despite it being a twelve-hour drive, but you’re not going to argue with him. He’s well and truly in charge this week and you’re more than happy to relinquish control to him. It’s nice, having someone else worry about you, whether you’ve got enough snacks to keep you going, whether you need to stop to use the bathroom, whether you need to close your eyes and take a nap, as opposed to you worrying about doing that for your son. 

Joel is tapping his hands on the steering wheel. Sarah had made him a mixtape before she left, supposedly full of the songs they used to listen to in the car together, though you can’t imagine Joel had allowed much Taylor Swift judging by how fast he was to press skip when the familiar sounds of Teardrops On My Guitar started playing through the truck. He’s just finished singing along to Bon Jovi, a smile on his face as he looks at you. 

“I love your voice,” You smile, running your fingers lightly up the arm that is resting near you, his warm palm on your thigh as he drives, “It’s not too late y’know, to make it big with your guitar.” 

He snorts but with a smile on his face, “I was never any good at bein’ on stage, always got choked up and froze,” He turns his head to you a little, “I’m happy to just save my singin’ for you.” 

The CD he’s got playing skips to the next song and the sounds of Destiny’s Child’s Survivor start filling the car. Joel is already moving to press skip so you grip hold of his wrist. 

“Don’t you dare,” You warn, “This is such a good song.” 

“Sweetheart, come on, you don’t really wanna listen to it.” 

You chuckle at him, “You’ve listened to everything you wanted, just give me this one song.”

“If I’m lettin’ you listen to this,” He growls, “Then you’re gonna owe me.” 

“Is that right?” You play coy, “And what do you deem suitable payment for a single Destiny’s Child song?” 

You watch his face, still trained straight ahead on the highway, but with that smirk that you always love to see from him. It means he’s thinking something filthy and filthy Joel is something you simply cannot get enough of. You watch as his eyes meet yours momentarily and then drop to his lap. If you hadn’t been so focused on his face, you’d have missed it, but your eyes trail down his body where you can already see him growing in his jeans. 

You lean back in your seat, nodding to yourself, “Joel Miller, grown man, wants me to suck his cock whilst he drives, just like a horny teenager.” 

He brings a hand to the back of your neck and squeezes, trying to gently drag you forward, “I’ve waited a fuckin’ year to have you to myself, pretty girl,” He speaks lowly, “Didn’t think I was gonna wait for a bed, did you?” 

You chuckle but move to undo your seatbelt. He keeps his hand resting on the back of your neck, but it’s gentle. He doesn’t pull you towards him, just waits for you to set your own pace. You reach across the console of the truck with your hand, palming him through his jeans, reveling in the way his head tips back and he lets a long sigh fall from his lips. 

“You missed me, huh?” You tease, bringing your fingers up to the button on his jeans, you should have known he had something planned when he turned up without his belt on. 

“You seriously askin’ me if I missed you?” He asks as you pop the button and drag his zipper down slowly. 

You lean over, lips pressing a chaste kiss to the scruff on his jaw, “Boost my ego, Joel Miller,” You whisper into his ear as your hand sneaks underneath the waistband of his underwear, “Tell me how much you missed me.” 

He lifts his hips for you a little so you can shuck his jeans down just enough to pull his cock out. You lean over, Joel’s wide palm still resting at the nape of your neck as you fist him, running your hand up and down his length. If you were a stronger woman you’d tease him, but you’re as desperate for him as he is for you, so you bring your mouth right to him, swirling your tongue over his tip, lapping up the drops of pre-cum that are waiting for you. 

Your wrap your lips around him and swallow him down as far as you can take him without him hitting the back of your throat, using your hand to pump the length your mouth doesn’t reach, swirling your tongue around him as you pull your mouth back up. 

“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl,” Joel groans above you, hand tangling in your hair as you continue to bob your head up and down on him, “You’ve done this before.” 

It strikes you in this moment that in the four or so years you and Joel have been together like this, he’s never once let you put your mouth on him like this. Before Joshua, he had always been hyper focused on your pleasure, whether you felt good, and in the years since, in those few short hours you had together, he’d never once asked for it, had stopped you when you tried, he’d only ever come for you when he was fucking you. 

You sneak your hand lower, cupping his heavy balls in the palm of your hand as you take him further down your throat. The added sensation of your hand has him bucking his hips up into your mouth enough that you have to pull away from him, coughing and spluttering. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He worries, taking his hand from your head, “Are you okay?” 

“Focus on the road, Miller,” You demand, moving to get right back down to business, “If I choke to death on your cock that’s my business.” 

“Kinda hard to focus on the road when I’m seconds away from filling your mouth, pretty girl.” You can hear the strain in his voice as you start working his cock again, pulling off only long enough to reply. 

“That’s what I want,” You whisper, “You gonna come down my throat Joel?” 

“That what you want?” He grunts from above you. 

“Wanna taste you.” 

“Well pretty girl, you just keep goin’ and I’ll give you what you want.” 

He stays true to his word, and after a few short minutes, he’s gripping a fistful of your hair, breathing your name out, as his cum spreads across your tongue. Salty, masculine, musky, but distinctly Joel, and you think from this moment on you might be hooked on the taste of him. 

You pull back up, sitting back in your seat, Joel turning his head to watch you as you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out just enough to show him what he’s given you. Then, you close your mouth and swallow every last drop, wiping the small amount that had gathered in the corner of your lips back into your mouth.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, “You’re somethin’ else, baby.” 

It’s late evening by the time you and Joel arrive at the lake house. It’s dark so you can’t properly take in your surroundings, but it’s peaceful and quiet, and when you step out of the truck, it smells different. The smell of pine and fresh water fills your senses and it’s at this moment you realise you really needed this – a break away from the suburbs and the city you’re so used to. 

You make a simple dinner of chicken and roasted vegetables, washed down with lukewarm beer that hadn’t had a chance to properly chill. Joel insists on doing the dishes, silently cursing he didn’t pick a cabin with a dishwasher. The more time he has to spend washing up, the less time he can spend buried deep inside you, which is what he wants most right now. He’s hungrier for you than he’s ever been, you having refused his offer to pull off the highway so he could return the favour earlier. 

You’ve taken two fresh beers from the fridge outside with you. He can see you sitting on the small swing seat on the porch, taking small sips of your drink as you wait for him. You’re on the phone to Tommy, letting him know you arrived safely and then he can hear your voice change as you speak to Joshua – more high-pitched than normal. The conversation doesn’t last long, Tommy clearly needing to put Joshua down to sleep, so you’re hanging up the phone in no time. He notices you shiver through the window, so he digs out one of his flannels from his bag that hasn’t made it to the bedroom and takes it out with him, draping it across your shoulders. He takes a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours, as you hand him his beer. 

“I bet this view will be beautiful tomorrow.” You muse, taking another sip of your drink. 

“I don’t know,” He speaks back softly, looking at you, “It’s pretty perfect to me already.” 

You can feel your face grow hot at the compliment, but you smile. Joel drapes his arm across the back of the bench, and you automatically shuffle in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand trails up and down your arm. 

“So, how have you really been in that house without Sarah these past few weeks?” You ask, hand coming to rest on his thigh. 

“It’s been strange,” He answers honestly, “But I’m so proud of her, my little girl training to be a doctor.” 

Your heart swells because you’re pretty fucking proud of her as well. She’d worked so hard to get into medical school the past few years, finally settling on what it was that she wanted to do, and you have no doubt that she’s going to find some incredible medical breakthrough during her career. 

“Still don’t know where she got her brains from,” He grumbles, “Sure as hell ain’t from the side me and Tommy got ours.” 

You swat your hand to his thigh, “What have I told you about being kind to yourself?” You chastise, earning a low laugh from him, “Don’t sell yourself short, you started your own business Joel, not everyone can do that.” 

He nods, but you think it’s more to placate you than understanding his worth, but you decide to let it lie, “You know, she’s not far from here,” You offer, “If you wanted, you could go and see her.” 

“I’d like that,” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll call her tomorrow, gonna have to think of a white lie as to why I’m all the way out here though.” 

“I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something.” 

It’s silent for a while between you. Listening to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees is soothing. Pair that with Joel’s gentle tracing up and down your arm, and the way he’s slowly rocking the swing with his foot on the ground, and you’re almost ready to fall asleep. 

“Hey Joel,” You whisper, leaning your head up towards him, he answers with a hum of acknowledgement, “You wanna take me to bed?” 

He leans down, pressing his lips softly to your own, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

You stand, extending your hand to his, which he takes, letting you lead him back inside. Because he’s used to it, the routine of checking the locks at home, he makes sure he double checks all the doors are locked before letting you take hold of his hand again and lead him down the small hallway, into the master bedroom at the end. 

The bed is huge, white sheets resting on top, with plump pillows at the end. If it wasn’t for Joel’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck, you’d be focused on falling into it and going straight to sleep. He’s walking you forward, trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck, then he turns you once your knees hit the foot of the bed. 

He brings his palms to your face, cradling it in his hands as he leans down, pressing those soft, plush lips to your own. You bring your arms to wrap around his shoulders, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush to his broad frame as he opens his mouth, tongue licking into your own mouth as he deepens your kiss. It’s the first time he’s kissed you since last year, both of you having some form of silent agreement with each other that Tommy doesn’t need to see that. He see’s everything else you do when you’re together, when he’s watching his brother fill you up, this here, when Joel kisses the very breath from your lungs, this is just for the two of you. 

With his mouth still latched to yours, he uses his hands to push his flannel from your shoulders, before he reaches down and tugs your own shirt from where it was tucked into your jeans. He takes his time, unbuttoning it one notch at a time, until that too is pushed from your shoulders. You don’t even realise he’s undone the button on your jeans until he’s pushing them down your hips – too focused on the way his mouth tastes. 

“Sit down, pretty girl,” He whispers, dropping to his knees, “Been drivin’ me wild all day,” His hands trail up your legs, parting them in front of his face when you perch on the edge of the bed, “Thinkin’ about you all wet down here, after you sucked my cock.” 

He runs his thumb over the front of your panties, tracing the seam of your pussy, which has indeed been completely soaked for him since you sucked him off. He presses his mouth, wet and hot, against the delicate skin of your thigh as you let your head drop back and a sigh to escape your mouth. His mouth comes to rest between the crook of your thigh, where the seam of your underwear is, and you think he might just pull them to the side and give you what you want, but instead, he starts a trail of kisses from the opposite knee, moving slowly up your other thigh until you’re squirming for him. 

“Don’t tease me,” You beg, running a hand through the curls on his head, “Make me feel good, Joel.” 

“This what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them off you when you lift yourself off the bed a little, “Want my mouth here?” 

His thumb runs up the seam of your pussy, the friction without the barrier of your panties delicious now. You spread your legs for him, heels resting on the bottom of the bed, baring your spread, aching cunt for him. His palms are resting on the inner part of your thighs now as he leans in, lips pressing a single chaste kiss to your clit. 

“Fuck,” You breathe out, chasing the feel of his lips as he pulls away, you almost whine until you feel him push one of his delightfully thick fingers straight into your weeping pussy, “Fuck Joel, holy shit.” 

He’s grinning up at you like the devil when you look down, pulling his finger out all the way before slipping it into his mouth to clean it off, “You been this wet all day?” He asks, thumb moving to gather the slick at your entrance to drag to your clit, moving in featherlight movements. 

“Y-yes,” You manage to choke out, “This is what you do to me.” 

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he puts his face right back where you want it, tongue licking a firm, wide strip from your weeping hole and up to your clit, using the tip of his tongue to place precise flicks on your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s so fucking good with his mouth it actually hurts. He’s managed to learn exactly how you like it, what combination of moves with his mouth and the addition of his fingers bring you over the edge the fastest and that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. He slips two of his fingers back inside you, curling them straight up into that spot within you that makes you cry, lips sucking your clit into his mouth whilst his tongue still moves perfectly across you. 

“God fucking damn it, Joel,” You cry, fingers tugging at his hair as you push your pussy closer to his face, “Gonna make me come.” 

He doesn’t bother to pull his mouth away from you to tell you it’s okay like he usually does, just continues the movements just as they are until your crying his name out, the rope that was pulled taught inside you snapping as your pussy clenches around Joel’s fingers and you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment.

You collapse down onto the bed, arms no longer able to hold you up as Joel takes his mouth from your clit, gently pulling his fingers from you. Without needing to be asked, you scoot up the bed, letting air fill your lungs. Your eyes are trained on Joel as he starts to undress in front of you, smirking at you when he drags his shirt over his head. 

“You should charge people for this,” You mumble, “Sure a lot of ladies would pay good money to watch you strip.” 

“Like this?” He chuckles, slowly undoing the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down painfully slow as you start humming, encouraging him to really put on a show, “Zip it.” He laughs, pushing his jeans down his legs, his cock hard and pressing against the thin material of his boxers. 

He shucks them off his body as well and you watch, captivated as he fists his cock, he is, next to his brother, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel Miller,” You breathe out as he clambers onto the bed, pulling you up slightly so he can take your bra off, “Do you know that?” 

His mouth is pressing kisses between your breasts, letting his teeth nibble small marks across your chest before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. You can feel his cock pressing between your folds, running up and down your pussy as he settles properly between your thighs. You run your hand through his hair as he trails his lips up to your face, peppering your jaw with kisses. 

“Can’t say I’ve been told much,” He whispers into your ear, “But I’ll take it.” 

You can feel him reach between you, base of his cock in his hand as he brings the tip to your slick cunt. He thrusts forward just a touch, giving you the tip, lips settling onto your own so he can swallow the small moans you let out as he inches deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out. You shift your hips underneath him, legs hitching around his waist. 

“Baby please,” He pleads, “You gotta give me a second,” His head dropping to the crook of your neck, “Fuck, how does it always feel like I’m fucking you for the first time?” 

You want to give him all the time in the world but you’re just as bad as he is. He needs to move, and he needs to move now otherwise you think you might actually die. 

“Please Joel,” You moan, rolling your hips up into his, hand still firmly tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, “You need to move.” 

“I ain’t gonna last, babygirl.” He groans as he pulls himself out and slams back into you. 

“Don’t care,” You moan as his lips attach themselves to your throat, “Just need to feel you.” 

He moves, placing his hands on either side of your head, pushing himself up, as he drags his cock from your tight heat and starts thrusting properly. You’ve had this man more times than you can count, two or three times a month for the past six months whilst you try for your second baby, but the way he feels inside of you never fails to set your body on fire. 

He’s always so big, and you feel so fucking full of him. You close your eyes and tilt your head back further into the mattress as he drives himself deeper into you, head of his cock brushing against your cervix. It’s pain and pleasure, it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He makes you stupid when he fucks you like this. Focused on one thing, and one thing only. 

One of his hands clutches your chin, his voice hoarse with pleasure, “Look at me,” He demands, “Give me those beautiful eyes when I fuck you.” 

You do as you’re told, eyes opening and staring into his own chocolate orbs that are dark with lust. God, you love him. You know you shouldn’t love him this much, it’s dangerous, but he’s so fucking good to you, you can’t help yourself. 

“Good girl,” He praises, making your pussy clench around him, “Doin’ what you’re told, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” 

“So good Joel,” You moan, fingers gripping the meat of his biceps as you hold onto him, hips rolling up to meet his with every thrust, “Want you to come for me.” 

“Yeah, want me to fill you up, pretty girl?” 

“Yes Joel!” You cry, “Fill me up baby, please.” 

His hips start to falter from their precise thrusts of before, he’s so fucking close, you can see it on his face, hear it in his growls. He dips his head back to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping along your collarbones as he pounds into you. He lets out one long moan of your name as he stills inside you, and you can feel the familiar warmth of his cum filling you up. He brings one of his hands down to cup your ass, lifting you up a little, as if he thinks the angle of your pelvis makes much of a difference when it comes to getting you pregnant. 

He groans into your neck as he slips out of you, letting your hips finally drop to the bed as he rolls off you, collapsing in a heap beside you as he catches his breath. You lean over, kiss pressed to his cheek with a mumble that you’ll be back in a minute once you’ve cleaned up, the pain of last month’s UTI still fresh in your mind after you fell asleep without going to the bathroom. 

When you return, two glasses of water in hand, he’s already pulled back the sheets and has settled himself back against the pillows. You hand him his glass, setting yours on the nightstand as you climb into bed, settling your aching bones against your own pillow when you realise this is uncharted territory with you and Joel. When you spend your one night with him, neither of you sleep – you spend as much time as you can connected, making each other feel good, and when he’s with you outside of that, with Tommy watching, or joining in, whichever he feels like doing that night, he’s always gone in a flash. You’ve never settled down to sleep next to him, you don’t know if he snores, you don’t know if he wants you to cuddle into his side and drift off to sleep together. 

“Stop thinkin’,” He sighs, “And c’mere.” 

You smile, crawling over the space between you as he moves his body down to lie flat on his back. You drape one of your arms over his tummy as his wraps around your shoulder, the other resting on your arm wrapped around him. You bring your leg up to wrap between his and let out a sigh. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve always wanted this,” He whispers quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Somethin’ so simple as fallin’ asleep with you.” 

You hum against his warm skin, letting the thumb that’s resting on his tummy start rubbing small circles on his skin, “It’s nice,” You speak, punctuating it with a yawn, “Hope you don’t snore though.” 

His chest rising with a chuckle as he pulls you tighter to his body, “Go to sleep, babygirl,” He speaks quietly, “I’m gonna wear you out tomorrow.” 

You don’t know whether he’s referring to the hike he wanted to take you on through the mountains, or the fact that you both know what you’re really here for. Is he going to keep you right here on this mattress all day, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore? Either way, being here with Joel has already been the ointment you needed for your stress. Your shoulders are more relaxed, and you don’t have the headache you usually do at the end of the day from gritting your teeth. Whatever he’s got planned, you’re going to take it, and for now, you’re going to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that this time, though longer than you ever get, is still fleeting. You can worry about that another day. 

Taglist: @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @kaitangatatacos @paleidiot

[antxlss]

but, you’re my boss II

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader (modern au)

summary: the day comes for your big blind date. you should hate the guy, but you can’t help but let him grow on you.

warnings: none

words: 2.3k

a/n: guys I was so quick with this one. anyways this is giving enchanted by taylor swift vibes to me. let me know how you guys like it! ~ max <3

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part I | series masterlist | my masterlist

You wake up on Monday morning to the sound of your phone going off next to your bed.

You look at the time, it's 7am, it's time to get ready for work.

You pick up your phone and open your texts to see a message from Padmé. She sent it just a minute ago.

Good morning queen, I have the details for your date and I have to tell you the man is hot (but I don't want to give you any expectations). But go get 'em, bitch. Tonight, 7pm, go meet him at Sandalwood Cafe!

You groan and slam your face into your pillow.

Why did I agree to this?

You roll out of bed and begin getting ready for work.

You spend most of the day nervous, your mind racing with doubts about the date and if you'll click with the guy. You start to wonder if you made a mistake agreeing to it, but the doubt is constantly shoved aside by Padmé's positive tone and support.

As soon as work lets out, you head home to get ready for the date. As a last minute touch up, you spray some perfume under your elbows, the type of perfume that Padmé told you her new Tinder match had told her he liked. You check over in the mirror one last time before heading out.

You decide to walk to the small cafe since it is only a few blocks from your apartment.

You arrive and step into to the cute establishment.

You look around for a few seconds before your eyes land on a handsome looking young man sitting in a chair near the doorway. He's a little on the taller side, his dark blond hair and blue eyes making him very charming. As he notices you walk through the door into the cafe, his eyes immediately find yours, and a small smile creeps onto his cheeks.

You smile back as you take in his appearance. He looks nice and well put together, probably a lawyer or a doctor or something like that. Someone you'd see on television.

Your breath got knocked out of you. You could've sworn you looked petrified.

It was your fucking boss.

Why would Padmé do this? She knows how you feel about that conceited asshole.

You paint a polite smile on your face and try your best to contain yourself.

"I am. And you are?" You ask, even though you very much know who he is.

You can't believe he does t even recognize you. You honestly weren't even shocked.

He gets to his feet to meet you, extending his hand out to you. He's much taller than you, and you look up at him. His eyes are locked on to yours and you can't help but get a little lost in them.

He speaks with a very smooth but gentle confidence to the point that you just want to stare at him while he speaks.

"I'm Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. I'm so glad you could make it. Would you like to come sit down?"

You internally groan. If you weren't literally desperate for male interaction, you would've just walked out. Might as well just give it a try.

You follow Anakin as he leads you to the table he was previously occupying.

He pulls out your seat for you and waits for you to sit down before he seats himself across from you.

He smiles and leans forward, putting his elbows on the table as his eyes continue to gaze intently at yours, never breaking the eye contact for more than a few seconds.

He speaks without the gentility he showed when you first met. "Padmé told me what I was getting myself into and I have to say, I still can't believe how beautiful you are in person. I hope you don't mind me saying."

Your heart fluttered at his flattery. Why did he have to be so much of a gentleman. You wanted so badly to hate him. To be fair he's never given you a reason to do so.

"Thank you." You smile. "So, how do you know Padmé?"

He's in complete control of his emotions and shows the same confidence he did while at work. You feel completely powerless as you're unable to resist his charm. You can tell Padmé wasn't kidding, he's absolutely charming.

Still staring intently at your face, he leans forward onto his elbows.

"Oh, she and I matched on Tinder a few days ago. She thought we might hit it off, so she set me up on this date." He speaks like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, so that bitch gave me her seconds. I see how it is." You laugh. "I'm assuming she wasn't into you, you know, since she set us up?"

He chuckles, completely unfazed by what you said by the insult.

He leans one elbow back on the table and clasps his hands together, still staring intently at your eyes and speaking with that same charm, as if there was no tension between him and your relationship with Padmé.

"No, she says she thinks I'm great! In fact, she thought I was handsome, which was why Padmé sent me your way."

He lets out another small chuckle, still keeping eye contact.

"No offense, but you definitely aren't her type. She goes for the more grungy 'bad boy' type." You giggle.

Once again, Anakin seems unfazed by what you said.

While he's still leaning in on one of his elbows against the table, he still is staring intently at you.

He speaks, still confidently.

"Well... I'm not too sure about her type... she did swipe right on me though, so I guess that counts for something?" He chuckles, still staring at you, not breaking eye contact.

You decided to get risky. What did you have to lose.

"Well you may not be Padmé's type, but you're mine."

Anakin keeps looking at you and you notice that his eyebrows raise. His gaze is still sharp, but now there's a twinkle in his eye as he smiles at you.

You feel butterflies in your stomach and you can't stop smiling.

Anakin leans forward and rests his elbows back on the table.

"Oh?" He smiles, keeping eye contact.

"Mhm." You smile, not breaking the eye contact.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Anakin remains seated for a moment longer.

With a slightly deeper voice than before, Anakin speaks and looks you straight in the eyes without blinking.

"I'd like to take you out." His eyes go back to you smiling. "On another date... that is."

You laugh. "Anakin we've only been talking for like two minutes. We know nothing about each other."

Yeah like the fact that he's your fucking employer. You have to tell him that you work for his company. He's literally your boss. He'll find out eventually either way.

He chuckles, and with a look of confidence on his face he leans forward.

"Maybe we don't know anything about each other in terms of our pasts, but I do know a bit about you." And he stares directly at your eyes.

"From this conversation, I've found out a few things about you. You're a beautiful girl with a great sense of humor. You're confident but not in an arrogant way. And you're not too hard to look at," Anakin laughs a little, smiling and maintaining eye contact.

"Hmm, we'll I guess you know me pretty well." You joke. "But really, let's just talk, get to know each other, and then by the end of the night I'll let you know if I want you to take me out again."

Anakin lets out a soft chuckle and leans back slightly, still looking at you with his charming smile.

"You know what? That seems fair. We just got here."

He chuckles again, still speaking with that same confidence and smooth, gentle tone in his voice.

"The night is still young, and so far you seem awesome."

"So far... Okay, ask me a question, what do you want to know about me?" You ask.

He sits back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other at the knee.

He puts both of his elbows on the table and leans forward towards your direction, keeping his attention on you.

He looks at you for a second before speaking, thinking of a good question.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from Texas, but I moved to New York City to attend Baruch College. I liked it here so much, I decided to stay." You reply.

It's hard for you to even keep eye contact with him. His looks, his confidence, his smooth, gentle voice.

He speaks like he's not distracted at all and fully in the moment, like your beauty did not even throw him off.

"Why'd you choose that college specifically?"

"Really just because it's in the city." You shrug. "What about you, where are you from?"

"Hmph, fair enough."

Anakin chuckles.

"I'm from the Hamptons. Born and raised."

Oh so he's rich, rich.

There's a pause in which he doesn't quite seem to say everything he was thinking. His eyes are still glued to yours, and you can't stop looking at him either.

"What are you studying at that college?"

"Forensic Phycology. I'm working on my masters right now. Most of my school is online." You reply.

Anakin leans back in his chair again, crossing his legs over each other at the knee. He rests his elbows back onto the table again and leans towards you.

"Forensics, that sounds really interesting. Most of your school is online? How's that working for you?"

He still looks at you with that same charming smile and his eyes on your face, not breaking eye contact for longer than a few seconds.

"It's actually pretty good. I thought I wouldn't enjoy it, but it gives me a chance to work while I finish school." You admit.

Anakin chuckles, and looks back at you for a few seconds.

After a moment of silence, Anakin speaks again and leans forward.

"What is it that you do for work?"

Anakin continues looking you dead in the eyes, a twinkle in his eyes as he waits for your response.

Shit.

You have to tell him. You can't lie. Especially since you are surprisingly really liking him.

"I'm a receptionist. At Skywalker Engineering."

You sit and anxiously wait for his response.

Anakin sits back in his seat a little after you tell him.

After a moment he speaks in a soft tone, a bit surprised.

"The receptionist?"

After a second he chuckles.

"I didn't think we had a receptionist. I'll have to talk to HR about that for the next work report."

He continues to chuckle, still looking at you. He seems a little relaxed after hearing that, like it did not bother him in the least.

"We may have to talk to HR about the boss going on a date with his employee." You state smugly. "You really don't recognize me?"

Anakin leans back in his seat, smiling as he responds to your comment. But once your eyes land on him, that twinkle in his eyes returns, and your eye contact becomes almost magnetically drawn to him.

"I recognized you the second I saw your eyes."

A moment of silence.

"You're right though, we will need to talk to HR about that. But for now, this is just between you and me."

He smiles at you.

How could you have ever hated him? You didn't even give him a chance. Now that you've actually talked to him you found out that he doesn't even like his job, he's just carrying on the family business.

The more the night goes on, the more infatuated in him you become.

The night finally comes in. You and Anakin clean up your table and push in your chairs. He walks you out to the street.

Anakin smiles at you as he walks you out to the street.

He extends his arm out and you take it, your fingers brushing against his. His touch is gentle, so soft and soothing, but at the same time the touch is full of passion and desire.

As you walk with him, you look up at him and can't help but smile right back at Anakin.

"I had an amazing time tonight. Thank you for taking me out."

"It was my pleasure." He grinned. "So do you have an answer for my question earlier."

Your cheeks grow red. "Yes Anakin, I'd love to go out with you again."

Anakin's eyes shine with joy and he chuckles, looking at you as he responds.

"You just made my night."

He takes you in his arms and leans in close. Your eyes are both locked on each other. He looks at you intently, and you can see every single line of his facial expression. Anakin speaks in a soft and gentle tone, it's as if you're the only two people in the world.

"Can I have a kiss?"

You stiffen up. You haven't kissed someone in almost a year, let alone your boss. You say exactly what was on your mind.

"But, you're my boss."

Anakin just stares at you for a moment, but his gaze remains intense. Your heart is still fluttering in your chest, and Anakin's gentle look is drawing you in. You want to kiss him. You've never felt this way before.

He speaks with this same soft and gentle voice, still looking at you and maintaining eye contact.

"Yes I am."

He leans forward slightly, still keeping you in his arms.

"But, I don't care."

You let go of all your anxieties and let your body guide you as you lean forward to meet Anakin's lips.

You both lean forward at the same time, and his lips meet yours. It's not a quick peck, but a long and drawn out kiss as Anakin continues to hold you in his arms on the sidewalk. It's so passionate, and your hearts are racing. You don't ever want the kiss to end.

To your dismay, Anakin pulls away. You look him in the eyes.

"Thank you for tonight." You smile. "See you at work?"

And with that you turn and walk home with a blush on your face the whole way there.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: This week is killing me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday sees your second day in your new position. As you send off your letter of resignation to the agency, you can't help the coil that winds tight in your stomach. There's no going back now.

You close out of the several templates you Googled in your efforts. It's the one thing you know how to do. Willa, the friendly librarian who checked out the PC for you, always said, if you can Google, you can figure it out. Still, you feel like there's so much you don't know that you're not sure a search engine can answer.

You close the laptop and take both your phones with you into the hallway. You have to go check out that gazebo and figure out if you need to make a call about it. Oh, and the fridge was beeping when you filled your bottle, you have to call the maintenance number that flashed up too.

That makes you even more anxious. You've never really been the sort for phone calls. You never had anyone to talk to and everything else was easier done in person. Well, you'll have to muddle through. Work isn't supposed to be fun or easy.

As you near the staircase, your flip chimes. You juggle to answer the right phone. The slim touchscreen is set only to buzz, an option not available on the clumsy burner. You answer the call as you stop on the top stair.

The woman on the other end asks for you by name. You confirm your identity as you hear familiar noises in the background. She's a nurse from the downtown hospital.

“I'm calling to confirm your father's discharge tomorrow at noon,” she says over the rustle of paper and clack of keys, “we'll need the bed so if there is any delay, another day would be added to the invoice.”

“I understand, I'll be there, erm… noon. Tomorrow,” you don't have your notebook so you key a reminder into the other phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, miss, we would recommend you arrive earlier. We have some resources and counseling available on what you can expect getting the patient settled at home,” she continues, “nine would be ideal. I'll be able to add a note for the doctor to check in as well.”

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” you squeak, “thank you.”

“Alright then, I have all that logged. You have a good day.”

“You too,” you utter before the line dies.

Phone calls weren't too bad. You think you did okay with that one. Then again, you didn't think! You're supposed to work tomorrow. Mr. Laufeyson said you could take Wednesday off, and tomorrow is only Monday.

You close the flip phone and stare at it. Oh boy. You really don't want to spoil this. Just the mention of the coming invoice underlines your desperation. You need the money. Your dad needs it.

“Are you finished?” Mr. Laufeyson's timbre drawls from down the hall. You glance over as he stands just in the doorway of his study. You gulp.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I didn't mean to disturb–”

“Yet you did,” he insists.

“I was only going to check–”

“Not my concern so long as it's done,” he waves you off, “an important call, I assume, to make such a racket.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, um,” you shove the phones away, one in each of your pockets. “I… could I have the day tomorrow? Instead of Wednesday. My father is getting out of the hospital and–”

“The day? What time?” He snips as he approaches with decisive steps.

“Well, I'm supposed to go at nine,” you explain, “I'll come in Wednesday still.”

“You will come in tomorrow, after all that,” he says. “You can work later then.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, but my father will need help getting settled–”

“Figure it out. You agreed to this schedule–”

“I did but–” you stop yourself as his eyes flare, “I will be here in the afternoon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“You will be. In the appropriate attire, I expect,” he snarls and spins to strut back to his office, swinging the door shut sharply.

You waver at the hard slam. You didn't mean to anger him. You can't help that your father needs you. You thought Mr. Laufeyson would be more understanding, after all, he's the one who pointed out how much you needed the money.

🧹

Your father shoos you away as you try to help him sit. He lets go of the walker and flops back with a grunt, his oxygen tank clinking against the aid’s metal leg. He coughs and snatches around blindly on the cushion for the remote. You retrieve it from the folding table beside him and put it in his hand.

That agitates him further as he growls and jams down the button to turn on the television. You yawn and back away. You still have a full day left ahead of you, and what feels like one behind you. You spent the night doing some last minute tidying to make sure everything is read for your father.

“Smokes,” he snaps his fingers and hacks.

“Er,” you hesitate. You go to find the half-crushed pack you found with him on the floor. You knew better than to throw it out. You return to him, clutching the package nervously, “Dr. Shearer said–”

“Give it to me,” he demands.

You relent and obey. He’s been doubly miserable than before. You feel like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head as he tries to swat you away.

“I made you meals for the weak. They’re all labeled in the fridge–”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” he scowls and takes the lighter from the folding table.

“I know, but–”

“But I’m home. You probably hate that,” he sneers, “you’d be happy if I died in that hospital.”

You’re taken aback by the accusation. You gasp and shake your head, “of course not, I’m happy you’re here. That you’re alive–”

“Painfully,” he snorts darkly, “the fuck you keep me here for?”

You take a breath and frown. Your eyes tinge and your cheeks pinch, “because you're my dad… and I love you,” you croak.

He doesn’t reply as he pulls out a cigarette and moves the tube from below his nose. You watch him, waiting. He lights the smoke and sucks on it eagerly. You drop your head and give a shrug.

“I gotta go to work,” you say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be slamming around when you come in,” he dusts ash over the freshly vacuumed carpet, “doctor said I needa sleep.”

“I won’t,” you promise and back away.

As you leave the room, your chest plummets in dread. You think of coming home, of finding him like you did before, laying on the floor, lifeless. You sniff and swipe away the speckling of tears. More than you want him to love you, you want him to love himself. You don’t just want him to want you around, you want him to be around.

🧹

You hurry up to Mr. Laufeyson’s gate with your kit and water bottle jostling. You fumble around until you find the smartphone and bring up the digits to punch into the code box. You buzz through and shuffle inside. You set off on your usual path around the back.

You stop at the rear door and try to untangle the strap of the water bottle from your kit. Your hand lingers on the front of the ballooning shirt. You still haven’t gone to look for clothes so you did your best with what you had. One of your father’s forgotten button-ups and a pair of pants that could pass in an office. It’s ill-fitting and scratch but better than jeans.

You get inside and leave your kit in the closet. Today’s a cleaning day but you have a few things to check off the schedule first. With your water bottle bouncing on your hip, you go upstairs and scurry down to the library.

As you enter, you’re surprised to discover the space less than empty. You apologise aloud and choke on the word, ‘mister’. It isn’t the house’s single resident as you expect, no, this figure could not be more different than Mr. Laufeyson. You recognise them, from the dinner.

The blond man faces you as he stands by the window, the drapes open to add the peculiarity of the situation. Like the man, the space is golden with sunlight. You lean back on your heel as you clutch the door handle.

“Hello,” he grins as he greets you in a playful demeanour. You can’t answer. You don’t know if you should. 

Is it rule one; don’t speak unless permitted; or the other rule, do not disturb my guests. You can’t figure out the riddle so you languish in perplexity.

“Aren’t you a sweet little lamb,” he muses as he steps away from the window, placing his hands on the back of the dimpled leather chair. His large hands. If you thought Mr. Laufeyson was tall, this man is even taller and twice as wide. “I remember you. The sweet maid.”

You blink. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? You can’t speak. You’re too terrified; not just of the strange man but of the one you know by name. Your employer would be unhappy to know you spoke out of turn.

“Have you seen my brother at all?” He prompts disregarding your stagnant silence. “Has he spoken of me? His brother? I'm Thor.”

You look down at your hand on the door handle.

“And what is your name?” He asks.

You don’t answer. You know it’s not right but you have no other choice. You pull the door shut and close the man in. You retreat in a half-sprint and barrel back down the stairs. You trip at the bottom and barely save yourself from stumbling to your knees.

You latch onto the banister post to keep your balance and catch your breath. You hear the door above. Oh no, would he follow you? Another door clicks and you look up to find a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass framed in the front entrance.

Mr. Laufeyson steps inside coolly, unbothered as swings the door shut and tugs on the lapel of his suit jacket. His eyes fall on you and he scuffs on his sole, tilting his head in curiosity. You didn’t realise he hadn’t even been there. You look at the ceiling with wide eyes; so how was the other man inside?

“Well, there you are,” he says matter-of-factly, “this place is sore in need of a dusting–”

Laufeyson is interrupted by a clamour of footsteps above. You let go of the banister and sidle away as his green eyes flick to the top to the staircase. You shy away and listen as the man descends in a series of thunder thumps. You turn to peek down the hall, wanting to hide in your chores.

“Stay,” Laufeyson commands. You turn back to him as he points at your feet. You stop in place and sway. He faces his visitor as he comes to the bottom stair, “brother, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Can I not come see my baby brother?” The other man; the stranger; his brother, called Thor, booms.

“You may, when you warn me of it,” Laufeyson rebuffs.

“Ah, don’t be so grim,” Thor claps his shoulders and is swiftly shrugged off, “this place is always so dark. I hope you don’t mind, I opened a few windows.”

“I do mind,” Laufeyson says, “you do always presume.”

“And you are always offer such a warm welcome,” he tries to tap Laufeyson’s cheek but is batted away. The dark of the brothers backs up with a scoff. “Ah, and there she is. I was only just coming to find the little maid. She rushed off so suddenly–”

“You don’t need to bother with her,” Laufeyson dismissed with a slice of his hand through the air, “maid,” he points at you again, “back to work.”

You lean back on your heel, ready to disappear.

“Ah, don’t be so rude, brother. She is sweet. You get more bees with honey–”

“Do not tell me how to run my house,” Laufeyson growls, an edge in his voice you’ve never heard before. Dangerous and dark.

“Is she not doing you a service? A please would be appropriate–”

“You are not mother. I don’t need you to mind my manners,” Laufeyson girds and nears his brother, unflinching even as he comes up a few inches short of chest to chest, “nor do you need to worry for my staff. She does not take orders from you.”

“And I suppose that’s all she gets from you,” Thor chuckles.

You furrow your brow, stunned by their spat. You’re not quite sure what that last bit meant. You work for Mr. Laufeyson so of course he would tell you what to do. And why are they so volatile? They’re brothers. You don’t have any siblings but you always wanted one. So that you had a friend. So you weren’t alone. 

“Maid, go,” Laufeyson repeats, “now.”

Your eyes widen and you nod. You quickly turn and rush down the hall to the closet. You’re shaking as you try to sort out one phone from the other and find the old list of tasks. You can hardly steady your hands to get a pair of gloves on.

You take your time in the back of the house as you hear the men’s footfalls climb the staircase. You let your nerves settle just a little. You’re alone, for now, and your mission is simple. Clean and stay unseen.

[mamisfavmosherz]

Hello. I hope your doing well. I would like to request a Rhea Ripley X Pregnant Reader where reader and Rhea is planning a gender reveal and Choose to do it live on Monday Night Raw as reader is about to take maternity leave and is very emotional cause the wwe has been her dream since she was little girl so she ends up celebrating with the wwe universe and the locker rooms. If not I'll understand. Thanks you 😊

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Pregnant Reader, Fluffy

A/n: I'm so sorry this took me so long. My brain was malfunctioning on how to even start this lol. Honestly idek if i like this, but I hope this is somewhat what you wanted! 😭

Masterlist , WWE Masterlist

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Big Dreams Let To This

You were in bed with Rhea, facing upwards the back of your head laying on her chest, her hand gently rubbing your belly. You were about 19 weeks pregnant and had just gotten the gender of your baby but had asked your doctor not to tell you, so you had the envelope with the gender on the bedside table. You and Rhea had been cuddling trying to decide how to do this gender reveal. You thought about doing it as a small gathering with both of your families and friends, but that just didn’t feel right for you guys. There was also the fact that all of your friends were wrestle and barely had any time off, Rhea also didn’t have that much time off, and to get both your families here at a time were everyone was free was harder than one would think. You also wanted to include the fans in some way, but you weren’t sure how.

“Well baby why don’t we just do it Monday at Raw ? All of our friends will be there and the show is where your parents live” Rhea suggested a smile on her face before she even said it. Your eyes immediately lit up at the idea. You would have everything you wanted, your friends and family, you would get to do it at a wrestling show, which has been your entire life sense you were a little girl, the people you do this for -other than yourself - the fans, would be there. It was perfect, well almost, there was no way Rhea’s family was gonna be able to make it for Raw in time.

"What about your family ? We can't do this without them... this isn't just about me. It's about us and our family." you said with a small smile on your face, your eyes a little glossy as this perfect idea didn't seem as perfect anymore.

Rhea lightly kissed your head a smile on her face, which made you frown, wondering why she would be smiling right now. "Well, my sweet girl, I already saved them tickets to the show, and their on their way right now. They should be lading tomorrow morning" you eyes lit up like Christmas lights a big smile adorning your face.

Rhea had already planned it out beforehand. She had the idea of doing the gender reveal at Raw for a little while, but she wasn't sure how you would react. Either way, whether that idea ended up happening or you did it another way, she knew the gender reveal was happening this week, so she bought her parents and sister plane tickets to where this week's show was happening and saved them Raw tickets just incase. Her family was gonna ride with you guys and stay at your house for the week either way so no matter your preference, Rhea knew it was going to work out.

You didn't even question her. You were just happy this was gonna happen the way you never ever knew you needed it to happen. You turned your head a little a kissed Rhea softly but passionately. You slowly sperated putting your foreheads together your eyes starting to get teary.

"What's wrong, lovely ?" You softly chuckled and gave her a quick kiss. "These are happy tears. I can't believe this happening"

Next Monday night, you were backstage sitting in the judgments club house. Damian and Dom were sitting beside you, Finn was sitting on the floor stretching, getting ready for his match, which was happening before your announcement. Rhea was making sure both your families were settled before coming back to the clubhouse.

"Fams all good, you guys ready ?" The boys all nodded and stood up, getting their final stretches in before the had to go out there. Rhea went over to you and helped you get up before holding your hand and giving you a quick kiss.

"When the match is over and it's just us in the ring, you can come out, okay ? Not before that, though, please, I don't want you getting hurt, either of you, " Rhea said before bending down and kissing you belly, then kissing your forehead. You smiled and nodded, loving Rhea's caring side. You wished her and the boys good luck before they walked out when their theme song started. You stayed behind in gorilla watching the match and waiting for your que to come out.

The match had been intense, Dom, Damian, and Rhea getting involved when they could without the Ref seeing and helping Finn get the win. Once their song started playing and all four of them stood in the middle of the ring celebrating, you got closer to the curtains, ready to go out there. You were nervous but also very excited.

"Well, well, well, would you look at that ? another win for the judgment day." Rhea said before doing her evil laugh. Some people cheered while others booed. Damian continued saying how everyone needed to Rise for the judgment day, Finn celebrated his win, saying they were the most dominant faction in all of wwe. Dom tried to talk but wasn't able to beacuse of the boos. Rhea shouted into the mic, telling the wwe universe to shut up, not only because of their stupid booing for Dom but also because they had another celebration to be had. At that, the crowd calmed down and started listening.

In that moment, your theme song started blasting, and you came out with a microphone in hand. People started cheering as they hadn't seen you in a while with you being on leave. Rhea sat on the second rope and held your hand, helping you climb in. You smiled at her and walked to the middle of the ring surrounded by your Judgment Day Family. You took a deep breath and listened to people cheering your name, your eyes already watering thanks to those damn hormones.

"I love you guys... I love you and this job so much... which is why I- no, we are here to share some big news with ya'll" you said, holding Rhea's hand.

"This industry has been a big part of my life sense I was little girl, and it will always be a big part of my life and now it's gonna be a big part of our babies life. This is why I wanted to share our babies gender here, surrounded by my family, my friends, you guys, the fans, inside a wwe ring. " Your face was already covered in tears thinking about your baby and how much you're gonna do so they have the best life you can possibly give them. Everyone started cheering just as excited to know the baby's gender as you were.

"Mami... wanna do the honors. " Rhea smiled before walking over to the ropes where the Pyro guys were handing her a remote, which controlled the pryo in the arena. You took a deep breath before everyone started counting down. "3... 2... 1..." Rhea pressed the button and pink Pyro, and confetti started going all around the Arena. You started crying and hugged Rhea, the boys gave you guys a moment before also joining in on the family hug.

After celebrating with the wwe universe you went backstage with Rhea and the boys. Right as you passed through the curtains all your friends were there congratulating you and giving you hugs. This was perfect, all you needed now was to see your family.

"Babe the boys are gonna get changed really quickly and then we can go find our fams and go out for dinner okay?" Rhea said once you were able to get away to a more quite area now that all the congrats had been given. You nodded and gave her a bright smile before waiting for them all to get ready.

Once everyone was ready you all meet with yours and Rheas families for dinner. You all talked and ate for a few hours. There sitting with your family - both blood and soul - you smiled. Your babygirl would be spoiled that for sure, but you wouldn't want it any other way. You were gonna give her the best life and you wouldn't wanna do it with anyone else than the people surrounding you and it's all thanks to a little girl with a big dream of getting to the wwe.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Twins

Visiting a military plane demonstration, you wait in line to see inside the planes parked on the runway. You get jostled hard by a rude man and almost fall down from the steps. A nearby military officer in a black balaclava catches you. He is clearly irritated to be here, but you try to flirt a little anyway, asking him if he saves many damsels in distress.

Before he can respond, you hear a scream, then quickly following the sound, more screams. You see a handful of people start attacking bystanders. Springing into action, you help usher many to safety, yelling commands at them to get them moving toward a nearby gate. You don't notice the masked man doing the same thing until you see a woman running past you with a knife in her hand, aiming at him. Acting on pure instinct, you tackle her, knocking it out of her hands. Suddenly, you are in a fierce fight to keep her from grabbing it again. She strikes at you where she can, hitting you fiercely as her desire to continue her attack takes priority over all else. She carves deep gouges in your face with her fingernails, making you panic slightly. You grab her ear and yank, tearing part of it free, releasing a gout of blood. She stops attacking momentarily, and the masked man is there helping you. He zip ties her hands behind her back and tells you to sit on her while grumbling about civilians getting involved. You jokingly tell him you couldn't stand owing a favor and wink up at him before waving him off to go help others.

As you sit, she screams and curses and fights, trying to get free. Finally, irritated beyond belief by her antics, you threaten to Vincent Van Gogh her ear and cut it the rest of the way off. It takes some time, but things finally calm down, and medics make the rounds, triaging and helping everyone who was injured in the attack. A medic and a few military personnel take charge of the woman before your turn for a medic finally comes. He takes one look at you, and he immediately sends you to the line to wait for the hospital. You are a lower priority than most despite needing stitches for your still bleeding wounds, so you wait quietly. A man with a mohawk wanders over with the masked man, asking for your statement. He introduces himself as Soap and the masked man as Ghost, who remains silent. You tell Soap what you saw and did, then joke quietly, "I couldn't seize the day, so I seized an ear." He chuckles, and you glance at Ghost. "I hope to see you around," you say with a bloody smile, but you can't manage a wink past the swelling of your face as they load you into an ambulance. At the hospital, you are treated for a broken clavicle, two broken fingers, and the gouges on your face, which need stitches.

On Monday, you report to your new commanding officer. It takes extra time to get on base because the gate guards are on high alert and very suspicious of your bandaged face. When you finally get to his office, Captain Price is surprised at the injuries you are sporting. You explain what happened, and he smirks at your mention of Ghost but doesn't say anything. He gives you a quick tour, showing you the med bay, mess hall, and your quarters before continuing on with the rest of his day.

You slowly carry your things from your vehicle to your quarters, having packed everything in small boxes so they aren't too heavy, determined not to need help. You are on the last load when Soap nearly runs into you in the hall. He recognizes you despite your bandages and quickly takes the box out of your hands despite your protests, carrying it to your room for you.

"So, what are ye movin in here for, lass? Fall in love with someone at the airshow," he asks, waggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh, "No, just the new doctor for the team."

He looks dubiously at your injuries, and you roll your eyes, "Can't a girl save a man without it coming back to bite her?"

He laughs and takes his leave late for a meeting. When you go to lunch, he waves you over to sit, knowing how much it sucks to be the new guy. Ghost sits across from you without looking and strikes up a conversation with Soap about some upcoming training. When you laugh at a joke that Soap makes, he finally looks up and does a double-take.

"Damsel, what are you doing here?"

"New doc," Soap choruses.

"Doc, we need to get you trained in grappling," Ghost grumbles, looking over your injuries.

"Sure, in about 3 months when I can lose the sling," you quip.

"I'll reserve the room," he says flatly, undeterred by your current state.

"That's an estimate, not a guarantee, Ghost."

"Yes, that is why you will bulk up on protein and heal faster." He picks up his tray and shoves the meat off it and onto yours.

You stare at him for a long moment before saying, "No thanks... I'll just eat MY food." His glare leaves no room for argument, so you turn away, but you can still feel his eyes on you. You grumble as you eat a bite, and he smirks before turning back to his own tray. The moment he looks away, you shove the meat back on his plate and stand to leave. His "Oi!" calling after you makes you want to grin, though the stitches prevent it as you hurry off.

At the end of the week, you are glad to be able to remove the stitches. You wait until after hours, setting yourself in front of a mirror, snipping, and pulling them out. A boot scuff tells you that you're not alone. "Clinic is closed. If it's an emergency, I can treat you, but otherwise, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." There is no answer, and you look around seeing no one. But you know what you heard. You go back to pulling stitches, but shift your position a bit, protecting the arm in a sling in case someone decides to attack you again.

"You know you can have someone else pull those, right?" Ghost's voice floats to you.

"Damn place is haunted. I'm hearing ghosts talk to me," you say, chuckling to yourself.

He huffs and walks out of the darkness to stand behind you. "I'm just saying you don't have anything to prove."

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm just working to minimize the scarring." You say it flippantly, but he can see the slight frown on your face as you look at the injuries.

"All I see is a hero, but I do understand. You could always mask up like me." He says it jokingly, but you consider it.

"Not the worst idea. But a bally isn't my style. Wouldn't want to copy your thing." You finish pulling stitches after a few more minutes of silence and turn to face him, but he has disappeared into the shadows again. "See if I invite you over for tea, then." You hear a chuckle fading off in the distance and smile despite yourself.

The next day, you have a grimace on your face the entire day, seeing others stare at your now stitch-less but still injured face. Ghost conspicuously doesn't look, and Soap tries to joke about others being jealous, but it falls flat. You've never been a vain person. You can't help being self-conscious, though. Your frustration peaks when a nurse stares slack jawed at you for nearly ten straight minutes, prompting you to put on a surgical mask. It helps slightly, but the gouges are still visible on the rest of your face. You think about it all day and come up with a solution.

That night, you furiously stitch a flower printed bamboo t-shirt into a mask, carefully cutting and sewing it to drape across your face. You make a square block for your eyes, making sure it is smooth and not going to irritate your healing skin. Donning it, you make a few adjustments, stitching the arms shut except for a slit near your ears to fit a surgical mask as needed, and you stitch the neck of the shirt closed. The end result is a cute, breathable mask that hides all of the scarring except a line near your eyes. It's perfect even if it covers almost your entire face.

The stares you get the next week are still nerve-wracking, but they lessen as the time goes on. Ghost simply throws a smirk your way while Soap laments the loss of another friend with a wink at you, not able to stop himself from teasing. You shut down your staff when they try to bring it up. Captain Price shoots you a sad look and a nod. He would clearly prefer you didn't hide, but he understands. Your work maintains its same level of quality, so he simply marks the preference to hide your face in your file and moves on. The first person to complain about your supposed lack of professionalism to him is told to "fuck off right to hell, you daft prick," professionally... in those exact words.

A few months in, your sling is finally off, and you spend several hours a week grappling with Soap and Ghost as promised. Ghost even trains you in using a knife in combat, quipping that you can switch to your scalpel when the lessons are finished. The scars on your face are growing darker, becoming more and more apparent as time goes on. The mask will stay. When the Captain tries to discuss it gently, you lift the bottom, showing him the edges of the scars. The dark purple and red lines against your pale skin couldn't be anymore obvious. He nods with a quiet, "Understood, Major."

After Ghost shows you many techniques and hones your skills, he brings you into the recruit class one day a week. The goal is to help you maintain those skills and learn against different opponents who are less skilled than him. The first time you begin to win a fight, the recruit yanks off your mask despite specific instructions not to do so, hoping to stun you. Instead, you get angry and knock him over onto his stomach, one arm pinned under him and the other under your left foot with your right knee on his back. Calmly, you pull your mask from his hand and work to drape it back over your face. Glancing up, you see that Ghost is standing over you, blocking the other recruits from staring and absolutely furious on your behalf. You climb off the recruit, and the young man gets the tongue lashing of a lifetime and is then smoked in front of the rest of the recruits. The dirty trick doesn't happen again.

It's nine months after you first started working on base when a new man joins the team. You meet him at lunch, looking up and giggling when you realize you have very similar masks on. Soap makes a joke about the two of you being twins, but Ghost just stares at both of you.

König, as he is called, is immediately infatuated with you. He begins wooing you immediately, his eyes never straying to anyone else. He wants to see you wear his mask, watch your eyes roll up in your mask as you cum on him. He wants to see the face beneath the mask fall apart. It doesn't take long for every fantasy of his to come true... and a few of your own. You never feel self-conscious of your scarring around him. He worships you and your scars every chance he gets. But you still wear the mask every day for the rest of your life and sometimes his if you want to rile him up.

[sirfrogsworth]

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

[evvlevie]

I SHIFTED FOR THE FIRST TIME !!!!  (as detailed as a shifting blogger can be but scroll down for the juicy part)

Hi, Hello, my beautiful beautiful readers! It's your favorite blogger Evie again and I don't know where to begin 😭 You've read the title so you know damn well what this post is about, and I am freaking over the moon to say it finally happened!

"So how did you shift?" Is most likely your very first question, and I promise I will answer it, but not without giving you full context on what led up to this magical event (or just scroll down in case only the shifting part concerns you)

so as I mentioned in my last post I had been in this state of not putting any effort into my shifting attempts anymore and basically treating shifting like any other of my manifestations: that it will happen on its own, if I simply want to.

⇣the post in question in case you're interested⇣

"Did it work?", you may be wondering. It did not. It might work for other people, because some points I made in that post still apply to me, but the idea of just counting on it to happen on its own didn't really work in my case. This being said, just because it didn't work for me, doesn't mean it can't work for you, and if you are an advanced manifestor who has complete trust in the law, this mindset might even be yours to apply.

Ever since I posted this, some days went by and my typical shifting-cycle repeated. I didn't shift after being so confident I would, and then the realization hit hard and I became severely demotivated. I even told my shifting bestie I was about to give up and lucky for me she motivated me and gave me back my faith. Speaking of faith: I had been noticing that certain angel numbers kept reoccurring in my life. The numbers being 1237 and 119. These numbers seem random, but 12:37 is the time my niece was born and 11th of September is my birthday. (yes I was born on 9/11, no not in the year that it happened, but two years later which is basically irrelevant information but it's a little fun fact about me.) I always thought the universe was showing me my birthday, up until I googled both of these numbers and realized they both mean something among the lines of "keep faith and trust in the universe". And lucky for you I did.

⇣small fangirl and shout-out-moment ⇣

Then on Monday I had a doctors appointment, and being bored in the waiting room I opened Tumblr. My feed was full of law of assumption content and I actually took the time and read through them all, and I reposted the ones I felt like gave me a lot of insight. Now to the freaking craziest part of all of this. (okay not true but it sure meant the world to me). I wake up in Tuesday and see that THE @astra-nomy reposted my post about the newest shifting tip I had found, and not only that, my comfort-shifter @multiversebaddie not only liked one of my posts, BUT FOLLOWED ME BACK. All in the same night and even right after another. CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT THAT DID TO ME????? I was like no, nope you guys, I can't not shift if my favourite shifting and loa bloggers fucking found out I existed. (APHRODITE FOLLOWS ME I CANT COMPREHEND THAT). Plus @lavender--fairy commented on the post mentioned earlier, and her post that I reblogged, was the one who actually gave me the key to shifting. Hell yes. I mean I knew what I needed to know from other bloggers anyway, but her post actually brought me back to the correct mindset.

✧THE ACTUAL SHIFTING EXPERIENCE AKA THE REASON YOU ARE READING THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE✧

so now it is Wednesday. I never really talked about what DR I am shifting to, and I mentioned it somewhere on an old ass post but to put it as briefly as I can: my DR contains a certain group of YouTubers, and I am shifting so I can be friends with them. Now they post videos on Wednesdays and due to the time difference I get to watch them at 11:30 pm, so basically right before going to bed. I went and grabbed a quick shower and then I laid in bed and started doing what I was always doing: affirming. But due to me being me this quickly turned into overthinking and overcomplicating EVERYTHING which is why I stopped, went back on TikTok to clear my thoughts a little and then returned to my attempt.

✨ THE METHOD ✨

☞ I laid in a position most comfortable to me and I started imagining myself in my DR making myself ready for bed. In my head I reminded myself of the thing that I was able to remember due to @lavender--fairy 's post: The 4D is the real reality, and the 3D is only the translation of your inner thoughts. meaning: if I can visualize it, I am already IN it.

☞ Along with me imagining my DR-me doing what I did, I always reminded myself (affirming if you will) that if I can imagine it, I am in it. I purposely chose the Visualization of me doing things I was already doing in my CR day-to-day because you can feel the moment so much better and ground yourself in that reality way easier than imagining me climbing a mountain since I never did that.

☞ I was making myself aware over and over again, that the imagination is the real reality and that if I can imagine it, I am in it. For as long as I was trying to fall asleep. I even moved and rearranged my position constantly, imagining that I was my DR-me doing the same thing. I really just emerged myself in that visualization and started feeling what ever I did, because essentially that's how manifestation works. You don't need to worry about the 3D, and you don't have to feel like you're lacking something. You imagined it in the 4D, so you already did it silly!

☞ In combination to that I never forced myself to stay focused on my DR. Because as mentioned in this post below, you are supposed to let you mind do its own thing in a way, because you can't shift If you are too aware of what you are trying to do.

✨ THE MOMENT ✨

I found myself in this weird state between falling asleep and still being conscious enough to see and understand what you are envisioning. So I was technically awake while it happened. I didn't visualize my DR anymore, instead my mind went into a completely different direction and I saw myself buying milk with Harry Styles. No I did not even script him into my DR, this was just my brain doing brain things. Nonetheless I was still affirming that if I can see it, I am in it, and suddenly I felt myself getting pulled. I heard a little whooshing sound and I literally zoomed out of my body. I was standing in a dark corridor and I could see an open door in the distance with a little something happening in the room it was leading to but I was too far away to see what was happening. Suddenly the corridor started spinning and I felt myself getting pulled into a whole different door. I gained consciousness in this unknown room, but I couldn't tell where I was, or what I was seeing, because it was just dark in there and my eyes had no chance of adjusting quickly enough. I panicked and before I could even comprehend it, I knew I set the intention to shift back to my CR. I got pulled back into this mysterious corridor and shoved into another door by some weird energy and I opened my eyes back in the CR. I know it wasn't a dream because this whole zooming out, the mysterious energy sending me from door to door and the random dark room felt way too physical for it to be a dream. I could literally feel myself in this corridor as only a "being" of some sort, but definitely not as a human with a physical form. From the many success stories I have read regarding shifting realities, I have noticed that many shifters do not reach their desired reality on their first try. Almost every shifter that has talked about shifting mentioned that their first shift was weird and to a strange, undefined reality. (@multiversebaddie shifted to a random ass classroom for example)

✨ ADVICE TO TAKE AWAY FROM THIS EXPERIENCE ✨

I believe I shifted when I did, because my mind was in this gloomy state between conscious and unconscious, which ultimately made me believe myself on the spot when I told myself the affirmations I mentioned earlier. I did not doubt them and that's probably why the void state is such a powerful state to be in, because even if I wasn't, I imagine it to be very similar to this.

Another thing, that won't hurt you is educating yourself on the law of assumption. I know it helped me a lot and I believe that people who struggle with shifting, would benefit if they understood the way manifestation worked because ultimately manifestation and shifting is the same thing.

If you read everything from top to bottom: I love you. If you are doubting shifting, your ability to do it, or wether or not it is real: I can guarantee you as a first-person-witness: not only is it real, it's something every single dingus out there can achieve! And if I can help you in any way, shape, or form: don't be afraid to ask.

I send a lot of love and a lot of positive vibes to everyone reading this! I had been waiting to do this post ever since I created my blog and I still can't believe that I finally got to do it 😭

Yours in every reality

Evie <3

[its-rach-writes]

Eat Your Young - Chapter One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your return to the city is welcomed by a plague of ritualistic murders. Even in the middle of a murder investigation, you can't help but fall for Agent Doctor Spencer Reid.

Warnings: fluff, Spencer being adorable, mentions of murder, usual cm behaviour

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this first part! It really is just an introuduction at the moment, and I know irl, the BAU wouldn't be allowed to investigate the case due to conflicts of interest but we move! Please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter One

Cold rain lashed itself against your car window as you pulled up outside the Quantico office, the sound of your son playing some zombie killing game in the passenger seat. If there was one thing you were going to miss about Florida it was going to be the endless sunshine and the sweltering heat. When you flashed the visitors pass at security – and after a bit of interrogating – they let you up to the BAU floor.

“There’s my boy,” you heard a voice echo down the hallway.

“Uncle Derek!” Sam grinned as he practically ran into his god father’s arms. Derek grinned as he glanced at up at you, pulling you into a hug.

“Killing loads of zombies, kid?” he asked, ruffling his hair.

Sam nodded and a tall man walked past, glancing down at the video game, “woah! Is that ‘The Collapse?’”

Before Sam could reply, Derek introduced you, “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid, Spence this is Y/N Rossi and her son Sam. I’ve known Y/N since she was in diapers.”

You smiled as Spencer gave you a wave, looking politely startled, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, Rossi as in…” he trailed off and you nodded.

“Yep, David Rossi is my dad,” you glanced at Derek, “I take it he’s on a case?” Derek nodded at your question.

Sam didn’t look too convinced of Spencer as he eyed him – he was always wary around new people, rightfully so – when you nudged him, he finally spoke up, “you play, ‘The Collapse?’”

When Spencer nodded, he asked, “have you done the secret levels?”

Sam’s face lit up and the both of them launched into chatter.

Derek smirked as he looked back over at you, “how long are you in town for?”

“Yeah, that’s what I didn’t tell you on the phone, I’m moving back,” when Derek raised an eyebrow you elaborated, “Sam’s twelve and hardly knows his dad, Nick and I are gonna give it another shot.”

“Oh, Y/N. Please don’t tell me you’re getting back with him,” Derek groaned.

You pulled a face, “what? No, ew! We’re gonna try and co-parent properly this time, I thought it would at least be easier if we were in the same city. He’s a good dad, he deserves to see his son.”

You looked over to where Sam was chatting with Spencer about their shared interest. He’d been having a rough time lately and that was part of the reason that you decided to move back to the city.

“Are you going back into teaching?” Derek asked, drawing your attention back.

You nodded, “yeah, I’m teaching a class on Folklore at the local university,” you laughed, you had a flair for the dramatics.

“Folklore has a lot of uses to today’s society,” Spencer spoke up. Clearly he and Sam had finished their conversation.

Derek narrowed his eyes at his friend, “I’m pretty sure you called Folklore ‘hogwash’ on our last case.”

Spencer went bright red, “no, I didn’t - I didn’t mean,” he began stuttering and you had to put the poor guy out of his misery.

“It’s okay, Spencer, really. If he ever tried something like this again,” you jabbed your thumb in Derek’s direction, “you let me know and I’ll show you the baby photographs. Morgan in diapers is hilarious,” you smirked while Derek glared at you.

Spencer’s hazel eyes lit up as he chuckled, “I’ll remember that.”

You spent a few moments chatting with the two men before you had to get Sam home so he could get settled for school on Monday. You said your goodbyes and made your promises to catch up soon. Sam seemed to be in a chipper mood as you drove home – the weather had significantly brightened – he didn’t even pay attention to his videogame. Though, that didn’t stop him from giving you the low down on the storyline and the lore.

When you were making dinner that evening, Sam spoke up as he helped set the table, “can we go and see Spencer again soon? He was really nice.”

You thought it was a little odd, he didn’t normally take to people so quickly. Maybe it was because Spencer was friends with Derek, and Derek was practically his hero. You laughed a little as you got the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Yeah? You spoke to him for five minutes’ sweetie.”

“But, he doesn’t think I’m weird mom, and he said he’d teach me how to play chess,” there was a little whine to his voice that melted your heart.

“You’re not weird baby,” you kissed his forehead as you gave him his portion of spaghetti, “but I’ll see what I can do about arranging something.”

Settling in went okay – better than expected – Sam was doing well at school and you were comfortable in your new job. You’d hardly seen Derek or your dad due to back to back cases but it was okay. You knew how busy they were.

Then, you got a call at 2am on a random Thursday night, the call that changed everything. You groaned, squinting against the light from your phone, “hello?” your voice was groggy and you ran a hand through your hair.

“Hey baby, it’s Derek, you have to come in. I’ll pick you up,” the tone of his voice pulled you out of your sleepy stupor and your heart dropped like a rock.

Twenty minutes later, you were sitting in an FBI interrogation room opposite Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid. One man looked stoic and stern, the other soft and kind. It was Spencer who spoke first in a soft voice but his handsome face gave nothing away.

“You understand why Derek or your dad can’t be here right?”

You nodded, sitting back in your seat, they couldn’t be here because it was a conflict of interest and you still didn’t know why you were here. But you had a pretty good idea, “who is it? Who’s dead?”

“One of your students,” Hotch started, his hands resting on a dossier folder. He must have seen the panic on your face because he held up his hand, “we know you didn’t do it, we put his time of death between 8pm and 10pm. Your dad told us you were grabbing a late dinner before dropping your son off at his father’s. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

You nodded, feeling sick to your stomach, “who was it?”

“Michael Roberts,” Spencer started, “his girlfriend told us that you argued?”

“We didn’t argue,” you sighed, “I caught him dealing on campus so we had a heated conversation, that’s all.”

“And you didn’t report it to campus police?”

You shook your head, “he was there on a scholarship and he promised he wouldn’t do it again. What happened to him?”

Hotch and Spencer exchanged a glance before the older man slid the folder across to you, you felt sick as you opened the folder. He’d been found outside his dorm room with a wooden stake through his heart and a clove of garlic forced into his mouth, “he’s been killed like a..” you trailed off.

“Like a vampire,” Hotch finished for you, his hand rubbing against his jaw.

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt him, or kill him in this way?”

You shook your head, “I didn’t really know him, he only took my class because he needed extra credit,” you paused, remembering a rumour you’d heard, “there was a rumour going round that he was cheating on his girlfriend but I don’t know with who.”

Hotch nodded, a sympathetic look on his face as he looked at your tired eyes, “I think we’re done here, just let us know if you think of anything else.”

You nodded and left the room with the two men, going to grab yourself a coffee from the break room. Your dad was standing against the fridge as you walked in and he pulled you into a tight hug.

“Dad,” you giggled, “Dad I’m fine.”

“Come on, let me drive you home.”

“Dad, we had a bottle of wine each at dinner, I am not trusting you behind the wheel,” you laughed at his mock offended expression.

“I can drive you,” you glanced over at your shoulder to see Spencer with a shy smile on his face.

“Sure, thanks,” you smiled and said your goodbyes.

You were silent as Spencer drove you home but you could see him glance at you every so often, you knew he wanted to check on you. You weren’t ready to talk yet; you knew you shouldn’t have asked to see the photograph of the crime scene but you just couldn’t help yourself. Finally, as you rounded a corner, you spoke up.

“Who would want to kill college kids? And do it straight from a horror film.”

“That’s what we need to find out,” he mumbled, “are you okay?”

“Okay, as I can be,” you were silent until you came to a horrible revelation, “do you think it was someone from my class? Someone familiar with Folklore?”

“It’s certainly possible, someone suffering from delusions. Rossi is going to send an Agent to your lectures just in case,” this whole thing just got a lot scarier, “we’re going to keep you safe, Y/N. I promise.”

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

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

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

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

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[spicyclover]

Hey! Would you like to write one for Charles where he can't drive his normal car (for whatever reason), so he asks the reader for help, but she's kind of nervous and thinks there will be some judging? 😅

Bad Tooth

Summary: A dentist appointment and a ride home.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

If there's one thing Charles doesn't like, it is the dentist. He hates it. Even as a child, he would do anything to not go. But after spending a week with an abominable toothache, he is unfortunately forced to.

To be honest, you forced him. You couldn’t take off his complaints anymore, all day, and after treating him like a baby so he’d understand, he finally made an appointment.

So that’s why you find yourself in the dentist’s parking lot arguing for Charles to get out of the car.

"Charles, please can we get out?"

"No, I feel way better now."

"That's a lie. You know it. I know it. Everybody knows it. Do I have to take you by the hand like the child you are?" He evaluates your proposition before saying anything else.

"That's not fair," he wines before getting out of the car, acting like the child he is.

You chuckle a bit before following his step to the dentist's office. You waited for a few minutes before the dentist was ready to see Charles. Before going, he looks at you with puppy eyes, imploring you to say something. But you just rolled your eyes and pushed him to the man.

The appointment took longer than expected, and you start to worry. You go up to the receptionist and ask for an update.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, but do you know what going on with M.Leclerc?"

"Give me a minute," You wait by the desk while she goes behind. You’re wondering if what he’s got is worse than you thought. "Thank you for waiting, so Mr. Leclerc is currently under anesthesia, and the dentist is removing two wisdom teeth. The surgery should end in five minutes, and then you can go home."

"Wisdom teeth?"

"Yes, apparently it was quite bad. The doctor will get to you soon."

You thank her and get back to your seat. "So he wasn't pretending... Oops." You might have thought he was lying when he started complaining about it, and you guessed it was one of his many schemes to get your attention. "Well, we can all be wrong sometimes."

The dentist comes to get you several minutes later, and you're now allowed to see Charles. You walk into the room, and you see him totally buzzed out. He's so high right now, and his mouth is like ten times his normal size, and you can't help but laugh a bit.

You take your phone out and capture this unique moment of Charles looking like a squirrel being high on drugs.

"No... no pic... pict... pictures," he mumbles while drooling.

"Sorry, baby, but the others won't believe me if I don't."

"Ha... hate... hate you."

"No, you don't, you love me, and now your teeth won't hurt anymore." You laugh, trying to be positive.

"I lo... I loov live a squerrel.

"Yeah, you do. But I love my squerrel." You chuckle, kissing the top of his head.

"Hate... hate hich."

"Let's go home, baby."

The dentist gives you the last information for the few weeks to come, and you can't help but laugh at Charles's face when he tells him you couldn't eat solid food or make any physical effort for at least the first week. His look was priceless.

You tried to be compassionate, but Charles makes such a big deal when you get yours removed that you can't help but do the same. You texted the entire grid and his family, his face, for at least a few weeks. Was it a low move? Probably. Was it worth it? Totally.

You get back to the car, and Charles hands you his keys. You look at him for ten seconds before realizing he can't drive like this. Your eyes open wide, and you want to protest, but he shushes you. Well, not really, it’s more drool than anything, but you understand what he wants.

Your sight and get behind the wheel after setting Charles down. It's his time to laugh. You watch him set his seatbelt and hang on to the door while you start the Ferrari.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, ish funny," he gibberish, half joking, half whining by the pain. "Chart ye engine, bae."

You press the button, but nothing happens. You press it again, and nothing. You frustrated yourself, wishing you had taken your normal car.

"hress the hedal."

You start the car and press the pedal but nothing.

"Hress the hedal!"

"That's what am doing!" You say annoying.

"Hress the rite hepal."

You do as he says, and the engine finally goes on. You smile, looking at Charles, thinking it's now only a matter of going home, but no. You try to change the gear, and the car stalls. Charles giggles, completely high by his meds, while you start again and try to get to first gear.

It's gonna be a long ride, you start thinking. You're not even out of the parking, and it's already a nightmare. You complain about the car and look at Charles, who's entirely soon out.

You arrive at the parking doors and start going in the street. You're way lower than the permit limitation, and Charles encourages you to go faster. You're so nervous that you don't even realize you’re holding the wheel with all your might. How Charles trusts you enough with his car in this city?

"Ou doing reat, bae!" Says Charles putting his hand and yours.

It's only then, that you realize the grip you have on the wheel.

"reath." He inspires and exhales at the same time as you.

"I hate this!" You declare when another motorist cuts the road, making you almost have an accident.

You have to brake hard, which makes Charles tighten his teeth, and you know he’s in pain. You apologize to Charles and rant after all the cars you pass.

"God, you must hate me right now. I'm so sorry Cha."

"ish okay. Ou doing reat. Ust ocus on the road." He says, holding on for his life when you almost pass at a red.

"You must thing I drive terribly, but it's your car. Pretty sure something wrong with it." You say, finally pulling in the entry of the complex.

You park the car and finally exhale when the engine stop.

"I'm never doing this again. Next time, we're taking the bus."

Charles chuckles and takes your hand. He leans on you, and you walk to the elevator. Once home, Charles went to rest, and you spent the rest of the afternoon worrying that he might not trust you again with his car.

You prepared his dinner, and his drug wore off after his nap. He still looks like a squirrel, but at least he's not high anymore. You gave him his soup, and he frowns when he says your right hand completely eating up to the flesh.

"Baby. What happen?"

"What?"

"Your nails."

"It's nothing. I had an anxiety episode after we came home."

"Why?"

"Well, I almost killed us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your car, Charles."

"Oh," he laughs. "You did truly amazing, amour. "I mean you need practice, but you did Wonderfull and we are here, and safe. You should have to wake me."

You smile and hug him tight. Even in your darkest days, he sees your potential and always encourages you to go beyond your limits. You don’t know what you did to deserve him, but you love him. You want to kiss him so badly, but that will wait until he recovers.

"I'm never going back to the dentist," complains Charles taking the pain killers. "It's the worst day of my life."

You laugh and give him the ice for his swollen cheek.

"Did you post the photos?"

"I did." You says, taking your phone out to show him.

It's only then you realize that you didn't send the photos to the group chat but to your Instagram story...

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You run into the last person you wanted to see in Annapolis, which leads to you and Bradley fighting over the phone.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing and smut

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oww!!" You were trying your best to keep it together as your friend Caleb gave you your first tattoo. But you weren't sure if the location was extra sensitive, or if you were just a gigantic baby, but it was hurting a lot.

"Let's take a little break," he told you, gently wiping your skin before he removed his gloves and went to get you a bottle of water.

You glanced down your body to where your leggings were pulled part way down, revealing a half finished tattoo that was clearly dedicated to Bradley. 

Oh my goodness, you'd actually done it. The idea occurred to you when you were first engaged; a hidden tattoo that only he would see. Well, him and your doctors, and perhaps someone who saw you in a bathing suit. But even your bathing suits were probably not skimpy enough to show off the single-line Rooster that was going to be adorning your skin near the left side of your pelvic bone, between your pussy and hip.

"We're almost done," Caleb promised as you drank. "You got five more minutes in you?"

"Yes," you managed to say, watching him wash his hands and grab a new pair of gloves. "It'll be worth it for the surprise wedding gift."

With a laugh, Caleb adjusted your leggings and got to work once more. "I'm pretty sure Bradley is going to freak the fuck out when he sees it. No joke, I would lose my mind if Jess ever did anything like this."

"That's what I'm counting on," you groaned through clenched teeth. You tried to take deep breaths and pretend you were at the beach, taking Tramp for a walk as the needle made you want to cry. 

"Nearly done," Caleb mumbled, and now you were biting your finger to keep yourself still. You were panting by the time he finished and wiped you clean one final time. "Here, check it out with the mirror. Looks pretty cool."

You propped yourself up on one elbow and took the mirror from him. You gasped softly as you examined yourself. "I love it! It's perfect! Tiny and cute and just perfect!"

While Caleb taped plastic wrap over the rooster to cover it while it heals, you argued with him over payment. 

"It's on the house," he insisted.

"That ridiculous! How much would you normally charge?"

He just laughed and said, "It's dainty, and it was your first time, so I'd charge the shop minimum. But you're going to pay nothing and consider it a wedding gift. Congratulations."

"Thanks," you told him with a hug, only feeling slightly bad that he was insisting you skip payment. "But if I come back for another one, I'm paying full price."

"Sure, whatever you say."

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

Bradley was sitting in your car in the driveway. He was already running late, because he missed you so much he could barely function. And because he had stayed in bed too long jerking off to the dirty videos of the two of you. And now your car wouldn't start for him.

"You fucking piece of shit!" he scolded the dashboard. He had moved the seat back as far as it would go, and he could still barely fit. His head was almost touching the roof, and the seatbelt felt like it was smothering him. "I swear this is the smallest car ever made. Can't be safe."

Then he remembered that he promised you he'd treat the car nicely. So through gritted teeth, he gently ran his palm along the steering wheel while he tried one more time to turn the key. 

"For some reason she loves you, so will you please be nice to me?"

The car magically started, and he was finally on his way to work. He thought about how much better the Bronco was while he drove, but he didn't dare voice his opinions out loud. It was only Monday, and he needed this thing to be agreeable for at least a few more days. 

Bradley knew you were busy. He knew you had spent the entire day Sunday with your parents, but he was still craving even just a phone call from you. He thought about calling you now, but the last thing he wanted to do was be a nuisance this week. 

But his phone rang as he pulled into the parking garage, and he scrambled to answer. "Sweetheart!"

"Bradley! I only have a minute," you told him, and he could tell by the amount of background noise that you were already in the conference hall. "Just wanted to check on you and Tramp."

"We're good, Baby Girl. Just miss you."

"Listen, I've got all these dinners and cocktail hours all week, but I'll call you when I can, okay? Text me! I love you!"

Bradley made his way to the classroom and took a seat next to Nat. "How you holding up? I never thought I would see the day when you were a lovesick mess, waiting for your wife to return home."

Bradley grumbled. "Almost wife. And I fucking hate her car. She's so nearly perfect, like literally my ideal woman, but her choice of vehicle honestly makes me question her sanity."

"Of course she's fucking crazy. She's with you."

Being three hours behind you all week made things even more interesting, but when Bradley was fixing himself a bowl of cereal for dinner around 7 on Tuesday, he was surprised to see you were texting him. 

I miss you, Roo. We could definitely manage to break this bed together.

Just as he was about to write back and tell you exactly how he'd take care of you and the bed, a few images appeared in the thread. In the first one, you were naked and all wrapped up in the white sheet, your hair a mess and you had that hazy look in your eyes that told him you'd had a few drinks. 

"Oh, fuck," he groaned as two more images came through. You knew what that ring on your finger did to him. And you decided to tease him anyway. 

The picture of you with your left arm covering your hip, slipping your middle finger inside yourself had him unzipping his shorts. The diamond ring sparkled in the light, and your manicured nails against your pussy looked so pretty. 

He called you over facetime immediately, looking through the pictures while he fisted himself. 

"Roo," you gasped. Your room was dimly lit, but he could tell you were masturbating. You must have just taken these photos before sending them.

"Baby Girl," he groaned, and you whined in response. God, he loved that sound. Loved it when you were a needy, spoiled princess for him. 

"Get me off! Talk to me, Bradley, and get me off!" you demanded, tilting the phone so he could see your pleading face before shifting it to show off the rest of your body.

"You have the prettiest little pussy, Sweetheart. Yes, use your fingers, just like that. Nice and slow. Add a second one to fill you up."

You were moaning louder now, swiping your clit with your thumb. 

"Show me your face. Look at me," he told you, gripping himself tight as you guided your phone up to your face. He scolded you whenever you let your eyes drift closed, demanding you look at him while you came. 

"Bradley," you gasped, your head tipping back, but your eyes stayed on his as you made all the little noises that he would forever associate with pure sexual bliss. 

"Good girl," he told you as you rode your fingers to completion. After a few more pumps of his fist, he had made a bit of a mess in the kitchen for himself to clean up. 

You bit your lip and sighed softly. "I miss you. When I get home, can we make another video together where you call me your dirty little slut?"

He just grunted in agreement. "Anytime you want, Sweetheart."

Bradley let you start to doze off as he talked to you, only telling you to hang up and charge your phone before you fell asleep completely.  

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

Every lecture you attended was fascinating. Every cocktail hour was a great chance to network. And every dinner with your team brought everyone closer together. But you were getting tired of socializing. All you really wanted was to be home with Bradley, eating dinner on his lap and listening to his playlists. 

"Everyone ready for tomorrow afternoon?" Bickel asked on Wednesday evening during dinner just off base. "We've got lecture hall 7 starting at 10:00, so we should have plenty of time to run equipment tests."

"Ready," you promised him as the others agreed. You weren't nervous at all, just excited to share your work. The thing you were most worried about was how itchy your tattoo felt now. It was covered up and healing, but you couldn't imagine giving an hour long lecture in your polyester uniform pants successfully at the moment. 

At least you had managed to keep it covered with your arm while you and Bradley had your facetime call last night. 

You smirked and excused yourself to use the restroom, running your palms over your dress as you wound your way through the restaurant. When your fingers touched your tattoo through the fabric, you actually giggled. You had decided you'd let Bradley find it on his own when you got home on Saturday afternoon. You'd be exhausted from your week by that point, but you still couldn't wait to see what he thought about it.

You were excited for tomorrow's presentation. And on Friday night you'd be out with the Admirals. The Admirals! 

You finally turned the last corner, but you weren't looking where you stepped. It was too late as you felt yourself collide with a man, and then you heard a familiar voice as he said your name. 

His hands came to rest on your arms, steadying you as you felt a cold, horrible feeling wash through your body. 

It was Josh. It was Josh, and he was touching your bare skin, and his face was next to yours. 

"Oh, my god," you gasped, trying to pull out of his grip.

"Shit, it is you," he whispered, finally letting go of you as you wrenched yourself away. 

You stood just staring at each other as you inched slowly away. Some remote part of your brain recognized that you were safe, you were surrounded by people walking to and from the restrooms. You didn't need Bradley or Jake or Bob. But you still felt clammy and uncomfortable. 

"Didn't expect to see you in Annapolis," Josh drawled with a thoroughly disinterested look on his face. "You here to get me kicked off of another base? Get me demoted again?"

"Josh," you whispered, gathering your thoughts. "I'm here to give a presentation."

"I know. I saw your name on the keynote list. I should have been part of that project."

You scoffed. "You should have kept your hands to yourself. And I was never going to choose you, I was always going to keep Sonya."

He laughed bitterly. "Okay, now that much I do not believe. You can say what you want, but I'm not blameless here. You gonna get your huge boyfriend to hit me again, just for fun?"

You pressed your lips together before you said, "Fiancé now, actually."

Josh's gaze dipped down to your hand, but you didn't make the ring any easier for him to see. You didn't even want him looking at it. It was yours. 

Then your mind wrapped around his words. "What do you mean? Hit you again?"

"Is he here?" Josh asked, glancing behind you. 

"No, he's in San Diego, but if I call him, he'll be on the next flight. What do you mean by hit you again?"

Josh shook his head slowly, and you could see in his eyes how much he hated you now. A chill went through your body, but you didn't move an inch. 

"You were there that night, at the bar. I assumed you sent him over to head me off. Him and that blond guy, too."

Your eyes went wider as you pictured Bradley and Jake hauling Josh out the doors of the Hard Deck. Your face must have given you away.

"So you didn't know he punched me in the face then?"

"No," you whispered. Now you were angry at Bradley and Jake, but you were even angrier at Josh for making you remember with vivid clarity the way he had touched you, all while he was standing right in front of you.

"He broke my nose and my ribs. I thought about calling the police. Getting him arrested."

A bitter laugh escaped you as someone nudged past you to get to the ladies' room. "Really? What stopped you? The fact that I would have reciprocated by turning you in for physical and sexual assault? You've got a lot of nerve even talking to me right now, so let's wrap this up. Is there anything else you'd like to say to me?"

Josh eyed you from head to toe, his gaze lingering on your chest for a few seconds before he shook his head. "Just that you weren't worth it. You seemed so fucking easy too. I'd hate to be engaged to you, the way you flirt with other guys like some kind of skank."

"Get the fuck away from me," you said, hating the way your voice shook. "Chelsea told me you did that shit all the time, and I was never even interested in you. You're a pig." 

As he got himself in your personal space, you just wanted Bradley. But you forced yourself to hold your ground.

"And you're a bitch," he snapped next to your ear. 

You sucked in a breath and swallowed hard as he strode away from you as you muttered, "Fuck you." 

When he was out of sight you ducked into the bathroom and locked yourself in a stall. You hated the fact that he could get you so rattled. And you were steaming mad that apparently Bradley and Jake had pulled Josh aside, and everybody neglected to tell you about it. 

You needed to get a cab back to your room so you could be alone and call the one person who would tell you the truth.

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

Everyone was obsessed with his home gym. It really seemed like the silliest thing for his friends to be envious about, especially since Bradley was always inviting them over to use it. He filled up a huge jug of water and grabbed his speaker before taking Tramp out back with him and heading toward the garage where everyone was already gathered.

"Holy hell," Nat muttered. "No wonder he's out here working out all the time. Look at this one!" 

Bradley found Nat, Bob and Jake all huddled around the calendar where it hung on the wall, flipping through the pages. 

"That's so pretty. I love how the photographer used the negative space to make a statement," Bob said.

Jake laughed. "I think you're supposed to be noticing her legs."

Bob stuttered. "Well, I...I just would never look at her that way. So let's be respectful."

Nat shrugged. "I am respectfully saying that I can understand why Rooster is so pussy whipped. Look at this!" She was pointing to the November photo with you in black lace, garters and stocking, and Jake let out a low whistle. 

"Will you please stop looking?!" Bradley scolded, and Nat let go of the calendar like it had burned her.

"We weren't being crude," she replied with a smirk, but Bradley growled and carefully unclipped the calendar from the wall. 

"August is my personal favorite," Jake commented, and of course that was the one Bradley liked because your tit was out.

He eyed them all up. Nat and Jake were both still smirking, and Bob was beat red and looked like he wanted to disappear. "I know she's sexy. I know it's a marvel that I'm with her. I know I am pussy whipped. I know, okay?"

"Just as long as you know," Nat said with a laugh. 

Bradley tucked his calendar carefully into a plastic tub of photos from the storage unit before turning on a playlist. "You've all seen more than enough of my future wife. Let's start this damn workout."

Without another word, everyone grabbed some weights and got to work. Bradley was lifting while Bob spotted for him when he heard Jake's phone ring. 

"Angel, how are you?" Jake drawled, and Bradley quickly set his barbell in the holder and popped up.

"What's wrong? Did she try to call me?" Bradley asked, walking over to his phone. Nothing.

"Whoa, whoa! Angel, calm down! That's not even what happened!" Jake was getting louder and pacing around.

"What's going on?" Bradley demanded, and he was answered by a hand held up in his face. 

Now Bob and Nat were looking concerned as well. 

Jake's eyes went wide and darted toward Bradley's, panic stricken. "You saw Josh tonight? In Annapolis?"

"Give me the phone!" Bradley thundered. 

Jake just held his hand up again. "Angel, you know how I always have your back? I have Rooster's back too, I promise. Everything was under control that night at the Hard Deck." 

"Now!" Bradley added, ready to take it away from Jake.

"He's about to rip my phone out of my hand, so I'm going to give it to him, okay?"

Bradley reached for the phone and juggled it until he had it to his ear. "What is going on?"

"Bradley! I can't believe you punched Josh and never told me! You and Jake both!" you shouted into the phone.

"You saw him tonight?! Where are you?" he shouted back.

"Are you going to tell me what happened when you hit him?" Your voice was near hysterics now, and Bradley knew he needed to calm himself down. He paced the length of the garage while three sets of eyes watched his every movement. 

He readjusted Jake's phone against his ear and took a deep breath. "Sweetheart. I need you to tell me where you are and if you're okay."

"I'm in my room! I'm fine!"

Bradley found it was easier to breathe now. "And where did you see Josh? Does he know where your room is?" Bradley was not above calling your parents and telling them what was going on, since they were only an hour away from Annapolis. In fact his free hand was twitching to text them, and buy a ticket to Maryland himself. 

"I saw him at dinner. He does not know where my room is. Now tell me why you risked assault charges to punch someone who doesn't fucking matter, Bradley!"

Jake took a step closer, asking, "Do you want me to talk to her?"

Bradley sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Can I put you on speaker, Baby Girl? Nat and Bob are here as well."

"Oh my God! Nat and Bob know about it, too? Am I the only one who doesn't know about this?! Should I call Mav and Penny and ask them?"

Bradley tossed his head back and gestured toward the garage door before he disappeared out into the evening air. He paced down the driveway as he said, "There's nothing to tell, Sweetheart."

You scoffed through the phone. "He said you broke his nose and his ribs, Bradley! Why would you do that? He doesn't matter at all."

"For you!" Bradley growled. "What other reason would I have to do anything except for you?"

"He could have hurt you! He could have called the police!" you wailed. "You could have been in serious trouble."

Bradley's blood was pulsing through his body, and he really wanted to punch out a window when he walked past your car. "He doesn't get to touch you without consequences. That's the bottom line."

"But what about you? You think you're not just as important to me?"

Bradley paced back up the driveway, running his fingers through his hair. "I understand what you're saying, my love. But roughing him up outside the Hard Deck was just a warning. I wasn't going to do too much damage. Even though I really fucking wanted to."

The exasperated noise you made had him almost on his knees. "And what if you got arrested?"

Bradley leaned against your car. "Then you bail me out. I added you to all my bank accounts already. You can use it for that."

"I'm not joking right now, Bradley."

"Neither am I! I'm not joking about the fact that all my money is yours. I'm not joking about the fact that I would fund my own bail money to defend you a million times over. And I'm not joking about the fact that I would have done a lot worse to Josh if left unchecked. So if you want to be mad at someone, you can continue to be mad at me, but I promise you that Jake was there the whole time. And he would have pulled me off of him if necessary. That's the kind of shit that Jake and I would do for each other." 

Now you were actively crying, and Bradley didn't know what to say. He realized there was probably nothing that would make you feel better at this moment, so he went ahead and added, "I'm not going to apologize for what I did. And I don't feel bad about it. And I fucking hate that you saw that prick tonight. This is supposed to be your special week that you worked so hard for!"

He wasn't helping anything at the moment, but he couldn't stop himself as he punched the top of your car. "Baby Girl, I love you, and it's my job to protect you. Please try to understand where I'm coming from here."

You sniffed hard before saying, "Please let me talk to Jake."

Bradley heaved a deep sigh and headed back into the garage. "Okay. Here's Jake."

Bradley watched him take back his phone and head outside. "Angel, I promise you that I was with him the whole time......."

Every cell in his body wanted to know what you and Jake were talking about, but Bradley forced himself to sit down on the weight bench instead. 

"Here, use this for a bit," Bob said, handing a twenty pound dumbbell to him. "Keep your mind occupied."

"She's probably just upset that she ran into Josh, and everyone else seems to know you got physical with him except for her," Nat told Bradley, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "She just needs to blow off some steam to Jake, so let him take care of it. In the meantime, I'm going to order some pizzas."

Bradley let Bob count his reps while he listened to Nat order one pizza with pepperoni and one with mushrooms. He suddenly just missed you so much. He should have taken a few days off and joined you in Annapolis to attend your lecture. He'd love to see the look on Josh's face if he tried to talk to you with Bradley standing behind you. 

When Jake finally came back into the garage, tucking his phone into his pocket, he just sighed and stared at Bradley for a moment.

"Well? What did you talk about?" Bradley rasped, handing the dumbbell back to Bob.

Jake just kind of shrugged. "A lot of it was personal, so I'm not going to tell you, but I explained to her very calmly that she needs to get over it. I told her that I am completely taking your side this time, and that it was important for you to assert your dominance in this particular scenario."

Bradley grunted and stood, pulling Jake into a brief hug. "She likes you. She'll listen to you."

Jake nodded. "I told her to take an hour to think about things from your point of view and calm down. Then she's allowed to call you back, but she needs to be done being upset."

Bradley gaped at Jake, and a startled laugh escaped him. "And she's going to actually do that?"

"She better, or I told her I will be very disappointed in her."

"Shit," Bradley muttered, so impressed by Jake Seresin that he wasn't sure what had become of his life. 

"Pizza's here. Let's go inside," Nat said, guiding everyone toward the house.

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

Jake was probably right. You were in shock from seeing Josh again, and you needed to think through what happened at the Hard Deck before you talked to Bradley again. You had stripped off all of your clothes, too hot and uncomfortable, before flopping down on the bed.

Thankfully Jake had taken the time to walk you through everything. He told you that Josh looked like he was going to try to approach you, but there was no way Bradley, Jake or anyone else in that bar would allow that to happen. Jake also promised you that Bradley was very calm the entire time, and the only reason he hit Josh was because he started bad mouthing you.

And especially based on what Josh said to you at the restaurant, you tended to believe Jake. The man had the nerve to call you a skank! As if you had done anything to wrong Bradley!

Oh Bradley. You had yelled at him on the phone. And he'd been the one to keep this information from you for months to try to spare your feelings. He just wanted to protect you and keep you safe. And really, maybe Josh deserved that broken nose and the broken ribs. 

Okay, now you were thinking about Bradley fighting for your honor, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through your body. You ran your fingers along your healing tattoo and you reached for your phone. 

After one ring, you heard Bradley's voice. "Sweetheart."

You let his raspy voice wash over you. He was always going to keep you safe. "I love you, Roo. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was so flustered from tonight and then I was embarrassed. And you know you could have told me you hit him, right? I'm not fragile, Bradley."

"Oh, Baby Girl. You're not. You're so strong. I just didn't want you to have to keep dealing with this shit when I was more than happy to take over for you. You do the same thing for me sometimes. Like when you make fancy dinners for Goose and Carole just when I'm on the brink of collapse, because I don't think there's a good way to keep their memory alive."

"Okay. That makes sense." Jake was right. You just needed to take some time to think about things. "It's like sharing the burden with someone who can help in a different way."

"Yes," he replied, and you could tell he was smiling. "Exactly like that. And also, fuck you Jake," Bradley said, his voice raised so that you could tell he was yelling through the house. 

You started laughing along with Bradley. "Don't get upset with Jake. He's kind of sweet, actually. He helped me process this."

"I love you, Baby Girl. But it's so late there, and you have a big day tomorrow. Are you okay?"

You took a deep breath as you sat up in the tiny bed. Your eyes dipped again to your tattoo. "Yeah, I'm okay, Roo. Thanks for always trying to protect me."

"Will you call me as soon as you can tomorrow? I want to hear everything about your presentation."

"I will."

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

Ugh, Josh..... she needs to finish up in Annapolis and get home. At least the tattoo is complete!

PART 9

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