#adds a bit more angst for later when they are told he’s their father

[addamvelaryon]

Fair at Spicetown

Artist: vats9_9

#valyrianscrolls #fire and blood #asoiaf #addam of hull #addam velaryon #laenor velaryon #qarl correy #fanart #asoiaf art #I like to think addam and alyn (not pictured) were there at the spicetown fair the day laenor died #adds a bit more angst for later when they are told he’s their father

[prismaticfaery]

Little Bunny

John Price x Fem!Reader

Summary: Never in a million years would Captain Price think that he'd have a chance at a family, but with how dangerous his profession was and his chances of becoming a father becoming a reality, you and him have to learn the hard way that moving on is the best you both can do.

**TW: Pregnancy, vomiting, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, labor, childbirth, anxiety, panic, angst, unrequited love. (Forgive me if I miss any!)

Rating: Mature

This is not short, it's 10K words! Also, don't expect too much of a happy ending!

Part Two

A/N: I was debating posting this for so long out of fear it was trash, please be gentle with me! To add, termination is always going to be your choice and it’s okay to consider that option!

Fluorescent lights hung overhead, your eyes poorly adjusting to the harsh lights as you fumbled with a pen nervously between your fingers. You had filled out a small packet of papers on a clipboard, the receptionist telling you that your doctor would see you soon and to make sure every bit of information was filled in. When you had initially told the receptionist that it would only be you when she asked if you were accompanied by a partner for a confirmation of pregnancy ultrasound, she gave you a look, and you knew she was silently judging you for your situation. 

“Y/N?” You hear a nurse call out while propping a door open, breaking you out of your trance.

It was two weeks ago when you had realized your period was late, your work schedule and general hecticness in your life made you suspect that it was stress at first but when your period never showed even a week later, and with having a pretty normal cycle, you darted to the commissary on base and bought two boxes of pregnancy tests– two different brands to make sure. Yeah, you had been more tired lately, and you had lost your appetite more than a few times, but you knew that those could also be normal premenstrual symptoms. 

With your uniform pants and panties down to your ankles, you held two different pregnancy test in your hands, the trembling in your arms and hands from fear only became worse when the test slowly turned positive. With a harsh breath in, you hold it for a moment, fresh tears stinging your eyes when you finally release your breath. Your body felt frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. Do you tell him now? Do you wait? You were on birth control and never missed a dose, but of course, it’s not always foolproof. You weren’t even with the baby’s father on an exclusivity level, only really depending on each other for comfort and pleasure when you both needed it– not to mention he was your Captain, your superior. 

A hiccup leaves your throat, the metaphorical golf ball stuck in your throat nearly choking you as you place your head in your hands, those fresh tears gathering in the corners falling into your hands. You were active duty in the SAS and newly recruited into Task Force 141, though just a Sergeant, and you were living in the barracks, which was not the place to bring a baby up in, nor was it even allowed. You weren’t prepared for a baby to come along, and you knew that your Captain had no intention of having children while he always had a target on himself. You knew he wouldn’t take this news well. 

“It looks like you’re reaching nine weeks, strong heartbeat at 168 bpm– see it here?” the doctor pointed to the tiny fluttering heart on the ultrasound monitor. 

“I do,” you smile lightly, your eyes never leaving the small floating jelly bean that jerked and wiggled inside of your body. 

“Do you have support at home?” The doctor asked, her eyes meeting yours with a certain softness, knowing that you checked your marital status as “single”.

“Well I have my mother, but as for the other half of the child, he won’t be very happy,” you say, sitting up and adjusting the paper blanket draped across your nude bottom half. 

“Reach out to your mother, okay? Best of luck with everything,” the doctor takes her leave, giving you the privacy to clean up and put your uniform back on. 

You sat for a moment, the silence deafening save for the nurses speaking at their station outside the exam room door. You peek over at the ultrasound monitor, which had been paused on a picture of your tiny baby. Your heart ached, and you found yourself struggling to turn your head away, until a knock at the door sounded. 

“Here are your papers, there’s also a script for prenatal vitamins and some brochures,” the nurse smiles, handing you the small stack, “take care of yourself.”

The door closes behind the nurse and you decide that it’s time to finally get dressed. You wipe the ultrasound gel from your abdomen and lower region, and silently slip your clothing back on, your eyes never leaving the monitor until you notice a small black and white photo had been printed and attached to your after appointment papers. Your heart skipped, quickly tearing the photo from off of the stack to hold in your hands, your little baby’s side profile had been captured and you could see the tiny arms and legs scrunched up to its body. 

Checking the time on your watch, you pick up speed, remembering that you had a debriefing on a Task Force affair with your Captain soon and you were definitely going to be late arriving at it. You knew he wouldn’t be happy with your lack of punctuality, but you had proof that you were tied up in a last minute affair. 

Once arriving back at base, you could see the familiar form of Soap who was also a late arrival to the debriefing, but you knew it was because of his poor time management skills, or he was just waking up from one of his naps. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he spins around in a wild fashion. 

“Good grief, ya scared the shite out of me,” Soap held a hand to his chest. 

“Sorry, I was just curious if we could walk together to the debrief,” you question, your eyes pleading for him to agree as to save yourself from being individually called out by your Captain. 

Soap nods, his longer legs falling into step with yours, “you’re not usually late to these things, something must have had you tied up,” Soap scratches his head, yawning into his unoccupied hand.

“Oh you know, women’s issues,” you shrugged, Soap wincing at your words. 

“Ah, I don’t think you need to explain,” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he was treading into territory he was very familiar with, having to be around female soldiers– especially with being around you so much– taught him more than enough. 

Opening the door to the small debriefing room, you could see Ghost leaning back in his chair, one leg over the other while his arms crossed against his chest, his usual black balaclava covering his face. Gaz was in the seat adjacent to Ghost, his face blank– an almost bored expression showing. 

Price’s body language was showing very clear annoyance as he watched you and Soap enter, the awkwardness in the room causing you to fumble into your seat, the loud scraping of the chair leg against the tile floor made Price audibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“You two are late, don’t let this happen again or I’ll have you assigned cleaning duty for a week,” Price points his finger first at Soap, then at you, your eyes casting downwards in embarrassment. 

As the debriefing went on, you could feel the familiar crystalline blue eyes of your Captain steal glances of you. You make yourself small and scarce in the meeting, your arms folding across your upper body and your body slinking into your chair. You felt strange about having such a huge secret being hidden away from your Captain who was more than deserving to know about it, but you needed time to formulate a plan on how you were going to carry out telling him. It would be better to tell him sooner than later though because you could be deployed at any time and that would be a dangerous situation for you and the life that was growing inside of you. 

“Ghost, you and Gaz will be going to Russia for some recon, I need intel– any intel on where they’re moving next,” Price nods his head in Ghost’s direction, handing Gaz a debriefing packet on his and Ghost’s deployment that they’ll go over together at a later time. 

You feel your body tense as a very heavy wave of nausea washes over you, Soap noticing your eyes fluttering and your skin becoming ashen and shiny from sweat. Pushing his seat out with the back of his legs, Soap rushes over to the trash bin, knowing all too well you wouldn’t make it yourself. He shoves the bin into your lap where you attempt to shield yourself with your arms as you empty the contents of your stomach. Gaz winces, and Ghost is pretty much unbothered but keeping a watchful eye on you. 

“You alright?” Price askes as he makes his way over to your hunched over form. 

“No, I really need to go,” you heave a sigh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Leave that, I’ll have someone clean it,” Price nods, motioning for you to leave. 

Long having discarded your uniform, you sat on your bed, staring at the white wall across the room. So many thoughts flooded your brain, and you felt like you were losing control of everything in your life all in the span of a few hours. You were young, and still inexperienced in life, halfway to reaching your thirties. The dried yet still sticky feeling of tears coated your cheeks and you felt like your heart would leap out of your chest every time you even thought of mentioning this pregnancy to Price. How the hell was he going to take it?

You knew that it would go two ways most likely– one: he’d walk away and break all contact, or two: he would tell you that he would support you and the baby, but would not be present.

A knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts, your voice cracking as you told the visitor to come inside. Price’s tall body stands in the doorway for a second before stepping inside and closing the door behind him softly. He knew it was risky coming into your room so early in the evening but he was willing to take that chance. 

“Everything alright? Soap said you were dealing with something– didn’t know the pain got so bad for you during that time of the month,” Price sits beside you on your bed, his taller form making yours tiny in comparison. 

“I’m alright, I just need to rest,” your voice is small with a tinge of exhaustion, playing into Soap’s assumptions of you being on your period. 

“You been crying, love?” Price’s large hand caresses your neck, his thumb dancing across your cheek soothingly.

“A little, yeah,” you smile softly, leaning into his touch. 

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really, if that’s okay?” Your breath catches in your throat, you knew damn well you should tell him, but fear froze you in place. 

“I understand, hormones and all that lot can be difficult,” Price sighs, the hand that rested on your neck falling back into his lap. 

You suck in a breath as his words repeat in your head. Did he already know? Or did he have an inkling of an idea? No, that wasn’t possible. 

You feel the familiar burn of bile rising into your throat, your legs making a mad dash for the bathroom across your small barracks room. Heaving what little was left in your stomach, you could feel your Captain’s cool hands gather your loose hair from your sweat covered neck and forehead. As you breath in and out heavily, a soft cry escaping your lips from the horrifying nausea pounding through your body, you feel Price’s free hand rub soothing circles along your back. 

“You’re alright, sweet girl, let it out,” the deep gravel in his voice was soothing. 

You gag and heave one last time before you begin to feel like the nausea is subsiding, Price’s arm reaching over to flush the toilet and then bring your body back to lay against him as he leaned back against the tub. Your shorter legs are pulled up to your chest as his thick arms engulf you. 

“I’m pregnant,” a sob escapes your throat, a trembling hand brought up to your now teary eyes, wiping away any stray tears that escape. 

Everything goes silent around the two of you, and you could tell John was formulating his response and keeping himself from reacting in a way he would regret. His arms go slack around you and you begin sobbing even harder at his action. 

“Did you not take your pills?” Was all he could muster asking. 

“I did, I did-!” you cry, turning your body to face him now. 

“Y/N, you know what this could do to us– to me, right?” Price’s voice was dangerously low now, a look of pure anger painted on his face. 

You knew all too well what this situation could do to you both. Demotion, dishonorable discharge, enemies who had a target on both of you– but more specifically him, would know that there is something precious and innocent that could be easily taken away. 

Price goes quiet, his eyes downcast as he thinks to himself for a moment, “I think you should consider your options.”

“So that’s it? You’re putting all of this on me?” your heart begins to sink into your stomach, knowing damn well that this was his way of telling you that he wanted to cut all contact and act like this situation never happened. 

“What will you have me do, Y/N, hm?” He points a finger at himself, the tip poking into his hardened chest. 

“At least consider options with me– it takes two-!”

“No, Y/N. No,” Price rises to his feet, leaving you in a puddle of anxiousness on the bathroom floor, your eyes frantically watching his hand swing the bathroom door open. 

“Please don’t–,” you reach an arm out to him, but he’s gone so quickly from your sight. 

You find out the next day that you were pardoned from work, formation, and PT for a full month, knowing that Price did this to allow you time to think about what to do with the pregnancy. You hardly left your room, and when you did, it was usually just to eat and do laundry. Soap tried to stop you a few times to catch up and ask how you were doing, but you instead offered a smile and a quick, “I’ve gotta go,”. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried out of his mind for you, sad eyes watching you disappear down the hallways. He was often your partner in missions and would offer a helping hand if and when you needed it. Maybe he just needed to wait for you to come to him? He would always wait for you. 

You stared at your discharge papers for days, the blanks filled out neatly, and the pen you used sat atop the thin packet. You were sure that this is what you wanted, and this would save John from the possibility of having everything he worked so hard for to be snatched away. No one would know he was the father of the baby, and you weren’t going to make him be something he didn’t want to be. You wouldn’t inform him of the gender, due date, name– anything, if he didn’t want to know, in which you knew he wouldn’t. 

You wanted to make this as easy as possible– slowly cutting off your military life, and going back home to make a new life for yourself and for your baby. Your mother was in agreement, telling you to come home and to get yourself back on your feet, that she’d be happy to watch over the baby while you worked. You would have your childhood room back and your mother’s cooking, and that was enough to put a smile on your face even for just a moment through the rough patch. She knew that having support was the most important thing for you. 

You gather the papers in your hands, tapping them on the counter to even them out. Taking a moment to think one last time if this was truly what you wanted, you let out a shaky breath, leaving your room and making your way to John’s office, your fingers grasping the papers tight enough to wrinkle them. 

You knock three times on Price’s door, waiting for him to call out an answer for you to enter, “come in,” you finally hear him say. 

He straightens in his desk chair, the air in the room becoming thick and tense. He looks to be stressed out, his hand soon covering his forehead as he attempts to relax. You sit in one of the two chairs across from his desk, sliding your filled out discharge paperwork over to him. Price’s vascular arm reaches over to grab the papers, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. At first, he thinks that these are adoption papers for the baby, in which he would sign the parts that said “father’s information”, but he soon realizes that’s not what he was given. 

“You’re leaving the military?” his eyes darted up to look at you. 

“I won’t make this difficult. You don’t need to know a thing if you don’t want to, you won’t need to be present, just sign those papers and we’re gone.” 

“The Task Force needs you,” Price’s voice falters, his usual soft tone you were so used to is back. 

“I want to raise this baby, John– our baby,” you feel yourself spiraling, your hormones making it difficult to keep your composure. 

You could see his eyes flutter closed, his body shaking as he releases a large huff from his lungs, “you’ll be discharged immediately. I don’t want to see a trace of you left in that room.”

“Yes, sir.”

You had very little to pack up in your room, your mother having come from London to help you carry anything heavy. Soap had stopped by your room after hearing the news that you were being discharged. His thoughts soared wildly as he watched your mother pack away your things as you carried out items to her car, thinking of how sick you must have been to have to leave the military immediately. You must have been in need of serious medical treatment to just drop everything and leave. His form standing outside your door caught your mother’s attention, making his entire body tense. Turning on his heel, he prayed to whatever or whomever that your mother hadn’t seen the stray tear fall down his cheek. 

Your civilian clothing felt a little tight around your lower abdominal area, your belly poking out slightly, bloating from the pregnancy hormones and constipation since the baby was still very tiny to make an appearance quite yet. You were half tempted to keep your jeans unbuttoned but with it being so hot out, your shirt was cropped right above your belly button. You had to keep cool somehow and you weren’t sacrificing your style for your growing belly. You and your belly bump can be stylish together. 

“Is this the last of it, darling?” Your mother questions, placing the last box in the trunk of her sedan. 

“Yes,” you answer, looking around one last time before opening the passenger door of the car and slipping inside. 

Your eyes caught a glance of Price, who was outside on the training field with a group of soldiers. He was looking right at you, and it sent a flood of different emotions to wash over you. Tears stung your eyes, your throat swelling as you tried your best to keep yourself from falling apart. You were prepared to do this whole parenthood thing alone, but you were hoping that you would at least have him present for the sake of the child– not even for the sake of you because you weren’t what mattered in this situation. 

You had fallen madly for him but your job had made it very apparent that feelings for your superior could be a whirlwind of repercussions to pay. You had to play it safe in the shadows. John would have been a liar if he said he hadn’t also felt the same feelings as you, but kept it no more than a hook-up every once in a while. This was the most difficult decision you could ever make– deciding to walk away. 

It had taken you weeks to acclimate to civilian life after being in the military for so long. You were freshly 18 and had just graduated secondary school when you joined the Royal Army, just entering your mid 20’s when you passed selection for the SAS, Price was the first to congratulate you, shaking your hand and offering you a warm smile, the creases in the corners of his eyes sending you into a tizzy– goodness he was so handsome. His face was shaved then however. You loved his chops when he started growing them out, your eyes catching his own as he carefully combed through the thick auburn beard hairs with a sandalwood comb in the middle of his debriefings. 

You sat at the dining room table of your childhood home, scanning over the words on your laptop screen. You had gotten a new job and you were going to start working remotely from the house, which was perfect because of the baby coming around February. You had since gotten into a new doctor’s office, your mother accompanying you for support. Her face lit up when she saw the baby floating around on the screen, their little arms covering the front of their face. You had cried more than you liked and your nausea had increased dramatically once leaving the base. You thought it may have been from the stress of leaving your old life behind intermingling with the pregnancy hormones. 

Your mother was a huge support, telling you that you could take time to yourself before you found a civilian job. You waved her off however, saying that she had no business having to pick up the slack for her adult child. She had already taken to knitting small items for the baby, and your favorite was the small floppy bunny beanie that was a light cream color, the inside of the ears a dusty pink. 

“Have any of your military friends contacted you since leaving?” Your mother asks, peeking up from the cream colored blanket she had started days previous. 

“Soap has, but he ended up being deployed before I could answer. He probably thinks I’m dying with having left so suddenly when I was experiencing morning sickness during debrief,” the sigh that left your lips was a sad one, as Soap was someone you had grown quite close to over the years of being in the same barracks and then being on the Task Force together for a short period of time. 

“Well hopefully you can remain friends,” the nimble fingers of your mother placed a stitch marker into the blanket. 

“One can hope,” you lie. 

You were entering your 20th week of pregnancy– halfway to the finish line is what your mother said to you that morning. Her excitement was easy to spot as today was the day you would find the gender of the baby out. Your belly had grown some, but not enough for it to be immediately recognized as a baby bump. Maybe you just ate an entire pizza? 

Drinking the last bit of orange juice, to which your mother swore would make the baby more lively in your belly during the ultrasound, you look over the texts in your phone, Soap’s name popping up suddenly. It catches you off guard when you open the text, seeing a picture of Ghost and Price out on the firing range, Price’s hat sitting on top of Ghost’s head as he lay prone on the ground with a sniper rifle. Price had his arms crossed and was seeming to refuse being in the photo, his hand covering his face. Soap hadn’t sent so much as a “hi” in weeks, and you had hoped that he just moved on from the thought of you staying in touch with your old roots. Closing out of the text app, you place your phone face down on the kitchen counter, your heart dropping. You just won’t reply, just like you had been doing before. 

Patiently waiting in the exam room at the midwife’s office, you placed a hand on your belly, hoping that soon you would finally be able to feel movement. Your midwife said it’s normal to not have movements until now or even a little later but you were so impatient. Once entering the room, the midwife went over her routine questions, and took your blood pressure. 

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, are you getting enough water and rest?” The midwife asks, placing herself on the stool next to the ultrasound machine. 

“Mum wouldn’t let me live it down if I weren’t,” you answer. 

“I believe it,” the midwife chuckles, looking over at your mother who had taken a seat next to you on the exam table, “I would like for you to continue what you’re doing, and if you’re feeling any strange symptoms like dizziness, faintness, seeing stars in your vision, or pains in your chest or ribs, go to the hospital immediately.”

You nod your head, and the midwife starts setting your ultrasound up, helping you lie back on the bed as soon as she’s done. Unbuttoning your jeans, she places a flannel over the top of your jeans to keep the gel from staining them. The lights are then turned off and you begin to relax and clear your mind, ready to see your baby after weeks of waiting. Squeezing a large amount of gel onto your abdomen, the midwife places the transducer of the ultrasound machine onto the mound of gel, rubbing it around to find where the baby is positioned. 

“Look at those little puckered lips,” the midwife smiles down at you.

“Oh darling, look at that sweet baby,” your mom was in tears, her emotions always outmatched yours. 

As the midwife continues looking at the baby through the monitor, she takes her time going through all of the anatomy of the baby, noting it on the keys of the machine. Your hand was being squeezed so hard by your mother, you thought that your circulation might be cut off after so long. The tiny fingers of the baby were by their mouth, their legs stretching out and scrunching back up. 

“What were your bets on the gender, mum?” the midwife asks your mother, the two smiling at each other. 

“That’s a little girl in there.”

“Mum is correct,” the midwife points her finger to the wiggling baby, a clear picture of the baby’s gender boldly displayed. 

You’re going to have a little girl, Captain. 

Squealing with delight with fresh tears coating her cheeks, your mother squeezed your arm and kissed your cheek, “I’m so proud of you. I’m a grandma to a baby girl.”

While there was downtime, Price often grabbed drinks with the Task Force, his usual military uniform shed and his dog tags resting on his bedside table. The black jumper he wore had gotten a little loose, his appetite scarcely there since you told him about your pregnancy. His anxiety made his mind wander more than he liked. How were you doing? Was your belly finally popping out? Did you start purchasing baby items? He would always ground himself after some time, his internal voice telling him that this was for the safety of himself, and the safety of you and the baby. His baby. But not his baby at the same time, he made that clear with you all those weeks ago. 

Clutching a rocks glass in his hands at the bar, Price took a quick swig of the amber liquid as Soap sat to his right, scrolling through his social media timeline. Ghost was at the pool table across the bar, talking with Gaz, who had just taken a shot at a cue ball. It had been raining for days straight, the cool air flowing into the bar with each time the door opened. Were you also experiencing this weather? Or had you gone countries away to escape staying in the same country as your former friend with benefits with whom you now had forever ties with? 

“You know, Y/N’s social media was deactivated and she never answers my texts. I wonder if she’s okay?” Soap mumbled, unable to put his mind at ease as to where you went or what happened to you. 

“She was honorably discharged from the special forces, she’s probably cutting ties with her old life as much as possible,” Price’s voice was grim, however Soap didn’t quite catch on. 

“That’s not like her though– she used to post everyday–!” Soap gestured his hand to his phone, his social media app still open. 

“I think it’s best to allow her to move on,” Price slammed the rest of his whiskey, placing the glass back down on the bar with a loud clunk, “she’s been shot, wounded, seen death, caused death, stayed in hospital for weeks altogether in her career– she deserves peace.”

“She was ill, Captain,” those baby blue eyes of Soap’s were now filled with worry. 

“You said it yourself: she was experiencing her time of the month.”

“You’ve turned cold recently Captain–.”

“Move on, Soap. That’s the best you can do, for her sake and yours.”

Soap’s emotions were crushed, his heart sinking to the very bottom of his belly. Price knew Soap always cared too much, and that’s what set him apart from many people who had grown a bit cold and cynical while in the SAS– like Ghost for example. It was time for everyone to move on, it had been many weeks since your departure, and the only one who seemed to hold on the most was Soap… at times. Price struggled too but he was a Captain, he needed to be a leader and offer guidance to his soldiers, even if it wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but needed to hear. 

Holding his glass up to signal the barkeep for another pour, Price sighs, watching Soap scroll some more on his social media timeline, hitting the search bar and typing in anything and everything he could think of just to find you. He then sees him type in your mother’s name, his body language picking up in relief when a profile popped up, he just hoped your mother’s timeline wasn’t completely private. 

“Shite,” Soap mutters, disbelief flooding his tone, “she’s fuckin’ pregnant?” 

The Captain’s heart might as well have stopped beating right then and there when he heard Soap. Looking over at Soap’s phone, Soap adjusted the phone to show Price the screen, a post from two weeks ago exclaiming that you had just found out about the gender, a picture of you attached with a pink cupcake in your hand. 

“It’s a girl,” Price stared at the photo of you for way too long, his eyes softening when he saw that pregnancy glow, your cheeks becoming more filled out, and the swell in your lower belly being caressed by your hand. 

“Lucky lad, the father is,” Soap locked his phone, placing it face down on the bar, soon cradling his head in his hands. Soap is now trembling, a relieved yet saddened sigh leaving his mouth. 

Yeah, a lucky lad he would have been in a different world. 

Lying in the bath, the bubbles that had been added to the water thick and covering most of your body, your hands rested on your belly, rubbing the soft and stretched skin gently. Twenty two weeks along and you still hadn’t felt movements, and it was starting to worry you. Most people felt movement already. Sinking lower into the warm bath water, you feel the tension in your shoulders release after having worked all day. Come to think of it, your desk was still in a disarray with papers and pens and you had no energy to clean it up at the moment. 

Stilling yourself in the water and staring ahead at the faucet, you notice your stomach twitch, thinking that at first it was just a reflex, until it happened a few more times. You place the tips of your fingers where the twitches were happening, flinching when you could feel little taps. 

“Is that you in there, trying for your mummy’s attention?” You whisper, and another tap could be felt. 

Tears escape your eyes, quickly rolling down your cheeks when you think about how John is missing out on these moments. He would never be able to feel his little girl’s first movements. You wanted to imagine him being right there after you called out his name, his large hand reaching down into the tub, brushing softly against your swollen belly. He would wait patiently, at first discouraged that he missed those little kicks. Until finally, those little taps started up again, his baby blue eyes lighting up as he felt the tiniest movements against his palm. 

Wiping your tears away with the butts of your palms, you let out a shaky breath, attempting to ground yourself as much as you can in this moment, knowing that tears and sadness were not going to help get yourself through this. But it did feel good to cleanse your soul with a few tears after they built up for so long. 

When John had gotten to his room back at the barracks after downing three glasses of whiskey, he could feel his body give out from under him as soon as he shut the door behind him. His back slides down the door, his bottom meeting the cold tile, hands cradling his face as he chewed his bottom lip raw, the dull sting of the open wound radiating on his mouth. Hot torrents of anxiety begin to course through his body, tears stinging his eyes as he feels like he might crawl out of his skin. Clawing at his jumper collar, he feels like he’s suffocating, his breaths uneven and raspy. 

He missed you– missed those nights where he crawled into bed with you, your limbs entwining in a warm and comforting embrace after a hard day of work. His hands would search for the feeling of your soft skin in the darkness, only to feel an empty coldness on the sheets where your body should have been. You weren’t even his and vice versa but his attachment to you was obviously present from the beginning. His eyes always sought you out in the room, always scanning the battlefields to make sure you were safe. He should have pulled out all those times, knowing damn well that no birth control was 100% effective, other than abstinence or sterilization. He had gotten too comfortable with you, too lost in the warmth, the comfort you brought him. The smiles and the joking, the playful smacks you would give him, the wrestling and tickling matches that very often turned into that hot and heavy sex that left you both breathless and in a heavy daze. 

John knew he needed to move on, and to allow you the opportunity to live a happy and safe life with the baby, away from the military, the SAS, and the Task Force, but he was stuck on the idea that things could have been so different. If his duties weren’t so important– ridding the world of everything ugly and scary, meaning that his daughter wouldn’t have to one day live in fear, he would do it a million times over. No matter how much it hurt– no, how much it killed him, or how difficult it was to go day after day not knowing who or what she might be when she finally came into the world. How he’d never be able to see you become the mother you talked about being one day, holding a brand new baby while coming down off of the adrenaline, sweat still clinging to your forehead and cheeks. How he wanted so badly to witness that ecstatic yet exhausted “I did it,” come from your mouth, your tired eyes peering up at him. Being your support system while you struggled to nurse, changing the baby’s first nappy, letting you rest while he gently rocked and soothed the fragile bundle, whispering how much he loved her already. 

“Fuck–!” Price shouted, throwing his car keys across the room. 

At 32 weeks, your baby shower took place, friends that had kept in contact with you over the years came, as well as family members that you hadn’t seen in some time. You were in a comfortable maxi dress as your belly had gotten too big and it felt like the skin on your belly was always itchy so the soft fabric of the dress played a part in keeping that feeling away. There was a mountain of gifts that sat around the recliner in the den and you were overwhelmed with how much people cared to spoil the baby this much. 

As you sit in the recliner unwrapping the gifts, you smile for the pictures your mom begged to take so she could show you off, holding up each and every item you received. Blankets, nappies, outfits, baby gear, necessities, and even postpartum kits sat in a corner neatly. You were crying, feeling so undeserving of the kindness, but as your family and friends saw you, they all offered their comfort in the form of words of affirmation and bone crushing hugs. That you were loved and supported in this particularly difficult and confusing time. Your friends and family would have loved John. 

Your mother brings in another gift out of nowhere, her arms barely able to wrap around it, let alone carrying it over to you. Confused, you make her drop it, your body lifting from the recliner to help her set it down, her hand waving you off to not help her with something so heavy in your condition. She gives you a look and shrugs, saying there was no name on the gift. Tearing the wrapping paper off, you see a beautiful bassinet pictured on the large box. No one had fessed up to getting the gift for you, so you sat confused for longer than you would have liked as everyone else mingled. 

It had taken days for Price to figure out what he wanted to do for your upcoming baby shower. Your mother had posted an event, not realizing it was a public post, and fortunately for John, he knew your address from your paperwork and files. He found the sweetest bassinet, a cream color with a lacey pink border. It had a little storage area at the bottom so that you could keep any baby items at arm’s reach. Once he had put his payment and your address in, he hit the confirm button. He just hoped it would arrive on time. 

Sitting back in his desk chair, he listened to the busy hallways in which soldiers congregated and conversed while on their down time. His mind wandered to the most recent pictures your mother had posted, and your belly had grown bigger and you smiled so large. He imagined lying in bed, shirt removed, sweatpants on, your warm body next to his in a night dress that had become too short on you with your bump, his hand caressing the bottom of your abdomen, whispering sweet words. You were pressing your lips to his own, lingering for a moment and breathing in each other’s breath. 

“God, I hope you’re doing alright,” Price’s voice came out in a near whisper. 

Work has become a distraction of sorts, the meeting on your screen with several of your coworkers becoming something like a white noise as your mind wanders, your pen hanging loosely between your fingers as you stare into the void. A plate of biscuits and a cup of tea had been placed on your desk almost an hour ago by your mother, but they hadn’t been so much as even touched. You had a pretty significant headache that had gnawed away at the back of your head for the past few days that not even a paracetamol here and there helped. Thinking that the hormones had everything to do with it, you brushed it off without a second thought. 

“Y/N, what do you think about this?” Your coworker asks, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“I think it’s a great idea,” you answer, nodding and smiling into your webcam. 

Catching the fully set up bassinet that had been put in the other corner of the room in your video feed, you smile, placing your hands on your now nearly full term belly– 36 weeks to be exact. Your coworkers dismissed the meeting after agreeing to start the new project that had been outlined for a few weeks now, the small details and start date finally figured out. 

You stand from your desk chair, a hand placed on the underside of your belly to keep your center of gravity balanced and to keep your pelvis from hurting from the weight of your belly. The dress you wore swayed as you waddled over to the corner of the room where all of the baby’s things had been set up. Grunting as your knees bend to the floor, you drag the hospital bag you had been slowly putting together over the past few days. There were folded onesies, and knitted cardigans that you still had yet to pack away, as well as a small bag of toiletries. John would have chewed you out for being so carefree on such important things such as the hospital bags. He would have had his bag packed for weeks and sitting at the front door. 

Wincing from a twinge of pain in your chest, you stop what you’re doing for a moment to wait for it to subside. It could have been a trapped gas bubble– pregnancy and all of its little quirks. When the pain doesn't subside, you attempt to get onto your feet, but cry out when the pain worsens. 

“Mum–!” You cry out, bracing your hand on the bassinet and clutching your chest. 

Hearing your mother stomp up the stairs quickly, she barges into the room, rushing to your side and helping you up, “what happened, sweetheart?” she questions, eyes wide. 

“I’m having really bad pains in my chest,” you begin to cry, hot tears pooling in your eyes, scared out of your mind for the baby. 

After little to no convincing, your mother packed you and the bags into the car. It felt like the longest drive to the hospital ever, the diaper bag sitting in your lap and your own hospital bag at your feet, the baby kicking the wind out of your lungs, so you thought that she was hopefully doing just fine with all of her movements. There was a fresh sheet of snow on the ground and icicles formed on the trees, the freezing January air nipping at your skin. 

A nurse brought your mother and yourself over to triage, hooking you up to a non-stress test, the nodes placed cozily around your stomach, and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your upper arm that was inflating and squeezing the life out of you. You knew that 140/90 was not where a pregnant person’s blood pressure should be, and you were certain the nurse was going to have you pee in a cup to check for proteins. 

Sure enough, you had to pee in a cup, handing it over to the nurse when you were finished and it was a hard enough feat to reach under your belly. Thankfully though, the non-stress test wasn’t alarming, the baby’s heart rate staying in a normal range even with the issues you were facing. 

“I think it’s safe to induce you right now, I’m not liking the looks of your blood pressure and labs,” the midwife sits in a stool across from your bed. 

Everything started off manageable– the pains, you were able to breathe through. Your mother stood by your side the whole time, clutching your hand when you needed it. You sat cross-legged in a hospital gown, the bed placed at the highest position, and an IV placed in the crease of your elbow. It was five hours later when the pitocin had started causing the most excruciating pains you had ever felt, and you had been shot many times in the SAS. 

Crying out and grasping the handles of the bed, your breathing became ragged and your mouth dried out and you were so happy when your mother applied lip balm to your mouth to keep them from cracking. Each time your progress was checked, the pain worsened, the labor pains feeling like a searing hot knife was dragging across your lower abdomen. You wanted so badly for John to be here, sitting across from you on the bed, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders while you groaned through your pains, but it was your mother who stood in his place, her tender touches breaking you out of your swimming mind. 

Hours later, your water had broken on its own, and now you were in the home stretch and the anxiousness began to flow throughout your body, knowing that your little girl was to make an appearance by the beginning of the next day. 

John’s body was wired, sleep not taking him this evening, his hand resting on his bare stomach as he splayed out on his bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. He scrolled mindlessly for hours on his phone when he finally decided to browse your mother’s social media, hoping that she had updated with anything that had to do with you. He shot up from his pillow when he saw a photo of you sitting up in a hospital bed, and IV and wires hooked up all over your body. 

“Posted three hours ago,” he mutters to himself, tapping your photo and zooming in on your face– you looked so angelic. 

His baby would be here so soon and it made his heart skip beats, anxiety flowing through his veins. He could be there right now in place of your mother, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear, rocking with you and helping you breathe through the pain. Even when on the battlefield while injured, he knew you were terrible at controlling your breathing, often passing out and waking back up with him chewing your head off. 

“Make sure to breathe, sweet girl, you’ve got this,” he spoke almost silently– a whisper off his lips. 

Lying back down, he knew immediately that he was not going to sleep until he knew you had delivered safely and that the baby was okay. Knowing how much your mother posted updates about you, it was surefire that she’d post a picture of that sweet baby as soon as she arrived. What were you going to name her? Would you give her your surname? Of course you would, he doesn’t have that badge of honor– of his kid taking his name, when he wasn’t present. What would his daughter look like? Hopefully like you because you were the most beautiful creature on God’s green Earth. 

The smallest hand was wrapped around your finger, swaddled in the cream colored blanket your mother knitted just for her. The baby came out kicking and screaming after almost two hours of pushing. You cried out for John, wanting him by your side more than anything. To hold your hand, to kiss you so deeply when the baby came and was placed on your chest. Your mother knew how much you missed John, your forlorn looks never fooling her, and so she felt great sympathy hearing you scream out for your past lover. 

“Look at you, Bunny,” you whisper, stroking the soft cheek of your little girl ever-so-softly. 

“Oh, you did such a good job, my love,” a kiss was placed on your cheek by your mother, her hand resting on the back of the baby’s bunny hat covered head. 

You would go through the pain of carrying her and bringing her forth a million times over, your heart swelling so much it might have exploded when your eyes caught the looks of her face. She was so perfect, so tiny. The moment she was placed on your chest, her eyes peered right into yours– those same crystal blue eyes she shared with her father. 

It was late morning the next day. John hadn’t slept a wink, his eyes heavy and Soap was late to debriefing– like that was a new thing though. He decided to sit at the table instead of the podium at the front of the room where the projector screen hung behind it, too exhausted to stand for more than needed. Gaz was away on deployment, leaving Ghost and Soap to sit in the seats to the right and left of him. Ghost’s eyes peered at his newest deployment papers, flipping through the pages pretty quickly as he was a fast reader. Soap had his head down, phone hidden under the table while there was a moment of silence– a break of sorts, in John’s meeting. 

“She had the baby, bonnie lass she is,” Soap says out loud, Ghost looking up from his papers with a quiet hum.

John frantically dug his phone out of his pocket, searching your mother’s name on social media. There you were, holding the tiniest bundle in your arms, swaddled inside a knitted blanket with her hands tucked under her chin. He had to leave, he needed a moment. The chair screeches when he stands, Soap’s attention snapping to his Captain, who started rushing out the door. 

Sharing a confused look with Ghost, Soap stood from his seat and left the room. Why did he leave in such a hurry? Why did he react like that in general? Soap was searching his brain for the possible answer. Come to think of it, Soap never noticed a gentleman by your side during your pregnancy and your mother had mentioned in posts how you were so strong and she was lucky to be by your side during this new adventure. Was John that baby’s father? Why was he not there with you? But then it all began to make sense the longer Soap thought– the SAS and Task Force were always keeping themselves hot on the tails of dangerous people, and those dangerous people would stop at nothing to take everything away from them. Maybe this was a mutual decision– and exactly why you left the military. 

John’s breathing was heavy as he shut the door to his room behind him. He felt unstable on his feet, nearly tripping on his way to sit on his bed. Your photo was zoomed in on his phone, your hair was disheveled, your hospital gown hanging from your shoulders– he was guessing you’d already attempted to feed the baby with how lazily it had been tied back up. John’s eyes focus on the baby, his heart skipping a beat when he looks at her sweet button nose and wispy little hairs poking out from her knitted bunny hat. Oh how beautiful his girls looked after all of their hard work. Pride swells in his chest, he knew this must have been so difficult, but you did it and looked even more beautiful than before as a new mother. 

The nights were long, the days melted together, and you found yourself lost. Though your mother lent a hand when she was available, you had taken on so much so quickly and had no adjustment time, as having a baby would do. Between nursing the baby and running on less sleep than you had gotten on some of your deployments, you were ingesting more caffeine than you liked, and you often found yourself nodding off at random times. But that little girl had been the easiest to please so far. As long as she got milk, had a clean nappy, warm clothes, and cuddles, she was content. 

John would have been the one to wake up at the first signs of movement in the bassinet– he was an incredibly light sleeper and would often rise earlier than most of his team. He’d say how much of a waste it was to sleep the morning away when you could be productive and get more important things done before the day actually needed to start. You weren’t much of a morning person and would often tell John to let you sleep in until the last possible minute if you stayed in his room for the night, but you always managed to slip out of his room before anyone came into the halls. 

Your mind wandered more during your maternity leave, often you questioned what John was doing, if he knew his daughter had arrived safely and if he knew how beautiful she was. Did he have any deployments in the time you were discharged to now? You were sure he was busy, as he always had been. 

A few weeks passed and John was on leave for three weeks, visiting home and executing plans he made with Soap for the day, who was taking a leave around the same time as John for a wedding. While walking the streets of London, hands stuffed in his pockets, and Soap to his side, the two talked about quick bite options nearby. John had a cafe in mind, mentioning that they had great coffee and sandwiches.

The late winter air nipped John’s nose, the tip dusted a light pink. He had a black beanie placed atop his head and a black peacoat over his jumper. Soap’s outfit resembled the outfit John wore, save the beanie, but add a scarf. Soap had attempted to reach out to you on multiple occasions since having the baby, but of course, you didn’t answer. Soap knew that he shouldn’t keep trying to pry and answer out of you, but he also knew that you needed the support of a friend, even though he wanted to be more than a friend. 

Price felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, telling Soap to go on ahead and order for them both– Price wasn’t picky. Opening the door to the cafe, Soap felt an immediate warmth wash over him and the heavy smell of coffee filling his nose. Taking a spot in the short line, he stared at the menu above, until he became distracted by the woman in front of him, kissing a very small baby on the head, cooing and rocking her body as her hands caressed the sling that held the baby to her chest. He knew your voice anywhere. 

“Y/N?” He places his large hand on your shoulder, spinning you to face him. 

Your eyes were wide, a scared look on your face until you noticed Soap’s familiar face. Barely able to string words together, Soap took you by the arm and dragged you to the side, his arms engulfing you in an embrace, careful as to not smoosh the baby’s head between your two chests. 

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?” Soap’s low voice vibrates the side of your face as your arms wrap around him. 

“I didn’t want my old life to follow me because of her,” your voice trembles.

“But you didn’t have to face this alone.”

“I do though,” you pull away, looking at Soap with watery eyes. 

Feeling his heart sink, knowing that what you said was true, he didn’t want it to be. He wanted to be the one to hold you– support you, and keep you safe. Even though what Price was doing was carrying out the same purpose. 

“She’s a beauty,” Soap nods to the sleeping baby covered almost entirely inside your sling, her little face settled against your chest, lips puckering as she stirs to get more comfortable. 

“Thank you Johnny,” you smile, stroking her cheek softly, then adjusting the knitted bunny hat to sit closer to her eyebrows. 

Johnny– he hadn’t heard you say his real name in so long, it was like a treat hearing it leave your soft lips. 

“Reach out to me from time to time, just so I know you’re doing okay?” Soap pleads, his hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing them lightly to get his words through to you. 

Nodding with a soft smile, you could hear your name being called by the barista. Grabbing your coffee, you turn to exit the cafe, offering Soap a soft “bye,” as you pass him. You wrap your thick shawl around the baby tight, holding onto her with one hand while you balance your coffee in the other. You were only minutes from your mother’s house, and the fresh air was something you needed after being cooped up in the house for so long. 

Then you see him– John. He was ending a call on his phone, placing it back in his coat pocket before setting off on his walk to the cafe to meet back up with Soap. Your heart was pounding, and almost as if the baby senses your unease, she begins to stir and whimper. You walk closer and closer to where John’s position is by a lamp post. His eyes spot you and his body freezes in place. You keep walking, shushing the baby softly, your hand placed on her back to let her know her mother was right here. 

“You’re alright, Little Bunny,” you say into her hat, softly kissing the crown of her head as you pass John. 

His daughter was right there, cozily pressed against your body in the chilly climate. The baby wore a cream knitted bunny ear hat, one ear flopping over the side of the sling. She looked so much like the both of you, it almost scared him. He wanted to hold her— hold you. It ate away at his insides, turning his guts to liquid as he watched your eyelashes flutter down to the ground, watching your feet. 

Tears were falling like mad down your face as you passed him without a word, John watching you in disbelief– he didn’t think he would be able to rest his eyes upon you again, not after going this long without contact. But it was for the best, you both knew this. 

His eyes followed you until you were no longer in sight, making sure you were absolutely safe with the baby. Life could be different, he could run after you and grovel on his knees for forgiveness. To beg you to forget he was ever cold to you and to start fresh. But he couldn’t, especially not after how things ended and with knowing he’d jeopardize yours and the baby’s safety.

It was days later that you had run into Soap and John while out in London. You hadn’t slept right in days and it was a mixture of having a newborn who needed your attention and the anxiousness of seeing your old lover and not being able to think about a thing other than him. 

Your mother’s footsteps can be heard ascending the stairs and she soon appears in the doorway with a small parcel. Handing it to you and planting herself on your bed next to you, she waits for you to open it. As you tear into the parcel, peeling the tape and opening the box, you look inside and see a knitted bunny, the yarn pink and soft. Pulling the bunny out, you notice a note attached to it, neatly folded and taped shut. As you carefully open the note, your eyes scan over the words written on it. You knew that handwriting— John’s handwriting. 

“For Little Bunny.”

#cod mwii #cod fanfic #cod imagine #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mwii #call of duty imagine #call of duty #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you

[callsign-dexter]

My Daughter, My Heart Pt. 3

Summary: Now that she has met Grant, everything seems right. Elizabeth gets to call Javy and she tells him the news. Javy is now free to tell Jake but will he after what he did to Elizabeth?

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Daughter!Reader, OC!Grant Braxton x OC!Elizabeth Taylor

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Masterlist

My Daughter, My Heart

Prolog Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It had been a week since Elizabeth met Grant and they had been on numerous dates and they had really hit it off. She told him all about what happened and he actually listened and didn't get mad when she made it all about her and Jake. She told him all about Javy and he supported her that she had a strong friendship with someone. They had just gotten back from a date and he had dropped her off at her home and walked her to the front porch and kissed her cheek. They said their goodbyes and then she watched him walk to his car and drive off through the window. She turned away and made busy getting ready to relax for the night when she got a FaceTime notification from a restricted number and instantly knew what it was, Jake had called her that way many of times. She answered it expecting Jake but it was Javy instead and she instantly smiles.

"Javy!" She exclaimed

"Well you look happy." He said "I'm glad to see you happy." He added and she couldn't stop smiling. "What's up? How have you been?" He asked and she moved to a more comfortable place.

"I'm good! I actually moved to San Diego and got a teaching job on Miramar Navy base. I also met a really nice guy that bumped into me at the grocery store." She said.

"That's great! Tell me about this guy." He said and she actually blushed and that made him smile.

"He's great! He's a doctor and I just got back from a date with him. He listens to me. His name is Grant Braxton. He's so nice, Javy. He is such a gentleman." Elizabeth gushed on and he Javy listened and smiled.

"How's the pregnancy going?" He asked and she nodded her head.

"It's going really great! I'm 2 months along now." She said "I was thinking..." She begin to add and he interrupted her.

"Uh oh, thats dangerous." He said with a smirk and that made her chuckle.

"Oh hush. Anyways, I think I'm ok with you telling Jake." She said and he was silent about it.

"Are you sure? I mean he did leave you." He said and she nodded again.

"Yes, I know but I don't think it is right to keep a secret like this from the father. I want to give him a chance to be in this child's life even if I moved on." She explained and he nodded understanding where she was coming from.

"I understand but I think I'm going to make him suffer for a little bit but now that I know that I have your permission to tell him makes it easier. I'm still incredibly pissed at him." Javy said and she nodded and then she heard a beeping. "Listen, I gotta go but I promise when I get a chance to call again I will and when we get back I will." He said and she nodded smiling.

"I'll definitely keep you updated especially when you get back. Be safe Javy and tell Jake I said be safe even though he broke my heart, I still care about him." She said and nodded.

"Will do, Liz. Have a nice night and I'll talk to you later." He said

"You got it." She said back and then she ended the call and then got ready for bed.

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When Javy hung up the phone he set it down in its spot and walked back to his best friend. "Who did you get to talk to?" Jake asked and Javy looked over at him.

"I talked to Elizabeth." He said and he saw Jake tense and what looked like sadness wash over his eyes. He knew he fucked up and it hurt him so much.

"How is she doing?" Jake asked

"She's doing good. She's met someone and is really happy about it." Javy said and Jake nodded. Javy thought about telling him about her pregnancy but decided against it.

"There probably isn't any chance that I would be able to win her back is there?" Jake asked and Javy shook his head.

"After the shit you pulled not a chance in hell. You would be lucky if she talks to you or looks your way." Javy said and Jake hung his head in shame feeling the guilt.

"I shouldn't have done it." Jake said and Javy nodded in agreement.

"No you really shouldn't have done it but you did it and now you have to face the consequences." Javy said and they left it at that.

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4 months have passed of Elizabeth being pregnant and the baby was growing bigger and stronger every day. Grant and Elizabeth got together soon after the 5th date, she wanted to take it slow and Grant was respectful of that. Their relationship was like a dream come true and he had gone to every doctor's appointment with her and was absolutely supportive of her wanting to wait to see what the baby was going to be. She and Javy talked whenever they could and Jake had stopped asking who he talked to already knowing who it was. Grant was the absolute best he never overstepped and was just there for her, he went to all of the appointments and held her when she was able to hear the baby's heartbeat.

Shortly after they had started dating Grant's lease was up and they talked and they decided to that he would move into Elizabeth's place. Plus it was closer to the hospital that he worked at which just happened to be the hospital closest to the base and the school. Every now and then the thought of Jake not being there hit her hard but she blamed it on the hormones but Grant knew otherwise. Jake and Javy have been gone for 4 months. Grant and Elizabeth started dating since she was 3 months pregnant meaning that they had been together for 2 month since she was 4 months along now. Each day the love for each other had grown stronger.

She had just gotten home from work and sat down on the couch, turned on the TV and then somehow fell asleep. A few hours later Grant had came home from the hospital still in his scrubs and was confused when he didn't hear her padding around the house doing who knows what. "Baby?" Grant asked as he went looking for her and then heard the TV and walked into the living room and smiled when she found her asleep laying on the couch hugging her swollen stomach. He walked over to her and bent down running a hand through her hair and that woke her up.

"Babe?" She asked and he smiled and nodded "When did you get home?' She asked.

"Just now. Have you eaten?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, I came home and sat down because my feet and back were killing me. I turned on the TV and fell asleep." She said and he smiled.

"Let's get you something to eat and I'll run you a bath." He said helping her sit up and she nodded and smiled. He kissed her forehead and got to work on supper. It was quickly done and they ate and then he was running her a bath and helped her down into the tub.

"Join me." She said and he smiled.

"Always." He said and stripped out of his scrubs and stepped in behind her when she leaned up and slowly sank down. Elizabeth leaned back into him and he wrapped his arms around her stomach gently stroking it as he kissed her shoulder. "Long day?" He asked when she sighed.

"Very. Standing all day doesn't help." She said

"Have you thought about taking maternity leave?" He asked

"I have but I want to wait as long as I can." She said and he nodded never pressuring her into making decisions she didn't want. Jake never did that either but he had hurt so bad that Grant was helping her heal.

"I'm here no matter what decision you make." He said and she smiled "I love you." He said

"I love you too." Elizabeth said back and then they fell into a comfortable silence.

Elizabeth wondered if Javy every told Jake but right now she couldn’t care less. She was finally happy with someone that made her feel like Jake made her feel, maybe made her a little bit happier than Jake ever did.

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4 months on an aircraft carrier was a lot of time for Jake to think about what he had done and he was really kicking himself. Javy saw him kicking himself over and over again and he was feeling guilty for not telling him but he deserved it. Javy almost broke down several times to tell Jake about the baby but he kept thinking how Elizabeth was the night Jake left. “Are you ok, Jake?” Javy asked one night while they were getting ready to go to bed.

“No and yes. Do you think if I called her, she would answer and let me explain?” He asked and Javy knew who he was talking about.

“I wouldn’t man. She’s happy with Grant and finally moving on after you broke her heart. I don’t think it would be a good idea honestly. It would just put stress on her and the baby.” Javy said and then realized what he said as soon as he saw Jake’s face.

“Baby?” Jake asked and Javy stayed silent “Javy is she pregnant?” Jake asked again and he nodded.

“Yes.” Javy said “She would be 4 months along now.” He said and Jake stayed quiet.

“That means that she was pregnant when I left. That’s what she wanted to tell me.” Jake said the realization just now dawning on him.

“She told me when I went over there after she called me crying.” Javy said

“You mean to tell me that you knew and you kept it from me?” Jake asked in anger.

“Yes.” Javy said and Jake saw red.

“You should’ve told me!” Jake yelled

“She told me not to tell you. She gave me permission on the last call.” Javy said trying to keep calm.

“Well, you should’ve told me then! What the hell, Coyote!” Jake yelled

“I didn’t think you deserved to know after what you did to her.” Javy said

“She’s pregnant with my child! That’s something I should know! You know what? Fuck you.” Jake said as he turned and stormed out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Javy asked

“To the gym.” Jake said, he was already in gym shorts and a Navy t-shirt, as he stormed out slamming the door.

“Fuck. What did I just do?” Javy asked himself. Elizabeth did give him permission but he was going to wait until they were back on land. This was not part of the plan.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@persesphonestears

@grandstrangerphantom

@callsigns-haze

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

#My Daughter My Heart #jake seresin x daughter!reader fandom #jake seresin x daughter!reader imagines #jake seresin x daughter!reader fanfiction #jake seresin x daughter!reader fic #jake seresin x daughter!reader #top gun x daughter!reader imagines #top gun x daughter!reader fanfic #top gun x daughter!reader fandom #top gun x daughter!reader fanfiction #top gun x daughter!reader #top gun maverick x daughter!reader imagine #top gun maverick x daughter!reader fanfic #top gun maverick x daughter!reader fandom #top gun maverick x daughter!reader fanfiction #top gun maverick x daughter!reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #daughter reader top gun #daughter!reader top gun #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fandom #top gun maverick

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Everybody hurts sometimes (12/18)

Crash

Book: Open Heart (AU)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC a Casey Valentine

Featuring: Naveen Banerji, Alan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick.

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption

*****trigger warning- this series deals with issues of abandonment and addiction*****

Category: Angst

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1841

Summary: Ethan is still haunted by Louise’s overdose and his self destructive behaviours continue, not only harming him but others. Casey makes a decision that adds to Ethan’s self doubt.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

Authors note: have your comfort food ready pretty much from here to chapter 16. It will be confronting and quite the spiral that Ethan goes through.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

It has been a week since Louise left Edenbrook and Ethan was still confronted. Everyone seemed convinced that he should have spoken to her and see what she had to say for herself, even after all this time but he did not want to know, with her actions, to him anyway speaking louder than any words could.

Ethan’s life fast became a cycle of work, drink, sleep. The only variation being when Casey came over in which the heavier drinking moved until after she was asleep.

He managed to successfully hide it for a few weeks but after a month and a bit of this cycle, those who cared and loved him the most were concerned.

Naveen recognised the signs quickly but gave Ethan time to sort things out himself. When that did not occur he came over, on a day when he knew Casey was not there.

“What is wrong Ethan?”

Nothing is wrong?”

“You can not fool me Ethan, I remember how wracked with grief I was when Priya passed.”

“I am fine Naveen!” As Ethan took another drink of scotch.

“No, you are not. I know you have always been work focussed but lately you have been more possessed than normal and I am sorry but you are also not doing a good job of hiding your drinking as you think. You looked less disheveled when you were putting in the long hours whilst I was dying.”

“I’m fine” said Ethan, voiced laced with emotion.

“Don’t go pushing people away Ethan, it is exactly what she did. Me, your father, Casey. We all love you and want to see you healed.”

“I wish people would accept my decisions. If you are not going to then please leave me be.”

Naveen was affronted. He had never seen Ethan like this and he knew that Ethan was indeed lying to himself but he left.

When Naveen arrived home he called Alan and told him of his meeting with Ethan. Alan was saddened. Alan confided that he had been on the outer with Ethan since Louise first made contact. Naveen asked Alan if Louise had given any indication as to why she left or did not reach out herself. Alan stated that she had not, she understood why I was leaving the ball in Ethan’s court. I mean I was shocked that she reached out after all this time and also shocked she was an addict.

“Was she not addicted to anything?”

“Work, she loved her job and she worked really hard, Louise is who Ethan got his workaholic tendencies from.”

“Well if his level of drinking recently is anything to go by then it is not the only addictive behaviour he has picked up.

Alan shook his head, well let’s hope history does not repeat.”

Naveen nodded in agreement.

Ethan’s relationship with Naveen was not the only casualty. Ethan had not been able to say I love you to Casey since Louise. It did not bother Casey at first, she knew that Ethan much preferred to show her he loved her in other ways but the lack of verbal confirmation was starting to bug her. He still refused to talk about what happened and how it was impacting him now. Even though he appeared to not drink excessively when he was awake, she would feel him leave the bed and come back smelling like a distillery. She knew drinking and even avoiding via sex was unhealthy but she was not sure how to even begin broaching the topic.

It was a week later after his chat with Alan that Naveen met with Casey in his office. The last time Casey was here she was requesting an Ethics Hearing after admitting to Harper that she gave the medication to Mrs Martinez.

“You are not in trouble Casey, please come in.”

“Thank you Naveen.” Said Casey, feeling a little more at ease.

“I am worried about Ethan, Casey”

“I am too Naveen. He has not been able to say I love you since Louise left the hospital, he does not drink to excess when I am awake but I know he gets up during the night.”

Naveen was saddened to hear this.

“I know he was hurt badly by her actions, I get not wanting to reach out but he was so confronted with her here and clearly he never healed from the trauma. I know he feels like he is unlovable but he is just self fulfilling a prophecy right now.”

“I understand, when my sister Priya died, I was a mess, she had cancer, I did get to say goodbye to her in person and it hurt. Deep down I knew she understood and we did speak before she passed but not seeing her, not being able to do much from afar…”

“I wish he would talk about it but I do not know how to broach the subject with him, Naveen. I have always known there was anger there but this is a whole new level.”

Naveen nodded, “Ethan has always kept Alan at arms length but even he has been pushed further away.”

“I feel for Alan, not only been pushed away but after all this time, your wife finally reaches out and all she wants is to speak to Ethan.”

“Did you speak to her whilst she was here?”

“No, out of respect for Ethan’s privacy though I wish I did.”

“You have been good for him Casey. I hope he does not push you away.”

“Me too” said Casey sadly. Casey left, saddened that Naveen appeared to be on the outer. Then she thought about how Ethan had been with her especially lately and she wondered too if she was indeed been pushed away.

She had late shifts the next few days then a day off. She decided that on the night before her day off she would see Ethan. It was late and possibly not the best time to have this conversation but the longer she left it the harder it was going to be.

She let herself into the building and made her way to his apartment. She used her key to let herself into his apartment. Ethan was awake but not sobre. He was not expecting the door to open and he was confused and became surprised quickly when he saw Casey.

“I did not expect to see you” slurred Ethan.

“You are drunk” stated Casey.

“I am fine…”

“No Ethan you are not.” Casey took a deep breath. “You have not been fine since she came into the ED.”

“Casey…”he walks over to kiss her but Casey takes a step back.

“No Ethan, we are going talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about!” Exclaimed Ethan

“Nothing too…” Casey throws her hands in the air in disbelief.

“The fact you think there is nothing to talk about is the issue.” Casey takes a few breaths . “I get the anger, if someone walked out for no reason and did not contact me again I would be upset too, but how is pushing those who love you and care about you helpful?”

“I am not pushing anyone…”

“Yes you are Ethan, ever since she has left you have pushed not only Naveen but also me away”

“No I have not pushed you…”

“How have you not pushed me away? Tell me. You can not even say I love you, or I care about you, I have started to feel used after we have sex, you sneak out of bed to drink…again Ethan, how have you not pushed me away?”

“I am not feeling loved Casey, how do you expect me to say I love you?”

“Therapy, I don’t know, confront Louise, find out why she left you, the answers are not in scotch and sex, you went through trauma Ethan.”

“That woman left me for drugs,pure and simple…”

“You do not know for sure Ethan, the addiction could have come later.”

“It does not negate the fact that she fucking walked out that door with no explanation no nothing!”

“That is on her, not you, you rose above it then but you aren’t now and it is killing the relationships that I know mean more than anything to you.”

“I am not ruining…”

“Yes you are Ethan, the longer you don’t properly address the issues, the more damage you are doing. I want to be here for you truly but if you can not accept the help and love from me, Naveen, hell even your own father then I can not stay. I’m sorry Ethan but I can not do us anymore if you keep down this self destruction.”

Ethan is a tumult of emotions but anger wins out.

“Then get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Casey tosses her key on the bench and walks out.

When Casey shuts the door, his anger turns to sorrow.

“Fuck” he tells as he throws a tumbler across the room. He collapses onto the floor and cries. He eventually gets up and gets another drink to numb the extra pain he is in.

Casey manages to make it to the lift before letting her tears loose. She knew deep down she loved him but she knew that she was going to get hurt more if she stayed. She made her way to her apartment. Aurora came home at the same time, surprised to see Casey. They head up. Casey telling Aurora the gist of what has been happening. Aurora asked what she was going to do about her residency. Casey said she did not know right now.

Casey went to bed and Aurora messaged Tobias stating Casey is wanting to look for a new residency, can we fit her in at Kenmore.

Tobias had to do a double take.

“What the fuck did you do Ethan” he muttered to himself.

Tobias then messaged Aurora that he would speak to the chief first thing.

Later that morning Aurora got a text from Tobias stating to come in early and bring Casey to meet with Dr McRae.

Aurora told Casey and she was appreciative. They met with Dr McRae and she was impressed. Casey was to continue her residency at Mass Kenmore. She was to start the following Monday and even said she would get the ball rolling with Naveen.Casey was appreciative.

Later that evening Naveen contacted Casey. He expressed sadness at her leaving. Casey said she had to, she explained how she confronted Ethan and how he was in denial of everything and how she ended it. Naveen was saddened but understood.

Naveen then sent an email to the team advising of Casey’s transfer. Ethan received the email. He read it but he was too numb. On a base level he knew Casey was right, he was pushing people away but he was scared of that fact that they may not indeed be there at the end of the healing so he did what he did to cope and that was to have another drink.

——-

Authors note: do we hate me yet???? Those who have seen my outline know that this is not the end of the spiral. But again happy ending. Next chapter there is a slight reprieve.

For those who have endured thank you

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @cariantha @genevievemd @alj4890 @tessa-liam @potionsprefect @youlookappropriate @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @ofmischiefandmedicine @liaromancewriter @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @lucy-268

@openheartfanfics

@choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #ethan ramsey #choices fanfic writers creations #casey valentine #choices #fic of the week #tobias carrick #naveen banerji #au #everybody hurts sometimes #choices stories you play

[angyvalentine]

Reunited, at least for a while

Summary: "Leaving the center of the city behind him, he encouraged his steed to go at full gallop, at least for the short distance toward his home. He expected to see Lysandra in the garden with Calliope, perhaps the chaos of their arrival warned his wife of his incoming return. It was late in the afternoon, but surely his baby girl was still outside playing and enjoying the last rays of sun of the day before dinner.

Instead, nor Lysandra nor Calliope were anywhere to be seen."

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Ares is nowhere to be seen for now (shooooooo!), so here's some fluff (and a bit of angst of course) with Kratos and his first beloved family. I may add some fanart later, who knows!

Words count: 5.3k+

Pairing: Kratos x Lysandra

A/N: So - uhm- here we go again! It took me ages to finish it since I kept adding and rewriting stuff, not to speak about researches. Honestly? As much as I enjoyed GoW2018 (still waiting for Ragnarok on PC), I really think that Lysandra and Calliope deserve more love. Like, A LOT (that's why I'm quite glad I found artists like @bittybonbon and @the-shy-artisan, at least I've someone who can understand me lmao). They deserved to be happy. So here I am, writing stuff (hopefully decent one!) and drawing a lot about them (even if I'm slow like a sloth :°D) =w= I apologize for any mistake, English isn't my first language ;-;

Note: I know that during the games we mostly hear Calliope call Kratos "Father", but in the first game, in the final illusion, she calls him "Daddy" (even "papa" in the second novel). And giving her age in this piece, I prefer to stick with it.

A side note about Kratos: while we mostly know him as a cold man that actually let himself go in Ragnarok, we should remember a bit of details from the comics and Ascension too: beside the fact that he challenged the Gods to save his daughter, in the comics he touches Lysandra quite often - especially holding. What about Ascension? Beside the (in)famous illusion, we can see that he held his wife's hand when he collapsed after killing her and Calliope. The man loved physical contact with his beloved ones, prove me wrong.

Read it on AO3! - I'd love to know what you think about it :3

Another battle.

Another conquest.

Another victory.

Leading back his army toward Sparta, Kratos felt good.

That one had been a good raid. No losses, no one of his men injured. Their target surely hadn’t been a great village but the resources it had could have been useful for Sparta. Still, the lord of that pathetic town pleaded to be spared, they’d have accepted Sparta’s supremacy over them. Slavery in Spartans kitchens would have been way better than death by his soldiers’s hands - but if there was something that Kratos hated, it was cowardice. That old fool was dead even before finishing his pathetic pleas. That day, heads fell like leaves in that warm autumn.

Behind him, his soldiers rode exchanging brief chatters – some remembering particular victims, sadistically laughing at their fear shortly before their deaths, some others were way more eager to come back to their women.

Kratos tightened the grip on the sack he held in his fist, treasures and gems hidden in it. He wasn’t really interested in the spoils he took from the defeated’s treasure-houses, and he well knew that Lysandra had no lust for them either. She always told him she didn’t care for gems and jewels – she just wanted him to come back home to her. He would have left them in the hands of his superiors.

And yet… he found a ring. A ring with a blue stone – was that Azurite? Funny, since they considered it related to Athena - mounted into a silvery omega symbol. Lysandra often wore blue dresses, and that hue was nice on her pale skin and dark hair. When he saw her for the first time she was dancing in the middle of the Geronos, her body hidden by blue veils, and he thought she was somehow embraced by the waves of the sea. He was a warrior, but he could recognize ethereal elegance when it danced so clearly in front of his eyes.

Not to mention that they thought clear blue had the power to keep evil away. He wouldn’t have let anything in the whole world hurt his family, he was sure of it. But, well… the stone wouldn’t have done any harm. And the symbol was so related to who he was – war itself, death for his enemies. That ring was a perfect representation of their union – he deeply loved his wife, there was no doubt about that – and he held her close to his heart just like that silvery omega held the stone mounted. It was the only jewel he actually chose to keep, and it was safe in a pouch tied to his belt.

He wouldn’t have said it loud, but he was eager to see his family again. Maybe that fool Ajax would have had to wait to have his wife in his arms sooner that the day after (or maybe he wasn’t so willing to share her again like before?), but Kratos knew that his Lysandra was waiting for him, and him only. He internally smirked, already tasting her lips moulding against his own and the warmth of her body in his arms.

And of course, he wanted to see his little Calliope. She was growing so fast into an almost-carbon copy of her mother - she had Lysandra's sweetness and soft dark curls on her head. But her eyes – oh, her eyes are golden like his ones. So similar to the pure amber made from the Heliades’ tears.

When he left for that campaign she was still learning how to properly run, still a bit uncertain on her chubby short legs despite being barely two years old. She was a little bursting ball of energy, there was apparently nothing that could stop her from exploring and gaining little bits of independency, day by day – it was something that really made him proud of his daughter. And even if he was sorry to miss all of her earlier steps in life, he had duties as a Captain of Sparta’s army, may them be the daily trainings in the fields, or the campaigns that lasted months. He had had to wait until she was asleep to depart for that raid, because the poor thing had started crying her eyes out clinging to his leg at his first attempt to leave.

They were nearby the settlements little far from Sparta. He squeezed the horse’s sides between his legs and clicked his tongue, making it sprint at full speed and lifting clouds of dust. His soldiers quickly followed him, roars in the air that in the city were welcomed like fine music. In the distance, Kratos could see the crowd gathering to welcome back the victorious army. He could hear them praise him and his companions and send praises the deities who were watching over them, granting the valorous soldiers another victory. Instructors pointed at them to the younger boys, showing them how they should have become in the future – strong, fearless, ready to do anything to bring glory to their city.

He pulled the reins to make the horse slow down into a gentle trot, before stopping in front of the king who was waiting for them with the royal guard. Dismounting from his horse, he put down the sack and knelt in front of the king, offering him the spoils of the raid.

«You never fail to show the worth of your troops, Kratos.» The older man said, looking with proud at the captain and his soldiers behind him «Our city is grateful for the honour you brought us once again. May you all go to rest now, as tomorrow will bring us all another day to prove our worth.»

More praises were shouted from the crowd, and that felt good. And he was eager to conquer even more, to show that he and his companions could have bought even more glory to their city. As he mounted again on his horse, Kratos could see the women impatiently waiting for their husbands to rejoin them in the warmth of their homes. He dismissed his soldiers, whom didn’t waste a second to search for the respective wives. With a slight flick of his head he took leave to the king and gently nudged his horse with the heel of a foot to start his depart.

He totally ignored the whores who kept calling and inviting him in the brothel, unlike some of his men who didn’t have anyone that was waiting for them at home. The days when he took countless women to his bed were long gone and he was perfectly fine with it.

Leaving the center of the city behind him, he encouraged his steed to go at full gallop, at least for the short distance toward his home. He expected to see Lysandra in the garden with Calliope, perhaps the chaos of their arrival warned his wife of his incoming return. It was late in the afternoon, but surely his baby girl was still outside playing and enjoying the last rays of sun of the day before dinner.

Instead, nor Lysandra nor Calliope were anywhere to be seen. The door was closed just like the curtains on the windows. For a moment he thought he maybe missed them in the crowd, or maybe they didn’t come across on the road. But he could see smoke coming up from the chimney, he was sure they were both in there. Yanking the reins, he quickly dismounted and tied the horse to a big ring on the garden wall, rushing toward the door. Still no noises from inside, nor voices.

He hesitated for a moment, before gently pushing it open. The light inside was quite dim, with just the fireplace lit. Kratos was about to call for his wife, when he saw her silently padding out of Calliope’s bedroom, careful to quietly close the door. He had yet to see her face, but the posture itself suggested how exhausted she was – hopefully, only due to Calliope’s vivacity. But even the hair she normally kept down her back was tied in a messy bun, and he knew how much she liked to take care of her hair. She gasped when she noticed his hulking figure in the middle of the room, and froze for a moment. He didn’t get the chance to say anything before she walked to him, gently cupping his face in her hands.

«You are finally back, my love.» She murmured, rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks and searching for his amber eyes «Are you all right? You are not injured, are you?»

«I am fine, Lysandra.» He said, softly taking her hands and kissing her knuckles «But you…»

«I am fine as well, Kratos.» She quickly dismissed his worries, lowering her gaze. She leaned forward his chest, resting her forehead on his armor and letting out a sigh «Now that you are here, it will be better.»

Kratos rested his hands on her hips, his lips brushed on her hair while speaking. «Where is Calliope?»

Before his wife could actually answer him, rough coughs could be heard from their daughter’s bedroom. Lysandra tensed for a moment, then rushed to get a clean cloth from one of the cabinets and went back into the room.

Kratos followed her, stopping at the doorstep to watch her knelt at the side of the bed, where Calliope was resting nestled under a fleecy lamb’s-wool blanket. He heard Lysandra encouraging the child to spit on the cloth, before gently wiping her lips and moving some curls from her eyes.

«Your father is back, sweetie.» She murmured, moving to the side to reveal Kratos’s figure behind her.

Calliope looked at him with glassy eyes, unhappy that she didn’t have the strength to run into her father’s arms to welcome him back. After his depart, and countless weeping on Lysandra’s lap, she had just hoped to see him again as soon as possible -  her mother had explained her that he didn’t leave to his normal trainings, and Calliope wasn’t used not seeing him at home for such long time.

«Daddy…» her voice was broken from the soreness in her throat, and she moved a bit under the blanket as to reach for him.

Lysandra got up to move and make some room for Kratos, who took her place by their daughter’s side. He gently stroked her cheek, feeling Calliope’s hand grabbing his to keep him in place.

«How are you feeling, my child?» he spoke with a low voice, as if a louder tone could bother her.

«It hurts.» she whined, placing her other hand on her throat «I want to go out and play with you, daddy.»

«You will do. When you will feel better.» Kratos rubbed his thumb on her warm skin, softly scratching the nape under her curls. He waited until he saw her closing her eyes, before turning around to look at his wife behind him «How long has she been like this?»

«Almost a week, by now.» Lysandra replied with a tired sigh.

She took a couple of steps back, inviting him to follow her in the kitchen to let Calliope rest. Kratos leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s cheek before assuring to be back soon, and got up with a grunt from his chest.

When he reached Lysandra, she was busy boiling some water by the hearth. He could see how nervous she was, even just by the fact that she kept stirring the water with a wood spoon – and he perfectly knew why.

Lysandra was a strong woman, sweet and calm, and she deeply loved her family. She had loved their child from the very first moment the healer had told her she was pregnant – and he remembered how scared she was when the midwives told her the child was sick, meant to be brought to the council – meant to be killed, because she was ill, weak – and there was no place for weak ones in Sparta. She had collapsed from the birthing table, naked, dirty, in pain and unstable on her legs, demanding to see her newborn, begging her husband to do something even if she knew they couldn’t break the laws. She had almost cried when she saw her baby, how small and cute she was despite her flush skin being scarred with fistulas and red spots. But the worst was seeing the soldiers of the royal guard bursting into their home, demanding to surrender Calliope to them – Kratos even had tried to defend them both, his sword unsheathed and ready to fight anyone who would ever dare to lift a finger on their daughter. But they had taken her, cruelly tearing the crying baby away from her arms, despite giving Kratos the chance to find the ambrosia that could have cured her.

She had spent weeks alone waiting, trying to heal, praying that her husband could come back in time to save their little Calliope. It had been pure agony looking at the empty crib that Kratos had previously built for their child.

Nonetheless…

She had seen the young boy throwing her baby off the cliff on the mount Taygetos. And she thought she would have died of heartbreak in that moment, almost collapsing from relief when she had seen Kratos flying on the back of a Roc with their baby, safe and still alive, in his arms.

For many nights after that day, Kratos had woken up in the middle of the night feeling her side of the bed barely warm. He knew that Lysandra had to get up to breastfeed Calliope, but she always took too long to come back to him. And after a couple of nights, he had discovered why – he always had found her on a chair in Calliope’s bedroom, the baby soundly asleep in her arms under her mother’s gaze. It was like she wasn’t aware of his presence, her gaze empty despite being fixed on her child. She didn’t even care to cover her breast, letting Calliope sleep with her face pressed on it – and he always knelt by her side, softly inviting her to come back to their bed.

«She is safe now, Lysandra.» Was what he always told her, gently brushing his wife’s cheek with his index finger «Nothing will hurt her ever again.»

«She will heal, Lysandra.» He said, holding her shoulders in his big hands «You know that no one will take her ever again.»

What a deja-vu. It was like she was stuck in those moments, her mind trapped in those nights she spent holding the newborn in her arms, fearing she might suddenly disappear once again.

«I know.» She lifted her chin, blinking her eyelids to stop those frustrated tears «I know, Kratos. Bad colds like this can happen, and she is a strong child. It is just… sometimes bad memories come back when I less expect them. Not much Spartan-ish for the wife of the greatest Captain of the city, am I right?» she let out a humourless chuckle, slightly turning her head to look at him.

He sniggered, mumbling in her hair «Indeed. But I would not want you any different.»

She sighed with a smile on her lips, before pointing at a jar on a shelf nearby «Would you mind passing it to me, please? The healer suggested me to brew linden tea for Calliope, it should help her healing faster.»

Kratos did as he was told, observing his wife pouring the boiling water in a cup. There was something familiar in that act, something that was buried in his childhood memories. Memories of a long lost past, when there were just him, Deimos, and their mother Callisto.

«Linseeds.» he said, getting a perplexed look from the woman in front of him «My mother always prepared linseed poultice for my brother, when he was sick. It should be useful as well.»

He rushed out of the door before Lysandra could ask him to go get some. She heard him spur his steed, its hoofs loud on the stone path. Collecting the cup she just prepared for Calliope, she cautiously walked back into the bedroom just to find her daughter looking at her.

«Where is daddy?» she immediately asked, fearing he could have left again without a goodbye.

«He just went to get something good for your health, sweetie. He will be back soon.» Lysandra helped her getting sit, bringing the cup near her pouted lips «There, your tea. Sweet like you.»

The little girl sipped slowly, her tiny hands on her mother’s ones. She coughed a couple of times, yet she was pleased to feel her throat and tummy warming up thanks to the beverage. She gladly accepted the spoon of honey that Lysandra was handing out to her, swallowing it in a single gulp.

Lysandra wrapped the cup in a cloth, so Calliope wouldn’t get her hands burned, and got up to retrieve a big, soft towel –the one she used for Calliope when she would take baths. While the communal baths were built right adjacent to the gymnasia, ready for everyone to enjoy vapor baths, they recreated a smaller one in their own bathroom. A smaller fireplace warmed up the room, bowls of water could be used with essential oils. And such treatment was something the healer suggested Lysandra to try on Calliope – peppermint would have helped her breathing better, as well the warm steam in the room. It was a short ritual, yet a nice one for both of them.

She was about to take her child to the bathroom, when they both heard Kratos coming back from the city. He dropped a bag full of linseeds on the kitchen table and reached the hearth, to check if there was still enough water in the pot. She noticed that, after all of that, he was still clad in his battle armour – and looking for a moment at her daughter, she suggested him to take the bath with their little girl. She knew Calliope wanted to spend as much time as possible with her father, even in her poor condition. Said child quietly waited near the fireplace while Lysandra helped Kratos unfastening his cuirass, the belt left already on the floor.

The armour was heavy in her hands, still dirty from the battle and the travels, but Kratos quickly dismissed her concerns – he would have cleaned it later. She left it on its stand, collecting the belt as well to place it on the shoulder of the cuirass. That’s when she noticed the pouch tied on it, and she shot him a puzzled look – it was quite unusual for him to keep stuff from his raids, but her husband was giving her his back, bended to pick up Calliope who didn’t waste a second to hug his neck and nuzzle her face on it.

He carefully sat in the tub holding his daughter close to his chest, before placing her on his lap. Kneeling beside them, Lysandra used her own headband to tie Calliope’s hair so to keep it dry, and thankfully the child let her do the job – in contrast to when she was way healthier, and loved to play with her mother in the water.

«You know what the healer said, Calliope.» Lysandra said, placing two towels near the fireplace to warm them up, as well the bowl with water and essential oils «Breath deeply, sweetie.»

The warmth in the room was making the child a little drowsy. She tried to find a more comfortable position on her father’s lap, still doing as her mother instructed. She looked so small on Kratos’s chest, even compared to his hand that was slowly rubbing her back up and down.

Even if Lysandra knew how much Kratos loved their daughter, it still almost brought her to joyful tears how such a hulking, bloodthirst warrior could be also so sweet and gentle with his baby girl. He never cared that his wife didn’t give birth to a boy, when the city itself hoped for more young, strong warriors for its army – he had loved Calliope from the very beginning. He had even challenged the gods themselves to save her, got his hands dirty with blood, even Spartan blood, to accomplish his mission. And here he was, tired after his return from war campaign, humming the same lullaby she so often sang to her newborn, with the now grow up child almost asleep on his chest. Lysandra focused on the scene in front of her, trying to imprint it on her mind – the gentle lapping of the water in the tub, the crackling of the fire, and their little family finally together. She sadly knew that would have been a rare occasion.

When Calliope started coughing again, she quickly put a cloth near her mouth while Kratos tapped – careful to limit his strength – her back. Throwing the rag away, Lysandra wrapped her in the warm towel, sitting near the fireplace to dry her and change her into a fresh tunic, while her husband finished to wash himself. Smirking to himself, he was well aware that Lysandra wouldn’t have welcomed him between the sheets if he was still dirty and smelly of blood and dust.

«Take your time.» she said, picking up the child and walking toward the door «I have yet to prepare dinner.»

«Daddy told me we can have bawley cakes.» Calliope looked briefly at her father in the tub and then at her mother, hope shining in her amber eyes «With honey.».

«Oh? He said he wants the barley ones?» Lysandra gave her an amused look, correcting her «Does he want to eat all of your honey too?»

«Not all, no.» she hid her face in her mother’s neck «I need it too.»

«But your father is such a big man, he needs to eat a lot, sweetie.» she raised an eyebrow, looking at Kratos who decided to play along.

«Your mother is right, Calliope.» he said, an unusual light tone in his voice «I need to eat a lot to stay this big and strong, and to protect both of you.»

«No need!» she squeaked, horrified at the though of losing all of her precious honey. Not even the cough stopped her «Mom is strong too. You can have two spoons of honey.»

«Two only?».

«Two.» she showed him just her index finger. Seeing her father raising an eyebrow, as if he was waiting for something more – inviting her to think – she added the thumb too.

Lysandra laughed heartfully, kissing her cheek and bringing her out, closing the door behind them to keep the room warm. They went back to Calliope’s room, where her mother made her lie on her bed while she’d busy herself in preparing the linseeds. It didn’t take her long and, when the seeds were ready, she carefully wrapped them in a linen cloth and placed it on Calliope’s chest. It was a new thing for her, it felt strange at first and she played with the jelly feeling inside the compress, moving the seeds around the cloth. She barely lift her head when she heard Kratos getting out of the bathroom, warm steam lifting from his heated skin, and peeped both of her parents sharing a hug – oh well, it was her dad hugging her mother, his arms were so massive that she could barely see Lysandra’s frame. A hand of hers lifted to caress his arm and they stayed there, in silence.

When Kratos was home, her mother was happier – she was a child, but she could see the difference. It was as if his presence could soothe Lysandra’s soul. She of course was happy as well, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her daddy. She wanted to attend festivals with both her parents and clap her hands while both her and her father would watch Lysandra dancing with the other girls in the ritual dances. A new fit of coughs stopped her thoughts, and she saw Kratos getting closer to her. She spat again in the cloth he put under her mouth – she was so tired of that disgusting thing! – and grabbed his hand to keep him close. He sat on the floor, his features relaxed while looking at his daughter.

«I love you, daddy.» she smiled under the blanket, holding his hand in both of her ones and rubbing her cheek against it.

«Me as well, little one.» a rare smile lifted a corner of his mouth «Your mother and you are the reason I keep fighting. To keep both of you safe.».

----

The silence was very comfortable while they dined. The bread was freshly-baked, the barley soup warmed their tummies, and Calliope got to have her much-loved barley cakes. She watched carefully as Kratos made a show of getting a third spoon of honey, smirking while helping himself.

«You said two.» she mumbled, counting on her fingers and showing him thumb and index ones.

«You said two, Calliope.» he replied with a smile, the spoon still over the jar «Not me.»

The child was left speechless, while she considered in silence his answer. He could almost see the gears in her brain processing the whole scene, and she showed him again the fingers.

«Two. Mom said it will help me grow big and strong.».

«It will indeed, yes.»

«So I need to eat it.» she looked at her dish, where she had some leftovers of the barley soup, and pieces of her portion of cake. She took one of those, passing it to her father «You can have this.»

Kratos let the spoon fall into the jar, gently pushing back her hand with a smile «Worry not, little one. I am fine right now, enjoy your cake and honey.».

Lysandra looked at her child with a faint smile on her lips. Despite being so adamant about not giving more honey than necessary, she was still willing to share something she loved as much. Seeing her husband poking his daughter's nose to remove crumbles and honey, she knew that she needed to hold those moments close to her heart, for times when darkness would have threated to stick her mind in horrible memories.

---

It took a fair amount of time to put Calliope to bed. She was so happy to have her father home that sleeping was almost a waste of time, for her. Kratos had to promise again and again that he’d have cooked tiganites – like, a lot of tiganites – for her breakfast, and that he would have spent the whole day with her, playing or riding his horse in the fields. She held close her rag doll while Kratos bended to kiss her forehead and bid her goodnight.

Just before reaching Lysandra in their bedroom, he remembered the pouch still tied to his armour belt. He retrieved it, opening the lace and letting the ring fall onto his palm. The blue stone shined with the fire of the hearth, and Kratos took a moment to stare at it. It was perfect for his wife.

He closed his fist, hiding it, and turned around toward the room where Lysandra was waiting for him. He found her at her small toilet, busy detangling her hair before getting to bed. The light chiton she used to sleep left half of her back completely bare, much for his pleasure. She met his gaze in the mirror, smirking at his reflection.

«Seeing something you like?» she said, getting up with calculated movements.

She was his personal siren, the most beautiful creature he ever met in the whole wide world – and she was his, and his only.

He sat on the bed, grabbing her waist when she got within his reach. She felt there was something hard between her side and his palm, yet she got distracted when he started dragging her down with him, forcing her to quickly grasping on his shoulders for support. She stared down at her husband, he was looking at her with such intensity that it was like he was trying to pry into her soul. She felt one of his hands rubbing her back up and down, and she was surprised he didn’t even try to squeeze her rear.

«Under other circumstances, I would have loved you all night long.» he murmured, moving her hair from her eyes «But you need to rest. I’ll take care of Calliope if she’ll need anything.»

«Are you sure?» slowly, Lysandra laid down on his side, her head on his chest while she traced the crimson tattoo on his pec with a finger «You just came back from war.»

«The worst one was inside here.» Kratos gently poked her forehead, cradling her in a protective hug «I am not that blind that I will not admit it.».

She hid a smile against his skin, circling his torso – at least, trying to - to hug him. She was glad to have another proof that, under the brutish façade, there was a man that was trying to be considerate as well. Peeping at his face, she saw how uncharacteristically his features were relaxed, no trace of his usual scowl.

They stayed in silence for a while, and Kratos thought that Lysandra was collapsed from exhaustion, before hearing her voice again.

«Will you tell me what are you hiding in your fist?» she murmured, lifting her gaze to meet his one.

Kratos moved his hand from under the pillow, looking for a moment at his closed fist before searching for his wife’s hand with his free one. Lysandra let him move her arm, until he brought her hand in front of his face. Carefully, he put the jewel on her ring finger and waited for her reaction. And by the lack of any comment, he knew she was pretty much surprised. She was looking at the ring, examining it carefully – especially the omega symbol. But the fact that she was smiling was a good thing, he thought.

«Did it remind you of us?» she asked, leaning toward him to kiss his jaw.

He hummed in response, tightening his hold on her side. When he heard her chuckling he lowered his gaze on her, perplexed.

«It’s just funny how much you’re devoted to the rules of our kings, yet we broke so many of them just with our marriage.» she said, caressing his chest «You didn’t make me cut my hair.»

«You did. A bit.» he retorted, staring at the ceiling – he knew how right she was.

«I should have cut it short. I just cut it less than a span.»

«But you loved your long hair. It suited you better.»

«Do you remember what you told me during our wedding night?»

«… “let us do it again”.»

«What? Not that!» she playfully hit his chest, her cheeks turning crimson while he snickered at her expenses.

«I told you I wanted to see the sunrise with you. And we did so.»

«… Indeed. Instead of dropping me home and hurrying back to the barracks.»

Again, he knew she was absolutely right. But loving her that night had filled the emptiness he had felt inside himself for such a long time, he wouldn’t have even hoped to find some relief from it. No amount of battles, nor sex with random women could satisfy him anymore. Theirs, instead, had been pure harmony of bodies and souls. Of course, once found, he didn’t want to let her go.

Strangely, it was hard for him to say it loud. He just hoped Lysandra could actually feel how sincere his love for her was.

Kratos squeezed her in a hug, pressing his lips in her hair.

«Sleep now. Or morning will come before we know it.» he mumbled, holding her close.

Lysandra smiled again, finding a comfortable position pressed on her husband’s side and hiding a yawn against his pec. She finally felt safe, able to enjoy a nice night of sleep, knowing that he was watching over them both. That at least for a while, their family was finally reunited.

#god of war #god of war fanfic #kratos #kratos & calliope #kratos x lysandra #lysandra #lysandra god of war #calliope #calliope god of war #kratos was a good dad ages before atreus #if only ares would have minded his f*cking businesses