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vbecker10 · 2 days

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Talk to Me (Part 2)

Part 1 / Part 3 (in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: (4 months after the first part) You and Loki have grown incredibly close, to the point where you both have feelings for each other but are afraid to admit it. One night, you have a nightmare while staying in Loki's room and he calms you but accidentally shows you his Jotun form in the process, triggering his own insecurities.

Warnings: fire (a small one), panic attack, fear of running a friendship, Loki being insecure about being a frost giant

A/N: Well... here's the second part I didn't plan on making lol @irishhappiness made a comment wondering how Loki would comfort Y/N if she has a nightmare which triggered her powers and then this just sort of happened... also there will now be a third part that I am working on 💚

FyI - I used some of my own experiences with panic attacks for this part, I know they are all different but this is just what they feel like when I have them

It's almost midnight when you finally see Stark Tower and smile knowing you are home, and going to see Loki again. You had both been away on missions for the last week but he texted you that he arrived back hours ago. You text Loki and let him know you'll be landing in a few minutes and Thor nudges your shoulder.

"Texting my brother again?" he asks with a smile.

"Yes," you dramatically hold your phone away from him. "Do you mind?"

He laughs, "Of course not. I'm glad to see you two have grown so close."

When the jet finally lands, you walk down the ramp and see Loki waiting for you near the entrance to the building. Thor waves and Loki rolls his eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets. He is unable to hide his smile when he sees you step out from behind his brother.

"I had a feeling it wasn't me he was waiting for," Thor jokes, looking down at you.

"I'm sure he missed you too," you laugh. Loki, as if to prove he is only there for you, walks past his brother without a word and wraps you in a tight hug. You hug him back, your body relaxing instantly the moment you're in his arms again. "You give the best hugs," you mumble against his chest.

"Does he?" Thor asks and takes a step towards his brother when he finally releases you.

Loki faces Thor and reminds him, "Y/N is still the only person allowed to hug me."

You giggle and hit Loki's arm gently, causing him to look back at you, "Be nice."

"I am being nice," he smirks. "I didn't threaten to stab him if he tries to hug me like last time."

You roll your eyes at him but Thor laughs and pats his younger brother on the back hard before leaving you both for the night. You pick up your bag and walk together towards the Tower, telling Loki the highlights of your time away. When you finish, you ask Loki how his mission was.

"Successful of course," he says proudly then he adds, "I wish we had been assigned together. You are far better company than the Captain and Stark. Plus, then I would not have had to miss you."

You giggle and try to hide the blush that creeps up your cheeks at his words. You would have preferred Loki was your partner on your last mission as well, or all of your missions for that matter.

"You should probably head to bed," Loki suggests when you reach the elevators even though the last thing he wants to do is say goodnight to you already.

"Or we could watch the last episode of that show you insist you hate," you offer hopefully. You didn't want to admit you were exhausted, you just needed to spend a little time with him.

He chuckles, "We could do that."

You sit next to Loki on the couch and try to focus on the show but you're finding it difficult. Not only are you fighting to stay awake but Loki is also sitting closer to you then he ever has before. When you first started this show a few months ago, he would sit at the other end of the couch, placing a collection of snacks between the two of you. Over the course of the series, he had gradually started sitting closer and closer to you. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose or not but it wasn't something you were going to complain about. Tonight, there is no space left between you, your shoulders touch and his leg rests against yours comfortably.

All you want is to lean into him and feel his arm around you but you don't move. He really has gotten good at giving hugs and you've decided that means he is also very good at cuddling. It is a theory you want to test but your friendship is too important for you to risk it. He is still in such need of a friend and you have to put that first.

You almost make it to the end of the hour long show, but not quite. Your head nods and comes to rest lightly on Loki's shoulder as you finally lose the battle to stay awake. He looks over and smiles when he feels you shift. He could tell you were too tired to watch the show but there was no chance he was going to turn down spending even a minute with you.

He runs his fingers slowly through your hair and you smile in your sleep. You nuzzle against him and he wishes he could hold you the whole night. He knows he can't though, you are simply friends. He sighs, wondering if this is as close as he will ever get to falling asleep with you and places a soft kiss on the top of your head. His heart skips a beat when you respond by mumbling his name in your sleep. Carefully he gets up from the couch and helps you lay down on the pillow he conjured. He waves his hand again and covers you with the softest blanket he can create.

He stands over you for a moment, taking in how cute and peaceful you look curled up under the blanket. He whispers, "Sleep well, darling," then goes into his room.

Loki lays in his bed but finds himself unable to get close to sleep. He wishes he could pick you up and bring you into his bed so he could keep you close. He has never missed anyone the way he misses you, he has never had a person in his life like you before.

When he was a child, it seemed as if he had dozens of friends but they weren't really his. They were Thor's friends and he simply inserted himself in their games. As he grew older, he found it harder and harder to relate to his peers and they slowly distanced themselves from him.

You are the only person who has ever chosen him over Thor or anyone else for that matter. He knew he was truly your first choice when he was the one you came to two months ago when you became an aunt in the middle of the night. He could barely believe the fact that he was the person you wanted to share one of your happiest moments with. He sat with you for over an hour, looking at the same ten pictures of the little new born but he would have done it all night if it meant he could see you smile and listen to you laugh.

He groans and puts his hand over his eyes, there is no doubt in his mind that he is your closest friend and you are his. He can talk to you about anything but the one thing he cannot bring himself to tell you is that he wants to be more than your friend.

Loki's eyes finally close but only moments later he sits up, his body rigid with fear as you scream. He throws off his blankets and runs into the living area.

"Y/N," he says your name in a panic, his heart pounding in his chest at the sight in front of him. You are sitting up on his couch, looking at the blanket he placed over you which is fully engulfed in flames. You hold your hand shakily over the fire but you can't pull the flames back, you are still too frantic from your nightmare to control your powers.

Loki instantly drops his illusion and waves his hands towards you as he comes to your side. The icy air covers the blanket and quickly smothers the fire. You kick off the charred blanket and pull your legs up to your chest, lowering your head on your knees as you breath heavily.

"Are you okay?" he asks, putting his arm around you as he sits on the singed couch. You shake your head no. "What do you need?" he asks but you don't respond.

You squeeze your hands shut tightly to stop them from trembling and look up towards Loki's voice but you are lightheaded and the quick movement makes you dizzy. You know he asked you something but his voice seems far away as does the rest of the room. You can no longer feel the couch you are sitting on or the floor under your feet, you are vaguely aware that you are disassociating but there is nothing you can do to stop it. Your heart pounds faster in your chest and you fear it may never slow down again.

Loki takes your hand and pulls you up from the couch when you don't answer him. He sits on the floor with his back against the couch and guides you down so you are sitting directly in front of him with your back flush to his chest. He takes your hands in his and let's out a quiet gasp of pain when sparks erupt from your fingers.

"Y/N," he whispers in your ear. You mumble his name in return and he asks, "Can you name five things you can see?"

"What?" you ask, confused by the random question. His cool fingers interlace with yours and small clouds of icy air calm the flames that are rise from your hands.

"Tell me five things you can see," he repeats in a low voice.

You try to focus on answering him. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as you look around the far off living room. Slowly, you list five objects.

"Good, now can you tell me four things you can touch?" he asks quietly.

Your breathing is still ragged as your chest tightens but you push yourself to think about Loki's second question. You take a breath then look around to find the first three objects. "And I can feel your hands," you give Loki your fourth answer, his fingers squeeze your hand gently. As you say each item, you can almost feel the room shrinking to a less distorted size.

"How about three things you can hear?" he asks.

"My breathing," you turn to rest the side of your head on his chest, "Your heart beat and your voice," the answers come quicker now.

"Two things you can smell?" Loki asks, you finally register how worried his voice sounds.

"My shampoo," you answer, suddenly remembering when Loki told you he loved the way your shampoo smelled. You bought four more bottles of the fruit scented soap that weekend. "And your cologne," you tell him, a smile crosses your lips when you inhale deeply and breath in your favorite smell.

"You're doing so well, I just need you to tell me one thing you can taste now," he says.

"Do the apples on your dining table count?" you ask him as your eyes scan his apartment.

"If you think they do, they count," he responds and you nod that they should count. "How do you feel?" he asks after a moment.

"Better," you realize suddenly. Your heart rate feels normal, even your breathing is steady and easy. You are no longer lightheaded and feel as if everything around you is real and not distorted. You ask, "How did you know how to do that?"

"I read that it was a popular grounding technique," he explains. "I looked into ways to help you after you told me your nightmares sometimes triggered panic attacks."

You smile at the effort he had gone through to make sure he could help you, "Thank you Loki." You feel safe and comfortable pressed against Loki and look down, feeling your hands still in his hands. Loki's skin is a deep shade of blue and it takes you a moment to realize why. You shift to face him, his crimson eyes fixed on yours and he smiles. "Is this your Jotun form?" you ask, touching the ridges on his cheek with your fingertips lightly.

His smile vanishes and he immediately shifts back into his Asgardian form, pulling his fingers free from your other hand. "I'm sorry," he says nervously as he gets up and walks away from you.

He sighs, "I did promise that, didn't I?"

"For what?" you ask getting up but he ignores you. "Wait, Loki," you call as he heads towards his bedroom and pauses under the door frame. You walk towards him and say, "Please don't do that. Don't shut me out." You slip your hand into his and he looks at you. "You promised you would talk to me, remember?"

You nod and try to smile, hoping he will open up to you. You are always worried Loki will retreat behind the walls you've worked so hard to break down.

A small smile tugs at his lips and he says, "I don't know what I did to deserve such a fiercely devoted friend."

You shrug and hold your forced smile as you feel a twinge of pain in your chest when he refers to you simply as his friend.

"We will talk in the morning, I promise," he says as he moves to pull you into a hug. "You need to rest."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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raina-at · 17 hours

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Fire

Fire exposes your priorities.

The explosion shakes the very foundations of 221 Baker Street. Sherlock looks up from his microscope and sees a vast billow of smoke rise out of the windows of Speedy’s cafe.

Sherlock is out of his seat and down the stairs in two seconds flat. Mrs Hudson meets him at the door.

“What happened?” she asks, looking terrified.

“Gas explosion, if I had to guess,” Sherlock answers, taking her by the elbow. “We need to get out now.”

“Sherlock—”

“Now, Mrs. Hudson.”

He opens the door and forces her out of the building, taking his phone out of his pocket to dial 999.

“Sherlock!” Mrs Hudson grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around, forcing him to look at her. “Look!”

Sherlock follows her outstretched hand with his eyes and his entire world whites out on the edges. Rosie’s pram is parked in front of Speedy’s.

Sherlock checks his watch. 4:10 pm. John normally comes home with Rosie at four…

They often pick up baked goods from Speedy’s before coming upstairs…

Sherlock feels bile rise in his throat, but he ruthlessly suppresses his fear as he presses his phone in Mrs Hudson’s hand. “Phone 999. They’re probably already on their way, but do it anyway. I’m…” he trails off and gestures to the entrance to Speedy’s.

He doesn’t even hear Mrs Hudson’s response. He runs towards the shattered door and carefully steps inside the wrecked cafe.

The air is thick with smoke, and he can see flames licking out of the kitchen. Glass litters the ground.

He hears her crying immediately. “Daddy,” she sobs. “Wake up.”

Sherlock assesses the situation with one glance. Rosie seems relatively unharmed, but John’s unconscious, and trapped beneath a heavy-looking shelf. Mr Chatterjee is lying behind the counter. He’s alive, but that’s all Sherlock has time to determine before instinct kicks in. He’s at Rosie’s side and is picking her up before he’s aware that he’s moving.

“We need to get you out of here, Watson,” he says as he lifts her away from John’s supine body. He hesitates briefly, registering that John is breathing normally, but knowing he can’t lift that shelf alone, and knowing he has to get Rosie out of here. Now. The gas valve is still open. There could be a second explosion any moment.

It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done in his life, but he clutches his wailing daughter close to his body and runs out of there as fast as his feet carry him.

“Daddy!” she wails into his ear, tearing at his heart with every forlorn cry. “Daddy! We can’t leave Daddy!”

Outside, he’s greeted by a pair of burly firemen, who pull him behind a safety barrier and hand him over to a paramedic, who forces him to sit in the back of an ambulance. They try to pry Rosie out of his arms, but she’s holding as tightly to him as he’s holding on to her.

“Daddy! What’s happening to Daddy!” she wails, sobbing into his shirt.

“Don’t worry, Watson, the firemen will save Daddy. They’ll get him out,” he soothes her mechanically, even as every muscle in his body screams that he needs to go in there and dig John out with his bare hands if he has to, because this can’t be happening, it just can’t. After all they’ve been through, a fucking gas leak—

But he doesn’t move even one inch, because he knows, he knows, he has to be there for Rosie, even if—

Especially if—

He feels bile rise again, but he swallows down the panic and the fear and the desperate need to run back in there, and holds on to Rosie, whispering soothing nothings into her blonde hair, even as she screams for her father, again, and again, and again. Sherlock wishes he could scream as well, but if he even utters John’s name now he’ll break clean in two from the force of the fight raging within him.

He could give her to someone else, run in, get John out.

But what if they both die in there? Who will take care of her then?

So he sits, and he waits, and he holds their distraught daughter, knowing he has to, there’s no choice here, it’s what they both promised each other, she always comes first, no matter what.

He waits. And waits. It feels like hours, but it’s probably five minutes, ten at most, before the firemen bring John out on a stretcher. He looks so small, but he’s wearing an oxygen mask and he’s clearly alive.

“Daddy!” Rosie screams, and Sherlock has to stop her from throwing herself on the stretcher, but honestly, he’d like to do the exact same thing. He’s weak with relief and smoke inhalation, and he’s glad when the paramedics take charge and get them all three into an ambulance. As soon as they’re in the ambulance, Rosie takes John’s hand. After a brief moment, Sherlock encloses her hand holding John’s in both of his.

Sherlock watches their entwined fingers, one small hand and two large ones, the entire way to the hospital.

*-*

Sherlock meets Molly and Mrs Hudson in the waiting room once the doctors have cleared Rosie to go home—smoke inhalation and a few cuts and bruises, they were so lucky—and Sherlock excuses himself to the hospital bathroom, because he’s filthy and he stinks of smoke.

He washes up, still numb with shock, and that’s when he notices his hands are bloody from pressing his fingernails into his palms. His wedding ring has blood on it. He washes it off, then is violently ill over the washbasin, his body convulsing as the fear and the shock and the smoke inhalation catch up to him.

What would I have done, he thinks. I almost let him die. I would have let him die. I would have watched as he burned to death, what’s wrong with me?

I should have saved him, should have gone in there and gotten him out, he’ll hate me, he’ll never forgive me, and he shouldn’t… I promised him I’d always be there for him, and I failed, failed, failed…

It’s Mrs Hudson who finds him. He’s still on the floor, holding his head in his arms, unaware when he started sobbing, only knowing he can’t stop.

She sits down next to him and wraps her arms around him, guides his head to her shoulders. “It’s fine,” she whispers, over and over and over, “he’s fine, they’re fine, it’s all going to be all right again.”

Slowly, he calms down. He becomes aware that he has a husband and a daughter to see to, and that this little episode is helping nobody at all.

So he helps Mrs Hudson to her feet and washes his face, then lets her direct him to John’s room.

John’s sitting up in bed, Rosie clinging to him, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. He’s wearing a leg cast, an oxygen mask and a long-suffering expression as he tries to keep Rosie from tearing out his IV without letting go of her.

He stills when he sees Sherlock. Their eyes meet, and John smiles, and Sherlock swallows, near tears all over again, out of sheer relief that they’re all here, and they’re fine. Then John holds out his arm in an inviting gesture, and Sherlock collapses down on the bed and hugs his Watsons tightly to his chest.

Later, when Rosie’s asleep and Sherlock is dozing in his chair, he feels John take his palm, soothe gentle fingertips over the cuts Sherlock’s fingernails have made into his skin. He pushes his oxygen mask aside and kisses the wounds on Sherlock’s hand, a silent gesture of gratitude and forgiveness, of perfect understanding. I would have done the same, the kiss says. And it would have killed me, too.

Sherlock meets John’s eyes and nods, just once. There are no words for how he feels, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t need any. He pulls John’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles over the IV. Soon, they’ll be able to joke about it. Soon, perspective will return and Sherlock will know emotionally as well as intellectually that he made the right decision. The decision John would have wanted him to make.

Right now, though, he keeps his lips pressed to John’s skin and his hand trapped between both of his as if in prayer and only thinks, Thank you. Thank you fate, thank you luck. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

-----

Tags under the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

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#johnlock #bbc sherlock #my fic #may prompts 2024 #fire #parentlock

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thestuffedalligator · 1 day

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“Incidentally, sir–”

“You wish to know who I would’ve elected to choose as my successor,” Vetinari said. It wasn’t a question.

Vimes shrugged. “Only as a matter of interest, sir.”

“You have in your employ, Vimes, a young troll whose career I have watched – bemusedly, I must admit, at first, and then with growing interest.”

Vimes stared. “Not Brick?”

“Civically minded,” Vetinari went on. “Intelligent, when he is choosing not to broil his mind. A troll who has his ear to the ground.”

“Only because his head’s been trod in the cobblestones too many times,” Vimes did not say. “But not Brick,” he did say, because somebody had to say something. As hard as he tried, the images of Vetinari and the skinny, cobblestone face could not overlap in his brain. “A good lad, make no mistake, a fine troll, but not Brick. Good grief, he’s got stains where people have spat on him.”

“Trolls are made of metamorphorical rock, Vimes. They take on the spirit of the stones around them. Brick is so named because he has taken on the appearance of the masonry which makes up our fine city.”

“So?”

“Do you understand what I mean when I say, ‘Genius loci,’ Vimes?” Vetinari asked. “In all my years, I have never met another soul who so embodied the spirit of the city.”

Vimes stared. Did the corners of his eyes crinkle? Was there a whisper of a ghost of a suggestion of a smirk?

Of course there wasn’t. “Really, sir?” he said. “Because in my memory, our Brick – who is a good lad, again, a fine troll, as fine a troll as you can find – is a scrappy little bastard who considers it a good day if he can think to the end of a sentence, and spent most of his life so low he'd drown in a rain puddle.”

“Yes, Vimes,” Vetinari said. “Again: who better embodies our fine city?”

#discworld #fanfiction #gnu terry pratchett #my new favourite options for vetinari's successor are brick and dorfl #and brick being patrician compelled me #narrativia

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sleepyangelkami · 2 days

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could you do Carl reacting to you saying ur safe word?💕💕

SAFETY BLANKET c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 1.5K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - during a time filled with vulnerability, everything becomes too much. luckily your safety blanket isn't going anywhere.

☆ WARNINGS - sexual themes, slight smut in beginning, use of safeword, crying, swearing, aged-up characters, use of good girl (not sexual), anxiety, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

there had to be something so seriously wrong with you.

that was the only viable answer you could give yourself for the uncomfortableness settled in your lower stomach that should have been filled with pleasure. a moment spent with your boyfriend that should have meant so much. and yet you'd never been so distant.

you didn't know what was wrong, truthfully.

one thing you'd known well was where carl stood. at least, you hoped his opinion hadn't changed since before. he always said that if there was something wrong, he'd stop. he didn't need a reason or answer, utter one simple word and it was over for the both of you. he'd maneuver you back to the bed and assure you that he wasn't angry, he'd never be angry. not with you, at least.

so why did you find yourself not wishing to utter such a simple word?

on the very tip of your tongue, reaching out, practically begging to be yelled. what was wrong? you didn't know. you didn't know. and frustration was building up in your throat, almost tears building in your eyes.

skin on fire, eyes burning. how could you feel so horrible and yet not muster the single word you needed to stop it all at once.

perhaps it was the worry that he wouldn't think of you as the 'good girl' he always did, always wishing to please him. and carl? well, he'd taken to your stiff posture at first but once you laid back, seemingly relaxed for him he took no notice of it.

how could he? none of this was his fault.

whether or not you didn't feel good, it had nothing to do with your boyfriend who lay atop of you, pressing his weight onto you. it was suffocating, but that didn't mean it was his fault. yet as the word reached your tongue, you worried if that was what he'd think.

everything was too much, you simply couldn't handle it anymore.

so instead of a long string of moans falling from your mouth, the so simple, so detrimental, word "strawberry." fell instead.

it was almost devastating how quickly he froze, how quickly your eyes began to burn insufferably.

you thought of a thousand words that could have left his lips. "shit." was the first he'd thought of. "i'm gonna... fuck― i'm gonna pull out of you now, okay?"

despite your teary eyes, you'd managed to nod your head almost frantically. the minute the word fell from your lips it was as if you wished for nothing more than the entirety of the moment to be over. you wanted to cry, swallow yourself whole beneath your own pretty pink bed sheets. instead, you lay beneath him with burning eyes in his own sweaty blue bed sheets.

the minute he backed away from you, giving you room, the tears started all over again. you hoisted yourself up so quickly, fishing around for your clothes while you sniffled, trying to suck up the cries that didn't wish to leave you.

he watched as you grasped his t-shirt, not your own, trying to flip it the back way around. he watched wondering if he could step in.

he was the very one who put the safeword in it's use, he gave it to you so that if there was ever a time you'd need it, you could use it. yet it'd never happened before, he was a little worried on making the wrong mistake for the second time that night, pushing you over your limits again.

he probably should have asked could he touch you, were you comfortable with his body so close to yours. but as you struggled to flip the t-shirt to the way it should be, he couldn't help but reach his soft fingertips out.

they touched yours quickly, causing startled, tear-filled eyes to snap up. "hey, hey, 's okay, baby." taking the t-shirt from your hands, gently setting it down on the bed. "'s okay, take your time."

a sudden realisation that you didn't have to cover yourself up so quickly, shun yourself away from him.

so instead of turning your face, refusing to look at the boy, you practically threw yourself into his arms.

without uttering a word, the boy took you. it was easy to hold you at a time like this, shaking while muffling your cries into the shirt on his shoulder. it was easy to provide comfort because it was all he wanted to do. it wasn't easy to watch you like this, hear your muffled cries.

guilt wracked at his bones. "you wanna tell me what happened?" knowing it was something he'd done. he'd made the effort to talk in a low voice, making sure he wouldn't startle you any more than he had already. "huh?" his nose nudged at your cheek, making your face finally leave sanctuary.

gazing straight forward, you could see his face, brows knit together and strewn up, a look of guilt plain and simple against his features. could you possibly feel more awful? "'m sorry." voice cracking as though you were but a mere child.

a different look fell across his face, almost one of agony.

the mere thought of you thinking it'd been your fault.

"hey, hey." fingers moving to grasp at your face, holding you so that you were looking at him. "don't apologise to me, pretty girl, this isn't your fault. 'm so proud of you."

brows knitting together, evident confusion washing over you as you tilted your head up to the boy. "you are?" surprise clean in your voice.

"'course i am, sweet girl." he settled you so that you could rest against his lap as comfortably as you could, despite the fact you were both still nude. "did what i told you to do, it felt wrong so you told me. would have been wrong if you didn't, yeah? 'was such a good girl."

with a sniffle, your eyes cast down to your hands, playing with your fingers as you tried to settle the anxiety in your chest. carl did that better than playing with your fingers ever did. "you're not mad?" voice low.

"no." his nose nudged against your cheek again, he sounded so sure of himself. "no, never mad."

voice cracking once more, ever so softly. "promise?"

his lips curled gently. "i promise." his fingers rubbed against your sides, soothing the slightly bruised skin from his fingers digging into them only moments before. "you need anything, sweetheart? some water? a bath?"

a mere shake of your head was enough. your cheek gently placed itself against his chest, listening to the patter of his heartbeat. it was the kind of thing you never wanted to stop listening to, as soothing as it could get. "jus' wanna be with you."

"'s what we'll do then, 'kay?" the boy wrapped you in a clean shirt, not the one you'd been fumbling with before. this one was white and smelled of linen, he then placed a clean pair of his boxers on you, dressing himself in almost the very same thing before tucking you into bed.

carl didn't need sex. sex was a plus when it came to you. but truthfully, he'd go his entire lifetime without it if it meant he could hold you like this every single night. your head against the crook of his neck, breathing through your mouth and not your clogged nose. your eyes red but softly fluttering as his fingers gathered strands of hair, gently playing with them.

the soft sound of your gentle laughter as the tv in front of you both played, some old dvd he'd found on a run that he just knew you'd like.

he couldn't help but stare, a breathtaking view so close to him. he must have been something as good as an angel in his past life to deserve this, he was sure of it. "'m so proud of you." he kept repeating the phrase, hoping one day you'd understand just how proud he was.

and as the light dimmed, tv gently playing at a low volume, you'd almost fallen asleep. almost without saying the most important words. "carl?" glancing his head down to you. "i love you."

smiling ever so softly. "i love you." pressing the gentlest kisses to your head. "now get some sleep."

you slept good that night, knowing you'd been so stupid to think carl would ever get angry with you, especially over something as simple as that. on the contrary, he'd been happy.

you didn't need a safe word, a simple "no." would have done it for you both. carl didn't care, as long as you had your safety blanket at the end of the night, wrapping around him as though he were the trunk of a tree.

he couldn't complain, he was holding practical gold in his hands.

if he really was, you could call him a hoarder. he wouldn't trade you out for anything else in the world.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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thiccpersonality · 2 days

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The Realization

It's hard being the only human in a team full of meta-humans, aliens or straight up gods, but Bruce manages to get by...even if internally he's overly critical of the work he does, always comparing himself to others and telling himself to do better. But, he secretly counts his blessings one-by-one at how he has friends colleagues that reassure him everyday that he does so much-yes, even when he doesn't ask for it...Clark always tells him it's in his eyes, that's how he knows Bruce wants it.

Bruce finds that stupid though, the only thing in his eyes is exhaustion, and if not exhaustion, then anger; and if not anger, then it's probably a cocktail of self-loathing, self-hate and self-deprecation sprinkled with a healthy dose of "I wish I was dead."

Anyhow, Bruce counts his blessings secretly, even if it doesn't seem like he's doing so. And while it's hard being one of the only humans without a power in a group full of meta-humans or fully fledged super powered beings, he is grateful for the other aspects of power he has: his name, his face, his money, influence-and one of his actual favorites...when he's in a good mood-his body. Bruce isn't an idiot (Jason: "Not all the time anyway!"), he sees the way people eye him up and down, both men and women alike, he knows their thoughts towards him...or well, his body at least.

He has seen the way women eye his arms and pecs (Wally: "You mean, Batboobs®!? And doesn't everyone eye those?"), watches the way mens eyes glaze over when staring at his mile long legs.

Which brings us to how Bruce never truly feels small, not anymore at least. Even if he was of smaller height for a man (or in general) his position in life and as a hero/vigilante would make him feel and appear big to people. So, Bruce hasn't felt small in a very long time, he tends to not pay attention to things like height much-to reiterate: he never feels small because 1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?

The answer: no one.

So while Bruce has never had anyone say to his face that he's short, he's the World's Greatest Detective™ (Jason and Stephanie: "Ehhhh...occasionally.) and can see for himself the difference of him compared to everyone else.

Who is everyone else you ask? Well, it's the people he works with and-and Jason. It's kind of hard for Bruce to truly pay attention to height when he never pays attention to it in the first place or when he's usually in life-threatening situations to really care, in fact, he doesn't know why he is even obsessing over such a thing-'but you do know'-his mind replies. The thing Bruce hates most is that he does-he does know what kick-started this whole height thing, and it was his son; Jason.

XXX

It was any other normal day at Wayne Manor...if you count your son entering your top-secret cave injured as normal. Bruce had his mask off, his icy blue eyes analyzing the information on his computer unblinkingly, there's been an issue with abductions recently and he doesn't want to waste any time on finding out who is up to it, so Bruce has been working overtime (Alfred in a tired tone: "As usual...") trying to find out who it is.

Just as his brain is stringing something together, he hears the sound of a motorcycle outside the Cave, Bruce's brain immediately switches to finding out who it could be. He takes into account every person already inside the house, outside of it, what said people outside said they were doing until his brain very obviously deduces that it must be Jason. Hm? Should he heat some leftovers up for Jason? What is the other here for? Why is he even overthinking it? Jason is free to come over anytime he wants...

....

.....

......

But what if the reason is bad? Is Jason mad at him again? Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose from the sudden headache he gets from his mind panicking, the man just groans softly and turns around just in time to see Jason riding into the Cave, his eyebrow raising suspiciously at the lack of fancy tricks his son bothered not doing.

Bruce silently analyzes his son's body for any signs of distress, starting from his head, he immediately noticed the crack in the helmet and can feel his muscles tighten in worry before remembering he's trained his kids to fight and be able to receive hits as well. The thing that causes him to stand up though is the fact that Jason hasn't noticed him yet, and the way the young man is holding his side isn't helping to ease Bruce's racing mind.

"Jason, is everything alright?"

Hm? Was that too forward of him? Bruce knows his children, but he especially knows Jason and Damian hate being asked for signs of-what they deem as-weakness and injury (Damian sipping his tea: "Wonder where we learned that from, father?)

Jason finally looks up at Bruce, his tone sounding a bit slurred as he speaks, "Jus' fine, B. A little-" he grunts as he stumbles off his bike-"scratch never...hurt me." Okay, so it's more than a little scratch, Bruce catches Jason and can't control the immediate frown he makes when the boy doesn't bother fighting his hold. "What actually happened? It's not just a little scratch...you are clutching your side like you've been sh-" his breathing hitches at the words he almost uttered, w-was Jason actually-

"What? S-Shot? Why's it matter if-" Jason quiets down when Bruce's words finally process, his baby blue's widening under his mask at the small ways his dad is starting to panic from the thought-"No! I was jus' stabbed is all...no shots."

Bruce will get on himself later about how his body relaxed a bit more when finding out his child wasn't shot, I mean, what kind of father feels relieved that their kid was just stabbed? He knows-deep down-that it's his...ahem..."trauma response" to guns, but it sucks for him to realize he finds himself more at ease when people he knows are hurt in different ways that aren't a gun...he feels like a horrible person when it happens.

For now though, his main priority is his son who is losing blood, blood that Bruce is finally noticing on Jason's hand.

Bruce grunts as he brings his son closer to his body, feeling momentarily surprised when he lets out the sound from moving the younger. Since when did he ever grunt when moving his children? Another thing is, when did Jason get so heavy in the first place? When did his once small boy pack on so much muscle and-oh, God...please...when did Jason ever have to bend his knees when Bruce held him?

His body is on autopilot and he can feel himself moving to the medical table, but his eyes are busy staring at Jason's bent knees, his mind screaming at him that this must be a prank his son is pulling-oh! Or maybe Bruce is actually in an alternate universe where his child is bigger than him.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath when arriving at the table, gently lying his son down so he can get to work on stitching his boy up while also giving a (most likely) hypocritical lecture on how Jason should stay safe.

XXX

It was ever since that day that Bruce has been hyper fixated on his own height, along with the height of others. He hates how he's been sneaking in tests and making things awkward with his family because he chooses not to answer and instead rushes off to panic when realizing Jason is bigger than him.

It all happened as soon as Jason was patched up too, his mind recalls every stupid miniscule little detail, from Jason's clothes to the way his hair was messy from sleep and-the worst part-how he had to look up at the nineteen-year-old when the young man got close enough to him. Barefoot and all. The worst part is how Jason didn't even seem to notice it, and Bruce is NOT risking letting his son know, because then he will be picked on for being smaller than him and then his Bluejay will no doubt drag his siblings into this.

Not to mention how Bruce doesn't want to deal with a furious Damian who will demand that they, in his words, "stop disrespecting father before he slits their throats."

It has been a miserable couple months for him-and don't you judge him for keeping this obsession up for months! How is anyone-let alone a parent-supposed to process that they are shorter than their kid? Bruce holds back his frustrated tears at realizing his children are grown and growing, for goodness sakes, he had a meltdown just yesterday when it caught up to him that Richard is a fully grown man...he will never let anyone know about how he clutched onto old pictures of his eldest while crying.

And everyday Bruce is hoping and praying against Damian's growth...of course he doesn't want his son to be stunted in his puberty process...but if he decides to stay little forever then that is perfectly okay with him.

Besides panicking over his family's growth, which, yay for them...really, Bruce has been noticing-and I mean, TRULY noticing, his friends colleagues heights. There are certain people where it's just so noticeable, like J'onn for example, that guy is so huge that you are stupid if you don't notice it. Another hero is Big Barda, I mean, she's a seven foot tall woman...you would obviously notice that.

But there are just some people he noticed it with but it didn't bother him before (thank you Jason for kick-starting this!) And now Bruce is constantly comparing himself to the most closest of colleagues to one's he barely speaks to, it's insane how many files he's gone through just to look at heights. His two closest friends colleagues Diana and Clark are two people he didn't bother with height wise. It didn't matter since they made him feel small in different ways...I mean, you have the Amazonian princess with strength and skills that would put any living creature to shame and a Kryptonian that is more human than most humans, who truly has a heart of gold despite any negative views towards him.

And then there is Bruce: cold, stoic, a touch too sarcastic, jaded, cynical, a negative Nancy, a party pooper (Jason says that), no fun, emotionally stunted, anxious, depressed, stressed, old, washed up, unfunny-and the worst of all; short.

Bruce holds back his distressed noise as Wally West, AKA: Richard's best friend who has been over a million times, stands next to him with that ever bright smile of his and is animatedly talking, effectively ruining his depressing train of thought. When did he get so big? So...grown? He takes in the maturity of his once soft face, the man is still cute no doubt, but he isn't that same round faced boy who bothered him about Alfred's cookies. Okay, okay, maybe he still is that same kid...just older looking and taller now.

"-and that's why I'll need that penthouse full of Agent A's cookies."

Bruce blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes and looks down (ha!) at The Flash confused, though to the normal eye he looks the same old disinterested as usual. "You need a penthouse? What happened to that modest apartment you got?" Wally blinks in shock behind his mask before giving a toothy smile, "Is that what your mind got from that? I was joking about the penthouse...though Agent A's cookies would still be much appreciated."

The ginger shifts in place nervously at the way Batman is staring at him, did he do something wrong? The only thing that somewhat assures Wally that things are okay is the fact that Bruce gives a grunt of agreement before walking off.

He can't take this anymore! If Bruce stays around Wally any longer he's afraid he'll start crying in front of the kid. Instead, he'll just head to the cafeteria and drown his sorrows in today's dessert. Bruce walks in and sees that Diana is already in line, holding back his grumble as he stands next to the woman and internally mourns the fact his head only reaches her shoulder. "Good morning, my friend! It's a lovely day in space is it not?"

Bruce grunts and doesn't bother looking up at Diana, "It's the same view we see everyday we come up to the Watchtower."

The Amazonian just smiles brighter, warmth radiating from her mood. "Though we see it everyday it doesn't make it any less gorgeous up here." Bitterness. Bruce's heart is filled with bitterness at the words "up" and "here" , is-is Diana teasing him? Did she somehow find out about his fixation and is now subtly letting him know that she knows?

The feeling of warmth, like that from the sun, at his right side causes Bruce to automatically look up at the person standing so close to him. His icy blue eyes only widen under his mask at fully tilting his head back to look up at Clark, he feels like sobbing when realizing his head only comes to Clark's chest, why is the man even taller than Diana!?

"Good morning Bruce, Diana. Lovely morning up here, is it not?"

There's that stupid word again! And is it really a good morning when he's been suffering for so long? Bruce frowns at the gentle nudge at his side and Diana's jovial tone, "Told you the view is still beautiful." At Clark's questioning look Diana just smiles more, "Our friend here just is being a sourpuss today. He's grumpy about how I said the view is nice, he just replied about how we see it everyday."

Clark just smiles and looks down at Bruce, his smile turning amused when his friend doesn't move up the line. "Are you just going to stare at me all morning or will you move down the line?"

A scoff is all Bruce can give, not noticing the concerned looks shared over his head as he focuses on piling his food tray with dessert. The concern isn't necessarily from Bruce eating sweets, Diana and Clark both know how much their friend actually has a sweet tooth, the issue is coming from the fact he is willingly eating sweets in front of others on top of the amount it is. Clark just frowns worriedly and sits actual food on his plate while mouthing to Diana about what's wrong with Bruce.

In return, the princess just shakes her head and looks back down at Bruce, choosing to speak up. "You know, it's been awhile since we've eaten alone, just the three of us. Why don't we head to one of our rooms or something?" What she actually means by that is: "let's get Bruce alone so we can figure out what's wrong with him."

The two super powered heroes find themselves even more putoff at Bruce's distracted grunt...it is rare he pulls that one out, usually his grunts have some level of awareness to them, but this one is telling them that he's not actually paying attention. Which is cause for alarm in and of itself. Plus, Clark and Diana have been getting calls from Bruce's family, they are worried about how he's been acting as of late. They report Bruce is running off on them whenever they ask him what's wrong...which actually isn't out of character for Bruce, but if the Batfamily are saying it's different than usual, then it's different than usual.

The two taller heroes lead the shorter to his room, punching his code in before the door opens and they watch as Bruce automatically walks over to his bed and sits on it, shoving a cookie in his mouth and causing Clark to signal to Diana in confirmation that something is wrong.

They use their friend's distracted state to quietly talk about it while joining him in the room, "What's going on with him?" Diana raises her brow as she asks, tilting her head up and to the side so Clark can whisper in her ear. "I don't know for sure...but his lip is jutting out into a micro-pout. I quickly scanned him to see if he was hiding injuries, and while he's not, his muscles are tense as if he's holding back something."

Diana softly ah's and sets her tray down on Bruce's desk, the noise causing the man to look up at them finally. His eyebrows raising when noticing he's in his room, "Why didn't we just eat in the cafeteria?" Bruce holds back his fidgeting at the look the taller two heroes share.

Clark clears his throat, "We were going to originally...but we noticed you were acting off and suggested eating in one of our rooms as a test-"

Diana, being one to never hold back, gets to the point. "A test you failed, Bruce. To be honest, you've been acting off enough to worry your family into calling us to step in. So, can you please tell us what's going on?" Bruce feels genuine embarrassment that this is where his fixation has gotten him, he's too flustered to admit that his issue is the fact he's begun to notice people are bigger than him, I mean, what kind of issue is that?

At Bruce's silence Clark steps forward slightly, his voice patient and gentle when he speaks.

"We are your friends, B. Heck, you even feel like family. And family is there for each other just like me and Di are here for you. Jason has been feeling particularly bad lately...he says he didn't know what he did this time to make you so upset with him, you keep staring him down angrily only to storm off when he looks back at you."

Bruce feels angry with himself for letting such a stupid non-issue get this far. His looks of "anger" weren't anger towards Jason at all, he knows when he thinks hard about stuff he can sometimes look mean apparently, but he was never upset with his Jaylad...the distress was just showing on his face and Bruce most likely masked it with the first emotion that came to mind, one that's easiest for him to express or replicate; anger or irritation.

Bruce hates the involuntary distressed sound that escapes his crumb covered lips, however, for the sake of his family and ending this stupid misunderstanding, he chooses to be...honest (Batfamily: *collectively gasping*)

"Jason...he's bigger than me-" Bruce keeps the Batman mask on so he won't be too vulnerable, his hands tightening on the metal tray from the thought-"For months I have been noticing the sudden growth of my children and I...I didn't know what to do with that information. Did you know that Jason has to crouch when I hold him now? Since when did he need to do that?" At this point of his ranting, Bruce is out of bed and pacing across the room while his friends patiently listen.

"And then it hit me one day that Richard is truly a man now. Maybe that's why we got into so many fights before? I never truly realized that he didn't need my help like before-" Bruce pauses in the middle of the room and clenches his cape in his fists-"He is so much taller now and shining brighter than the little boy I picked up. Timmy is even starting to grow a bit more...which, I don't know if I should be upset or pleased that he's finally growing, that boy scares me sometimes with how small he was."

Bruce's hands instinctively reach up to run his fingers through his hair and he huffs at the mask being in the way, choosing to hide his hands underneath his cape instead.

"Wally is even so big now, did you know that? I remember the young boy with that fat freckled face pestering me about Alfred's cookies...and now that boy has the audacity to get big on me, I think I hate realizing that Dickie-bird is actually taller than his friend now, it's only by one or two inches-but still!" Bruce starts pacing again, his nerves building up once more and telling him to move.

"And don't get me started on Damian. I feel I constantly am trying to sabotage his growth...I never got to see him as a baby and so I hope he stays that small, chubby faced little boy I've come to know. I feel horrible for wishing against his growth, but I want to make his childhood as enjoyable as possible, did you know he didn't even know what movies were when he came here? He was deprived of fun and he can't grow too quickly now or fun childhood memories can't be made."

Bruce stops to finally stare at Diana and Clark, pointing accusingly at them.

"And then you two! I noticed it before, but it was never something of interest to me. I didn't need to pay attention to your heights when I feel small in other ways with you two...you-" Bruce grunts at Clark gently slamming into him and hugging him, the man sounding a mix of fond, touched, baffled and sad. "You don't need to feel small with us. I for one think you are bigger than any of us in many different ways...I mean, you just admitted to having a crisis at realizing your family grew."

Diana joins in on the hug with a soft chuckle, "I'm just surprised you didn't notice our height difference sooner. Clark and I always talked about how cute it is to pick you up, your our tiny human."

The woman just smiles more when Clark nudges her side in warning for her playful words, "But in all seriousness. This has to be the cutest moment we've seen from you ever, instead of a midlife crisis you are having a parental crisis-" Diana cackles again when Clark pokes her side again-"What? I am being serious. But also, this just shows how much you care...and I think it's only normal to feel this way when you never expected to have a family of your own in the first place."

Bruce's breath hitches at the gentleness in which Diana speaks the last part, his eyes prickling with tears at realizing deep down she's right. Ever since he took in Richard he was always amazed and scared at having a family, and no matter how much he's tried to deny it in his worst moments, that's what Richard became ever since he thought of taking him in. Bruce never expected a family, which is why he tries so hard to deny it...and I guess after years of taking care of children it's finally caught up to him that his family-more specifically, his children (because that's who they are) have grown into functioning adults.

He never thought he would want a family after losing his in that alleyway, but if anyone were to take down his defenses...of course it'd be a child.

Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak. He can't help but chuckle at the incredulous look Bruce gives him for wanting to cry as well.

"You can cry, Bruce. What are friends for?"

Bruce feels his face grow red, his body loosening in Clark and Diana's hold as months of tension leaves his being through his tears, choosing to hide his face in his friends strong bodies. He hates crying and how good it makes him feel afterwards, he doesn't think he deserves that feeling most days, but for now, it's okay. Bruce also can't help the eye roll at hearing Clark sniffle as well, he's such a crybaby. Diana just smirks at her two boys, carding her long, elegant fingers through Bruce's hair, the two taller heroes paying close attention to Bruce as he shifts in their hold and speaks up. Voice slightly muffled.

"Never speak about this to anyone."

Diana and Clark share a look before silently coming into agreement and lifting Bruce off his feet, reveling in his annoyed protests with laughter.

"We wouldn't dare."

("1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?" Does the second option imply or mean Bruce is short or is it just a scenario? You decide! I constantly switch between Bruce being a genuine short king and him just being around people that make him feel freaking short 😂.

"Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak." <-(Damian and Jason sipping on their tea: "Seems we found that answer to who we learned that from. 😌")

Also, I am so sorry this story got so long! I didn't mean to 😭. This idea has been in my head, and I usually forget my ideas...but this time I actually wanted to remember lol. This is also kind of based off of the one day I was hugging my baby brother and realized I actually had to look up at him...he's only 14 (while writing this I also just remembered he's 14 😭😭😭), I went back into my room and literally just sat there reminiscing on my bed about when he was brought home from the hospital to all the good times we had together and even things I wish I did different with him growing up 😂.

Also, also, I apologize for the constant whiplash from some semblance of humor (or something), to slightly crack-ish (I think so at least) writing to things getting deep and emotional. I was feeling fickle with the vibe of this story I guess, so I said: "why not everything?" 😂😂😂

This is getting even longer cause I like talking too much in notes lol, so I'm going to leave with a thank you! Anyone and everyone who bothers to read this long mess is very much appreciated!

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

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trickphotography2 · 2 days

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D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 19

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 8.8k (sorry, it's a long one)

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 18 | Series Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 19

Jake's heart pounded, eyes darting around the arrivals area at Tokyo Haneda. The arrivals board had said you'd landed twenty minutes ago, and his anticipation was turning into restlessness. He wished he could text you, check in on how you were feeling, how the flight was, and if you needed anything.

He was looking down at his watch again when the doors slid open. His head jerked up, and he felt a twinge in his neck with a flare of disappointment when it wasn’t you. Grimacing, he rubbed the sore muscles, fingers squeezing the cup of coffee he’d sipped on the train. The hour ride took twice the amount of time as a taxi, but after your reaction to the charges on the credit card bill, he was happy to do that if you wouldn’t fight him on grabbing a car back to base. After all, you’d already been traveling for 19 hours. After a nearly six-hour layover in San Francisco and over 11 hours in the air, it was almost 6:00AM local time. Jake had managed to get an early pass off the carrier to meet you at the airport and had reserved the Navy Lodge starting the night before so you could get off the plane and go right in to relax. You’d already texted him that the upgrade to first class was worth it for the lounge use alone during the layover, and he hoped you’d been able to sleep on the flight. He’d been too anxious to ensure everything was ready to get much sleep and regretted it, fatigue making his eyes heavy. After downing the rest of the coffee, he tossed the empty cup.

The doors opened again, and Jake felt his heart stop. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than you in leggings and his old sweatshirt stretched across your seven-month pregnant belly. A grin spread across his mouth as he gripped the strap of his backpack and started to push through the crowd, watching as you looked for him. When you spotted him, he saw how your eyes widened and filled with tears as you hurried toward him, waddling a little. The smile that hid your wobbling lower lip.

And then, in an instant, you were there, standing before him. Without a moment's hesitation, he enveloped you in his arms. His lips found the crown of your head, and he felt his heart surge with love at the sensation of your stomach against his. “Hey, darlin’,” Jake whispered, his voice husky with emotion. Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you held him tightly - or as tightly as you could, between your stomach and breasts pressing against him and forcing you apart.

Pulling away slightly, you tilted your head up and smiled at your husband, eyes blurry with tears. His lips met yours, and you could feel him grinning as one of his hands spanned your lower back while the other slid to touch your stomach. When you broke apart to breathe, you pushed onto your toes to chase his lips, trusting that he would keep you steady. Jake chuckled, kissing you again before resting his forehead against yours and wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “Missed you,” he said softly.

“I missed you more,” you replied. Shaking his head, he gently broke your hold on him.

“Not possible,” he said, sinking to one knee. You felt a flush rise as he leaned closer and kissed your middle. “Hey, Sloane-girl, it’s your daddy. Were you good for Mama on the plane?” Your hand went to his shoulder, holding tightly to his backpack strap as he leaned against you.

“You’re gonna make me ugly cry in public, Seresin.” Your tone was teasing, but he could hear the barely concealed tears in your voice. Chuckling, he kissed Sloane again before springing to his feet and tugging you into his arms.

“Can’t have that, Mama,” he replied. “We need to get your bag?”

“Nope, traveled light. Or a light as you can when you’re huge.”

“Darlin’.”

“Just have my carry-ons,” you plowed through, ignoring his stern tone. His hold tightened, and he pressed kisses into your hair. You weren’t the only one that had gotten bigger over the deployment. While he’d always been fit, you could tell he’d put on more muscle, and his stomach was firmer against your own. To put it plainly, your husband was hot as hell. And if you noticed the differences in his appearance, he was surely noticing your own.

Of course, you’d sent him pictures throughout your pregnancy, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body's changes. But those pictures were carefully curated to be flattering. The weekly picture he requested of your bump was only taken after you’d gotten ready for work, hiding the worst of the stretchmarks on your stomach and breasts. Makeup concealed the bags under your eyes after sleepless nights pacing the house. It was almost comical to think about how self-conscious you’d been about your tiny bump that Jake had watched grow, given that Sloane had more than doubled in size since last seeing him.

After three and a half months apart, you wanted to look your best for your husband. But instead of taking the time to do that, you’d only brushed your hair and teeth on the airplane, forgoing any makeup, and hurried through customs instead of stopping in the bathroom to freshen up. And you felt like crap and were exhausted after traveling for almost a day. The flight attendants were great, ensuring you had everything you needed. Your first-class seat was converted into a bed, but it wasn’t comfortable. The pillows you shoved under your belly while lying on your side hadn’t helped, as they were too flat. One of the flight attendants had rolled up blankets and suggested using those as a wedge under your stomach, which had helped some. But, per Dr. Shearer’s orders, you’d gotten up every hour to walk around to avoid blood clots and had to rearrange the blankets when you got back into bed. Sloane had also been restless, pressing on your bladder after you forced yourself to drink a lot of water to stay hydrated.

Jake’s palms lifted to cup your face, leaning down to brush his lips to yours. “You look gorgeous. You always do, but now? Christ, darlin’.” His thumb traced your trembling bottom lip. His soft smile nearly broke you, and you tried to quiet your internal monologue, listing all the faults in your appearance. “Ready to get outta here?”

“I should probably hit the restroom before we go,” you sighed, placing a hand on your stomach. Jake nodded, leaning down to kiss you before gently batting your hand away as you reached for your suitcase handle. His free hand took yours, raising it to brush his lips to your knuckles.

Jake waited for you outside the bathroom, and you quickly did your business and studied your reflection in the mirror while washing your hands. The bags under your eyes were slightly less prominent with the excited flush in your cheeks. After drying your hands, you smoothed them over your stomach and took a deep breath. You felt a flutter in your belly and pressed against Sloane, “Ready to go see Daddy?” you said quietly.

Green eyes met yours when you stepped out of the restroom, and Jake extended his hand. Drawing you in, he grinned against your mouth. “Can’t believe you’re really here,” he murmured. When his kisses bordered on indecent, you laughed and gently pushed him away.

“Remember we’re in public, Lieutenant,” you gently chided, tapping his nose. He smirked, leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“Good thing we’ve got a hotel to go back to. Realized a few weeks ago that I can’t remember how you taste, which is unacceptable,” he drawled. Your breath caught at his whiskey voice, feeling heat flood your face as a different type of fluttering occurred in your stomach. Trailing his lips along your cheek, he pecked your lips and pulled away. A teasing smolder lit his green eyes as they ran the length of you, lingering on your belly and breasts before rising to meet your own. “Ready to go?” his voice was husky, and his grip on your suitcase tightened. Rather than answer, you held out a hand, feeling his fingers slide between your own.

The taxi slowed as they neared the gate, and Jake was glad he’d asked for your ID as soon as you got into the car. The moment it had started moving, you’d leaned your head against his shoulder and fallen asleep. After wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you close, he’d rested his head against yours and closed his eyes, his free hand on your belly. He couldn’t get enough of touching you and wanted more than anything to feel his daughter move.

After the MP checked both IDs, the car pulled away from the guard shack. Jake kept his eyes open, blinking in the weak early morning sun. A tired smile tugged at his mouth when he looked down at you, and he gently ran his thumb under your eyes. You’d mentioned having trouble sleeping, but now he could see how tired you were.

Your brow furrowed as the car turned into the Navy Lodge parking lot, and Jake chuckled. “Alright, sleepy girl,” he said softly, pressing kisses into your hair. “We’re here. Let’s go get our keys and go to bed, alright?” You groaned, nuzzling closer to him, and he chuckled again, meeting the taxi driver’s gaze in the mirror. The man quickly looked away as he pulled up to the hotel and got out to get the bags from the trunk. “C’mon, darlin’. Gotta open those pretty eyes for me.” After undoing his seat belt, he reached over you and unclipped yours, holding the belt away from your body when you let out a disgruntled little sigh, eyes slowly blinking open. “There’s my girl,” Jake cooed. “Let’s go get more comfortable, Mama.”

You smiled sleepily, and Jake couldn’t resist kissing you. “Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he smiled. He held out his hands to help you from the car and grabbed all the bags when you reached for them. When you commented on taking your things, he shook his head. “You’re on vacation. Besides, you’re already carryin’ the most important thing.” He handled check-in while you relaxed on the couch and watched the bags, kneading the muscles in your lower back. “They’ve got breakfast if you want me to grab you something,” Jake said when he appeared at your side.

“I’m fine for now, but we’ll want to grab some stuff for the room later,” you sighed, mentally preparing to push to your feet.

“There’s a store across the parking lot, and the NEX and commissary are about a 10-minute drive, but the taxis are close.” Nodding, you scooted to the edge of the couch and braced your hands on your knees. When you stood, you noticed your husband was grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replied before handing you the room keys and swinging his backpack over his shoulder. The room was on the second floor, and Jake made sure he was behind you as you climbed the stairs, one hand resting on your lower back. While you internally rolled your eyes at his overprotectiveness, you didn’t say anything to discourage him. It felt nice to have his hands on you again.

The room was decent-sized, with a small kitchenette and two queen beds. The window faced Tokyo Bay, and you could see a few small boats bobbing in the morning tide. After tossing the bags onto the extra bed, Jake stood behind you as you gazed out the window, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. His lips grazed your temple as his palms rested on either side of your stomach. “I saw something and wanted to try it,” he said softly.

“A sexy something?” you asked, rolling your head onto his shoulder when his lips trailed down your throat.

“Not exactly.” His hands moved further down your body to curl around the hem of your sweater and drew it up. You grumbled a little when he encouraged your arms up so he could take it off. His attention turned to your leggings, and he rolled the waist down before tugging up your shirt so it was tucked under your breasts. Jake’s calloused palms slid down your stomach, and he knit his fingers together underneath your bump. His arms caged you in as he raised his hands, lifting Sloane. The relief was immediate, and you sagged back against him, letting out a moan as the weight disappeared and the tension left your back. Jake laughed, and you felt tears spring to your eyes. “That good?”

“So good,” you breathed, swallowing hard when he kissed your cheek.

“You alright, Mama?” he asked, concern lacing his voice when he saw the tears on your cheeks. “Does it hurt?” He started to lower your belly, but you quickly closed your hands over his.

“Don’t you dare,” you breathed, loving the brief reprieve from the extra weight on your front and the feeling of his arms around you. “I just missed you.” Jake whispered your name, lifting Sloane again as he gently nudged you with his nose until your lips found his.

“Miss you all the time,” he said softly against your mouth. You deepened the kiss, curling a hand around the back of his neck.

And then Jake froze, eyes opening and meeting yours in wide-eyed awe. “Was that…” he asked.

“Your daughter moving?” you nodded, feeling Sloane wiggle. Slowly, he lowered your belly - you bit back a groan at the weight now tugging you forward - and turned you around. His hands returned to your stomach, and he frowned when he felt nothing with his light touch. “Here,” you said, guiding his hand and pressing a bit harder.

“I don’t feel anything,” he sighed after a long minute.

“I don’t either. She might be sleeping. What time is it at home?” Jake glanced at his watch and did the mental calculations to account for the 16-hour time difference.

“About 3:00 PM yesterday.”

“Give it a couple of hours,” you assured him. “She’s usually active around the time I get off work.”

“You sure it’s not just that she doesn’t like me?” While his tone was joking, you could hear an undercurrent of worry in Jake’s words. “I’m just some stranger tryin’ to feel her, after all.”

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, purposefully pressing your stomachs together. Resting your forehead against his, you guided his hand back to your belly. “You’re not a stranger. She goes crazy when we’re on the phone or a video call and she hears your voice. And she loves it when I’m on the flight line, and the jets are taking off or landing, just like her daddy. It’s just been a long day, and we’re both tired. But I promise you, your daughter loves you.”

Jake’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I’m missing everything, darlin’. I hate that I - ” You cut him off with a kiss, his hands shifting to your hips when you rose onto your toes. The movement pushed you off-balance and forced him to take some of your weight, but you didn’t care - you trusted him enough to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.

“I hate that you’re missing it too,” you panted against his mouth. “But at least we have this week, alright? I don’t want to spend it being sad.” Jake nodded, chasing your kiss when you landed on your feet. Gently pushing him away, you gripped your shirt and tugged it over your head, dropping it onto your discarded sweater. “Now, I’m gonna jump in the shower because I feel gross. Do you want to join me?” Forcing his gaze from your breasts, which were so much bigger than the last time he’d seen you, Jake nodded. “Good. Would you mind getting my toiletries for me?” When he nodded again, you smiled and moved past him, undoing the clasp of your bra and tossing it onto the bed.

Careful to set the water to a reasonable temperature, you did your business and stepped under the spray, tilting your head back and letting out a soft groan. You were so sore. Even with the compression socks Dr. Shearer had recommended, your legs and ankles were swollen to the point of seeing the indents in your skin. Your hips and back hurt from trying to sleep on the plane. Your shoulders from wearing a bra for almost a day. On days like this, you wished you could enjoy an extra hot shower to soothe your tense muscles. Letting the water wash over your face, you rubbed your shoulders and rolled your neck.

The curtain pulled back, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Jake stepping into the shower, toiletries in one hand. Taking a deep breath, you turned, holding out your hands for your things. Your face flushed when his eyes widened, taking in your naked body - stretch marks, swelling, and all. Forcing yourself not to cover up, you plucked the travel bottles from his hand and turned away to place them on the shelf.

You felt him move closer, and then his hands on your hips encouraged you to face him. Jake licked his lips and smirked, drawing you from the shower spray and switching spots. He faced you as he tilted his head back into the water, arms bulging as he lifted his hands to scrub through his hair. Heat pooled low in your stomach as your eyes followed the water running down his chest and abs, the lines of his Adonis belt. His cock, hardening under your gaze.

Your mouth watered at the sight of your naked husband, and his cocky grin let you know that he knew what he was doing. Jake reached for you again, maneuvering you under the spray. “Sorry, darlin’, I’ll stay outta your way,” he drawled. His eyes focused on your breasts and belly as he loosely gripped his dick and lazily stroked. You shifted, trying to ease some of the pressure between your legs. Biting your bottom lip, you forced yourself to turn away from him - as much as you wanted to fuck him, you needed to clean up first. “‘M surprised you didn’t make the water hotter. Usually have it scalding.”

“I’m not allowed,” you sighed, rolling your shoulders to try and loosen some of the tension. “Can’t have any temperature too hot. I hate it.” Jake moved closer to press himself against you. His big hands went to your shoulders, rubbing gently before his thumbs pressed harder at the base of your neck. You groaned, letting your head fall forward and eyes close.

“Good?” His touch tiptoed the line between pain and pleasure, and you could only hum a response. Bracing a hand on the wall before you, you closed your eyes and pressed back into your husband’s touch. Too soon, his hands trailed down your spine, knuckles stroking lightly until he reached your lower back. He pushed hard, massaging the muscles of your back and hips, and you couldn't keep the loud moan from escaping. Jake chuckled. You struggled to keep your eyes open between his magical hands, the lukewarm water, and exhaustion. After a few minutes, you felt his palms slide around your hips and glide up your belly as he moved closer, gently pulling you upright. His breath was steady on your ear as he slowly explored your new shape, fingers tracing the reddened stretch marks and the dark line below your flattening belly button. You could feel his cock against your ass and shifted as his attention drifted upward to cup your breasts, arousal simmering in your veins. “This alright?” he asked, mouth pressed against your throat as he ran his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. Unable to speak, you nodded, reaching back to touch him. One hand trailed down your body, fingers dancing over your stomach to cup your core. “How ‘bout this?” You let out a shaky breath, widening your stance to allow him better access. “That’s my girl,” he rasped, parting your lower lips. “Wanna taste you so bad, darlin’, but I can wait. Wanna feel you cum on my cock, but I think I’ll settle for you on my hand for now. Gotta be more careful, now, darlin’.”

“J-Jake,” you stuttered as he sank a finger into you. Your head fell back against his shoulder, hand curling around the back of his neck to play with his wet hair. His hand left your breast to curve around your jaw, tilting your face closer so he could kiss you. His lips were rough, tongue plundering. He swallowed your gasp as he added a second finger, his thumb finding your clit with ease.

“So fuckin’ tight.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded. “Want your - ” He curled his fingers to pet your g-spot, cutting you off with a choked gasp.

“Gotta work up to that, darlin’,” he chuckled. “Been neglecting my pretty pussy for too long. You been using the toy I bought you?” Unable to speak, you nodded. “Good. Read somethin’ about pregnancy hormones makin’ mamas hornier than usual, and wouldn’t want you to go without.”

“You read a lot about pregnancy hormones?” you asked, then whined when he withdrew his fingers. Your hand shot down to cover his when he pulled away.

“Don’t worry, darlin’ - not gonna leave my girl hangin’.” Instead, he tugged you away from the spray and backed you against the shower wall. The tile was cold against your heated skin, and you tried to move forward, but Jake boxed you in. With one hand by your head, his other went back between your legs. His mouth covered yours, panting as you grasped his cock. He thrust into your hand, synchronizing with his fingers in your pussy. You ground down on his hand as he trailed kisses down your throat, licking the water from your tits before sucking on your nipple.

The sensation set you off, and you clapped a hand over your mouth as your moans echoed in the bathroom. Jake continued his ministrations as you came, fingers pumping as he switched to your other breast. When it became too much, you tugged him up and kissed him, feeling his grin against your mouth. He pulled away only long enough to lick his fingers clean before he kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself.

You could feel his dick twitch against your thigh and reached for him, but he caught your hand, shaking his head, “Not yet, sweetheart.” Ignoring your whine, he led you back under the shower spray. His hands were gentle as he washed your hair, massaging your scalp and trading lazy kisses. You held onto his shoulders when he went to his knees to wash your legs, kneading your calves and tracing the lines the compression socks had imprinted on your skin. Once satisfied that you were taken care of, Jake quickly washed himself, eyes alight with teasing as he watched you watching him.

Your patience snapped as he dried you off, and you snatched the towel from his hands and threw it onto the floor. Tugging him back into the bedroom, you perched on the edge of the bed and reached for him. Jake grinned, lowering you onto the mattress as he kissed you. But then you grimaced. “Shit,” he hissed, pulling back quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, bracing your hand on the bed. “Just kinda uncomfortable being on my back.” Glancing over at the other bed, you pointed. “Grab me one of those pillows.” Jake scrambled to get it as you sat up and moved toward the head of the bed. When he extended the pillow, you took it and positioned it under your hips, wiggling as you laid back down. “Much better.”

“You sure?” He still looked skeptical as you reached for him and nodded.

“Positive. Unless…” You tried to push down the wave of self-consciousness as he watched you. “Unless you don’t want to?” Jake sighed, crawling across the bed to hover over you, ensuring he kept most of his weight off you.

“Mama,” he breathed, leaning down to nip at your lips. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

“How’s reality stacking up?” You sighed when he ran his cock along your entrance, gasping when he tapped it against your clit.

“So, so much better.” His mouth covered yours, swallowing your moans as he slowly pressed in, inch by glorious inch. Jake’s arms shook by your head when he bottomed out, his breath stuttering as you squeezed him. “Fuck, darlin’, feel so fuckin’ good.” You had to stretch to kiss him, curling a leg over his hips to encourage him to move.

“Please,” you panted. “Jake, I need - ”

“I’ve gotcha, honey.” Setting a languid pace, bracing himself on an elbow, he reached between you and circled your clit. The extra pressure on your stomach made your back twinge, but you ignored it as your husband played with you, trailing his lips along your neck and shoulders, peppering your face with kisses. Too soon, you came, clenching around him as his rhythm stuttered. He grunted your name against your throat, pausing until you lifted your hips to encourage him to keep going.

Sitting back on his heels, Jake looked down at you before his eyes fixed on where you were joined. His hips started to move again, and you scrambled to grasp the sheets as he thumbed your clit. “Can’t,” you gasped.

“Yes, you can, pretty girl,” he growled, angling so every thrust hit just right. “Just one more for me, darlin’.” The combination of his fingers and cock was deadly, but when his eyes finally met yours, you couldn’t hold back. Jake hurriedly leaned down to cover you as you shook, kissing you hard as he finally came.

You stayed like that, trading tired kisses until lying on your back became too uncomfortable. Jake slipped out of bed to retrieve a washcloth as you curled on your side. After he cleaned you up, he handed you pillows to put under your stomach before sliding into bed behind you. His fingers twined with yours, wedding rings sliding against one another before he rested your hands against your belly. “Just gonna nap,” you promised, pressing back against him and feeling his nod. “Need to get on the time zone.”

“Just a nap,” he agreed, lips grazing your shoulder. “So happy you’re here, Mama.”

“Me too, Daddy,” you yawned.

The day flew by too quickly. As much as you wanted nothing more than to spend it in bed with your husband, you eventually forced yourself to leave the hotel. Together, you explored Yokoska, your husband indulging you as you browsed 100 yen and stationery stores, listening to your reminiscing about buying gel pens and trading Hello Kitty and Bad Batz-Maru paper over lunch in elementary school. When you pulled him into candy stores, he said nothing and helped fill a basket with your childhood favorites. When you squealed in delight at finding a vending machine selling a grape drink you remembered loving as a kid, Jake couldn’t help but laugh while digging out the yen to get it for you. He wasn’t a fan of the little pieces of white grape in it and chose to finish the melon soda you’d already opened instead.

Jake quickly got a taxi and returned to the base at the first sign of you getting tired. While you napped at his insistence, he walked to the store to pick up a few things for the room. You woke to the sound of him loading water bottles into the refrigerator and shoving snacks into the cabinets. When he joined you in bed, lying on top of the covers, his hands went unerringly to your stomach. “Hey,” you whispered, covering his hand with yours.

“Hey,” he replied, kissing the back of your neck. “How was your nap?”

“Would have been better with you. I hate that I’m so tired.”

“I figured you would be. You had a long day.”

“I don’t like wasting our time.”

“Not wastin’ it if you’re relaxing.” Sighing, you rolled to face him, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss you. “We don’t have to do anything while you’re here. I’ll cancel all the plans, and we can stay like this the whole time.”

“You want to spend your first time off the ship in months just staying in this room?”

“If that’s what you want, definitely. Just wanna take care of you, Mama. You and Sloane.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed onto an elbow. “Spending our whole trip in bed sounds like fun, but I need some stories to tell people when I get home.”

“We can make those up,” he teased, looking up at you as his hand rested on your hip, fingers bunching in the bedding. Shaking your head, you kissed him, tongue teasing the seam of his lips until he opened for you.

It didn’t take long for your clothes to land on the floor, Jake’s hands roaming your body as you rode him.

Rooster and Mav met you in the lobby of the Lodge the following day, and you tried not to blush when they inevitably made comments about how big you were and congratulated you on having a little girl. Jake’s arm was around your waist, his fingers lightly resting on your stomach. Together, the four of you took the hour train into Tokyo, and the three aviators caught you up on their deployment while you shared what was happening in Lemoore.

The city was much bigger and busier than you remembered as a kid. It was a change from your sleepy California home, and you felt a slight pang of longing for city life that was quickly stifled when you looked at your husband. Sure, you’d always imagined living in a bustling city, but if you hadn’t accepted the promotion and transferred to Lemoore, you wouldn’t have found Jake. As if sensing your thoughts, his hand squeezed yours, and he smiled down at you as you browsed a store. “Love you,” you said softly, disentangling your fingers and guiding his hand to where you could feel your daughter moving. Jake’s eyes lit up, turning to face you as he felt the subtle movement beneath your skin.

While you felt you were slowing the men down, they didn’t say anything when you had to find a place to sit or a restroom. Together, you visited temples and gardens before venturing into Harajuku. The shopping district was crowded, and you were happy to lean against your husband as he lifted your belly, feeding him bits of a crepe over your shoulder while Mav and Rooster looked for souvenirs. Excited by the sugary treat but unhappy with the intrusion on her space, Sloane squirmed in her father’s hands.

Jake didn’t have liberty on Wednesday and had to be back on the carrier by midnight, so you left Tokyo in the early afternoon and boarded the train back to Yokosuka. The gentle shaking lulled you into a trance, and Jake guided your head onto his shoulder as his arm went around you, encouraging you to sleep. He forced himself to focus on the conversation Rooster and Mav were having as your hand rested high on his inner thigh, your wrist brushing his throbbing cock with every sway of the train. Later, after a dinner on base and a quick shower, he massaged your swollen legs and sore feet before curling up behind you. His hand went around your mouth as he fucked you so sweetly and deeply that you couldn’t help the loud noises you made. After, he touched your stomach, simultaneously fascinated and terrified when you had Braxton-Hicks contractions. At your final check-up before the trip, Dr. Shearer had made sure you knew the difference between them and active labor and when to head to the hospital, a knowing look in her eyes.

Reluctantly, as midnight neared, Jake crawled out of bed and took a quick shower. You could see the concern in his eyes when he caught you shifting from the cramps as he dressed and made you swear to call him if you needed anything. He tucked you into bed, ensuring the pillows were positioned just right, before kissing you and Sloane goodnight. With one final check that your purse sat on the stack of medical records you’d brought ‘just in case’ to make both your doctor and husband happy, he left.

Mav and Rooster had invited you for another outing to Tokyo the next day, but you declined. A lazy day hanging around the base sounded like heaven. It was a cool day with rain threatening, but you didn’t mind. You debated going to see a movie but found the theater was closed. Instead, you took a taxi to Kosano Park and looked out at the bay, munching on McDonald’s fries before walking to the NEX. Being on base brought back memories of living overseas as a kid, and you felt a pang of regret that your daughter wouldn’t have the same experience. She would never dread shopping for school clothes on base, sure that everyone would wear the same thing, or experience the month-long trips back to the States where you would spend days shopping. With that thought, you walked next door to the commissary to pick up some stuff for the room and a few things for Jake to bring back onto the ship. It felt so nice to be shopping for both of you again that you had to pause in the chip aisle and take a few breaths when tears threatened to overwhelm you.

You were propped up in bed, eating yogurt-covered pretzels and sipping on a water bottle, watching a sitcom when the door opened just after midnight. Jake smiled tiredly, an eyebrow raised at the sight of you eating in bed before shaking his head and dropping his bag to lie beside you, his head in your lap. While running your fingers through his hair, he told you about the admin work he’d been doing all day while you caught him up on your activities. His nose brushed your stomach before he tugged down the blanket and pushed up your shirt to kiss your skin. You shifted, flushing at his hot breath so close to where you wanted him. Jake looked up at you and raised an eyebrow again.

“They weren’t kidding about pregnancy hormones,” he panted, holding onto your hips as your fingers curled into the sheets of the spare bed that he’d had bent you over. It had taken some convincing and swearing that you hadn’t had any actual contractions at all and a quick chat about orgasms causing Braxton-Hicks for him to agree to touch you. Unsatisfied by his hand, you’d gotten out of bed and stripped, reminding him that you owed him a video for being right about having a girl. His legs had gotten tangled in the sheets, and he nearly fell to the floor while grabbing his phone while you laughed. But that laugh had died on your lips as he cooed about how sexy you were, a hand between your shoulders gently pressing you down, setting a hard and fast pace. You whined as he pinched your clit, leaning forward to hiss and get a shot of your fucked out expression on camera. “Don’t think I forgot about our agreement of no crumbs in bed.”

To make it up to him, you woke him up the next morning, slowly pulling down the blankets to stroke his cock and, once he was awake, kneeling on the floor between his spread thighs and blowing him.

Jake surprised you with dinner reservations for Thanksgiving the next day at the Officer’s Club. To kill time, you took the ferry to Sarushima Island and explored the fortified pathways and old bunkers. The ocean was cool when you walked along the shore, feeling the coral sand between your toes, thinking about the last time you’d walked along the beach together in San Diego and picking out baby names.

“If we have a boy later, what do you think about still using the name Oliver James?” you asked. Jake stopped walking, eyebrows high over his sunglasses as he smirked.

“Already thinkin’ about having another one?” he teased, stepping before you to tug you into his arms.

“I mean,” you shrugged, looping your arms around his neck. “We’ll see how it goes when this one makes her appearance. Maybe she’ll traumatize us to the point where we never want to touch -”

“Don’t talk about my little girl like that,” Jake playfully chided, lightly smacking your ass before leaning down to kiss you. “Besides, it’d take a whole hell of a lot for me to never wanna touch you.”

Rooster and Mav joined you at dinner, sharing stories about their trip to Yokohama. It was fun to hear them trade stories about the deployment and to hear Rooster’s perspective of what Jake was like at their first base. When Jake and Rooster went up to get second helpings, you were able to chat with Mav for a minute and ask how your husband was doing. The older man glanced over his shoulder at the younger aviators before reaching for your hand and squeezing it.

“It’s hard,” he admitted, “especially when his parents…” You felt goosebumps rise at the mention of your in-laws. Taking Jake’s lead, you hadn’t outreached Sarah once they left the house. After a challenging conversation with Lina where she’d accused you of lying about her father’s behavior, you hadn’t spoken again. Jake mentioned his sister was angry with him, but he didn’t care. You knew she was still following you on social media so the Seresins would be informed about your trip and see the pictures you posted. “But he’s okay.”

On Jake’s last day of liberty, you reluctantly agreed to take the 40-minute train to Enoshima. As pretty as the shrines and sea caves were, you wanted nothing more than to be closed up in your hotel room with your husband. He paid the fees to take the escalators up the tree-topped hills so you could admire the views of the Pacific Ocean and distant Mt. Fuji. It was a surprise to see a fence decorated with padlocks, and after using an app to translate the signs, you realized you were at a place called Lover’s Hill. A bell hung in a little stand, the placard stating that if a couple rang it, they would be together forever. You set your phone up on the provided photo stand, snapping a picture of the two of you tugging the bellrope with Sagami Bay glistening behind you. When Jake went into a small store to grab you a melon soda and water, he returned with a lock and sharpie. He wrote your names on it before taking your hand, leading you back to the fence, and pointing out a spot for you to lock it.

At the Navy Lodge, Jake tried to encourage you to pack your suitcase, but you refused. He was due back on the carrier at midnight again, and you didn’t want to spend a minute of that precious time thinking about flying back home the next day. Still, tears gathered in your eyes as he started to clear out the kitchenette, putting your candy in a pile while shoving the snacks into a plastic bag for him to take back to the carrier. You watched him from the bed, biting your lip to keep from sobbing. When he turned to offer you a bottle of cold water, he sighed your name.

The clock was your enemy as Jake undressed you, his lips caressing every inch of skin he uncovered. With a pillow under your hips, he guided you to lay down as he kissed and licked his way down to the cradle of your thighs. Deliberate and slow, he brought you to the very precipice of pleasure before backing off, savoring your taste and whimpering moans. Again and again, your husband toyed with you until you had to switch positions when you started to hurt. It took some convincing for you to straddle his face, clinging to the headboard for balance, but Jake’s soft pleading and cajoling eventually had you grinding against his mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs.

Dinner was a quick affair - burgers that Jake ran across the parking lot to grab from a chain restaurant while you begrudgingly checked into your flight and started to pack. Trying to keep the mood light, he joked that he was happy to finally cross off a french fry run off his Daddy Bucket List, and you quickly ducked into the bathroom to hide your tears. You turned on the sink tap to hide your sniffles, but Jake was waiting outside the bathroom and folded you into his arms when you opened the door. “‘M sorry, darlin’,” he whispered against your hair.

As much as you wanted to focus on enjoying those last few hours together, Jake pulled you onto the bed and handed you a stack of printed papers. Standing before you, he ran a hand through his hair as you flipped through them. He explained that he needed to update his base dream sheet in case he got orders soon and wanted to discuss them with you. Though his tone was even, you could detect an undercurrent of anxiety in his words, and you looked up at him. “So, what do you think the timeline is?” you asked.

“I dunno. I just… have this gut feeling that it’s gonna be within the next year.”

You sighed and set the papers beside you, threading your fingers through his belt loops and tugging him closer. Resting your chin against his flat stomach, you looked up at him, “As long as it’s not within the next five months, it’ll be fine. I really don’t want to deal with a PCS with a newborn.”

“You’d be okay with leaving your job?” he asked tentatively, tracing the curve of your cheek. Frowning, you pulled away from his touch.

“Are you saying you want me to stay in Lemoore?” you asked, a hint of hurt coloring your voice.

“No! No, of course not,” Jake quickly answered. “I just… Are you going to be okay if we move?” Heaving a sigh, you grabbed his left hand and tapped on his wedding ring.

“I knew that was part of the deal when we married, babe. Do I want to leave my job? No. I like the work and the people I work with. But I love you, and - for now - your career is going to be the one that makes decisions for our family.” Jake swallowed hard before burying his free hand in your hair and tugging gently so your head tipped back. His mouth covered yours, nipping at your lips as he tried to lower you onto the bed. But you braced your palm on the mattress and resisted, chuckling against his lips when he grunted. Shaking your head, you reached for his jeans, quickly undoing the button and dragging down the zipper.

Leaning against the headboard, Jake whimpered as you sank down onto his cock, hands clasped around your hips. He could feel you clench around him and let his head fall back, grunting when you refused to move. “Darlin’,” he pleaded.

“Nope, not until we get this dream sheet filled out,” you breathed, fighting your own urge to move. Instead, you grabbed the discarded pile of papers and a pen from your purse. Resting them against his shoulder, you started to read off the bases he’d put as his top choices back when he was single. Jake found it hard to concentrate as you debated the merits of each base. But as much as you pretended you weren’t affected, he could see the pulse fluttering in your throat and feel you clench around him when his hands roamed your thighs and ass. When his hands ventured higher to cup your breasts, your head lolled back as he ran his thumbs along your tender nipples. “Back on task, Seresin,” you panted.

“‘M a great multitasker,” he promised. You laughed, and he groaned as you rocked against him, hips lifting to thrust into you. But you shook your head, setting the papers on the bed and covering his hands with your own. The movement made him moan, and you chuckled, lifting his hands and guiding them to curl around the top of the headboard.

“You’re the one who decided to wait until the last minute to have this conversation, Lieutenant. Now, don’t move those hands until I say so.” It was torture, he decided, trying to talk about your future as you warmed him, squeezing him anytime you felt he wasn’t paying attention. Most of the time, he loved how thorough and logical you were, but at that moment, he would have been happy with whatever random base the Navy decided to send him to. Finally, Jake felt the pen drag across his skin when you propped the papers on his chest to write the new ranking - Lemoore at the top with San Diego after, but including a few bases in Florida and even leaving Iwakuni, Japan on the list.

His head fell back, and he swallowed hard when you leaned to place the papers and pen on the nightstand. Chuckling, you licked his Adam’s apple while taking his hands from the headboard. But when you guided them back to your breasts, he shook his head, a sly smirk crossing his mouth. “Had your chance, darlin’,” he murmured, shaking off your hold and resting his hands on your knees that bracketed his hips. His calloused palms glided up your thighs, one circling your hip while the other slid between your legs. Jake pressed his thumb to your clit but didn’t move. “Now you’re gonna have to work for it.”

The unspoken order was clear, and you pouted. “You’d make you poor, tired, pregnant wife - ”

“Absolutely,” he cut you off. “Especially when she’s being a tease. You wanna come, you’re gonna work for it.”

“On our last night together?” Jake nearly caved when you leaned forward to kiss him. Your words reminded him that he only had hours left until he wouldn’t see you again for two and a half months. But when you smirked against his mouth when he circled your clit, his resolve firmed. Pulling away, he leaned against the headboard while landing a loud slap to your ass. You jolted, clenching around him, and he groaned.

“Clock’s tickin’, Mama,” he managed to say, looking down his nose at you. You sighed, rising onto your knees and sinking down onto his cock. You both moaned, and Jake’s free hand returned to the top of the headboard as he fought the urge to help you. The only help Jake gave was the consistent pressure on your clit and the litany of praise and encouragement that fell from his lips - “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just like that. Liked that, hmm? Do it again. Can feel that you’re close.”

When you finally came, Jake kissed your temple as you collapsed against him, his hands sweeping your skin as he told you how much he loved you. Gently, he encouraged you onto your knees and turned you around, lifting your hips. Your cries were muffled in your folded arms and blankets as he fucked you from behind, thrusting hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. Glancing behind you, you were mesmerized by the sight of his muscles moving beneath his skin, highlighted by the stream of sunset through a gap in the curtains. Your husband grinned as he met your gaze, one hand leaving your hip to run a soothing hand down your spine.

Hit with a horrible sense of deja vu, you refused to close your eyes when Jake tried to get you to relax after a shared shower. His hands drifted over your skin, mapping every curve and divot before pressing lightly when the baby made herself known. He shifted down the bed to press his forehead to your stomach, stroking softly as he murmured his love to his daughter, promising he would be home soon. As usual, when she heard her Daddy, it felt like Sloane was doing cartwheels in your belly. Jake’s grin was worth every bit of discomfort as you threaded your fingers through his hair, savoring the moment for the three of you.

With less than an hour until the taxi came, you watched as Jake checked the room to ensure all his stuff was packed away. His bags sat by the door, ready for the moment he had to go downstairs and return to the port. With his last check completed, he joined you in the kitchenette, where you sipped a water bottle, boxing you in against the counter. Setting it aside, you wrapped your arms around him and felt him kiss your forehead. “Just a couple more weeks,” he said softly.

“More than halfway done,” you nodded. Jake lightly tugged your hair, encouraging you to look up at him.

“It’s gonna fly by.”

“February will be here before you know it.”

“We’ll have so much to celebrate then.”

“Not sure I’ll be in celebrating shape by that point,” you said, attempting a teasing tone that fell flat. “Can’t have sex for at least six weeks after giving birth.” Jake chuckled, stepping closer so your stomach pressed against his.

“Worth it.” You nodded, swallowing hard against the tears that threatened to fall. “Talked to my CO, and he’ll make sure I’ve got a private space to be on a call with you when…”

“What happens if you’re in the air when I go into labor?”

“The tower’ll let me know, and I’ll land as soon as possible and call you.” Blowing out a breath, you met his solemn green eyes and forced a smile.

“I’ll make sure my laptop and charger are in my hospital bag.” You watched as the sadness crept into his gaze and his brow furrowed against yours. “It’ll be okay,” you promised. His touch was calculated as he slowly stripped you of your clothes, fingers caressing your bare skin as he kissed you. After he kicked away the jeans and boxers pooling at his feet, you palmed his cock before his hand wrapped around your knee, keeping you steady as he encouraged you to wrap it around his hip. Holding you there, he slowly pressed into you, swallowing your gasps and sighs as he rocked against you.

The front desk called at 11:35 PM to inform you that the taxi had arrived. Jake tried to get you to stay in the room, but you refused. After tossing his things into the back seat, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you hard. “Love you, darlin’.”

“Love you too. Be safe.”

“You too. Both of you.” He dropped to his knee and pressed his forehead to your stomach. “Be good for Mama, Sloane. I’ll be home soon.” You felt him push your shirt up just enough to brush his lips to your skin.

“Go before I start crying,” you whispered against his mouth when he kissed you again. He nodded, dropping his head to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you, Jacob Michael Seresin.” You felt his smile as he said your full name.

“‘M so glad we aren’t friends,” he chuckled, and you laughed, standing on your toes to kiss him.

“Me too. So much better being your wife.”

As the taxi drove away, you lifted a hand and waved. Jake smiled at you from the backseat and blew you a kiss.

The house seemed empty when you finally made it home. Javy carried your bags to the bedroom while you darted into the bathroom. The plane had hit bad turbulence on the flight home, and you still felt nauseous. You kept that information to yourself when replying to Jake’s text while standing in line for Customs, instead telling him it was smooth.

As tired as you were, it was hard to sleep that night without the sound of your husband’s soft snoring and his hands on you. Sloane seemed restless as well, moving more than normal at night.

“I know,” you sighed, pressing a hand to where she’d kicked you. “I miss Daddy too.”

February couldn’t come soon enough.

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

Author's Note: Jake and Darlin' got their babymoon 🥹 I had a lot of fun writing this chapter - my family wasn't at Yokosuka, but we did live in Japan for 9 years when I was growing up. Guess who didn't realize that Johnny Rockets was an American burger chain until they were 16 since I'd only gone in Tokyo? Yeah... good times...

Though I can't tag her here, May deserves credit for helping me with this chapter and making sure I didn't go too far into the body image angst.

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle; @hardballoonlove; @maeleeme; @emma8895eb; @xoxabs88xox; @queenslandlover-93; @memoriesat30; @queerqueenlynn; @capswife; @regsg18; @boisewaffles; @fudge13; @starkleila; @shanimallina87

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please fill out my tag form here.

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman imagine

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secretinasecret · 3 days

Text

In defence of Bridgerton Season 3:

"It feels different."

Many people HATED the second season at first because it didn't have Simon and wasn't "according to the books," but they ended up loving it by the end.

Y'all need to give this one time to marinate fully and see the rest of the season before coming to a conclusion.

It might feel odd, but that is because it has been two years since we saw these actors and these sets. We are bound to be unfamiliar with it at first.

Season three has the exact formula as the last two seasons: Colorful, bright and two leads that look great together on camera.

"It doesn't have any tension."

I assure you that splitting the season into two parts ruined the experience.

"Colin didn't suffer enough."

He did, actually. To some extent. He RAN to catch up to Penelope's carriage in the middle of the night! Not to mention his little angsty scene when he returns from a night out with his "friends," and he simply throws himself onto his bed without bothering to take off the rest of his clothes.

But I hope Colin will truly LOSE his mind when he learns that Penelope is Lady Whistledown. If he doesn't, then yeah, the writers of this show officially failed ME.

We DESERVE to see this man go absolutely batshit crazy and show that he can express emotions other than confusion, longing and boredom.

"Polin had no chemistry."

Polin had EXCELLENT chemistry; y'all just wanted to see a slow burn, enemies-to-lovers like Kathony, but I am afraid every season has a different trope, and it's okay if friends-to-lovers aren't for you.

Luke and Nicola are very good friends on and off set, and you can literally FEEL their chemistry in press interviews.

If you simply didn't feel ANYTHING at all this season, that may be because you do not feel a connection to Colin or Penelope as characters.

I do want to say, though, that these four episodes could have fleshed out Colin's character a bit more.

Book readers and Polin fans know Colin, but new viewers don't. He needed flashbacks to make the rest root for him. How did he become a people pleaser? What is his relationship like with his family? His father? What made him want to decide to travel almost every single year?

Although people finally like him after the carriage scene, they should have liked him from episode one because he is the LEAD.

"Colin gave me the ick."

To each of their own, but Colin acted EXACTLY as he was supposed to in the first two episodes.

He is a PEOPLE PLEASER, so he tries hard to fit into the mould men like Anthony and Simon made for themselves: A rake. He is supposed to make you think, "Oh, this is too much," because it IS.

Even Eloise and Violet point it out to him, and he finally lets go of that disturbing persona when he asks Penelope to marry him.

Look, the man simply wants EVERYONE to like him because he clearly has some issues that the show is failing to dive deep into, but you get the point.

"Too many sub-plots."

Y'all might be onto something with this one, tbh. But I will say that after a few watches, some sub-plots lowkey start to make sense to me, except the Mondrich one.

I have no idea why the Mondrich family are in this season; why do we need to care about their club or their newfound wealth? I will never know.

But Francesca's plotline makes sense; we needed another diamond, therefore, another Bridgerton to debut. Colin also uses Francesca to ultimately ask Violet about how to confess his feelings to Penelope: "What do you wish for Francesca?" is code for, "What do you wish for me, exactly, in the love department?"

The Featherington plotline was also really funny. We needed a comedic relief.

Benedict's plotline HAS to have some sort of importance because Lady Tilly looks like a very powerful woman. She might play a role in Lady Whisteldown's reveal or have a connection to Sophie. If she is simply there to make Benedict look like an aimless man with no goals in life (AGAIN), I will lose it.

Eloise and Cressida's friendship plotline directly affects Penelope, so that makes sense as well.

The Queen's plotline also makes sense, the woman has been trying to unmask Whisteldown for three years now.

At some point, every single plotline starts to look orderly and chronological, at least to me.

So, was part one of this season absolutely amazing?

No.

Was it enjoyable?

Depends; it might be in the 'Hall of Fame' if they can wrap up part two satisfactorily.

And I'll leave it at that.

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton season three #bridgerton 3 #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton spoilers #colin x penelope #polin #anthony bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #cressida cowper #queen charlotte #violet bridgerton #kate sharma #kate bridgerton #francesca bridgerton

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mrwavellswaps · 2 days

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If you could produce a big Hollywood film about tf, what would it be about and who would it star?

First of all I just wanna say this is an incredible question and I apologize for not answering it sooner! It’s really got me thinking so I’m not gonna waste any time and I’m just gonna straight into it!

Now this is an idea I could get really deep into but for my sake I’m gonna try not to go into ridiculous detail here but we’ll see. That said, if you all like this idea I might either write up a fuller concept for this hypothetical movie with a lot more detail or I might just write a story based around it.

That said, I think our main character would be a man in his late 60’s or early 70’s played by Jeff Bridges. I’m not going to come up with names for the characters here so for now I’ll just refer to them by the names of the actors playing them.

Jeff would be a man who’s spent all of his life being fascinated by the human body. Specifically by just how much it can vary from person to person. That despite all of us being made up of all the same essential parts, we can still look vastly different from one another. From very noticeable differences like height, skin tone and hair colour to much smaller things such as having a cleft chin or being double jointed. All of it piqued his interest.

That said Jeff would have ended up becoming a semi-famous biologist and scientist known for his many discoveries in the former field and his dozens of studies surrounding both the inner and outer workings of humans and our DNA.

Jeff now finds himself in the latter half of his life. His body past its prime even if he still gets told how good he looks by many. Despite this his passion burns as bright as ever, if not brighter. For many many years now his curiosity of human bodies and many differences between them had risen to such a degree that he’d wished he could experience those differences. To have the body of another human and actually feel what it’s like to be someone else. An idea that only grew more enticing as he aged.

Of course this had lead him to looking into plenty of studies about brain transplants and even performing a few on animals himself to see if such a thing could be possible. Yet it never works. The brain is far too complex of an organ to just be transferred from one body to another as if it were a kidney. He deduced it could be possible some day but certainly not in his lifetime.

And that’s what soon leads to the creation of Jeff’s most secretive project. A special machine of sorts that had taken him well over a decade to produce. He thought that if the brain couldn’t be transferred to a different body then the only way to experience a new body would be to alter the body he already has on a DNA level. A feat he wasn’t sure was even possible. But then again most things in the world were considered impossible… until they weren’t.

Jeff of course succeeds in perfecting his invention. A machine that when hooked up to two people can copy and transfer their DNA into one another. But it wasn’t just their DNA. This wonder of technology was capable of transforming these two subjects into perfect copies of one another. Effectively swapping them! He’d tested it on plenty of animals and the final test had been on a wealthy couple he’d proposed the idea to. A husband and wife who wanted their lives to be spiced up a little so they agreed to the swap, not knowing they’d be the first human subjects.

I’m picturing the Husband being played by Gerard Butler and the Wife being played by Lana Parrilla.

Thankfully it works and Jeff watches in wonder and Gerard transforms into Lana and Lana transforms into Gerard. And after some quick check ups to make sure they hadn’t experienced any side effects, Jeff escorted them to a room where they could explore their new bodies with a little more privacy. And explore they did as before long Jeff starts to hear moans coming from the room shortly followed by the wet sound of balls smacking.

After collecting as much data and research on this couple as he could, Jeff would of course allow them to use the machine again and return to normal once they’d decided to do so. But seeing his creation in work like that would only ignite an even deeper desire to experience it himself. So that’s what he sets out to do.

His first personal subject would be the personal trainer Jeff had hired years ago in an attempt to get into but never stuck to it. Said personal trainer would still be in amazing shape of course and Jeff had always wondered what having all that muscle would feel like. And so Jeff would approach the PT with a very generous offer of money. Jeff would have approached many men before this but his old PT would be the first to accept much to his delight.

I’m picturing this Personal Trainer being played by Alan Ritchson.

Jeff would go on to hook both himself and Alan up to the machine before activating it and beginning the process. He knew sort of what to expect after studying Gerard and Lana yet the experience would still be out of this world. An odd mix of pain, pleasure and discomfort flooding his being as his own DNA was striped away and replaced by Alan’s. His body growing younger and larger as Alan’s superior mass was transferred to him in the form of burgeoning muscles and increasing height. Every aspect of his body morphing down the last detail until he’d transformed into a perfect replica of Alan, his buff former PT. Meanwhile looking over to see Alan had now become well… Jeff!

After this there would be an entire scene dedicated to Jeff exploring every inch of Alan’s body. All the while taking mental notes on any and all subtle differences he noticed in how this body felt and moved compared to his original. Though at the same time he can’t help getting lost in the wonder and erotic nature of it all as he flexes and gropes his new muscle with joy.

As this happens Alan would likely be doing the same in exploring Jeff’s older and more average body with plenty of curiosity and a little nervousness.

Jeff decides he wants to know what it would feel like to walk out in the world in another man’s shoes and proposes Alan do the same. And so the two put on some fitting clothes and head put. Exploring how the world views them now that they’ve become a whole new person and seeing how things differ.

Naturally however Jeff eventually checks out his new equipment properly. Perhaps while out and about he just can’t take it anymore and ends up masturbating in one of the stalls in a public restroom. Or maybe he’s the first to arrive back and decides to have a little strip. Either way he can’t help loving the size of Alan’s thicker cock. All the while telling himself it’s for research purposes to know how different men experience pleasure and how different cocks feel. Which is at least half true.

Sooner or later after lots of notes had been taken however, Jeff eventually decides to change them back to normal as much as he really didn’t want to deep down. Having to admit it was strange being back to his ordinary self after experiencing Alan’s body.

Jeff would begin further work on his secret study. Writing down every detail of the experiment. But as he does it only makes him crave testing out again. Quickly justifying it as him needing multiple tests to compare. Which again, is at least half true.

And so Jeff sets out to find more people willing to undergo a temporary swap with him. He aims to find men of all different sizes and backgrounds so he can get as much variety as possible. He wanted to switch with men that were fatter than him, men that were a different race to him, men who’d lived doing blue collar work, men who were similar to him to see just how far those similarities extended. And even though he preferred to remain a man, he still wanted to switch with a woman at least once just so he could have some personal notes on what becoming the opposite gender felt like besides what that married couple had told him.

After this there would be a multitude of scenes where Jeff manages to convince others to go through with these experiments with him. And subsequently following scenes of him exploring each new body he inhabits and making notes not only on how they feel but also how he’s treated by the world if he goes out in public wearing whatever new form he has. Discovering what it’s like to deal not only with other people’s bodies but things such as their cravings and addictions. The way their eyes perceive the world. The way their taste buds react to different foods and such.

I’m not sure how much time would be spent on these scenes as there would definitely be some repetition. Perhaps some have more screen time than others until it becomes more of a montage of sorts while also showing Jeff’s thoughts and feelings throughout the process.

A few examples of actors I’d maybe like to see Jeff cycle through would be: Idris Elba, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo, Oliver Richter, Daniel Dae Kim, Jeffery Dean Morgan and more! I know some of these are big name actors that would be hella expensive to have in a movie all together but hey it’s a dream casting.

On top of all this I can see Jeff going back to Alan a few times as well. Perhaps having really enjoyed and connected with Alan’s body the first time around and longing to keep going back to it.

As time went on Jeff managed to compile more and more notes, having made research on the human body and the way we perceive things as individuals to a level never before seen. Now having gained a deeper understanding of the working of different people the likes of which nobody has ever come close to. Truly groundbreaking stuff. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized this technology could be used to help people! For example those with gender dysphoria could perhaps be helped if the machine was modified specifically for changing things like biological sex or simply just having them go through the switching process with someone else. There were so many possibilities on the cusp of his invention.

As for where the film would go from here I’m honestly not sure. There’s a few different directions though.

Perhaps Jeff could simply unveil his new invention to the world via some kind of show that’s broadcast to the world. Shocking everyone around the globe. Then going forward to have his machine studied to be duplicated and naturally becoming one of the richest men alive thanks to his creation. Ushering in an entire new age of humanity where people now have the power to alter and swap their bodies in ways that would’ve been incomprehensible before. In the process Jeff might end up getting himself a new permanent vessel. Going back to Alan for good this time perhaps or maybe someone else he finds suitable.

In this version I can see the film ending with Jeff sitting in whatever lavish new office he has, wearing his new body with pride and satisfaction knowing that he unraveled so many of the questions and mysteries that’d plagued him his whole life. All the while as he leans back in his chair, running his hands down his body perhaps, we see small scenes from around the world of how the device is being put to use by humanity. Some being good as they show it being used to swap people as rewards or perhaps being used as punishments in the criminal justice system among other thing. However it also shows all the evil it’s being used for such as people being kidnapped and forced into the machines so that their bodies can be stolen. The most common victims of this being police officers and wealthy folk. But by the end it cuts back to Jeff sitting in pure bliss as the camera zooms to him. Just happy knowing that his life goals had been fulfilled with a cheerful yet slightly ominous tone due to not knowing what this new future will bring. Roll credits.

But of course there’s other ways it could end such as there being a bigger conflict. Say if for example, before he unveils his device to the world, Jeff wants to secure himself a new body. For simplicity sake we’ll just say he chooses Alan again like in the previous ending. He proposes this idea to Alan saying that he would agree to share the credit and fortune with Alan once he unveils his device but Alan refuses, not willing to permanently give up his body that he’d worked so hard for. But Jeff doesn’t accept this. And so one thing leads to another and Jeff ends up kidnapping Alan before dragging the hunky man back to his place and setting up the machine.

Before Jeff can finish setting up however, Alan wakes up sooner than expected and immediately tries to escape. He’s been strapped down but Jeff isn’t sure the restraints will hold so he rushes to finish setting everything up and prepares to swap. But just before he can Alan breaks free. Alan attacks Jeff in a rage and pins the older man down, threatening to kill him even. But before he has a chance to prove that threat, Alan feels a strong prick on his ass. He looks back in horror to see Jeff had managed to stick him with another anesthetic. He starts to panic, not knowing whether to try and run or attack Jeff. But it doesn’t matter as his body grows weak and soon enough he falls unconscious yet again. Jeff letting out a sigh of relief before a sinister smile appears on his face.

The movie would then cut to a few months later where we see ‘Alan’ sat in a coffee shop writing something down in a book. We the audience can’t see this book at first until perhaps a waiter/waitress comes over and ends up asking what he’s writing out of curiosity. ‘Alan’ reveals that he’s writing a book all about the differences in human bodies at which point revealing that this truly is Jeff wearing Alan’s body. Then perhaps after another scene showing whatever fate befell the original Alan, the movie would end with Jeff on the cusp of revealing his invention to the globe.

So there you have it! That’s my idea for a movie based around TF! I honestly got wayyyyyy more invested in this than I expected to but that certainly isn’t a bad thing. I had a ton of fun coming up with this and imagining how it would look on the big screen. Of course there are a lot of details I probably left out but I didn’t want to make this ridiculously long. That said, if this gets a lot of positive attention I might write a fuller, more in depth version or a story based around this as I said before.

Thank you for the great question! And apologies again for taking so long to answer it! Really some great stuff here!

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forthevillains · 3 days

Note

WELL, SINCE YOU MENTIONED IT... Wesker breeding kink HCs?

I gotchu!

!NSFW!

~ Wesker surely never intended to have a child, he never thought of it, nor has he been aware of the kinks at all so the whole idea of breeding kink didn’t get to him at first. Yes, he always preferred to cum inside, but it wasn’t much of a big deal, it was purely for his comfort

~ with you however, it changed. Well sort of. He may not know why, but he grew to like it. The sight of his seed leaking from your sensitive pussy after he’s taken you was something that amused him too much. The thought of it resulting in making you swollen with his child, tying you to him forever... It awakened his possessiveness, something in his mind clicked at that moment and he knew it would be something he’d wish to do repeatedly

~ he’s a big creampie lover indeed

~ he becomes obsessed with it. So obsessed that if the imagine of you full of his cum crosses his mind, he gets immediately hard. No matter where he is, no matter what he’s doing. That thought alone is enough to make him go absolutely crazy with the need for you. The urge to have you below him, moaning his name while he pounds into you, pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust while you milk him dry. It would take all his self control not to jerk himself off right there. He’d try so hard to suppress all the dirty thoughts invading his mind only to fail over and over again, having to lock himself in his office, closing his eyes while gripping his cock, imagining it was your hand instead of his:(

~ his favorite position to breed you in is - as you could’ve guessed - missionary. Not only can he watch his piece of art afterwards, but can also make sure you don’t waste a single drop

~ even if you do, he’s gonna push it back in. After pulling out, he’d lower himself enough so that he could push as much as he can back in with his fingers while keeping his eyes on your face, to see your reactions, to know that it makes you as turned on as it makes him. While his skilled fingers would tease you, each of his touches so gentle yet eager. It’s enough to get both you and him ready for a second round.

~ however opportunities like this are limited. He’s a hardworking man and there should be always the time for you to shower afterwards unless you want to walk around with his cum leaking from your hole for the rest of the day. And believe that he made you do that at least once (probably after you’ve angered him), only to tease you about it and make you feel embarrassed

~ Wesker doesn’t really care if you’re on birth control or not. If you happen to be, he takes it as a challenge. He wants to try how long can it protect your womb from being occupied by his offspring. He wants to test it and he’s not gonna give up until one day - you actually become pregnant. Whether you want to keep it or not would be purely on you though, as it was mostly just a fun for him anyway

~ to redeem this poor man though… The act itself means a lot to him. Being comfortable enough with you to want you to carry his child is something he never did in his life. It’s not only an act of attraction, he takes it as all, marking his territory, proving to you that you’re his and his only, but also as his way of saying he’s yours as well.

#albert wesker x reader #resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x you #smut #re smut #resident evil headcanons #headcanons

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wooahaes · 2 days

Text

late night chats

pairing: non-idol!bang chan x fem!reader

genre: fluff. silly lil fluff.

warnings: food. its just a silly lil fic abt making plans w chris. mentions of past panic attacks and a not great ex-best friend.

word count: ~1.2k

daisy's notes: oh to go see the tigers with someone i love......

Chris turned over to wish you a happy birthday right at midnight, for once in bed… Only to find that you weren’t there.

He pushed the blankets off, stretching as he sat up before slipping into his house slippers. For once, he was half-asleep (the things he did for you), and pushed himself up. With a slight sway, he rubbed at his eyes before groping around for where he’d thrown his hoodie… Only to find that it was missing, too. No doubt your doing. Not that it bothered him: you liked stealing his hoodies. You told him once that you liked the smell of his cologne, and hugging or draping his hoodies around your shoulders often made you feel closer to him. Sure, sometimes you’d wear his larger ones, but you liked draping them over your shoulders the same way he would sometimes while you were working.

Easily enough, he found you in the kitchen, standing over a pot of ramen, a pan sitting next to it with nothing in it at the moment. You had tied the sleeves of his hoodie so that it hung around your shoulders, some video essay playing off of your phone. The carton of eggs sat next to you, and you reached over to pop it open.

“Birthday ramen?” He said, trying to make a joke out of it. Except you jerked back, a sharp gasp escaping you as you turned to face Chris.

Instantly, you were relieved, even though you likely knew how silly it was to be startled by him. “You can go back to sleep, Chris,” you said after a moment, turning back to your ramen. “I’m just hungry.”

“Nah.” He made his way over, leaning against the counter. “I’m not tired.” He paused, glancing down at your ramen. “... Do you wanna share?”

With a sigh of relief, you bumped your shoulder against his. “I don’t think I could finish this alone. You want an egg?”

Chris then watched as you cracked a few eggs into the pan—one for him, one for yourself—before changing the topic. “So… Any plans for the day?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Bare minimum was taking the day off, and since I did get it…” You chewed at the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Didn’t think ahead past a vague ‘enjoy freedom.’”

He nodded along, arms folded across his chest. “We could… go to the aquarium.”

“We went a few weeks ago,” you said. “With Felix and Jeongin.”

Ah. Right. It’d been your idea to invite the two. Chris hummed to himself. “Amusement park?”

“Ehhh.”

“Oh.” He looked at you again, “Right, you don’t like roller coasters.”

“It’s not that I don’t like them—”

He shook his head. “No, I remember the story you told me. High school best friend forced you onto a ride you didn’t want to go on, and you had a panic attack afterward.” Chris frowned at the thought. You’d laughed off the story when you first told it to him, but it was half-hearted. He’d held your hand and promised he’d never push you into anything you were completely sure you didn’t want to do (and he’d keep holding your hand if you decided you wanted to try something). “Still can’t believe she fucking laughed at you.”

You shrugged it off, not meeting his gaze as you pressed your lips together for a minute. A few seconds later, you forced a smile. “Eh. It is what it is.”

Except you deserved better than that, he wanted to say. Sometimes Chris imagined how different certain situations in your life could have gone if he had been there to hold your hand and speak up where you were too afraid to. He would have told her that it wasn’t funny. He would have split a funnel cake with you and called you cute. Maybe next time some of his friends wanted to go, he’d get you to go with him and he’d split one with you there and keep you company when they wanted to go on rides you didn’t like.

Something stuck out in his mind, though. “... Zoo?”

Immediately, your head jerked up. “Hm?” But he could see the look in your eyes, a new idea planted right then and there in your brain.

He giggled. “You’re like Berry when I ask her if she wants to go for a walk.”

With a snort, you rolled your eyes and turned back to the ramen. “Still…”

“If you wanna go to the zoo, we can go to the zoo.” He smiled to himself, already planning out the trail the two of you could take. He knew one of them was called the tiger trail, and, well… If the tiger plushies that littered your bedroom weren’t proof enough of your love of the big cat, everything he knew about you did. He shimmied his shoulders playfully as he moved his way over to you, “We could see the tiiigers—”

In the tiniest voice, you spoke up shyly, “... Could we?”

He just pulled you into his arms with a laugh. “If that’s what you wanna do! It’s your birthday,” he kissed the side of your neck before nuzzling his nose against it. “If you wanna see the tigers, we’ll go see the tigers.” Chris could feel the way your skin warmed up, and he just giggled again at how flustered you’d become. “Baby?” He turned you around to face him, caging you in between himself and the oven. “Say it.”

You buried your face into your hands. “You’re embarrassing.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” he said, poking your sides just to see you jolt. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

Even after dating him for this long, you were still so shy sometimes. “Chris?” You peeked at him from between your fingers. “I wanna go see the tigers.”

He pulled your hands away from your face all too easily, peppering your face with kisses. “Then we’ll go see the tigers!” He held your face in his hands. “You’re so cute.”

You averted your gaze, and then finally spoke up after a few seconds, “takes one to know one.”

Fine. He’d let you get that one for today. Other days, he’d deny it and try to paint you as the cutest one in this relationship (truly, there was no competition in his eyes), but for today? He’d let you win. He just kissed you, warm and sweet, before drawing back. “Happy birthday,” he said. And then he pinched your cheeks one last time. “Gonna go see the tigers with my baby…”

You finally let out a groan, yet it was clear how much you still loved him. He might be a dorky mess of a partner, but he was yours. “We can go see your family, too, y’know,” you turned back to the stovetop to make sure nothing had stuck over overcooked. “There’s kangaroos.”

He just laughed, wrapping his arms around you. “Whatever you wanna do,” he said. “I’ll be right there with you.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

#wooahaes.fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chris bang x reader #Chris Bang x you #wooahaes.24

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dragon-kazansky · 1 day

Text

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eleven - Cracks in the glass

☆☆☆

You were sat in your garden. Sitting on the stone wall over a flowerbed nearby. The bricks were your favourite colour. Dream's doing, of course. You had been out here for about an hour now practising making things.

You had been in the Dreaming for about a week now, if you had to guess. The power Dream had given you was almost begging to be used, so you decided to put it to use. After all, he did gift you the garden.

You sit with your hand covering over the soil slightly. It was strange. Somehow, you knew what you needed to do. Rubbing your pointer finger and thumb together, dust fell down to the soil. No, not just dust, stardust.

It fell delicately from your fingers and embedded itself into the soil. Slowly, a little green stem poked out from the soil. You smile and move your hand over a little and repeated the action. You kept going until the flowerbed was full of sprouting flowers.

You smile at your work.

"Your garden is beginning to grow."

You turn and see Dream behind you. You smile at him softly. "Yes. I felt it was a good time to put the garden to use."

Dream walks over and offers you his hand. You look at it for a moment and then accept it, rising from the wall. He brings your hand to his arm as he guides you round the garden.

"How are you enjoying your time here in the Dreaming?"

"I've settled now. I am used to your realm," you tell him.

"I am glad. This is your home now."

The two of you walk slowly through the garden. You watch as fairies and birds fly overhead. A doe prances through the trees to the left. A horse grazes in a field on the other side. There was so much beauty surrounding you.

"I was hoping to have a word with you," he starts after a long bout of silence.

"What about?"

"The night I was captured."

You stop. Dream feels you tense beside him and looks at you.

"The night I was captured, I was in the waking world. I was searching for someone. I only intended to find him and bring him back here, but evidently failed when your father summoned me."

"I'm so sorry," you say softly.

"Don't be. You are not at fault for what your father did. That was his own doing. As was Alex's when he decided to keep you in your room all those years."

Dream could see you were still upset about what happened and reached up to cup your cheek. His hand is warm against your skin. "Don't cry," he spoke softly.

"I'm sorry."

He hushes you quietly. "What I wanted to discuss with you was the man I was searching for that night."

You nod to show you were still listening, unable to find your voice right now.

"He is one of my nightmares. The Corianthian. He has escaped my realm and is still out there now. I came to tell you this because I must go in search of him again."

"I understand. I'll wait for your return."

"You do not wish to come with me?" He asks, sounding surprised.

"Wouldn't it be best I didn't? I don't want to get in the way or be the reason anything goes wrong."

Dream seems confused by your words. "I want you to come."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. Why would I not?"

"For the reasons I just said before." You look at him in wonder. "Is he dangerous?"

"Quite. More so now, I assume."

"And you want me to come?" You ask again.

"Yes."

You chuckle softly and shake your head lightly. Dream smiles at your amusement. Every day, he discovers something new about you that he likes.

"What can I do to help?" You ask.

"For now, keep practising with your new power. I need to find his location first."

"Alright."

Dream smiles and then takes hold of your hand. He lifts it to his lips and kisses it gently. You exhake softly through parted lips as you keep your eyes on his. He does not look away once.

When he lets go of your hand, it feels cold. You miss his touch. You watch him retreat back into the palace.

☆☆☆

Over the next few days, you work on your garden. Every flowerbed is full. You work hard to help them grow. You want your garden to be full of colours of all kinds. You want Dream to know his power did not go to waste.

Matthew flew above the palace and swooped down into your garden. He landed on the fountain and saw you sprinkling stardust onto the flowers again.

"How's it going?" He caws.

You look up and smile. "I'm making progress."

"Yeah, looking good. So, uh, his higness is asking for you."

"Oh? Alright. Lead the way."

Matthew takes flight, and you follow him inside the palace. He takes you down several halls and down toward the throne room. When you arrive, you see Morpheus and Lucienne talking. When they hear you approach, they stop and turn to look at you.

"I have found him," Dream says before you can ask.

"Alright. So, we go now?"

"Do you feel ready?" He asks.

"I don't know, but you want me to help, so I'll try. Though I'm still not sure what I can do."

"It may seem strange, but I'll explain when we get there." He can sense your anxiety.

Lucienne looks between you both.

Dream offers you his hand. You take it, stepping closer to him. This pleases him. He other hand reaches for his sand, and he begins to tip the pouch. The sand falls around you in a haze.

Lucienne looks concerned.

Before you know it, you're standing outside a diner. You look around to find yourself in a place you've never seen before.

"Where are we?"

"America. He's here." Dream keeps his eyes trained on the diner and walks on in. You follow him closely.

The last diner you went to was covered in blood. John. Poor John. Things could have been so different for him if Rodrick wasn't involved in his literal creation.

Inside was quiet. Few people are present. The chef could be seen through the window to the kitchen, and there were two girls on the counter. One pouring coffee for a gentleman at the bar and the other restocking condiments.

A few stools down from the man with the coffee was a plate of untouched food. No one was sitting there.

You both stand by the door and look around. Clearly, there is no sign of this Corinthian.

"Are you sure he's here?" You ask.

"Yes."

In that next moment, a man steps out from the men's toilets. He wipes something you can't see clearly with a cloth and then tucks both items into his pocket. On his face sit a pair of small round frames covering his eyes. He stops and looks up, a huge grin appearing on his face.

"Well, well, well."

Something about his voice sets you on edge, and you find yourself grabbing at Dream's sleeve. He feels your little tug on his coat, but doesn't turn to look at you, keeping his eyes solely focused on the other man.

"Corianthian."

"Dream."

You look up at Dream, but his gaze is locked on to the other man. You feel like the Corianthian is looking at you, though. His lipsnarw curled up into a very pleased grin.

"So, you got free."

"I did. I am here to finish what I came to do all those years ago." Dream speaks firmly.

"Is that so?" Corianthian speaks slowly.

The Corianthian chuckles and walks past you both, heading outside. You look at Dream, who just follows him with his eyes and then follows him out. You stay right behind him.

The Corianthian goes round the back of the diner and stands there. You watch him, staying close to Dream. You do not feel good about being here.

"Well, I'm not going without a fight."

The Corianthian reaches into his pocket and pulls out the thing you saw him put away earlier. When he removes the cloth, you see the knife.

Dream doesn't seem threatened by it.

"I should explain why I bought you with me," Dream says, turning his head slightly to show he's addressing you, but his eyes stay forward. "I gave you a portion of my power, which means I am only complete when I am with you."

You look at him. "Why did you give it to me then?"

"It was a gift."

"Dream..."

You feel his fingers brush against yours as he takes your hand. You glance down and look at them entwined together.

"Look at me."

You lift your eyes to his.

"Trust me."

You nod softly.

Dream turns back to the Corianthian, and his expression becomes firm again. "Your games are over."

The Corianthian laughs. The knife shimmers in the sun. It looks so very sharp. Dream keeps his hand in yours as he lifts the other one up. He's trying to force the Corianthian back into the Dreaming.

However, the Corianthian isn't having it. His aim is true as he throws the knife towards Dream. You push him by instinct and raise your hand to shield your face. The knife embeds itself through your hand, and you resist screaming.

Dream's focus is instantly on you as he places both his hands on your upper arms, looking at the knife in your hand.

The Corianthian runs.

"Go!" You tell Dream.

"No."

Morpheus pulls you into his chest and uses his sand to return you both to the Dreaming. The moment you're both back in the palace, he calls for Lucienne. She rushes in and sees you, asking what happened. Dream doesn't explain. He just asks her for help.

That was something he rarely did.

You're in tears, and your breathing is erratic. Dream is worried about you. You're hurt, and it's his fault. Lucienne has to pry his hands off you so she can help you, requesting things from Matthew and Mervyn.

Lucienne sits you down, and Dream can only watch. He's panicking on the inside. He won't let them know, won't let you know, just what he's feeling right now.

You're hurt.

The scream that you let out when Lucienne pulls out the knife makes his heart break. He watches blood drip down, too late for Lucienne to prevent it from happening. She tends to your hand all while speaking to you in a calming voice.

That should be him, but he couldn't. He couldn't help you. He can't be gentle with you like that. He can't comfort you the way he wants to.

Dream leaves. He can't watch any more.

☆☆☆

You had long since gone to bed. You had come to bid him goodnight, despite the fact he didn't sleep. He told you goodnight and watched you go quietly. He then sank down on his throne and sulked for about an hour.

His sad hours were cut short by a deep rumble under his feet. He snaps back into reality, or well, his realm, to what could only be described as an earthquake. He rises from his throne but holds onto it for support as he looks around the room.

The window behind him cracks, and he stares at them in confusion.

Then it stops, and all is calm.

Matthew comes flying in moments later. "Uh, boss?"

"I know, Matthew. I felt it."

"You, uh, might want to see Lucienne." Matthew caws.

Dream nods and makes his way to the library. The Dreaming doesn't have earthquakes, so whatever that was, it was new.

☆☆☆

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#heart of the Dreaming #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #soulmate au #dragon writes

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