#because she always said that she wanted my grandma at her wedding | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxkissesforchanniexx · 2 months

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𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Pairing: childhood bff!Chan x fem!reader (non-idol au) Word count: 3.4k Genre: Fluff 🥰💖, Smut 🔥❤️ (angst if you squint) Warning: Weddings... (lord help me), pro best friend chan, mentions of familial favoritism, semi rough sex? , soft dom!chan, sweet name calling(babygirl, princess), slightly jealous chan, comfort, lord someone teach me how to make better warnings, i think thats all? (someone needs to teach me to proof read.)

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU <3 I'm working on improving the formating of my works so >.> bare with me if some of the stuff doesnt translate over well on different devices, especially the text message part >.>

When you were young, you often got compared to your sister, your sister who loved pink and poodles and tutu skirts. She was younger than you by a year and yet, she always out did you, always was a step ahead, always beating you in everything. Yeah, you loved her, but the pain of comparison drove a wedge between you two.

You were 5 when you met Chan. He was very silly, always playing games and smiling, you happened to attend the same school and after he stood up for you against an older boy at the park you two were inseparable.

Chan, who sang for you. Chan, who shared his food with you. Chan, who taught you how to dance. Chan, who teased you for acting like a nerd. Chan, who was your best friend.

Chan was sitting on the couch in your apartment, watching a cringey romantic comedy with you when your phone rang. You gave it a glance and cringed, your grandmother's name appeared on the screen with a image of the woman with an almost plastic smile.

"You should probably answer." Chan said, "Would make it worse if you didn't."

You gave your best friend a side eye. "Nah really?"

He laughed lightly as you answered the phone.

"Hi, honey, you are joining us this year for the whole family get-together aren't you?" The old woman's voice came through the speaker to your ear.

"Of course Grandma-" You started.

"That's what you said last year, and you didn't come."

You made a face, the reason you hadn't gone was because you were sick. "Things happen Grandma."

"And the year before that?"

You pursed your lips, glancing at Chan. You weren't avoiding your family really you were just... avoiding the conflict that ensued when you were with your family. And by conflict you meant the constant onslaught of questions and disappointed looks you got whenever your family asked about anything you were doing with your life.

"And anyway, it's been so long since we've heard from you, we want to see how you've been, keep the family together, bring new people in along the way." Your grandma sounded so happy.

"What do you mean?" You were confused by the "bring new people".

"Oh dear. Did your sister not tell you?" Your grandma sighed, "She has a surprise for us this year."

You sighed. Your little sister always was one better than you, or two, or ten...

"Y/n?" Your grandma's voice brought you out of your daze and Chan leaned forward looking at your face.

"I'll be there this year grandma, I promise."

"Alright. Bye bye honey."

"Bye..." You said in a small voice hanging up.

Chan smiled slightly at you. "So?"

"Help."

His eyes widened slightly before darting around. "You know I really would if I could read minds but it's awfully sad I cant."

You rolled your eyes at the man. "My family dislikes everything I do."

"And?" Chan leaned back, raising a brow.

"They don't dislike you."

"What are you trying to do here?"

You clasped your hands and gave your best friend the most innocent pure pleading gaze. "Come with me, so they won't hate on me."

Chan made a face. "No-"

"I'll pay for the wifi in your apartment for the next two- four months." You grabbed your friend's big hands in yours, "Please!"

"Just because they don't hate me doesn't mean they won't hate on you." Chan said exasperated.

"BUT they'll find someone to compare to you so I won't have to be put down by this." You give him a pleading look.

"Y/n. I've done a lot of dum shit before this is my limit."

"Channie!" You begged. "Come on! I'll pay your netflix subscription too!"

Chan groaned. "Fine! You're making me feel guilty."

"AH! You're the best Chan." You smiled hugging you friend.

He rolled his eyes and patted your hair. "You're lucky netflix is expensive."

So there you were dinner, with your family, your grandmother quick to jump and compliment Chan and compare your father and uncles to him when they were his age. Everyone complimenting your sister and asking her what the big news was. Your dad looked about ready to leave when your younger sister stood. tapping her spoon against her glass gently.

You looked at her, she smiled at you, a smile you couldn't read.

"I have a big announcement to make." She looked at her boyfriend. "Well.. we have a big announcement to make."

"What is it dear?" Your mother asked.

"We're getting married!" Your little sister jumped and smiled. Everyone started clapping.

The initial excitement and congratulations ended, leaving a gently chattering at the table.

Cue your grandmother.

"Y/n dear, what about you?"

Silence.

Everyone looked at you.

Your sister sighed slightly. "Granny, you can't pester her. Give her time, she might get married before 40."

A soft laugh rippled over the table, you stared at your little sister. She smiled innocently, your fist clenched under the table. So what if she was younger and prettier and more successful. You made a move to excuse yourself but Chan grabbed your fist under the table, you relaxed your grip and his fingers slipped between yours and squeezed gently. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked up at your best friend, smiling.

Her Majesty the Queen 01:53 She was obviously out to get you.

Butt Hunter 01:53 I agree

🐶 01:54 Go to the wedding in white.

Baby Chick 01:54 💀

. Me 01:54 I'm NOT going to my sister's wedding in white!

Beanie boy 01:54 He's giving real solutions here.

Squirrel 01:55 Just don't go?

Bread. 01:55 All you do is avoid conflict.

Squirrel 01:55 NO I DONT

Noodle Spirit Survivor. 01:56 shut up. it's 2 in the fucking morning.

. Me 01:56 Sorry Chan, we'll shut up now.

Beanie boy 01:56 Erm actually it's 1:56 AM

🐶 01:56 It's called silent old man.

Bread. 01:56 LMFAO

Baby Chick 01:56 LOL

Butt Hunter 01:56 I don't think his phone box has a silent button.

Squirrel 01:57 😭

Her Majesty the Queen 01:57 💀

You put your phone down and picked up the invitation to your sister's wedding, 4 months... all you had was 4 months to get someone to go to the wedding with. You sighed, going to the app store and downloaded for the nth time, tinder. Cringing.

You had four months to at least meet some expectations, get a nice guy for maybe a month or two, ask him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding then what? You shrugged to yourself and shoved your phone under your pillow before going to sleep.

Chan realized he was screwed, he watched you get ready for another date.

"Honestly." You sighed sitting down to put on your makeup. "I might just go with a random guy. Or maybe I could take Hyunjin or Jisung."

He pursed his lips. Was he even an option for you? What made this guy from tinder so important you had to doll yourself up to go see him. Chan bit his lip, you were his best friend, he could fix the problem, he could be your plus one, he could ask. but he didn't. He was too scared to.

He remembered his conversation with Changbin and Minho a few days earlier. Maybe he was being too much of a pussy. He'd known you for ages, he knew how you liked your coffee and the music that calmed you down, he knew what part in silly romance movies made you cry, he knew when you were uncomfortable and when you were too angry to speak.

"If you keep beating around the bush with how you feel you might never get a chance."

Changbin's words rang in his ears and he bit his lip.

"Y/n what if-" He started.

The doorbell rang as you finished applying your lip stick. "Oh, I gotta go Channie." You stood and hugged him. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Chan gave you a small smile and the moment you were out the door he was cursing himself for not stopping you. "Damnit."

Chan wished he hadn't wished you luck. You and Seokmin, your date, apparently hit it off. For the next two and a half weeks Chan felt like a third wheel in his own friendship with you, if you weren't on the phone with Seokmin, you were texting him, and if you weren't texting him, you were talking about him.

It really came to a head when Hyunjin invited the entirety of the group chat to go out for karaoke and you were busy with Seokmin the day off.

It hand't really been his intention to show up at your place angry, just the thought of you not just ghosting him but the whole friend group. He knocked a few times. no response.

Chan knocked again. he still got no response. Sure the key in the dirt of the potted plant hanging under the sign of your apartment number was for emergencies only, but this was an emergency. (to him anyway.)

Chan opened the door and entered your apartment, expecting to hear lewd sounds or... what else was he really expecting. But as he approached your door his heart ached. It wasn't a sound he heard often from you but it was one he could recognize any day. Chan pushed the door open slowly. You sat on your bed, hugging a pillow, eyes red and puffy, tears streaking your face, you didn't notice him until he closed the door gently behind himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

You quickly wiped your tears. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Chan sighed. "Come here." He sat on the bed and opened his arms.

You leaned into him muttering, "Seokmin is a dumass."

"What happened?" Chan asked, rubbing your shoulder gently.

"He blocked me." You sniffed. "Out of the fucking blue."

Chan hummed softly. "His loss."

You looked up at your friend, "You're so dum."

"Nuh uh, I think I'm pretty smart princess." Chan smiled gently.

"I don't think so." You laughed softly.

He looked down at you. "'M smart enough to stay your friend."

You nod slightly, "I stayed attached to you at the hip is more like it."

"Didn't have a problem with it."

"Chan." You rubbed your friend's arm.

"Hm?"

"Go with me."

"Where?" he asked dumbly.

You sat up and flicked his forehead. "You know where."

"I don't get anything out of it." He rubbed his forehead.

"I'll uh..."

"Worry about it later." He huffed and stood, smoothing your hair. "Should we get (comfort food)?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask." You punched him softly and led the way out of your room.

The day of the wedding you were wearing a long pastel blue dress, and Chan a matching suit, it wasn't the first time you'd matched with your best friend, but this felt more special. Your grandmother and parents gave you side ways glances during the wedding procession, and once the reception had started so did your grandma's vulture like flocking.

"Y/N i really thought you would've come with someone other than Chan, maybe your sister was right you just need time." the old woman sighed.

You sucked in a breathe but Chan grabbed your hand under the table, his words making you freeze, "Is there a problem with me attending as her boyfriend?"

You turned to Chan and he squeezed your hand as if urging you to play along.

Your grandmother looked at you stunned. "What? Since when?"

"The dinner really opened my eyes, maybe guys don't approacher because I'm around, I do look like her boyfriend don't I?" He glanced at you, "Why not give it a shot?"

Your family must have heard your grandmother's cry because your mother and father came over a few moments later and you watched as Chan worked his charm, a mask on his face the entirety of the time.

Your sister looked between you and Chan, blinking quite a bit. As your parents congratulated you on not being single for the first time, you felt like you out did your sister, you looked at Chan, he smiled gently at you and your heart jumped.

After a lot of drinks and cake you decided it was time to head home.(Chan had to drag you out.)

The ride back to your apartment was quiet, you were too buzzed to speak and Chan was focused on driving.

Chan smiled softly, glancing at you. "Wasn't so bad was it?"

You took a moment before you spoke. "Did you mean what you said?"

Chan's brows furrowed, "About what?"

"Did you actually think of me like that after the dinner?" You looked at him.

Chan sucked a breath, squeezing the wheel. "Would you believe me if I said yes."

"I don't have a reason not to."

Chan pulled off the highway onto the smaller road that lead through the city and to your apartment.

"Well?" You asked.

Chan bit his lip and nodded. "I meant what I said."

You remained quiet until he pulled into your apartment complex. And even after he got you into your apartment. You stood there, looking at... Chan. Chan who knew you better than you knew yourself, Chan who always calmed you down, Chan who got angry for you, Chan who bought you food when you were sad and held you until you grew tired of it(you never did you never could), Chan your...

"You meant it?" You were completely sober now, picking up the conversation as if you hadn't been silent for the past half hour.

Chan nodded.

"Is that all there is to it?"

"No." he breathed, stepping closer to you.

"Tell me. What else?" You asked quietly.

"How do I even begin?" He laughed slightly. "I'm sorry-"

"Why are you apologizing?" You looked at him confused.

"For not telling you how I felt from the get go." he smiled, "If there's anything that makes me sleep at night it's you, if there's any place I feel safe it's with you. You make me more happy than I can describe with words alone, there isn't another person I'd be with in any life." He reached and caressed your cheek. "I wanted to fight myself when I let you go out with Seokmin. I want you, I need you, I..." He paused, scanning your face for a signal, any sign to keep going.

"You're going to shut up now when you're at the climax of your speech?" You laughed slightly.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, "I love you. I always have."

"You're really an idiot." You kissed him gently.

Chan blinked in shock. "I-"

You smiled, proud of yourself. "Now-"

Chan grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours again, you stared for a moment before relaxing into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue fighting yours before he pushed into your mouth to taste you, biting your lip gently.

"Wanted to do that for so long." He breathed against your lips, pulling away slowly.

You grabbed his collar. "If you don't finish what you started I will."

Chan's eyes widened and a smirk grew on his face. He kissed you again and his hand moved to the back of your dress. "May I, princess?"

"You may." You giggled as he removed the dress and your made quick work of his buttons before he shrugged off the jacket and shirt, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You squeaked as he threw you onto the bed and got on top you. "Nervous?" he asked laughing lightly.

"No... Of course not." You said looking away.

He smiled and turned your head to face him kissing you passionately before he moved to suck a dark mark just next to your jaw. "So pretty, just for me."

You gasped softly and nodded. "Just for you Channie." Chan continued his assault on your neck before removing your bra and smiling at your chest, he kissed your lips gently. "This is my favorite part of you," He moved to kiss your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and biting gently, relishing in the cry that escaped your lips, "But this is second best."

You blushed, "Stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Chan chuckled against your right breast, pinching the left.

"You-"

"Huh?" He kissed down your belly and bit hard beside your belly button.

"Ow-" You gasped and grabbed his hair.

"Gotta make sure they know you're taken if you wear a crop top." he murmured and moved lower kissing your thigh and pulling your legs apart. "This is mine hm? I think I waited for it long enough." He kissed your thigh before pulling your pantie off. He tossed it haphazardly over his shoulder. He took amount to admire you and you shifted slightly.

"Channie. You're staring." You muttered.

"That a problem princess?"

"Pervert." You rolled your eyes as Chan tugged you to the edge fo the bed.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you moan, he smiled. "That feel good?"

You nodded, panting.

"Use your words." He said rubbing your clit a bit faster.

You moaned and tried to move away but his hand came to hold you down. "No, no."

You blushed, "Meanie."

He smirked kissing your belly before slipping a finger into you. You moan as your wall clenched around his digit, he moved it in and out slowly, thumb still working at your clit.

You gasped and bit your lip as he pushed another finger into you. He paused looking at you.

"What?" You tried to move for friction but he held you down.

"I want to hear you."

You blushed furiously, eyes wide.

Chan laughed lightly and started fingering you again, his middle and ring finger curling to find your g-spot.

You let out a loud cry and Chan smiled, he moved to kiss you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he started grinding his palm into your clit as his fingers moved deeper. You moaned into the kiss and squealed, legs kicking slightly. Chan slid a third finger into you and you squirmed.

"It's too much!" You whined.

"I think you can take it." He said kissing your neck, "Just a little bit more, princess, wanna feel you cum on my hand."

You moaned louder as he pinched your nipple, sucking on the other one. You gasped as he started grinding his tented crotch against your thigh.

"Are you going to cum for me?" he cooed into your ear. "Cum for me, please, princess."

You moaned loudly as you came hard on Chan's hand.

He hummed and lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean before leaning to kiss you. "You taste good babygirl." He stood to remove his pants letting them fall to the floor.

You moaned at the lewdness of the action as Chan moved between your legs, tapping his cock against your clit.

"I'm gonna make you feel good, make you mine." He said, his voice thick with lust.

You bit your lip and nodded. "Please. "

Chan smiled kissing you gently as he pushed into you.

A throaty moan erupted from your throat and Chan groaned. "Sound so pretty," He pulled out slowly and pushed in deeply, you cried out at the slight burn. "I'm sorry baby," He kissed your cheeks gently. "Can I move now?"

You nod and before you could ground yourself Chan was pistoning into you, fucking you as if he wouldn't get to again. You held onto him tightly, clawing at his broad shoulders. He moaned and squeezed your hips tightly. "You're so tight princess."

He moaned softly against your neck, kissing and biting, leaving marks that would surely become hickeys by morning, as he rutted into you over and over. You moaned louder, panting into the heated kisses he granted you. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall with the force of it all, the sound of sin slapping against skin filling your bedroom, you were positive the neighbors could hear but it wasn't like you had room to care.

Chan's hand slipped between your bodies and he began rubbing your clit. "C'mon baby. Cum for me again."

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began thrusting into you harder, hitting your g-spot.

"Cum for me princess." He said through grit teeth.

Another thrust sent you toppling over the edge and you came hard, vision going white as you let out a broken cry. Chan followed quickly, his thick length throbbing inside you as you milked him for everything he had. He kept thrusting his gaze distant and glassy.

You whimpered and trembled as he overstimulated you slightly. After a few more thrusts he finally slowed down and relaxed on top of you.

"Let me take you out on a date..." He muttered against your shoulder.

"I'd like that." You said running your fingers through his curly hair.

What da cringe ending 😭 I really want to thank everyone for 100 followers LOVE YALL <3 requests will reopen soon, I'm still busy with school but I hoped you liked this it took really long to make.

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jabberfish · 2 years

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I hate dance recitals

Getting progressively more stressed out that I have to go to my aunts house to drop off my grandma from her physical therapy. She’s asked me like 15 times if I’ll go to my cousins dance recital. I said no the first time. I’ve ignored the other attempts. I also have plans to take the same cousin out to lunch tomorrow. And there’s two hours between dropping off Grannie and the reservation. How do I avoid her during that time? Like, is this normal? Does the entire family usually go to dance recitals? She’s genuinely offended that none of us cousins want to attend.

#Same aunt who threatened to kick me out when I lived with her because I didn't want to take time off of my new job to attend the recital #The same job that guilt tripped me for taking time off to attend my dads wedding #she even got salty when my aunt and grandma couldn't attend a recital because it was the same day as my college graduation #never forget when she brought up them wasting time attending my graduation when I wasn't doing anything with my degree #because I was struggling to get a job #because it's really hard to break into the animation industry #I've been to at least 5 dance recitals #shout out to my sister for saying no #also #she always asks in front of my cousin #like you're gonna make say im hurting her feelings when you ask 15 times in front of her when I already said no #do people usually ask the 20 something year old cousins to attend dance recitals?#and expect them to attend?#white people shit

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verstappurr · 1 year

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𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ; 𝐦𝐯

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: max verstappen x fem!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: max and prompt “i never wanted that divorce.” please

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and max are divorced and max is getting married again.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of divorce, sad reader, angst, not proof read

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hiiii! welcome to my blog! my requests are open so please submit your requests! we’re not using kelly because we’re not manifesting that <3 hope you all like this!

you were going through the mail when you saw a white envelope with “y/n verstappen” written in golden letters. you frowned in confusion but carefully started to open the envelope. you swore you heard your heart break when you were able to see what was inside. it was a wedding invitation, more specifically, an invitation to max’s wedding.

max and eleonor request the pleasure of

your company to celebrate their wedding

you felt your eyes water and closed the envelope. this could not be happening, you thought.

it’s not like you and max got divorced yesterday.

you and max got divorced because of racing. he wasn’t as present as you and the kids needed him to be, which lead to endless arguments, fights, and tears, until one day your marriage was terminated. but this was over three years ago, and despite that, you didn’t understand how he was capable of moving on so fast. maybe the reason why you didn’t understood how he did it was because you weren’t able to move on yourself.

you had tried everything, and by everything you mean everything. meeting new people, going on dates, god you even tried online dating, but nothing seemed to work. none of those men were him. some of them were good hardworking and loyal men, but something was always missing.

“mama, why are you crying?” a soft voice snapped you back into reality, “hey, i’m not crying, i just have an allergy” you chuckled and hugged leon, one of your seven year olds, “julian and i are ready. now julian is helping emma with her bag” he smiled as he hugged you back.

leon and julian are twins… more like max’s twins, no joke. same face, same eyes, and same cheeky smile. meanwhile emma is a carbon copy of you, but blonde with blue eyes, just like her father.

the twins were only four when you got divorced, and emma was 2. of course it wasn’t easy, but you both managed to make the divorce process as least traumatizing as possible.

“mama! we’re ready!” julian and emma ran out of their rooms with bags in hand, “hey, be careful!” you laughed, “we’re ready!” julian exclaimed and emma giggled, “that’s good, oma will be here in no time” you hugged your children, or like max likes to call them, your cubs.

the doorbell rang, meaning that sophie had arrived.

about a week ago, sophie had asked if you’d let her take the cubs on a little trip to a lake a she went to with one of her friends near the city. after looking at the pictures you couldn’t say no. your babies would love it and you knew how much they loved spending time with their grandma.

when you got pregnant, max suggested that it was better to move back to the netherlands so the babies could be surrounded by their family. you didn’t think twice and agreed with his proposal. you loved monaco, you really did, but there was nothing that could compare to having your family near you.

when you look back at those memories, you’re thankful you chose to come back, because you don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to go through the divorce all alone in monaco.

you walked over and opened the door, “hey!” you smiled, bringing sophie into a hug, “how are you doing, sweetheart?” she hugged you back and came in, you knew exactly what she was talking about, “i’m good” you smiled softly, she nodded giving you a sympathetic look.

“oma!” the three mini verstappens ran over to their grandma and hugged her legs, making her laugh, “who’s ready to go to the lake?” she asked, “me!”

you said your goodbyes and helped sophie get the kids in the car.

“i’ll let you know when we get there” she told you, “sounds good, and send pictures, please” you smiled, “i will. and honey, if you need anything, just give me a call” she pulled you into her arms and hugged you tightly, “i know, thank you, soph” “no problem”

—

being the momma bear you were, or the lioness like max would refer to you as, whenever your children were gone, you found yourself extremely bored… but also really productive.

you had been able to organize weeks of work and even clean the house. after you were done with your chores, you went up to your room and took a shower. after a while you walked downstairs into the kitchen to make yourself something to eat.

while cooking, you the doorbell rang. weird, you were not expecting anyone today besides sophie. you put the knife a side, quickly washed your hands and made your way to the door.

“uh, hey?” you said when you opened the door, “hey, how are you?” max asked, “i’m good. your mom already left with the children so…” “i’m here to talk to you, can i come in?” he asked, “sure…” nodding, you opened the door for him to come in.

“are you busy?” he asked after you closed the door, “not really. just cooking” you walked to the kitchen, max followed.

max sat in one of the stools and watched you chop your vegetables.

“what did you come to talk about?” you looked up, his blue orbs finding your (insert your eye color) eyes, “i wanted to know if you got the…” “the wedding invitation? i got it today in the mail” you nodded, your tone coming out a bit dry.

“are you mad?” he asked, “why would i be? congrats, by the way” you said, adding your favorite vinaigrette to your salad, “don’t be like that…” he sighed, “like what? am i not supposed to congratulate you now?” you looked at him.

“you know exactly what i mean, y/n” he said, “i don’t know what you mean and i’m not in the mood to fight. i’m tired and hungry, so can i please enjoy my salad?” you asked and he scoffed, “i can see it in your eyes, y/n. there’s something you’re not telling me and i want to know what’s going on” he sighed, “we’ve been divorced for almost three years, but remember we were married for four before that”

you felt your eyes water but quickly wiped the tears away.

“i’m okay, max” you said while grabbing a glass and pouring some juice in it, “you’re about to cry, tell me what’s going wrong, i want to help” he softly said, and that’s when you broke.

“i don’t know max, maybe the fact that once again i’m the one who’s going to be all alone?” your voice broke, “the fact i’m the only one who’s going to come back to an empty home when the kids are spending time with you? or maybe it’s the fact that for some reason i can’t move on with my life but everyone else can! you did, why can’t i?” you were a crying mess by now.

move on? he never moved on. his family knew it, his friends knew it, everyone knew it, he knew it.

he was never able to move on from you, the love of his life. the woman who was there to lift him up when he was feeling down, the woman who would cry almost every race because of how proud she was of him, the woman who showed him a new type of love when he became a father, and the woman he lost because he messed up.

seeing her a crying mess broke his heart, but it also gave him hope. hope that the woman he deeply loves, loved him back still, even if it was just a little bit of love left.

he liked eleanor. she was nice with the kids and very kind to you, but she wasn’t you and she’ll never be you. eleanor was younger than him and wanted to get married, so he agreed. he had nothing to lose, until that very moment in which you poured your soul out to him.

“i never wanted that divorce” he spoke as walked over to you, “and you think i did?” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, “you asked for it…” “because i got tired of giving you signals and second chances that were never taken, max” you sighed.

max felt like shit, to say the least. how could he be so dumb? how could he be so dumb to throw away his family and the love of his life just like that?

“please give me one last chance, i promise i’m not going to fail you and the cubs again”, he sat next to you on the couch, grabbing your hands and squeezing them softly, “max, you’re getting ma-“ “if you don’t want me to get married i won’t. all i need to hear you say it”, he interrupted you.

you were in shock, was he serious?

“i am serious. you know it” he said, almost as if he could read your mind, “please baby girl, i need to hear you say it”, he pleaded, staring into your eyes.

you took a deep breath.

“maxie… please don’t get married” you softly said, eyes watering and lips trembling.

max sighed in relief and hugged you tightly, “i’m never letting you go, ever again” he grabbed your face and kissed you softly.

“i hope you stick to that promise” “you know i will, schatje”

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 driver x you #f1 fanfic #f1 driver x reader #i cried writing this #probs i’m just dramatic

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taexual · 8 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 5 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, mutual pining, SLOW BURN

words: 6.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 5 ► oh, and, my love, did i mistake you for a sign from god? or are you really here to cast me off?

Your train reached Paris at almost exactly eight o’clock in the evening and the rain was pouring. The wedding reception had started at seven, but Jungkook didn’t mind being late, even though the longer he lingered with you on the streets, the more the rain ruined your outfits, and your hair, and your make-up—but not your mood.

“I prefer being late,” he said when the two of you caught a cab from Gare du Nord to the wedding venue in the 8th arrondissement. “Less small talk if you show up when everyone’s already said hello to everyone.”

“I see your point,” you said, sliding over the backseat as Jungkook climbed in after you. “But it’s still rude to be late. Especially to a wedding. Especially when you weren’t even going to come to said wedding at all.”

He gave the driver the address and turned to you, resuming the conversation, because he had a very important point to make, “my grandma used to say that as long as I’m not late to my own wedding, I’m fine.”

You snorted at this, but your expression wasn’t mocking. You remembered his grandmother with nothing but love. Thoughtfully, you replied, “she’s a wise woman.”

“She is, yeah,” he agreed. “She always wanted to go to Paris, by the way. Remind me to call her.”

“That’s nice,” you commented, turning to the window as the streets of Paris passed outside, all in a blur of streetlights, reflected in puddles of rain on the pavement. “I think I’ve always wanted to come here as well.”

This surprised him and he paused in the middle of reaching for his phone. He’d already forgotten what he was going to check on it as he looked back at you again. When he spoke, there were minor notes of offence in his voice.

“You did?” he asked. “You never told me.”

“Yeah,” you said, not meeting his eye—you were far too captivated by the rainy streets outside the car window. They were nothing magical on their own, you supposed, but there was something about them tonight in particular. “I don’t know. It’s not my dream destination, but it’s Paris. Can you say you’ve travelled if you’ve never been here?”

Jungkook thought about it. “Well… I mean—there are other cities, too. Isn’t Paris a bit overrated?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, still glued to the window. “Probably. I’ve still wanted to see it for myself, though.”

He could tell, as he leaned forward until he was able to see the neon lights from the signs outside reflected in your eyes. The taxi ride should have taken about twenty minutes, but now Jungkook wondered if he’d manage to ask the driver to take a longer route without you finding out.

“In that case,” he said finally, “I’m glad I brought you here.”

You turned to give him a look, but were startled by his close proximity. You nearly bumped your cheek into his when you craned your neck.

Realising—from your widening eyes—that he’d entered far into your comfort zone, he scooted back in his seat. But your heart was already giving orders for explosions to go off in various parts of your body.

You cleared your throat and looked back out the window—not because of the view this time, but because it felt safer this way.

“We would have come here eventually anyway,” you said. “You’re performing at Cabaret Sauvage in less than a month.”

Disappointed by your purposefully emotionless voice and words that took all credit away from him, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Sure. But,” he emphasized, “with me, you didn’t have to wait a month.”

“Okay,” you settled—partially. “Thank you for turning my whole schedule upside down.”

He smirked at the sarcasm. “Oh, anytime.”

In an attempt to conceal your own smile, you returned your attention to the billboards and bright window displays outside.

“So, if not Paris,” Jungkook started again after a minute, “what is your dream destination?”

He wasn’t expecting your reaction to his question to be so severe: you seemed to lean towards the window—away from him—clench your jaw, and focus even harder on the view outside – as if you were trying to transport yourself there, instead of staying here with him.

“Amsterdam, I think,” you replied eventually, in a voice so reluctant and quiet that he wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t literally right next to you.

“Really?” he asked. “I’m assuming it’s not because of weed?”

Smiling somewhat, you shook your head. And then did not elaborate more.

“Anne Frank?” he tried again.

“Maybe,” you said. “But also because of simple things. Not necessarily significant in history.”

Jungkook found himself having to push as if he was trying to find out what your deepest fear was, since you resisted fully opening up. But this was something that, honestly, seemed quite superficial to him, so he was rightfully perplexed.

Still, he asked, “such as?”

You sighed, not having expected—let alone, planned—this exchange to progress that much.

This felt like the start of a long conversation—capital C. Getting to know each other by participating in obligatory small talk that would soon lead to deep analyses of each other’s darker sides of the subconsciousness.

And the last time you and Jungkook had had a proper conversation about something that was not related to your jobs in the slightest, was months before you broke up.

So, it wasn’t that Jungkook was being invasive with his questions right now. It’s that he was personal. And he’d stopped caring about being personal with you long before your relationship ended.

“Like riding bikes in Canal District,” you answered finally—he was glad to hear it, although he did not like the way you sighed as you spoke. As if this conversation was a hassle. Fortunately for his overthinking, you continued, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since my uncle went on a business trip to Amsterdam when I was seven. He’d brought me so many postcards, I could easily imagine myself having been there with him.”

Jungkook stayed quiet. He remembered your uncle—your mother’s brother. He was a surprisingly caring man, even if he looked like he ran the mob.

And Jungkook remembered the postcards, too—you had them pinned to the bulletin board above your desk in your dorm room back in university. He wondered, briefly, why you’d never mentioned the story behind the postcards before. He’d always assumed you just liked the pretty views on them.

Sitting next to you in the taxi, he counted something under his breath.

“We’re going to have,” he started, then calculated again just in case, “three days off in Amsterdam.”

“I know,” you said, sitting up straight in your seat as the taxi took a turn past Palais Garnier. “Believe it or not, I didn’t plan it like that.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” he teased. “Should we go bike riding in Amsterdam?”

You turned away from the window to look at him, surprise evident in your lifted eyebrows. “Us, two?”

He nodded. “Us, two.”

“On your day off?”

“On my day off.”

Not hiding your skepticism, you licked your lips and told him, “Jungkook, you spend your free days getting wasted with your friends.”

Although that was a fair statement – he had to admit that much – he still tried to defend himself, “that—that’s not something I have to do every single time.”

“It’s not?” you asked. “Then why do you do it?”

“Because I usually have nothing better to do,” he replied. His honesty was amplified by his body language: eyes cast low, hands intertwined on his lap.

He hoped you wouldn’t misunderstand—he wasn’t trying to imply that he preferred his friends to you. Or to anyone else, for that matter. Truly, if you would have called, he would have abandoned everyone else in a heartbeat. But he was more comfortable keeping that to himself.

“And riding bikes sounds better than getting drunk?” you asked instead, the question laced with persistent disbelief.

“Riding bikes in Amsterdam,” he corrected, choosing to avoid the mention of you doing it together, “sounds better.”

“Okay,” you said, still not convinced. “You talk now, but let’s see if you change your mind when we’re back on the road.”

“I won’t,” he insisted with newfound confidence. Despite his assuring tone, his gaze still scanned the mat on the floor of the taxi. “I promise I’ll take you bike-riding in Amsterdam.”

Even more surprised now, you waited until he lifted his eyes to meet yours before you repeated, “you promise?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug—but the nonchalance was pretend. His hands were tightly pressed into each other on his lap, because otherwise he would have been reaching for you. “Cross my heart. I’ll take you bike-riding if it kills me.”

The exaggeration finally got you to laugh. “Why would it kill you?”

Your laugh had broken the spell. He felt himself relax as though something heavy had been lifted off of him, and with you laughing next to him, he was as light as the air around you. Nothing could crush him.

“You never know with bikes,” he replied, smiling, too. “I’m just saying, I’ll make it happen for you.”

After a detour down the Champs-Elysées under the tiny compact umbrella that you’d packed (it was still so beautiful with all the lights around—even more so in the rain), you finally arrived at the wedding, which was already in full swing.

It took the newlyweds a good fifteen minutes to notice you and Jungkook, but you wouldn’t have blamed them if they didn’t approach you at all.

As soon as they did, however, you immediately tried to apologise for being late—both, tonight and in general, considering that the two of you were only added to the guest list for the wedding a few days ago. But Kihyun and Chloé cut you off, both joking that they were just glad you made it here, because they had thought you’d gotten lost in Paris.

“I sort of wish,” Jungkook replied, casting a meaningful glance your way—you pretended not to see it. “But no time to get lost when we have an important wedding to get to.”

Your friends smiled at this, accepted your congratulations, and, instead of returning to the rest of their guests, actually stayed to catch up with you—as if this wasn’t their wedding. As if you were back in university, eating ice cream on the quad benches with all of your mutual friends, and fighting off the campus pigeons.

You had to admit, seeing Kihyun and Chloé again was very nice. You’d always considered them Jungkook’s friends more than your own—all three of them had graduated from the same major, even though you had quickly become Chloé’s class-skipping partner—but they were the one pair of his friends that you’d always approved of and, eventually, befriended, too.

Seeing them newly married, however—while you could still remember that one almost tragic double-date that you’d tried to go on, where Jungkook and Kihyun nearly broke their necks, racing on Vespas—now that felt overwhelming.

“You’re right on time, by the way,” Chloé said to you while the two boys discussed Rated Riot’s upcoming tour dates, seemingly attempting to make plans to meet up again, after the pair would return from their honeymoon. “I was just about to toss the bouquet.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Come on,” she grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from Jungkook.

You glanced back at him for help, but he only grinned at you, like he’d done so many times before, when you’d go to parties together and he’d force you out of your comfort zone, because he knew you’d thank him for this later.

You weren’t sure if you’d be grateful for it this particular time, though, as you found yourself in a crowd of bridesmaids and very drunk guests within fifteen minutes of arriving at this wedding.

You looked around and, with a sudden start, you recalled the reason why you were here in the first place.

Bending your neck to take in the people around you, you tried to guess which person in this wedding, could have been the hypothetical ex that you still didn’t think really existed.

There was no one who could have been it.

You’ve met most of the people here before and none of them looked particularly eager to talk to Jungkook or to avoid him. Everyone was indifferent—except you, as you kept looking back at him to find him already watching you every time—and that was the final confirmation.

There really was no ex.

You had no idea why he’d brought you here.

Distracted by your thoughts, you chose to just stand in the middle of the crowd. As you tried to avoid having your feet stepped on, you brought a hand through your hair. You liked crowds at concerts. You didn’t like crowds of very determined wedding guests.

Never having caught a drumstick or a single guitar pick at any of the concerts you’d gone to in your whole life, you felt rather stupid standing there. And the significance of catching the bride’s bouquet was lost on you, too—you’d never believed in the prediction that whoever caught it would be next to walk down the aisle: your mum had told you she’d caught it three separate times, and she had barely been married once.

You heard Chloé count down backwards from three and you extended your hands above your head; more as a protective instinct than anything else—to avoid getting smacked on the head.

By some harrowing chance, almost as soon as Chloé’s countdown finished, you felt the stems of flowers against your palm and clutched at them, reflexively. You heard claps and excited cheers around you before you registered that you’d caught the bouquet.

Lowering the classic, white rose combination, tied with a neat, pale bow, you swallowed and looked around, unable to conceal your overwhelming discomfort as you listened to earnest applause around you.

This felt embarrassing more than anything else. Irrationally so, of course, but embarrassing, nonetheless: like walking into an empty restaurant and interrupting the conversation of the staff. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you, and there were drunken shrieks of elation somewhere in the room.

You realised as you held the flowers awkwardly—like it was a bomb meant to be defused—that this was why you preferred to work backstage.

“I’m so glad it was you!” you heard Chloé exclaim. You turned to see her clapping her hands as she made her way towards you.

A few women you’d never met hugged you as if you were going to your own wedding as soon as this one was over.

You were frozen with an uncomfortable, twitching smile on your face and only sobered up somewhat when Chloé reached you. She was laughing as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders—in her defence, she tried to fight her amusement, but you looked completely anguished, nearly grief-stricken. It was ridiculously unfitting, and, at the same time, so completely in character for you.

“I’m not entirely sure how this works,” you told her. “Are you certain I’m not supposed to toss it, too? Sort of like a relay race? I saw one of your younger cousins who looked very excited to catch the bouquet, but she had an obvious height disadvantage.”

Chloé clutched you to herself tighter in a comforting manner.

“No, love,” she said brightly. “My cousins are twelve and thirteen, they both can wait for their turn. And I’ll see you at your wedding. Hopefully sooner rather than later? It’s been too long since we’ve last chatted.”

“It has been,” you agreed, “but if we’re only meeting at weddings, then I’m afraid this might be the last time we see each other.”

Laughing again, she rubbed a soothing hand on your back and assured you, “the bouquet can mean whatever you want it to mean. I’m just glad you’re here tonight. And I’m sure Jungkook is, too.”

With another soft smile, she nudged you in his direction and walked away to join her husband. Before you could begin pondering what she’d meant by that, your eyes caught sight of Jungkook, who was still watching you—in a relentless way. Like he hadn’t looked away from you once since you left his side.

You felt almost awkward as you approached him—all of your steps leaden under his watchful eye—but as soon as you were close enough, he grinned and said, “you look like you survived an alien abduction.”

And everything was okay again. For the time being, at least.

About an hour later, you and Jungkook had settled by a cocktail table at the back of the room.

The bride’s bouquet rested between you as you sipped champagne and took everything in: all the couples dancing around you, the kids kicking the balloons, Kihyun and Chloé being unable to stop smiling at each other as he twirled her around to the gentle melody of the wedding band playing Biffy Clyro’s “Many of Horror”.

“I still believe,” rang through the venue as the song went on, “it’s you and me ‘till the end of time.”

You nodded along to the rhythm, tapping your fingers against the table. You’d stopped resisting after your first glass of champagne and allowed the familiar melody to take you back to the days when you and Jungkook passionately screamed the lyrics of this song at each other in your dorm room.

The two of you dancing with each other was a far more violent affair than Kihyun and Chloé’s smooth swaying: your twirling involved a lot more kicking, stepping on toes, and tears of laughter as you eventually admitted your absolute incompetence when it came to dancing. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed very skilled at it—but then, when compared to you, probably even a well-trained rabbit could have danced better.

You smiled fondly at the memory, happy that the bubbles you drank and the long trip you’d taken today made you feel just dizzy enough to look back at the old days without wishing you were there now.

You were glad to be where you were.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was on his third glass. He kept glancing at the bouquet on the table with immense discomfort as he painfully remembered Sid’s words on their first night in Prague: “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”

What if Sid was right, then what would he do? Would he get up on stage and perform a fucking love song for you and your new husband? An angsty, yearning love song with a powerful guitar riff—like the ones you liked and the ones he kept writing; the lyrics dripping with all the sentiments that would mean nothing to him, while you married someone else.

I still believe it’s you and me ‘till the end of time

He couldn’t do it. He’d never do it. He’d rather—

“Jungkook,” you said suddenly, your voice catching him off-guard.

“Hmm?” he looked at you, an almost alarmed expression on his face. The descent from deep inside of his mind and back to reality was a painful one.

“I have a question,” you said.

He finished his drink and put the empty flute down on the table. “Alright.”

“There’s no ex,” you said, deciding it was finally time to clear this up, “is there?”

After almost two hours at the wedding—where he hadn’t mentioned his ex once—both of you already knew the answer to this question. But he still graced you with a formal response, because he knew he owed you an explanation.

“No,” he said. “There’s not.”

You nodded, your expression the same as before.

He was relieved. He’d expected a drink in his face.

“So, tell me then,” you continued. “Why did you need me to come with you to this wedding?”

For the first second after you asked this, he thought he could have just admitted it. There was no condition in the bet about revealing the truth to you, after all. And it’s only a bet—it’s nothing significant.

But you were standing in front of him in your dress, the leather jacket that he’d gotten you hanging on your shoulders. You were looking at him with tired, tipsy eyes. And you were smiling—but still trying very hard not to—as you sipped your champagne.

There was a sense of future in the air.

Your future, together.

And the realisation that the bet was significant, despite his efforts to convince himself otherwise, had finally kicked in—he was afraid he wouldn’t just get a drink thrown in his face if he told you. He was afraid he’d lose this future.

“I, uh… I just didn’t want to be here by myself,” he ended up saying. This was, technically, not a lie, either. “I always go to these things alone.”

“Why go at all?” you asked then. “You were pretty definitive when you RSVP’d “no” months ago. I was the one who emailed them both of our responses.”

“Well,” he said, looking around at the waiters, passing out drinks, as he tried to buy time. “I don’t know. I feel different now that I’m in Europe. So close to Paris. I guess I changed my mind.”

As you’ve learned in the past few days, that was his excuse for everything.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “Humour me about something else, would you?”

Happy that the waiter was finally close enough for him to reach, Jungkook grabbed another champagne flute from his tray and then looked at you again. “What is it?”

“Why would Sid tell me you were dating someone,” you began, “and then warn me not to let you go to this wedding?”

What a perfectly logical question. Truly, he couldn’t see how the question could have been more perfect.

It was so perfect, in fact, that you could engrave it on Sid’s tombstone after Jungkook killed him.

“You know what? I actually have no idea,” he said and then threw his head back to down the champagne in one big gulp.

He kept the liquid in his mouth for a second—prolonging the time he didn’t have to speak to you, all while you watched him suspiciously—and then swallowed, finally.

“Really,” he added in response to your questioning look. “He’s an enigma.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to describe him.”

He nodded, eager to cement the point he was making. Additionally, he suggested, “maybe he was just jealous.”

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to find the causal relationship between Sid lying to you and Sid being jealous.

You tried to guess, “jealous of—of not going to Paris with you?”

“Of me going with you,” he said.

You picked up your champagne glass again—you weren’t drunk enough to have this conversation. “What?”

He shrugged. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

Your scoff was almost reflexive, and you were very glad that you hadn’t taken a sip before he had said this. You’ve heard plenty of unexpected things in the span of these past few days; all kinds of manipulations and weak cop-outs – but this one was, by far, the most ridiculous one.

“Maybe he has a crush on you,” you countered, clearly considering this statement to be an accusation more than a compliment.

He snickered at this. “Fair enough. Maybe he does.”

Swallowing, you put your near-empty glass down on the table and gave him a long look.

“So, he just did that to spread chaos?” you asked. “No other reason?”

Jungkook shrugged again. “Nothing else I can come up with.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said calmly and watched him freeze, startled by the bluntness of your words. First, you finished your champagne, then your sentence, “but I’m willing to drop it if this is nothing more than Sid’s game. Tell him to never speak to me again, and let’s leave this at that.”

Jungkook was relieved, and, at the same time, scared to feel relieved. He felt it necessary to say, “I’m sorry Sid did that.”

“Don’t apologise for him.”

“I’m not. The apology is from me,” he said. “I should have made sure he wouldn’t bother you, let alone lie to you—”

“I don’t care why Sid lied to me,” you cut him off. “I care why you did. Why you went along with it.”

He knew he should have seen your question coming, but he chose to pretend he could talk around this topic instead—and that’s why your words knocked all breath out of him.

It was simple: he’d played along with Sid’s lie, because he thought it’d help him convince you to come to Paris with him faster; he’d lied to you to win the bet.

But he hadn’t lied to you when he said he didn’t want to come to this wedding alone. He wanted to come here with you. The bet seemed more like an excuse now—a distraction from his anxiety that he equipped as a pretence to ask you out.

He was painfully aware of this now: he’d always wanted to ask you out again; just one more time. One last first date of your lives.

He realised this, and there was no way he could pretend otherwise, not when his mouth dried up every time he looked at you.

And yet, that seemed even more difficult to admit to you.

Inhaling, he said, “I thought Sid’s lie would get you to come with me.”

That did not feel much like an explanation.

“You could have said that Sid lied and just told me that you changed your mind about going to the wedding,” you said, waving your empty flute around. “You’re allowed to go where you want to. You’re an adult.”

“Well—”

“To a certain extent,” you added, “because, of course, you have your reputation to consider. Yours and the band’s, too, actually.”

“So, you would have just let me leave the tour?” he questioned, doubtful and, honestly, disappointed. Asking for your permission to do something felt childish, but it also felt like you cared. And he really needed you to care.

You remembered his threat about bringing his friends with him if you wouldn’t go, and asked, “would you have gone to Paris alone?”

He looked down. Then, he told you the full truth, “I wouldn’t have come here at all, if you hadn’t agreed to come with me.”

“But I said no,” you said, still trying to make sense of this. “I didn’t want to go. You kept pushing.”

“I really wanted us to go together. That’s why—you know.” He swallowed. “That’s why Sid’s lie seemed so convenient.”

“Why did it matter that we went together?” you asked one more time. “The real reason.”

He didn’t reply right away, because he was too tipsy for this. It was only champagne, he could have easily recited the alphabet backwards if he was asked to. But it was getting difficult to keep up with what he was telling you.

He didn’t want to lie, not anymore, so he tried to only tell you the truth and keep quiet about the things he didn’t want you to know about: like the bet. And, of course, the fact that he had, apparently, been in love with you for ages. This particular realisation had surprised him on the train earlier, and he was the one with the feelings. He couldn’t even imagine how much it would probably shock you if he told you.

You waited, at first; assuming that he needed a moment to gather the courage to explain. But a minute later, your patience ran out.

So, you tried to answer for him—offering an option that wouldn’t be satisfactory enough, but it would be comfortable for you to believe, “just because they’re our friends?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, but it sounded like he was just agreeing, because he could tell that this was what you wanted him to say. “We’d known Kihyun and Chloé for so long. So it’s for, um—for old times’ sake, I guess.”

You needed a minute to arrange everything in order in your mind. Everything Jungkook had said seemed convincing enough if you closed your eyes, but it still felt like a half-truth at best.

You knew there had to be a different reason why Sid didn’t want Jungkook to go to Paris—or, perhaps, why he didn’t want you to come with Jungkook.

Not to mention, Jungkook could have convinced you to come to the wedding much faster if he’d told you the truth instead of going along with the story about his “ex”. Of course, that’s assuming that he really did only want to come here to witness your friends get married like he’d said.

But you wanted to believe that what he’d told you tonight was true, because this way, you wouldn’t have to ask any more questions or overthink. And, truthfully, a part of you was afraid to ruin this—whatever this pleasant hum that had gathered around the two of you on the train to Paris was—by interrogating Jungkook further.

Not to mention, you’d outgrown Sid’s silly games and simply wanted peace.

Even though you didn’t speak, Jungkook seemed to read the thoughts in your mind as he chewed on his bottom lip and said again, “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, registering the discomfort on his face. “What for?”

“For the lying and the—well, everything,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I realise this was a very backwards way to convince you to come here with me.”

“It was. And thank you for owning up to it,” you said. “But next time you try to do something weird, do try to leave me out of it, would you?”

He grinned at this—he couldn’t help it. “Define weird.”

You were smiling, even though you rolled your eyes in response.

“Lying,” you said then. His smile faltered. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”

Solemn now, he nodded. He realised that this gesture alone wasn’t convincing enough and redeemed it by clearing his throat and saying very decidedly, “I promise I’ll make sure Sid doesn’t bother you again.”

“Good,” you said. “Please do.”

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he added. “Despite everything.”

You were about to retort with a dry “you’re welcome”, but decided to take a different route and make him work a little bit. It only seemed fair.

“I don’t think a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice,” you said slyly. He cocked an eyebrow, not having expected to hear the playfulness in your voice. “This was a huge favour, after all. I could have been sleeping on the tour bus right now.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun,” he countered. “I saw the look in your eyes on the cab ride to the wedding.”

“Well, I had to adjust,” you defended. “Can’t exactly sulk the entire time, I’m not a toddler. Unlike some people.”

You turned away as you said this, smirking, while he scoffed, indignant. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

He was instinctively opening his mouth to respond, but only managed to squeeze out an incomprehensible syllable that turned into an impressed tsk.

“Okay,” he decided then, tongue in cheek. “So, how can I repay this massive favour?”

“I’m not sure you ever will, to be honest,” you played. “But you could start by gifting the newlyweds a song.”

Jungkook glanced back at the platform in the corner of the room that was set up as a stage for the band. The musicians were taking a break and having drinks by the bar right now, so it was empty.

He looked back at you. “I don’t sing at weddings.”

“You used to,” you pointed out.

“Once. They made me wear a suit with a bowtie. A tight, neon yellow bowtie,” he reiterated. “It nearly made me suffocate. I would have died looking like I ran away from a low-budget circus. I’m not doing that again.”

Trying to keep your laughter in—you hadn’t actually been working with Rated Riot yet when they performed at this wedding, but Yoongi kept pictures, and he pulled them out every year on Jungkook’s birthday—you reached over the table to touch him.

“I’ll make this easier for you,” you said as you gently undid the first few buttons of his black dress shirt.

His breath got caught in his throat the second he felt your fingertips brush against the bare skin between his collarbones. It lasted for less than a second, but he was certain your touch had left a mark.

“There,” you said, pulling away. You seemed to have no clue of the revolution you’d started in his chest, which was a wonder. He was convinced his face had passed all the colours of the rainbow in the span of a minute. You continued, “nothing’s blocking your airways now. I’ll even do you one better—you don’t look like a clown tonight. You actually look good.”

Funnily enough, he had fewer problems breathing before you leaned closer to touch him. And before you told him he looked good.

Weakly, he asked, “I assume you have a song in mind, then?”

You nodded. “Chloé once told me she loved this one when she was younger. “As Long as You Love Me” by—”

“No.”

You were grinning as you finished, “—Backstreet Boys.”

He was shaking his head with enough vehemence for you to feel a soft wind on your face.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the song of choice—other than the fact that Jungkook doubted very much that Chloé had ever mentioned it to you; he suspected you were just setting him up—but he held a personal grudge against it ever since he impulsively performed the song at your birthday party six years ago.

You had already been so drunk at that point, you could only remember glimpses of it all. Fortunately, someone had filmed Jungkook as he was using your floor lamp as a microphone stand when he performed Nick’s part at the beginning of the song. Later on, he’d gotten so immersed that he’d pulled up a chair to perform the dance routine, too.

You still had the video saved somewhere on your cloud storage.

“Your debt will be fully repaid if you include the choreography,” you added now, knowing it wouldn’t convince him. You just needed to say it to see the tips of his ears turn red at the memory.

His lips were pursed as he watched the mischievous glint in your eye. He’d missed it, he realised, even if your teasing was at his expense.

“You don’t think I’ll do it,” he observed. You shrugged—an obvious challenge—and he looked back at the platform again.

“I’m going to need a mic stand and a chair,” he said. Your eyes visibly brightened—he hadn’t seen you this excited in years. Keeping eye contact with you as he walked backwards to the platform, he pointed a finger in your direction. “This is for you.”

You cheered—caught in the moment and in the champagne you’d had tonight—while he climbed on the platform and turned the music that had been playing from the loudspeakers off. It took everyone at this wedding by surprise. They all turned to look.

The musicians seemed largely unfazed, until he picked up the guitar that they’d left leaning against the wall by the platform. They were already about to approach, but Jungkook extended a hand with so much self-assurance that they froze right away.

He said something else—you were too far to hear—and that seemed to relax them. They returned to their drinks and Jungkook, finally, climbed onto the platform.

Admittedly, until the moment he did, you really didn’t think he would actually do it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke, his voice muffled as he tapped the microphone to make sure it was working. You looked back to see the surprised looks on Kihyun and Chloé’s faces. “It’s a very special night tonight, as we know. And I have a very special gift for my friends. Congratulations on the beginning of the rest of your lives together, guys.”

The newlyweds both cheered and Jungkook chuckled lightly. The microphone caught the sound and you felt your heart respond to it in eagerness as it pounded against your ribs.

The second he played the first chords on the guitar, the room seemed to come to life. Some people recognised the melody and rushed to the designated dancing space in front of the platform, their hands in the air—and it felt, for just a moment, like a Rated Riot concert. Others still looked confused, but very entertained by the unexpected turn of events.

“Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine,” he began to sing and it immediately turned into a battle of which one of you two could last longer without cringing, “I'm leaving my life in your hands.”

You lost the battle as soon as Jungkook began the chorus and put the guitar down so he could perform the choreography with the chair—as much as he could, anyway, because the chairs at the venue didn’t fold. Your nose was scrunched, and you couldn’t help shaking your head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

He watched you nearly the whole time—only looking away to nod encouragingly at Kihyun and Chloé, both of whom were dancing in the middle of the room—and his voice was louder, much clearer without the instrument accompanying it.

You’d watched him tear his shirt off on stage at Rated Riot shows, and you’d never had to cover your face. But your hands were on your mouth the moment he dramatically dropped to his knees for that last “as long as you love me” in the song.

His head fell in a theatrical manner as soon as he finished the song, and the room erupted in applause. He thought he could discern your laughter amidst the noise, and he was smiling when he looked up.

It took him a minute to return to you after the performance—people asked for more as he walked past, others were patting him on the back, and some guests, who turned out to have been in attendance at the previous party, gaily informed him that he did “much better than last time”.

His breathing was still heavy when he reached you, exhilarated.

Beaming even before he heard your response, he leaned against your table and lifted an eyebrow. “Well?”

“That might be the best performance that I’d ever seen,” you said. “I’m sure it’ll haunt my dreams. Thank you for that.”

There was enough genuine awe in your voice to make him laugh.

“So, you don’t regret coming here with me, then?” he asked. His eyes were glittering when he looked at you—with excitement, adrenaline, and hope.

“No,” you said. Your soft smile had rendered him completely incapable of looking away from you. “I’m actually glad I came. And not just because I got to see you sing Backstreet Boys in front of everyone.”

Heated suddenly, he said, “that stays between us.”

Even though you’d been looking forward to telling everyone on tour about this, you decided he deserved your agreement.

“Fine,” you said. “But it’s a shame the rest of the world wasn’t able to enjoy this.”

“Hmm,” he lifted his chin. “That was for your eyes only.”

“What about the rest of the guests?” you asked. There was a certain delight in your words that he noticed and quietly basked in.

“What guests?” he replied with a grin. “I said this was for you.”

You were shaking your head, but there was humour in your eyes and on your lips, and his own smile felt like it might cause his cheeks to tear.

There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for you at that moment. He was flushed, and his head was spinning. The entirety of his chest, it seemed to him, had begun to float.

He was happy.

You were still here with him, teasing and laughing. He’d seen his old friends get married, he’d seen them dance. He was about to join his band on tour, about to perform all across Europe.

Everything was going to be perfect. He just had to get this bet over with—quietly—and then figure out a way to expand the cavity of his chest, so it could contain his heart and the thousands of obnoxious, never-ceasing fluttering wings around it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “the summoning”

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mimiwrites2000 · 7 months

Text

The Last One To Reach The Tree

Archive of Our Own

If the tree could speak, it would’ve cried. If the tree could speak, it would’ve sobbed and wailed and mourned humanity, mourned the death of humanity in every human’s heart. If the tree could speak, it would’ve begged to be burnt, to be cut down.

Mikasa was eager to meet with Eren, she was eager to reunite with him. And so was Armin.

~~~ Post Canon story about the theory that Armin is the last one to reunite with them.

He always knew Mikasa was more eager to reunite with Eren, and he knew she would join him as soon as she could.

And he knew that it would hurt as hell.

Even if it was after seventy years.

Even after they had kids and grandchildren.

He knew it would still hurt as hell.

He lived every moment with her, they were at each other’s weddings, they held each other’s first borns, they were there when they were called a grandma and a grandpa for the first time.

What else was there to happen?

What more were they to see?

He heard those words from those around him far too many times.

Mikasa lived her life to the fullest and mama had breathed until the very last word of her story.

But it hurt him, as hell.

It hurts him to look at a headstone, two headstones, and know that his friends were there.

Under the ground.

Six feet under the ground.

Beneath that tree, with its trunk aloft and proud, layers and layers of months and years and decades, and its leaves a varying charade of oranges, yellows, and occasionally, a bright blood-red, swaying in the spring’s warm breeze.

Armin looks up at the leaves above his head, just a quick glance, before he regrets it and tilts his head back down; the midday sun’s rays harsh in his eyes.

He leans against his cane, resting his chin on the hand that clutched the cane, and sways on his spot.

“The living and the dead,” he says, “oh the living and the dead.”

He gazes at Eren’s headstone, a much older headstone, the craving almost washed out; but Mikasa, for as long as she lived, had always taken care of it, as if the headstone had a heart of its own, as if it breathed and was alive. “Eren, you should’ve seen Mikasa, she lived a happy, long, life,” Armin mutters, “she had kids and grandkids, she held my kids and my grandkids, and my daughter is pregnant, I feel bad for her child, because her child will never know Mikasa.

“Eren,” Armin continues, tilting his head; he is tired, so tired. “We lived long lives, we lived very long lives, we even retired, can you believe that? We retired, for once, the scouts retired before dying.”

Then he turns his gaze at Mikasa’s headstone; speckless, new, “Mikasa…” he wants to say something, he should say something, he couldn’t know what to say, what is there to be said anyway?

“Mikasa…” he calls her name again, and with a broken voice, he quietly cries out, “I miss you… I miss you.”

Armin had so many things to tell Eren, to tell Mikasa, but words felt like a heavy weight, a very heavy weight he could no longer carry, instead, he reminisced.

Silently.

The times in Fort Salta, after the war.

In fact, Armin couldn’t remember those days too well, a thick fog obscured them from Armin’s eyes; not because of his old age, well through his seventh decade, but because he had been through so much pain, so much hurt, so much chaos that his brain just decided to take those days off of the shelve, and burn them, as if they never happened.

The only thing Armin remembers was holding Eren’s lifeless head in his arms.

But the months after it, Armin remembers them so well.

He remembers his friends, being closer than ever, he remembers Annie’s father, he remembers him so well, his cane and his face and his unyielding scrunched eyebrows. He remembers his face when he asked his permission to propose to Annie; shocked, yet happy, yet confused, yet unbelieving—

But relieved.

Armin remembers his wedding day so well, it was vivid in his mind. He could never forget his friends’ efforts to give him a wedding, so they held an intimate party on the boat, only for themselves. They got Armin a suit and Annie a white dress; they were simple, really, but it meant the world to him.

He was the first of his friends to get married, but the last to have a child.

It was a struggle, another hardship in life, but Annie got pregnant in the end, and her pregnancy was tough, hard, and difficult, but they had a beautiful boy that got his mother’s nose and his father’s eyes.

Then they had two more children; another boy, and their youngest, a girl.

A gorgeous, gorgeous girl.

She is Armin’s happiness.

He loves all his kids; of course he does, but his daughter is the light in his eyes, she is his happiness, his joy.

He loves her, and he loves her button nose, because she was the only one who didn’t get her mother’s nose, but she got her mother’s eyes and hair.

All of his kids grew up, and all of them had the best education they could have, and all of them got married; his daughter was the last of them to find a partner, and is pregnant with her first child.

“Oh, Eren,” Armin finds words, finds a few words that he could use, “I am sad, I am sad for you, I wish you know what it feels like to hold your child, to hold your grandchild.”

Armin lets out a strangled sigh, “It’s none of what I ever felt in my life. Holding your child, seeing them growing up, fighting with them, all the screams and the fights and the misunderstandings… Eren, I wish you lived to feel that too.”

Armin’s hand on the cane wobbles, and it jumps from its place, breaking in half. Armin falls on his knees, threads of winces and groans leave his mouth, the thorns of the weed around the graves dig mercilessly into his wrinkled hands.

He slowly sits straight, taking deep breaths. He closes his eyes; that wasn’t the first time his body let him down, his body had always betrayed him, had always given up at the worst of times and worst of places.

Armin pulls the thorns from his hand, plucks them one after the other. Some of the thorns left no trace behind, not even a scratch, but most of them left a scar and a trail of blood.

Armin hugged his hand, and breathed deeply.

“We lived long lives, Eren, we lived long lives.”

“Armin?”

Armin turns his head, and there she is.

“My love,” he greets her, as she approaches him.

She is older than him, two years older than, but she is the healthiest of them all. And Armin wondered how she did that; she carried kids and went through all of those decades, and there she is.

White hair invaded her head, wrinkles adorned her face, her hands thin and yet calloused, and her eyes as blue as the day he met her.

“You can’t leave the house unannounced, Armin, what did we say about that?” She tells him as she stands next to him, but he doesn't get up.

He doesn’t want her to know that he fell, he doesn’t want her to know that he broke his cane and fell.

But with one glance at the broken pieces of the cane, she understands. She kneels next to him, and sits beside him.

“I won’t stand in your way,” she assures him, “just let me know when you want to leave the house, the kids are worried about you.”

“Who is visiting?” He asks.

“All of them,” she informs him, “we invited them for lunch, don’t you remember?”

“Ah right,” but he doesn’t remember.

“Let’s head back home,” Annie starts to get up, but he holds her hand, halting her.

And her heart drops in her stomach.

“My love,” he calls her, watching his friends’ headstones, “we lived long lives, didn’t we?”

Annie’s eyebrows meet in the middle; Armin isn’t being himself, he is distant, far away.

In another time.

In another place.

“Armin?”

“We lived long, happy lives, didn’t we?” He asks her, turning his head, and looking at her.

She sits back down, “We did.”

“We did everything any human wishes to do, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

He hums, satisfied, and looks back at his friends’ graves.

Armin

“Do you think…” he asks, “they are together now?”

Annie’s throat closes on itself, she wants to shake him.

She wants him to take her hand and walk home with her.

She wants to tell him that he can’t go before her, that he can’t let go yet.

Not yet.

Not before her.

Please, please, please.

“They are together,” she mutters, taking a deep breath, the corner of her eyes burning, “they are together.”

“They are happy, they are together,” Armin continues, a tear sliding down his face. “Annie…” he breathes her name, the way he always pronounced it with his heart, “I want to be with them too.”

She gazes at his face, and she would’ve protested, she is supposed to tell him no, that his kids are waiting for him, lunch warm on the table.

She is supposed to tell him that he is still there with them.

But he isn’t.

Armin

He is already there, he is already a step out the door.

He is no longer with her.

He doesn’t ask her to forget about him, he doesn’t ask her to let him go, because a voice, a familiar voice, told him that she will be with him very soon.

“I miss them,” he says to Annie, “I miss them so much.”

“They miss you too,” Annie whispered, placing her forehead against his own. “And I will miss you, I will miss you.”

But his sight isn’t focused, and she doesn’t know if he heard her or not, she doesn’t know how far he is.

She kisses his forehead, a long, prudent kiss.

Annie gets up, she wipes her tears with the back of her hand, and walks away; he deserves to go easily, he deserves a painless departure.

She walks down the hill and never glances back at him, she walks back to their house, and when she walks in, the joyful chatter dies down.

“Ma,” one of her sons calls, “why are you pale?”

But she doesn’t answer. They get up from the dining table and approach her, “Ma, where’s father?”

She doesn’t answer; she knows the answer, but she can’t say it.

“Mother,” her pregnant daughter, the last to get up, “mother what’s wrong? Where is father?”

“He is with them,” Annie finds her words, “he is happy with them.”

A long thread of whats pierce the air, before the two sons pushed past Annie, rushing outside the house, towards that hill.

The daughter only looked at her mother, frozen in place, in time, as his sons ran to that tree under on that hill.

On that hill, under that tree, with his friends surrounding him, Armin took his last breath.

He doesn’t know for how long he slept, or if he even fell asleep in the first place.

The leaves above him; a bright, juvenile green, swaying with a soft, warm breeze, and the leaning sun casts a soft, warm light over the clouds drifting in the sky, cascading shades and hues of a heavenly glow that whispered unearthly melodies.

He has been to that tree and that hill far too many time, and yet, it feels… different.

It feels… unreal.

“Took you too long.”

Armin hears someone talking to him, a familiar voice.

A voice he didn’t hear in too long.

Way too long.

“Yeah,” Armin answers. He hears laughs, and footsteps, and someone sitting next to him.

Armin turns his head—

“Eren,” Armin says.

“Took you too long,” Eren repeats.

“You fucking asshole,” Armin says, then he smiles, and for the first time in so many years, he has no issues getting up fast.

He throws his arms around Eren, and despite his dilemma, despite his confusion of reality and dreams, he hugs Eren, tight and long and—

“Gosh, I missed you,” Armin says, the tears on his face choking his voice, “I missed you, you fucking asshole.”

“I missed you too,” Eren says, his voice steadier and softer than Armin’s. “I waited for you for so long.”

“Where is Mikasa?” Armin asks, looking around.

“She’s home,” Eren gets up.

“Did you treat her well? I swear to God—”

Eren laughs, “Hey hey! Relax!”

“When will I see Annie?” Armin asks Eren impatiently.

Eren smiles, stretching his hand towards Armin, “Soon, very soon.”

Armin takes Eren’s hand, and only then does he see his hands; smooth, young skin covering them.

“Let’s go home,” Eren tells Armin, pulling him up, standing on their feet.

“Let’s go home!” Armin chirps, a smile on his face.

And with that, the tree watched as Armin sprinted down the hill, Eren running after him, eager for the reunion, eager for the laughs and the warmth and the happiness.

Armin was impatient to reunite with Mikasa again, but secretly, a small part of him was pained to let go of Annie.

She is going to be here, he had to remind himself, she will be here very soon.

The tree was once again abandoned on that hill, observing the far horizon of mountains and blues that met together in the middle; complementing each other.

If the tree could speak, it would’ve cried.

If the tree could speak, it would’ve sobbed and wailed and mourned humanity, mourned the death of humanity in every human’s heart.

If the tree could speak, it would’ve begged to be burnt, to be cut down.

#aot #aruani #armin arlert #attack on titan #armin x annie #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhart #snk #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #Eremika #eren x mikasa #Post canon #Angst #Angst with a happy ending

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sugawarassoulmate · 1 year

Text

someone else tries to get with them

feat loser!kuroo, enemies to lovers!kita, and toxic!oikawa

part 1

cw: fem!reader

loser!kuroo

kuroo's body tensed the second one of them came close to him. he always hates these events — spending hours fake laughing at awful jokes to get on the good side of investors. his only joy is when you tag along, keeping prying eyes at bay.

but kuroo's found himself cornered by three women, all the much-too-young wives of some of his colleagues who were all taken with the handsome ceo.

"this suit looks amazing on you," one of them said. kuroo wanted to tell her that his wife picked out his outfit but before he could answer, another chimed in. "you just fill it up so well, have you been working out?"

his eyes flick over across the room, where you're standing with a quirked brow. you've calmed down a lot since marriage and don't explode with anger every time another woman so much as breaths near kuroo anymore. instead, you took a sip from your wine glass and gave him a look that said, "figure it out."

"can we get you a drink?" one of the other women asks as kuroo feels another pulling on his bicep. did they not see the wedding band on his finger? did none of them notice him walking into the room with you on his arm?

he starts sweating, eyes darting back to you and then the women. kuroo's so used to you taking charge and staking your claim on him but he can't allow you to be disrespected like this.

as one of the women tries to pull him in again, kuroo fights out of her grasp. "i'm married!!!" he blurted out, startling not only the women but a few people that were nearby. embarrassed that he raised his voice, kuroo cleared his throat. "sorry for yelling but i don't think it's appropriate for us to talk like this. i love my wife very much. have a good night."

kuroo makes his way toward you, a smug grin on your face. "so, you into ugly girls or something?"

"baby, please," he whines.

enemies to lovers!kita

you may have found kita absolutely insufferable but most people found him a joy to be around. he was kind and respectful to others. the kind of person that helps others without asking or walks old ladies across the street. it seemed as though kita didn't have an unkind word to say about anyone, except for you.

because of his benevolence, most people wanted to be around him. girls threw themselves at him, knowing that he'd be the type to spoil his significant other. that wasn't the annoying part — because you definitely didn't care about some dumb bimbo trying to get his attention. it was the older women who tried to set kita up with their daughters that irked you the most.

"you know, i have a daughter your age that you'd just be perfect for," or "do you have a girlfriend? my niece could really use a sweet boy like you, can i give her your number?"

even after explaining that he was too focused on his studies and helping his grandma with the farm to even think about dating, these women wouldn't take no for an answer.

"can you tell whoever's blowing up your phone to cut the shit?" you complained, growing tired of the constant buzzing.

kita rolls his eyes at your foul language. he doesn't bother looking at his phone as the two of you lock up the club room for the night. "one of my grandma's friends gave my number to her daughter and she keeps tryin' to set up a date," he says, bored expression never leaving his face.

"you're that down bad that you need your grandma's buddies to get a date?" you scoffed, trying to hide the fact that it may bother you just a little bit that there are so many people trying to get kita's attention.

perceptive as ever, kita catches onto your catty attitude. "she probably won't stop until i say yes to a date," he says nonchalantly, walking back onto campus.

he's only getting a rise out of you. what little free time kita has left from all of his other responsibilities goes to you—both of you know it's true, there's no reason to argue. still, you'd just die if you couldn't make a comment at his expense. "i mean if, sure, you're into ugly girls. this girl can't get a date on her own?" you rambled, stomping beside kita as you head back to your apartment. "but don't let me stop you. i know how much you love doing charity work."

"i won't go if you don't want me to," kita hums, holding the door open for you (1. because he's a gentleman, 2. because he knows it pisses you off.)

"i don't care what you do," you said back to him in a similar mocking tone.

that weekend, though, kita is at your place, where he usually spends most of his weekends. "your date was that bad, huh?" you said as soon as you open the door for him.

"i told her it wouldn't work out and deleted her number," kita answers, carefully removing his shoes and placing them neatly by your door. "i only have time fer important things." he makes direct eye contact when he says it before brushing past you to head to your bedroom.

kita's words stump you for a second, trying to figure out what he meant but soon, his irritating voice comes back, scolding you to hurry back and any thought you had before is forgotten as an insult leaves your lips.

toxic!oikawa

you felt terrible for being late. punctuality was something you always prided yourself on but your boss seemed to think differently, keeping you in the office for hours.

normally, you'd suck it up and accept that you had a shit day at work but you and oikawa had a date planned — one that took ages for both of you to set up.

the image of oikawa sitting at the restaurant alone broke your heart, so you practically raced over there, barely having time to change out of your work clothes.

"i'm so sorry, babe. my boss is such a dick and then the trains were slow—" you rambled as soon as you sat down, immediately asking for your boyfriend's forgiveness

"hey, slow down! it's okay, honey," he said, pushing a glass of wine across the table for you. "i know you didn't mean to be late. you're here now, that's what matters. i already ordered for the two of us."

he had every right to lay into you tonight. this was the perfect opportunity for him to be at his most dramatic, to really make you feel guilty for being late but he acted with a maturity you weren't used to seeing.

"i still feel bad that you were sitting here all by yourself," you said, reaching over to hold his hand.

oikawa shrugged. "well, i wasn't totally alone. our waitress kept me company while i waited."

you hate to say that the second he said "waitress" the alarm bells started ringing in your head. a handsome, young man like oikawa sitting alone in a fancy restaurant is like food on a silver platter for some of these vultures.

and you could only imagine how charming he must have been when the waitress comforted him about being by himself—smiling at her jokes and staring up at her with those warm brown eyes of his, completely unaware of that she would take it as an invitation.

you tried to swallow the bitterness down, not wanting to put a sour note on the night. you opened your mouth to speak but a grating sound stopped you.

"ohhhh, how good of you to finally show," said the high-pitched voice, dripping with faux concern. "i was worried you might have stood this poor man up."

oikawa laughs at the unfunny joke, clearly finding all of this amusing and she practically sparkles at the slightest hint of his approval. "i don't know how you'd ever let him out of your sight. any girl would just love to snatch him right up,'

his eyes glance over at you, ready to see how you'll react. oikawa just loves it when you get territorial of him and even though you've gotten better over the years, there's still that part of you that's always ready to claw someone's eyes out for thinking they could stake their claim on him.

"you're right, any girl would. in fact, many have tried and they've all failed," you smiled up at her, gripping oikawa's hand harder so she would have to take notice of it. "now be a dear and have our food ready soon, okay? i want to spend some time with my boyfriend."

with her tail between her legs, the waitress scurries from the table, muttering something about the food. oikawa laughs again, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. "my mean baby, you know you don't have anything to worry about, yeah?"

of course, you knew. you wouldn't be with oikawa if you didn't trust him but any girl who had the slightest inkling that she could lead your man astray had to be humbled—and oikawa would be lying if he didn't enjoy the possessive look you get in your eye.

"let's enjoy our dinner, babe."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #kita x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu headcanons #loser!kuroo #enemies to lovers!kita #toxic!oikawa #🥀#🥀kuroo #🥀kita #🥀oikawa

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holylulusworld · 8 months

Text

Big girls don't cry (3)

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, arguments, regret

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

Part 2

“What do you want here?” you put your hands on your hips to stare down at Steve. He sits in front of your door, a bouquet of roses in his hands. “I told you to stay away from me and my home.”

“Doll, please listen to me. I quit my job. I gave up everything that meant the world to me before I met you,” Steve scrambles to his feet when you try to unlock your door. “Give me five minutes. What I said to Bucky and Sam was a lie. I was head over heels for you the moment I met you.”

You shake your head, and huff. “Steve, I believe you.” He smiles and nods. Steve tries to hand you the roses, but you cross your arms over your chest.

“That’s good. You know now that I love you, and that this was just a stupid mistake. I promise to make things up to you. I’ll be the man you want.”

“Steve,” you get a little louder. “I said that I know that you lied. But this doesn’t mean that I will forgive you. Bucky and Sam are your best friends, and you made them believe that our relationship means nothing to you. That you only fuck me to get close to my grandma.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” he sniffs. “Please. I already told them that I lied. Please give me the chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.”

“I’ve got enough,” you size Steve up. “I met enough people judging me, pushing me around, and using me. There are too many people who believe that my size means I’m less worthy than a slim woman. It would be nice if my value was not measured by my size for once. Especially not by the man I love. The one I believed is the one I will spend the rest of my life with.”

“Y/N, doll…I would never do such a thing,” Steve pales as the realization hits him right in the face. “Oh my god.” He drops the roses and falls to his knees. “Do you believe I lied to Bucky and Sam because of your appearance? Fuck. Baby. I love everything about you. You’re beautiful in any way.”

“I wish—” your voice cracks, and you struggle to push the tears away. “I wish this was true, and that I can believe you. But I can’t.” You step onto the roses, crushing them with your heels. “I won’t let you hurt me again.”

“Baby…” Steve looks at the broken roses on the ground. He sniffs and tries to fathom that you believed he lied to his friends because of your size…

Steve paces his friend’s living room. He stops and shakes his head before pacing again.

“Steve, calm the fuck down,” Bucky grunts. “What has gotten into you? You quit your job and attacked your boss. I’m worried about you, man. Be honest, are you on drugs?”

Steve doesn’t listen. He stares out of the window and sighs deeply.

“Buck, you don’t understand. Y/N believes I said the things I said because of her size. How can she believe that I’d judge her appearance? She’s so beautiful and I love her.”

“Wait-“ Bucky wrinkles his nose. “This is about your girlfriend. Uh-is she still mad at you? I mean, I get it. You fucked up big time. But usually, you only need to use your puppy dog eyes and smile and they are all over you again.”

“She’s different,” Steve looks over his shoulder. “Y/N didn’t tell me about people treating her badly. She’s always kind, and cheerful. I never thought that anyone hurt such a kind soul.”

“Shit, you are head over heels and butterflies in the stomach in love with that woman, huh?” Bucky grins. “I will so tease the shit out of you when you are a wreck before your wedding.”

“There will be no wedding. She never wants to see me again, Buck. I get it now. The moment I said those stupid things because I wanted you to leave me alone, I broke her trust in me. I don’t think there is a way to fix this. How can you fix broken trust?”

“Leave this to Bucky,” the brunette grins. “I’m your man when it comes to the ladies.” He winks at Steve, earning an eye-roll. “I’ve got you, Stevie.”

“Wait! Please—” Bucky dodges your attack right before the baseball bat can hit his head. “HEY! Don’t kill the messenger. I only tried to tell you that Steve is not a bad guy. He’s an idiot…and he doesn’t know what to say to a woman sometimes…but he loves you.”

“Get out of my sight,” you poke the baseball bat in Bucky’s chest. He’s much taller than you and beefy, but you are not scared of him. If you must, you’ll smash his skull. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you or him.”

“What about the wedding?” Raising his hands Bucky looks at you. “He asked you to marry him. Right? He showed my sister the ring weeks ago.”

“Ring?” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Uh-oh…crap. I assume he wanted us to leave to ask the big question,” Bucky winces. “We fucked things up for Stevie.”

“He wanted to marry me?”

“Yeah. I mean…that’s what Rebecca said. She almost punched my nose for messing with you and Stevie.” Bucky offers a cracked smile. “Steve gets nervous and shy when it comes to talking about feelings.”

“Why?”

“You see, he was a small, awkward, and sick boy. Most of the guys and even girls made fun of him. Once he told a girl he likes her, and everyone laughed about him because she told the whole class about it.”

Bucky watches you wring your hands. Steve never told you about all of this. He had a tough past too, and you didn’t know about it.

“I don’t believe you. I bet he was the quarterback, and all the girls were all over him. Don’t try to bullshit me, Barnes.”

“Wait…I got pictures…” Bucky gets his phone out. “Here…”

You snatch the phone out of Bucky’s hands. It’s true. The boy in the pictures looks small and weak. But he has Steve’s eyes and his smile.

“He was a cute lil fucker, right?” Bucky snickers. “The girls should’ve loved him, not make fun of his appearance. He was smart, kind, and funny. If only one of them would’ve given him a chance.”

“Yeah. He was cute,” you grin. “Look at that bastard. He could’ve broken all the girls’ hearts.”

“So…will you give him a chance,” Bucky hopefully asks. “I know he fucked shit up. But—he’s so in love with you.”

“I…I don’t know. He hurt me deeply. All of my insecurities resurfaced because of the things he said. Even if he didn’t mean it, Steve still said it. I need time to think about it.”

“Okay…uh…but remember lil Stevie is still that insecure and awkward boy. He only tried to hide his true feelings to make sure no one would laugh about him again…”

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #au!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #Big girls don't cry (3)#steve rogers angst

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acewritesfics · 6 months

Text

Call Me Tommy | TOMMY SHELBY

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST. ⚠️

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Fic Type: Imagine.

Request: No.

Warnings: There's a little swearing. Rose is the name of Tommy and Reader's daughter, Caroline is the name of Rose's daughter (Tommy's and Reader's granddaughter) and Jennifer is the name of Caroline's Daughter (Tommy and Reader's great-granddaughter), hopefully that all makes sense. Grace and Charlie did happen but Lizzie and Ruby didn't because that would have added more confusion for me. There is also names for Reader's siblings. This isn't meant to be cannon in any way, shape, or form. ITALICS ARE FLASHBACK'S TO 1925

Word Count: 1,969

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST

Jennifer walks into her elderly grandmother's room at the rest home. Though the 92 year old doesn't remember much from the last 60 years, Jennifer still loved visiting her Grandma Rose. She enjoys listening to the stories Rose tells her, ever since the young 30 year old woman was a child. Her Grandma Rose told the best stories and in the best way. And Rose never forgot telling them to her. It was one of her memories that refuses to fade.

"Good morning, Grandma Rose," The young woman greets her grandmother with a warm smile and kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning, Jenny," the elderly woman smiles, her eyes lighting up seeing her youngest grandchild, the one she's always been closest too and the only one who name hasn't left her mind. All her other grandchildren were familiar faces that didn't visit her as often as Jenny does.

"How are you feeling today?" Jenny asks taking a seat across from her at the small table in her room.

"About the same," she replies. "How's your mother?"

Jenny's mother, Caroline, is Rose's second child and her first daughter. Her uncle, Rose's oldest and only son, died a few years ago from an illness and her younger daughter died when she was just a baby.

"She's good, she's hoping to come see you next week," she informs her though she knows she won't remember it by time tomorrow comes. "She found something for me to show you," she reaches into her handbag, pulling out an envelope. Opening the envelope, she takes out the three photos that are inside and lays them on the table facing Grandma Rose. "Mum found these in the attic and thought you might like them."

A smile graces Rose's lips as tears build up in her eyes looking at the photos with so much love that it makes Jenny feel emotional.

The first photo was of a young woman who couldn't be much older than Jenny is now. The second photo is the same woman with a handsome man, on what looked to be their wedding day, instead of looking at the camera. They were gazing at each other with so much love and adoration it makes Jenny's heart melt. The third photo was the same couple, a little older, with a baby girl sitting on the woman's knee, and a boy who couldn't be more than 10 standing beside her as the man stood behind her with one hands on her shoulder and the other on the boys shoulder.

"This was my mother, Y/N," Rose tells Jenny as she picks up the photo of the woman. "This was before she met my father. Her first husband died in the war. She was only 23. They weren't married more than 6 months. It took her a long time to want to love again and then my father came along. He was a widow himself, with a son, my half-brother Charlie. Do you remember your Uncle Charlie?"

Jenny smiles fondly remember the elderly man that always snuck her treats as she grew up. He had passed five years ago. "He was a lovely man. You both never spoke much of your parents. How did they meet?"

"My mother always said it was fate," She says, her eyes moving to the photo of the married couple as she picks it up. "They met back in 1925..."

Y/N was growing frustrated with Adam, her older brother, as she stands in the only suit shop there is in Small Heath, Birmingham. The 34-year-old didn't want to be here in the first place but of course Adam needed a woman's opinion on the suit that was currently being tailored for him. She doesn't understand why he needed a new suit when he has plenty at home. He told her he didn't have a date or that he wasn't going any where fancy, that he just needs one and that should be enough of an explanation.

Leaving Adam to be tailored, she looks around the ready made suits to see if she could find one she likes for him. Nothing in particular catches her eye. They all looked the same to her but she was no expert on fashion. If it hadn't been for their older sister, Edith, growing up, she wouldn't know how to dress herself appropriately, let alone someone else.

"You would have been better off bringing Edith instead of me," she calls to Adam moving the suits along the rack, "Or better yet that girl you fancy. That's why you want the suit, isn't it?"

"You really thought you were my first choice to bring with me?" he teases and winces after the tailor purposely pokes him with a needle. "Edith was busy with her children."

Edith is almost forty and pregnant with her and her husband's 8th child. Y/N is lost on how Edith could do it, popping out babies all the time. Edith's oldest child, a boy who's 17-years-old, the youngest, a daughter, is 2-years-old. She's due to have her 8th baby in two months.��

"And the girl I fancy, is out of town for the week," Adam continues. "I know you don't understand this because you haven't put yourself out there in 10 years, but this suit is going to help me finally ask her on a date."

"Is the suit going to ask her for you?" she teases her brother, earning a chuckle from the tailor.

"For your information my dear little sister, suits give a man a certain confidence like a woman with a beautiful dress that was made just for her," he states confidently. "And at least I'm trying to date. You're almost 35, with no husband and no children, you're a spinster." He winces again as the tailor pokes him even harder this time.

"I'm a widow actually. You're the one who's never been married," she growls at him coming to where he's standing. "Why is it okay for you men to sleep with any woman you want and not have to consider marriage or having a family? But when a woman my age isn't married with children, we're spinsters and unlovable?" She ignores the smirk on the tailor's face as she directs her glare at her brother. "You know what, you're on your own."

She turns on her heel and goes to storm out the door when she bumps right into another person, almost knocking herself back on her bottom. Lucky for her, the person's hands find her waist stopping her from falling backwards. "I am so so-"

She is cut off when her eyes connect with eyes so vividly blue that she could drown in them.

"Sorry," she finishes barely above a whisper, as though the air in her lungs have gone.

"Don't apologise," he tells her. "Are you all right?"

She nods unable to find her voice. She's never met a man with such beautiful eyes. She feels herself enchanted by them. When he removes his hands from her, a coldness settles over her. It wasn't until then that she noticed how warmth she felt when he was touching her.

Finding her voice, she decides to introduce herself, holding her hand out towards him. "My name is Y/N L/N."

"Thomas Shelby," he introduces himself taking her hand in his, the warm feeling returning to her. "Call me Tommy."

"Mr Shelby!" the tailor calls to the man in front of her. "I won't be a minute."

Tommy nods towards the man, before looking back at Y/N. "It was lovely to meet you, Ms. L/N."

"It was lovely to meet you too, Mr Shelby," she agrees.

He gives her a small polite smile and moves past her to go towards the tailor. She watches him for a moment, taking him all in, from the way he walks to how he stands, to his mannerisms when he speaks and listens. She didn't know him at all but there was something about him that drew her in, and it wasn't just his beautiful ocean blue eyes. She finds herself wanting to know him and everything about him. Little did she know that he was feeling the same about her.

It was at this moment, her brother, fully dressed joins her. "I'm sorry for what I said. I'm just worried for you, sister. I don't want you to end up like mother when father died. I don't want you to end up alone."

"You don't need to worry about me," she tells him as Tommy's eyes connect with her own. She feels her heart skip a bit and her breath catch in her lungs but manages to look away from the handsome man, with his high cheek bones, plump lips and beautiful eyes.

Her brother notices what's happening and lets out a small groan as he pulls her out of the suit shop "Of course the first man to take your fancy after 10 years is none other than Thomas Fuckin' Shelby."

"You know him?" her gaze snaps to Adam as they walk towards their shared home.

"How do you not know who he is?" he answers with his own question, looking at her like she's grown three heads. "Everyone from Birmingham knows who he is."

"We're not from Birmingham, are we?" she scoffs. "So who is he?"

"He's the fuckin' King of Birmingham. Leader of the Peaky Blinders."

"Well, that just makes him even more interesting," she mumbles more to herself as she gazes back towards the shop, hoping to see another glimpse of the handsome gangster.

"Your Great-Grandfather had quite the reputation in Birmingham, even in London. A lot of people would say he was ruthless, cold, demeaning and a lot of other bad words and he was those things but he was also very smart, caring, loyal and he loved my mother completely. She was his Queen and he treated her like one. Everything he did was for us and the rest of his family," Grandma Rose explains after telling the story of how her parents met. "You look him up on that computer thing you have, but don't believe everything you read. The coppers had it out for him and tried to make him out to be the worst human being they had met. But there was also someone out there much worse than him."

"Do you think about them often?" Jenny asks her.

She nods, "All the time, more so now since I'll be joining them and Charlie soon."

"Hopefully not too soon," Jenny smiles sadly. The thought of losing her Grandma Rose breaks her heart.

Rose reaches out to hold her granddaughter's hand. "I want you to keep the photos. They would love for you to have them. You look just like her."

"My mother? I know." She gives her hand a gentle squeeze, hearing the words Rose always told her, more so now that she was losing her mind.

"No, not Caroline. My mother, Y/N. You look just like her but you have my father's eyes. Those beautiful blue ones that could drown someone in them," Rose smiles and stands up from her chair. "I love you Jennifer, don't ever forget that."

"I won't," Jenny says as she helps the elderly woman into her bed. "I love you too, Grandma Rose." She places a kiss to her cheek and goes back to the table, looking at the photos once more as she picks them up and puts them back inside the envelope.

Jenny looks back to her grandmother who's already drifted off to sleep and smiles. She goes back over to her and places a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. The first she decides to do as she leaves the rest home is to look up Thomas Shelby, her great-grandfather.

CREDIT: Razorblade and dots dividers made by me. Peaky Blinders divider made by @/firefly-graphics. Support divider made by @/cafekitsune.

TAGGED: @forgottenpeakywriter | @rainydayteacups | @bernelflo

#acewritesfics repost #tommy shelby x reader

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patheticbabie · 10 months

Note

oh my god, literally on my knees for kindergarten teacher! dick grayson, you genius

he's got the fun class, his class is always up for mischief

all you hear if you walk past his classroom, is little giggles from his students

whenever it's one of his students birthday's, he'll always have a gift ready for them

his kiddos love story time, because as I quote "Mr Grayson does the funniest voices"

now the first time you met him, is when your daughter Lily is a new student (moving to a new city is daunting for a little girl and her single mum)

being the new kid is daunting, let alone when you're in kindergarten, but Dick made sure to make sure she's welcomed into his class

he has a special lolly jar for when the kiddos get rewarded for something good

he figured that's a sure way to get her to be less shy

at the end of the school day, she was all smiles and giggles. Bouncing on the spot near Dick, while seeing you walk towards the two of them

Dick's eyes widen as he first saw you, you literally took his breath away

when you bent down to your daughters level and smothered her in kisses while hugging her, he couldn't help but melt and smile at the scene

"Lily made a lot of friends and just between you and me, I kind of got her to open up with some lollies"

finally looking up, you were greeted with the most dashing smile and ocean blue eyes that gazed at you softly. This man was downright pretty

both of you trying to keep your composure, as you both looked at each other

introducing each other with soft smiles and a handshake, you both swore you felt an electric zap run through you as your fingers touched

from there you always made sure to arrive at least 10mins early for after school pick up time, just to get the chance to talk to him

it starts out with small things, asking how about each others day, funny things that happened in his class, to asking what's happening on the weekend

one day, when you were dropping Lily off to her class, she handed you a small bunch of lilies, slyly saying it's for Mr. Grayson. As you watch her run to her friends and giggle (our little matchmaker)

walking up to Dick, you tapped his shoulder, and once again you're mesmerised by those blue eyes

"...are those for me?"

shyly nodding and handing him the flowers "Lilies, because well I guess you can tell they're my favourite because of Lily"

hearing that laugh instantly made you feel warm, wanting nothing more than to always hear it, every morning and every night

it wasn't until the end of the school week that Dick finally got the courage to ask you out

the classic, dinner, movie and the late night dessert spot

you two sitting across from each other in the booth at the ice cream shop, his eyes are sparkling as he listens to you

leaning across from the table, he reached for the little bit of whipped cream on the corner of your lips

"....there...." he whispered as he licked the whipped cream off his thumb

your breath hitched as you watched him

"Dick....?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Kiss me"

your first kiss was as sweet as the ice cream, soft but delicate

it's 3 months when he asked you to be official, of course with the help of Lily

the moment you two told her, she couldn't help but giggle and say confidently "you're welcome, can I be the flower girl for the wedding?"

you both said I love you during a quiet night where he spent the night at your place, cuddling and talking about whatever came to mind

when you have a day off, you stop by his classroom and have lunch together

a lot of sneaky make out sessions (it's hard when you have a 5 year old in the apartment)

the night when Lily is with her grandma, that's when you and Dick had a romantic dinner, he cooked. With you distracting him with kisses on his neck, a few pecks and hands roaming under his shirt

he was soft and gentle when you two made love for the first time

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing imagine #nightwing headcanon #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #kindergarten teacher!dick grayson #candice writes #;babies ask

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ereardon · 5 months

Text

The Back Seater and the Baker || Chapter 5

[Bob Floyd x f!OC]

Overview: Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC [Bakery owner Haley Nichols]

Tropes: Marriage pact

Chapter summary: Haley and Phoenix go wedding dress shopping; Bob and Peanut have a conversation about sex; the Daggers throw Haley a bachelorette party

Warnings: Cursing, angst, alcohol, mention of vomit

Word count: 2.8K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here

You looked up from a pile of fabric samples. “I can’t pick.”

Phoenix shot you a look over her champagne glass. “White.”

You rolled your eyes. “They’re all white, Natasha. It’s a wedding dress.”

“The venetian lace is gorgeous,” the saleswoman said, holding up a gauzy square.

“Too expensive.”

“There’s always satin.”

She said it like it was trash and not already too expensive. “Let’s see some satin options,” you said. The saleswoman bristled but rushed off when Pheonix trained her eyes on her.

“Fuck her,” she said and you laughed, settling back into the chair and taking a sip of champagne. “OK you’re drinking, but I’m going to ask you again. Are you pregnant?”

“I promise I’m not,” you replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “Find that hard to believe given the timeline.” She meant the fact that the wedding was in a week.

You shrugged. “We’ve never slept together.”

Phoenix did a spit take, champagne flying everywhere across the cream carpet. You tried to stifle a gasp that barreled into a laugh until the two of you were dissolved in laughter. “Oh, my God, the boys are gonna have a field day with that one.”

“Just hasn’t been the time,” you replied.

“What’s the rush?” Phoenix asked. “If there’s no pregnancy. What’s the rush?”

The truth sat, sour, on the tip of your tongue. Was that where sour was felt on the map of taste buds? Either way it filled your mouth, threatening to swallow you whole. You could tell her. You could tell her and the wedding would be off and you would go home with nothing but a bruised ego and a foreclosure on the way.

But that option also left Bob heartbroken. It would leave you heartbroken, too. Because as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for Bob Floyd, all over again.

“I love him,” you said simply. This time, the truth was sweet. A rush of rainbow on your tongue. A fizzy, familiar feeling. Warmth. “I always have.”

“I’ve watched Floyd go through a lot,” Phoenix said, her dark eyes never leaving yours. “But if this is what breaks him, I’m not sure there’s going to be a way to glue him back together. So don’t break his heart, Haley. He has a big one. Too big. He loves too much and too fast and too well. So God, don’t hurt him.”

“I won’t,” you whispered.

***

“You want deviled eggs as an appetizer?” You stared at Bob, mouth agape.

He nodded. “They’re my mom’s specialty.”

“Oh. That’s um…”

Bob laughed. “You can veto, Haley. It’s your wedding, too.”

“Thank God,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, but veto.”

“Are your parents flying up?” he asked.

“Um, no, they’re not.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your parents weren’t really involved in your life anymore. That no one besides Calvin even knew you were in San Diego. That the bakery was failing. That you were going to marry Bob to solve all of your problems. “Grandma Lee is coming though.”

You had called her the night before and explained that you were getting married. You hadn’t invited her: that she had done herself.

If my only granddaughter is getting married, I need to see it with my own eyes, she had said. When you had protested, she added, Do you want the money or not?

Bob frowned. “Grandma Lee, really? I thought you two didn’t get along.”

You shrugged. “That was a long time ago, Bobby.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The two of you were silent for a moment. You felt sweat start to prickle at the base of your neck, between your breasts. For a few days, Bob had ridden the high of a successful mission once they were back on land. It was that euphoria that had colored everything, that had made him agree to the marriage. But you worried that once those rosy glasses faded, he would realize how obscene it was to marry a complete stranger. Someone he barely knew.

He cleared his throat. “Want to go out for dinner? I was thinking Mexican.”

“I think we should have sex.”

Bob looked like he was choking. Every inch of his face went pink and then a deep red, cheeks puffed out, eyes wide.

You actually leaned forward, pressing one hand to his leg in concern. “Bobby? Are you OK?”

It took a second, but Bob let out his breath, blue eyes still searching yours frantically. “What did you just say?”

You removed your hand, anxiety settling into the swell of your stomach. “I mean, we’re getting married,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t we at least do it once?”

“Peanut,” Bob whispered, his voice rough and sandy and hitting every note perfectly so that goosebumps rose on your arms and legs. “I’ve thought about making love to you a million times.”

“But?”

He shook his head slowly. “That’s what I want, honey. I want it to be special. Not something we do to get it out of the way. I want you to want it. I want this to be the last time someone new undresses you for the first time.” Bob leaned in, trailing one thumb over the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, fingertips sliding to the tops of your breasts, grazing the exposed skin where your shirt stopped. “I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you like this,” he murmured. “You’re mine, Peanut.”

“Bobby,” you whispered, gripping both sides of his face with your smaller palms. “I’ve always been yours.”

And then your lips were on his, one of your legs slung over his lap until you were straddling him, the heat of Bob’s body burning against yours, his hands groping greedily over your back, pulling your hips flush with his, a small, pathetic whine exiting his lips as his hips tilted up to meet yours. “Haley,” he rasped, pulling back, lips pink and raw. “Honey.”

“Hmm?”

“Let me take you out,” he whispered. “Not Mexican food on a couch. Not pizza on the floor or beer at the beach. A real date. Let me take you home and make love to the woman who is going to be my wife.”

You leaned back, threading your fingers through the hair that was curling up at the tops of his ears. “OK, Bobby,” you replied softly. “You have a deal.”

“That’s the first time I’ve said that,” he said.

“Said what?”

“My wife.” He smiled. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, watching the light twinkle in his eyes and feeling a sadness sweep over your organs., “it does.”

***

“Peanut?” Bob’s voice was far away on the phone. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” you said, standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the sides of your dress. “Where are you? Our reservations are in twenty minutes.”

“Honey, I’m sorry.” There was a loud bang in the background. “Flight emergency. Bradshaw and I got called back to base.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t help the disappointment flooding every single one of your pores. You looked around the room at the candles you had bought, and the bag filled with tissue paper on the dresser that had a new set of lingerie in it, specifically for later that night. There was also an entire can of whipped cream in the fridge and a bottle of prosecco. “That’s OK.”

“It’s not,” he said. “That’s why Phoenix is on her way to pick you up.”

“Oh, Bobby, I’m not really in the mood to go out without you.”

“Haley? Sorry the connection is terrible. Listen, I have to go up in the air, I’ll text you when I’m grounded. Bye!” The line went dead. You sighed, kicking off your heels, tossing the phone on the bed just as the doorbell rang, two harsh dings followed by a loud knock.

“Fuck, coming!” You practically tripped on your way to the door, tossing it open, a frown lacing your features. “Jake?”

In the doorway, Jake grinned, white teeth blinding against his tan. He leaned one hand against the door frame. “Hi Princess. Grab some shoes.”

You shook your head, walking inside, and Jake followed you, shutting the door softly. “Not in the mood, Hangman. I’m just going to wait until Bobby gets home.”

He chuckled and you turned around with a frown. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, “it’s a trap. This is your bachelorette party. Now put on some shoes and get that fine ass in the car. Phoenix is waiting for us.”

“Bachelorette party?”

“Didn’t think we could let you get married without one final night of debauchery, did you?” he asked. “Shoes, Nichols. Purse. Condoms if you’re feeling frisky.”

You groaned, heading into the bedroom and slipping on your stilettos, grabbing your small shoulder bag before reappearing in the hallway. Jake was nowhere to be seen. You rounded the corner into the kitchen where Jake had the fridge open, his head stuck inside.

He straightened up, holding out the can of whipped cream with a raised eyebrow. “Making pie?”

“Fuck off,” you muttered and he laughed, placing the can back in the fridge and closing the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jake replied, holding open the door. “After you, Mrs. Floyd.” Your heart skipped a beat. You looked up at Jake, eyes wide. For a second, the two of you stood in silence in the doorway to Bob’s house, practically frozen. You were worried Jake could see the reservation in your features.

And then it passed. You stepped out the door into the breezy evening air. “I’m going to ask you one favor.”

“I make no promises.”

“No shots with gross names like blow job or slippery nipple.”

Jake cackled, opening the passenger door for you. “It’s your night. We’ll play by your rules. At least, to start.”

You slid into the seat of his Jeep and groaned.

***

Charleston was bachelorette capital, aside from Nashville, so you were more than familiar with the flocks of women parading down King Street in pink sashes and swaying to the beat of invisible pop songs.

What you hadn’t expected was your own bachelorette party to be made up of five aviators, four of which were men. Coyote, Hangman, Rooster and Payback all sat at a table wearing pink furry boas drinking margaritas while Phoenix did a lap on stage with one of the drag queens.

“You’re next,” Bradley said, tipping his head toward the stage.

You groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Phoenix climbed off the stage, brushing back her dark hair, not an ounce of sweat on her face. “Come on, Princess, you’re the bride, it’s a must.”

“I’m so going to rat on you guys to Bobby!” you shrieked as a man dressed as Dolly Parton dragged you onto the stage. The brightness of the lights hit you just as the dagger’s cheers filled the air.

“Hello Darlin’,” Dolly said, thrusting a microphone in your face. “Your friend over there said you’re a bride-to-be, is that right?”

You scowled down at Phoenix who cheered shamelessly. “Yes.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” “Haley.”

“And what’s your fiance's name?”

“Bobby.”

“Well, dear, I think we need to sing a song for Bobby in that case.” She took a deep breath. “If I should stay // Well I would only be in your way.”

Dolly pressed the microphone beneath your chin. Somehow the words floated out of your mouth as the cheers from the squad grew. Even the heat of the lights softened and you found yourself swaying with the music. For the first time in a long time, there was a courage that bubbled to the surface. Maybe it was the two Long Island iced teas that Phoenix had poured down your throat. Or maybe it was the fact that despite the circumstances, you knew that Bob Floyd was the one.

Out of everyone, it was Bradley who got so drunk that the six of you were thrown out of the club. That’s how you ended up at Phoenix’s house at three in the morning eating cheeseburgers on the floor wearing a sequined ball gown she had pulled out of her closet and insisted you wear while Payback tried uselessly to scrub the pink paint off of his chest that read Bride Tribe in loopy lettering.

“It’s not coming off,” Payback whined, tossing another crumpled paper towel on the ground in a huff.

Jake cackled. “Told you not to write it so big, Nix.”

Phoenix popped a french fry into her mouth and then laid back, head resting against Jake’s thigh where he sat pressed up against the couch. “He deserves it. Remember when he puked at my thirtieth?”

“Don’t say puke,” Bradley moaned, looking slightly green around the gills.

“Party pooper,” Phoenix tutted.

“What if when I have a baby it comes out wearing glasses?” you asked, the drinks finally hitting you.

“Have to have sex to get pregnant.”

“Phoenix!”

“Oh shit.” She rolled over and buried her face against the shaggy rug. “Sorry!”

Jake grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Wait, you and Floyd haven’t banged yet?”

You groaned, tossing yourself against the floor next to Phoenix and kicking her with one bare foot.

“That’s excellent,” he muttered, practically to himself as Bradley scuttled onto his knees, stumbling up into a semi jog toward the toilet. The sound of the door slamming was followed immediately by violent sounds and you winced.

“Fuck,” Payback said, shaking his head. “That’s on you, Nix.”

“Why am I to blame for everything?” Phoenix demanded. “It’s Haley’s bach party, she’s the instigator!”

“Oh my God,” you said, shaking your head. “I see why Bobby likes you so much.”

“I see why he loves you,” she replied, brown eyes wide. You were stunned. Natasha was many things. The life of the party. Fearless, bordering on reckless. Demanding, in the best way. Formidable. But this was the first time she had shown a sliver of approval. It radiated through your body like microwave rays. “I mean it,” she added.

“Thank you.”

Just then, your phone rang on the coffee table. You reached for it, pulling it down as Bob’s contact flashed on the screen. “Haley?”

“Hi,” you whispered, standing up and stumbling into Phoenix’s room at the end of the hall. You sat down on the edge of her bed, closing your eyes. The room was spinning. That was worse. You opened them again, wider, the yellow light from the lamp burning your retinas. God, you needed a taco.

“Just wanted to make sure you got home OK,” Bob said softly.

“I’m with Phoenix and the team.”

“I know,” Bob replied. “I thought it would be nice.”

You frowned. “This was your idea?”

“I wanted you to have a fun time,” Bob said quietly. “Something different, a little out of the ordinary. Life is serious, Haley. But you don’t have to be. Not everything is life or death.”

Bob’s words forced tears to spring at the corner of your eyes. It wasn’t the tequila and it wasn’t the impending hangover. It was the fact that even in your drunken haze, you knew you weren’t good enough for Bob Floyd. A man who cared so much, so deeply. A man who would lay down his life for yours without thinking.

The man of your dreams.

“Bobby,” you whispered, the truth sour at the tip of your tongue, begging to be spilled.

“Get some rest, Peanut,” he said quietly and you swallowed the truth back into the bitter pit of your stomach. “I’ll pick you up in the morning, OK?”

“Alright.”

He paused, but the line didn’t go dead. You sucked in a breath. There were two things that you and Bob had yet to do as adults. The first was obvious: have sex. The second, less so.

You had yet to say you loved each other.

You did. That was, without a doubt, the truth in a sea of lies. You had loved Bob Floyd since you were a little girl in the low country. You had never really stopped. But it felt different, to say it now. When so much was riding on the two of you. When the future was almost within grabbing distance.

“Goodnight, Bobby,” you murmured.

He sighed. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You flopped back against the bed, clutching your phone to your chest. As you closed your eyes, the light beyond your eyelids started to swirl.

The last thing that crossed your mind before you passed out into a drunken delirium was how devastated Bob was going to be when everything was said and done.

And how broken you would be, too.

Tag list (if notifications aren't working for you please turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead)

@wkndwlff @bobfloydsbabe @teacupsandtopgun @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @yanna-banana @whisperofsong

@marvelshauntedhouse @that1nerd-20

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@minamisulemisa @shawnsblue

@seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @shanimallina87

@wittywhispers @wildlyobserving @eyesthatroll @localhockeygirl @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox

@sexytholland @djs8891 @rxmtoon @darkestbeforethedawn16

@cactajuice @purplevortexx @dempy @lemur46

@louie-bug @arson-tm @valkyrja-siren-blog @avengers-fixation

@fudge13 @phantomxoxo @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @evans-dejong @storysimp @emma8895eb @briseisgone @katiedid-3 @beacheybabes97 @mandylove100 @justabovewater20 @londonbeachgirl

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deliciousangelfestival · 7 months

Text

Love Dive | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Character: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 571

Summary: Lieutenant Jake Seresin met his old classmates and asked her crazy question out of the blue.

Warning: Nothing, just fluff.

Other Jake Seresin story: Cold But Sweet, No Boyfriend But Not Single

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Lieutenant Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is attending an anniversary party for the reunion of the Air Force Academy. He must be crazy for saying yes to coming and giving a few speeches at the podium.

Jake blamed himself and made a mental note not to receive calls when he still had jet lag. Two days ago, his former instructor called him, and sleepy Jake said yes.

And here he is. After giving a speech, Jake sits alone at the bar while watching his colleague and senior dancing with their partner. Can he be like them?

Then he looked at the person beside him—his long-time friend when both of them were still students.

Colonel Y/N L/N.

It's been difficult to meet her because she chose to be stationed overseas. Both of them only meet once a year. Jake just found out she's a frequent guest at the party since all her family are Air Force alumni.

Even though they only meet once a year, every time he sees Y/N again, they will talk non-stop. It seems like they always meet every day.

Then an idea came up.

He turns to Y/N, who is enjoying her drink. She doesn't seem bothered being single in the room like him.

"Y/N."

She hummed.

"Do you want to try to go out with me?"

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows; she had known Jake for a long time. Since the academy, he always asks her funny or ridiculous questions.

Even though he's annoying to some people, Jake's presence at the academy makes her life more fun because she came here because of her family, who are Air Force alumni.

Whenever she hung out with him, she slowly learned to love flying.

Now, back to his crazy question, Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "Let's give it a try."

If things didn't work out and this ruined their friendships, she could move overseas again and pretend it never happened.

Smirked on Jake's face, he nodded. He knew he could always count on you. His right hand wrapped your shoulder and brought you closer to him. "You won't regret this Y/N."

<30 years later>

"Happy 30th wedding anniversary grandpa and grandma!!!"

The children and grandchildren are singing together in front of Y/N and Jake.

Time has gone by since Jake asked her. There's a trial and error at the beginning of the relationship, but both quickly resolve the issues.

And now, Y/N and Jake are slowly dancing together at the small party your children held for their lovely parents.

Jake wrapped his arm around Y/N's waist while looking at her; even though hair had turned gray and wrinkles on both of them, in his eyes, Y/N and are still young.

Y/N senses that he is looking at you. "What?"

Jake smiled and said, "You didn't regret I asked you out, right?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her expression was Happy. She rested her head on his chest.

Jake brushed her hair gently. Then he asked her, "Do you want to know what wishes I made when I blew the candle from the anniversary cake?"

"What is your wish, my love?"

Y/N lifted her head and looked lovingly at her husband, her right gently caressing his face. "If there's another life, I wish we could be together again."

Jake chuckled, "That means we will always have a happy ending."

Taglist:

@senawashere, @djs8891, @kmc1989, @rosiahills22, @atarmychick007, @eternalsams, @itswhatever06, @novagreen04, @buckysteveloki-me, @dempy, @s0eul, @lets-turn-and-burn, @lovinghimisneverenough, @bagoffeelings, @darkofimagination, @cherrybubblebullet, @hangmandruigandmav, @mayhemmanaged, @lynnestra44, @senthiasworld, @princessofglitterland, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @the-romanian-is-bae, @acarboni21

Hello to everyone who I put into the tag list. I put anyone who reblogged and liked the previous post. If you want to be removed, you could inform me.

#jake seresin au #glen powell x reader #glen powell #jake seresin #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #top gun movie #top gun maverick

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

Prompt suggestion I loved the grandmas! So Ava's grandmas squad at the wedding maybe? :D

you've been to many, many weddings in your life: your own, the most important; your siblings' and your children's and your grandchildren's, blessing after blessing. most have been fun, and, especially as you get older, you enjoy everyone happily bringing you copious amounts of champagne and an extra slice of cake, dancing with you on rotation.

you've been to so many weddings but, of them all, this might be the most beautiful.

part of it is probably because, as you had discovered, beatrice has more money than god. she's not flashy about spending it; whenever she comes to the country club to have lunch, she's in soft earth tones, but you have been wealthy long enough to notice the clean tailoring and how her hair, especially after she cuts it short — which ava had informed your group of breathlessly one day — is always neat and shiny, her rolex and ring understated but beautiful all the same. it feels, retrospectively, a little like you've gotten to watch them both grow up, and grow into themselves. also, amusingly, you hadn't quite realized how wealthy she was until you'd gone to their home for lunar new year, two years ago, and then you had fully comprehended, with a fair amount of humor, because ava had never mentioned anything and had always been excited and friendly and down to earth, more than happy to spend time with a group of old ladies.

this is also the most beautiful because it's on the beach, and because all of it is designed to be accessible for anyone with mobility aids, even though it's in the sand. everyone has taken their shoes off, and there are flowers everywhere and a small, wooden altar, ornate and subtle, that beatrice and ava stand in front of. there's stephanotis woven into ava's hair, and her dress is all gossamer and lace, small straps over her shoulders and the back dipping low. you've seen her scars almost every week since you'd met, but you've been alive a long time and you know that there's a measure of love that exists in her life — fought for by her; inevitably created by her, you think, too, with her steadfastness and her undeniable charm — that makes those scars just part of this night. part of this love.

beatrice, in a sharp navy suit and a t-shirt tucked in underneath, her slacks rolled up above her ankles, has been crying since she saw ava, sniffling and laughing intermittently, and ava had started to cry while she was saying her own vows. it's a simple ceremony, short and so heartfelt, and angela offers you an ornate embroidered hanky silently when beatrice quietly promises her life to ava; they've invited everyone they love and still she says it like they're the only two people in the world.

at the reception, eventually ava finds you on the dance floor, even though her eyes flit back to beatrice often.

ava smiles at the young man — named keiko, he'd said, one of beatrice's friends from the dojo — currently dancing with you and he kisses her cheek with a laugh when she asks to cut in.

'sorry,' she says, 'if you wanted to keep dancing with him. i will say that he has a very cute boyfriend anyway.'

you laugh. 'i would rather dance with you; it's kind of beatrice to spare you.'

'eh, i have her forever. i wanted to dance with the second most beautiful woman here.'

you laugh. 'she is very, very handsome.'

ava groans. 'i didn't know she was going to wear that jacket. her brother surprised her with it.'

it's gorgeous, maybe one of the most beautiful pieces you've ever seen; angela had gasped quietly when beatrice and ava had walked in, and it had made you laugh around a crostini. 'i've asked all my children and grandchildren this, at their weddings,' you say, and you don't miss the way ava's eyes water immediately, 'are you happy?'

of course, you already know the answer. you've never seen two people happier with each other, more comfortable in and out of each other's orbits together, like you have the two of them. ava reminds you of aaron, you often think, with a pang you've felt for the past seven years — joyful, the entire world a little in awe of them, the delight of knowing that you're the center of their universe overcoming everything else.

'this is the happiest day of my life. i am — it's beyond words.'

it makes you want to cry, but you already have and ava glances over your shoulder with a soft smile, meant for one person only. 'good,' you tell her. 'you will have all the happiness in this life, with the love you've found.'

'it feels like a miracle.' she looks at the ring on her finger, elegant; perfect for her and her constant motion, inlaid with diamonds.

'it is a miracle,' you say. 'a blessing, a love like yours.'

'ruth, i really can't cry again.' you laugh. 'but — yes. i've loved her before, many times, i think. in one way or the other.'

she says it like there's only truth to it; certainty. without doubt. faith. maybe you will be young again; maybe you will meet aaron in some other form and build another life, blessings greater than the stars. beatrice's hair falls into her eyes and she dances with her niece and nephew. 'i believe you have.'

ava smiles. 'thank you for coming, and for the dance.'

you hug her, hold her to you for a moment, one of your favorite people in the world. a slow song starts and you spin her by the hips. 'go dance with your wife.'

she melts a little, a grin on her face. 'yeah,' she says, 'my wife.'

the party goes late, the joy overflowing. beatrice looks asleep on her feet when you leave but you hug her too, with her beautiful jacket and eyes that are always only ever for ava.

'thank you for coming,' she says, hugging you tight, 'and for being so wonderful to ava, and to me.'

'congratulations, on an undoubtedly beautiful life. thank you for letting me be in it.'

she nods, her smile gentle. you find angela and head to her car; thank god she can still competently drive at night.

'burgers?' you ask, and she laughs.

'didn't we eat so much food?'

you shrug. 'milkshakes, at least?'

'you are a terrible influence,' she says, but she grins and drives toward in n out and she's your best friend. another blessing, in this life, another love.

'i'm glad we've lived long enough to see that wedding.'

'don't call us old.'

'what was your favorite part.'

angela smiles, gently, bathed in the streetlights while you wait at an intersection. 'their vows, of course.'

in this life, and the next and the next, you remember. 'they mean them.'

'yes,' angela says. 'more than anyone i've ever met.'

'our grandchildren.'

angela laughs. 'a good night.'

she caves and orders herself a cheeseburger too, and then drives to the beach. you can't sit on her trunk anymore but you roll the windows down and it counts, this life and the next, all the same.

#wn #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #avas grandmas! they have also adopted bea #i love them #butch bea 🥺🫡

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smoooothoperator · 9 months

Text

Beautiful Stranger

Daphne's first love and heartbreak

a/n: Hello loves! As you may (or may not) know, my characters will be on @elisysd new story Gold Rush! They won't me important, but on the prologue she talked about Daphne and I wanted to do her point of view of that part of the story! I hope everyone likes this!

Summer of 2042

Greece was a place she always loved.

Every summer since they met, her parents went to that country to spend their summer holidays, making it a family tradition. All the Norris rented a house in Parga and then a boat to go around the coast.

On a shelf of her house there's an album of photos from all those vacations. She always opened those albums when she was a kid, watching how her parents used to be, how her mom used to look like.

There are pictures of the first time they met, both of them on a camper traveling together. Then there is a picture of them hugging, her mom with a beautiful engagement ring on her finger. Then pictures of their wedding, and their honeymoon.

And then the first time she was in Greece: inside the womb of her mother.

One of the reasons she loved going to Greece was because she felt like she belonged to that place. She never met her mom's family, only an old woman she considers her grandma.

When the old woman started to get sick, Lando and Lily decided to be with her on her last moments.

Lando was now retired, and Lily was a well known artist in Europe. But, even if he had three championship titles and she had her paintings in important art galleries all over the globe, luck and fortune weren't always by their side.

In 2039, the Norris family moved into Parga, wanting to spend the time and make memories with the woman that welcomed them as her own kids the first time they stepped in the town.

But unfortunately, Nora Makris died in January of 2041. Leaving the family with a hole on their hearts

Now, in the summer of 2042, after the death of the beloved woman, they were on a blanket with snacks and drinks in front of them, sitting in front of the grave of the woman.

"So… we wanted to tell you something, Nora" Lando smiled weakly, hugging his son on his lap. "Will you say it, buddy?"

"I am on a karting team" the eight years old boy said, hugging his dad.

Daphne smiled weakly looking at her brother Percy. He's the exact copy of her father, with the same smile and same curly hair.

Otherwise, Daphne is the reflection of her mother, but with her father's eyes. She loves art, she loves Greece. Some of her parents' friends joked around saying that she saw her mother painting while she was in her womb, because since she was little she already showed her will to make art.

"I miss you, Nora" her mom sighed, making her dad hold her hand and kiss her head. "We all miss you, mom"

Daphne sighed and left a flower in front of the grave, tracking the name and numbers with her fingers.

R.I.P.

Nora Makris

Your family will always remember you

"Come on, kids" Lando sighed, helping his son get up and then he did it. "It's time to go"

Daphne looked at her family. Her brother held her hand tightly, hugging her while they walked away from the cemetery. She looked back, how her dad hugged her mom's shoulders kissing her temple.

Since she was little she always dreamed of having someone that could love her how her dad loves her mom.

"Are we going to Santorini?" Percy asked his dad, holding his hand. "Will Louis be there?"

"Yeah" he smiled, picking him up. "Come on, the rest of the group is already on the boat"

That summer, the Norris family boat will be full with the Leclercs, the Gaslys and the Vestappens. The four families will spend their summer together, going by boat to Santorini and staying in a house together.

"Julia!" Daphne smiled, hugging her childhood friend.

"Dane!" she smiled, hugging her back.

The Gaslys had twins, but she never got along with them a lot, they were always with Ethan, the Verstappens' son.

Julia Leclerc is her best friend. Even if they live in different countries and study in different places, all the time they went to the races to support their fathers, they spent time together. She's like the old sister she never had, and she loves her as a sister.

"How are you?" Julia asked with a weak smile.

"Yeah… well… I mean, I miss her" she smiled weakly. "It is hard. She was there since I was born, but now she's not…"

"I get it, Dane" she sighed. "She was part of your family. I miss her too, but I totally get it that you feel this low now"

"Yeah" she sighed.

In previous summers, Nora liked to have the kids with her when their parents went out to have fun as adults. Julia and Daphne always sat on the floor in front of her learning about Greece and the history of it. Thanks to that woman they know and love this place.

"Come on, I bought some things to spend time here" the older girl said, walking in front of her.

The yacht wasn't big enough for the four families to sleep there, so they had to share rooms to make sure there wasn't a problem.

"How is Louis going?" Daphne smiled weakly, watching the little Leclerc sitting next to her mother, wearing noise canceling headphones.

"Nice… he goes to therapy and they are trying to find a way of communicating with him" Julia sighed.

Daphne nodded and walked with her friend, looking around. She saw the Gasly twins and Ethan, looking carefully at Julia to see her reaction. Since she was little she remembers the arguments the two kids had, how Ethan tried to make her angry and how upset she reacted.

"I hate that he's here" she heard Julia groan, making her chuckle softly.

After they got changed into their bikinis, they went to the living room together, sitting on one of the couches.

"Sometimes it makes me sad to look at your brother trying to get closer to Louis" Julia sighed, watching how Daphne's brother was sitting meters away from Louis.

"He brought a book about insects, you know?" Daphne said, smiling softly. "And he even bought some small plushies of bugs for him"

"Really? That's so sweet" Julia smiled weakly. "Do you want me to ask him if he wants me to give them to him?"

"Would you do that for him?" she smiled softly.

"Sure" Julia nodded, nudging her side.

Julia is a wonderful person. Daphne knows she suffered from bullying, she saw how her friend changed. One week she was friendly with her and the next one she tried everything to keep a distance with her. But she tried to keep contact with her, until she discovered what happened.

She saw how Julia got up and sat next to Percy, hugging him and playing with him to make him laugh. If there's something true about the older Leclerc is that no matter what, she will always love and protect her family and loved ones. And because she has known the Norris since she was born, she feels they are part of her family too.

"A bird told me you have a gift for my brother, hm?" Julia chucked, tickling Percy.

"Oh, yeah" he laughed. "Is a plushy of his favorite bug"

"Yeah? Do you want me to give it to him?" she asked. "I'm sure he will like it, you know he likes the gifts you give him"

"But he doesn't know those are mine…" he sighed.

"Percy, he knows you want to be his friend" she smiled weakly. "But you know how he is… it's hard for him, yeah? But you are doing an amazing job"

Daphne smiled looking at them. She's grateful for her father, because thanks to him she has a big family. Charles and Lyanna are her godparents, and Louis her parents' godson. She's happy to be part of the Leclerc family.

Spending the day on the yacht was borning, because they couldn't go to the water since the boat was moving.

"Hey" Daphne heard him sit next to her.

"Oh, hey" she nodded at him, the Verstappen sitting next to her made her blush.

"So… are you having a good time?" Ethan asked, showing interest in her.

"Well, you know how it is. We can't go to the water" she shrugged. "And you just interrupted an interesting book"

"Oh, sorry" he laughed. "What were you reading?"

"Oh, one of my mom's favorite fictional books" she said, showing him the book. "Lore. Did you hear about The Hunger Games?"

"Eh… no" he laughed. "What's that? Guys being hungry?"

Daphne wanted to hit him with the book. How can someone be so stupid?

"No, idiot" she laughed. "Is like a dystopia where a country had a rebellion and the president of that country decided to make every year something like a show that made two people, called tributes, from all the twelve districts fight in a random place until one of them is alive"

"Oh… I never imagined you would like something as bloody as that" he laughed.

"Yeah well, it's a classic" she said, rolling her eyes. "The thing is that in this book the author mix that with the Greek mythology"

"Ah yeah, I get it" he nodded.

She doesn't use to talk with Ethan. Julia always tries to keep her away from him, but it's inevitable to not look at him. She always thought he was good looking, like one of those illustrations of her mythology books.

Something inside of her, like little tickles on her stomach, made her blush every time she found Ethan looking at her while the twins talked with him.

During the days on the beach in Santorini, she could feel his eyes on her. He talked with her when they were alone, and she casually started to feel things for him.

"I swear, I really think he likes me, Juls" Daphne sighed, laying on her friend's bed. "Sometimes I catch him looking at me"

"He's disgusting, Dane" Julia sighed. "Come on, I'm sure he's having dirty thoughts while he looks at you"

"I don't think he's like that" she frowned. "He's sweet with me… maybe I can make him be a good guy"

Oh, she really believed that. She heard all the things Julia said about him, how bad he is since he was born. But, as the teen she is, she really thought that she could change the bad guy and make him a good guy.

Some days he would flirt with her, talk till late and then walk with her to the door of her bedroom. Somehow, she started to fall for him.

Is he her first love? Would he be her first kiss? First boyfriend?

Then, that night came.

They went to have dinner, and since none of the kids, except Louis and Percy, wanted to stay in the restaurant, all of them decided to leave and go to the house.

In that moment, Ethan was with her, walking next to her on the beach. She thought it was romantic, being alone with him under the stars.

"It's a beautiful night, right?" She smiled, looking up at the stars.

"Mhm" he nodded, standing in front of her.

Then he did what she was dreaming about for the last few days. He pressed his lips on hers.

It was a messy kiss. Sure, he knows how to kiss, he did it tons of times with random girls at school. But she never kissed someone like that, so she just let him lead the kiss. It was something she never expected, to feel his tongue and his hands on her ass.

But she didn't care. Ethan Verstappen was kissing her.

She went back to the house with a silly smile, going immediately to Julia's room and telling her everything.

But of course, not everything is perfect.

Even if he spent the next day with her on the beach, kissing her sometimes when she noticed no one was watching, the next day things changed.

He was distant, not looking at her and ignoring her.

Somehow, that hurt her.

But what hurt the most was going to the beach at night, hoping to find him there and ask him what was wrong and why he was ignoring her.

Dane couldn't believe what her eyes were watching. She really didn't want to believe that was real.

Ethan kissing a random girl.

"Ethan?!" she gasped, making the boy pull away from the kiss and look at her. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh, you" he laughed, holding the waist of the girl.

"Why are you kissing her?! After everything you said to me?" she exclaimed.

"Ah… come on! It was just to have fun!" he laughed. "Nothing serious. You really should calm down. I would never be with someone like you"

She could hear her own heart breaking. It was so cruel, she was one of the many girls he played with. She was part of that long list he likes to brag about with the Gasly twins.

When she went to the house, she ran inside Julia's room, jumping in her bed with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"He… he just said that he would never be with someone like me" she mumbled, hugging her friend. "What does it mean? Why?"

"Don't listen to him, Dane…" Julia sighed, running her back and brushing her hair. "You are better, too good for him, okay? You deserve to be with someone that makes you happy"

"It hurts… I thought he liked me" she mumbled.

"Look, I'm going to tell you something and I really want you to listen carefully" Julia sighed. "Ethan Verstappen is not good news. Now you know what happens… don't look at him, okay? Ignore him"

Since that day, Ethan Verstappen was a man she never wanted to talk to ever again. She was dead for her.

taglist

@lestappenloverr @racinggirl @roni-midnights @livster8 @kakorrhaphiphobia @starkeyellow @celestialpierre @ophcelia @msliz @lorarri @ironmaiden1313 @imsorare @mycenterfold @im-an-overthinker @soosheee @karmabyfernando @landoyesrizz @sticksdoesart @beatricemiruna @nonameishere @flwr-stella @lordperceval-16 @arisainz

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immediatebreakfast · 8 months

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This is all cultural context of the readers since different countries have different rites, and myths for handling the dead. Yet, I'm always surprised how the maids just simply stole the little gold crucifix from the recently dead(?) Lucy. The girl that doesn't even have a day of being dead.

"Because," he said sternly, "it is too late—or too early. See!" Here he held up the little golden crucifix. "This was stolen in the night." "How, stolen," I asked in wonder, "since you have it now?" "Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from the woman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will surely come, but not through me; she knew not altogether what she did and thus unknowing, she only stole. Now we must wait."

Van Helsing has a very appropiate reaction to the act, he is angry not only at the "stealing from a dead girl" act on itself, but also for what it means to leave a fresh transformed vampire without a symbol of faith to stop them. I do wonder if there could be some religious dutch reasons involved since Van Helsing mentions a punishment.

We sadly don't get Jack's cultural reaction since he is too focused on how Van Helsing is acting today; which is understandable because he is really acting shady, but what was the attitude towards stealing from the dead in victorian england?

Would it have been wrong on the grounds of social class since Lucy was upper class and the maid was in her service? With all of the talk about how crucifixes, and rosaries were seen as idolatrous I don't know if they had religious reasons to discourage it. Maybe it was seen a monetary loss?

Because here in my country Colombia, oh boy there is culture surrounding the stuff of the dead. It's a very hard process to choose what to keep, what to throw away, and what to gift. However, everyone can agree that is very disrespectful to just grab things without consulting with your family, or worse to steal from behind their because grandmas had this [insert object] that I want for me.

Here, our cultural identity that is tied to the supernatural is also tied to the question "what if?" Because as much as we would like to think that some stuff are explained in absolutes. We don't know! You can ask here anyone if they believe in ghosts, and no one will give you a clear answer. Because there are situation that we can't explain, and that question is always left.

Which follows what not to do with the dead: Don't let anyone gift you stuff from their dead relatives because to those dead relatives you are a stranger. Be careful with things tied to certain feelings that the dead in question had for it (for example both my grandma and grandpa were buried with their wedding rings no ifs no buts). Let yourself mourn while deciding these things.

And, don't steal from dead because you don't know their conditions when they died.

If this was a colombian story focused on the supernatural, and Lucy was not a vampire yet came back as a vengeful ghost to haunt that maid for stealing Van Helsing's "gift" from her, I would go "Ja! Serves you right." Because that maid decided to desecrate Lucy's grave by stealing from her.

#Who steals from the dead do you want to get cursed with something?#Esto es anécdota personal pero apenas mi abuela murió y se la llevaron una de mis tías enseguida quería llevarse su tocador #(Aunque le dijimos que esperara hasta mañana porque de verdad)#Pero ello no escucho y se lo llevo a los cinco días ella se tuvo que ir hospitalizada sin explicación alguna (no se murio si les preocupa)#Don't steal from the dead!#dracula daily #dracula #jack seward #abraham van helsing

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bratshaws · 6 months

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through the hourglass 305. brb x oc

a/n: n o rooster ubut uwu(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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/302/303/304

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

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Beatrice was having several days of motherly guilt. Sure, she had to work at the Hard Deck and her kids were okay with her parents..but she always cried a little about leaving them alone. Especially now, with Shells looking at her, patting her back gently as the blonde drove her back home, “There,there.”

“I–” Bea sniffs, “I-I should be there with them more! They are all babies.”

‘I mean,girl,” Shells tilted her head, “It’s not like you are leaving Nikki,Gavin and Aurora to fend for themselves. They are okay, relax.”

Shells continued to pat Beatrice's back soothingly as the car rolled through the quiet streets, "I get it, Bea. But you gotta cut yourself some slack," Shells said, glancing over at her friend. "You're doing what you gotta do. Besides, they love their grandma and grandpa. It's like a vacation for them."

Beatrice sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. It's just... I feel like I'm missing out on so much.I don't want to be the mom who's always working and never there."

Shells raised an eyebrow. "Bea, you're not that mom. You're a damn good mom. And your kids know it. They also know that you're working hard to give them a good life. It's quality over quantity, my friend." she pauses, a grim smile on her face, “Believe me,I’d know what a bad mother would be like.”

Shells chuckled, reaching over to give Bea's hand a squeeze. "Hey, you're not missing everything. You're providing for them, giving them a stable home. And besides, you're not alone in this. You've got me, Penny, and the whole gang at the Hard Deck."

Beatrice managed a small smile, appreciating Shells' attempt to lift her spirits. "I just hate feeling like I'm not enough."

Shells shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing with the motion. "Hey!Hey! Cut that out!You are more than enough, Bea. You're a badass mom!And a great friend! And one hell of a bartender. Don't forget that." the blonde narrows her eyes “And that is a threat.”

Bea smiles softly, shaking her friend’s hand, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Shells smiles back, “...what brought this on? You were fine a few weeks back.”

The brunette just shrugged,sinking in her seat as she props her elbow on the door,rubbing her forehead, “I dunno…they are amazing babies. The twins,well, they just got out from the hospital so it’s normal for them to be a bit louder but…really, they are all great. Nicole tries to be present every time too and she’s so curious about them.”

“Mhm.”

“I guess…” she frowns, “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I guess I miss Rooster.” and her gaze softens as she looks at her wedding ring, “We…didn’t speak for a few weeks now so,I dunno…”

“I mean, you two are so sickening in love I’m not surprised.” Shells mutters, albeit she is smiling because…well,she missed Bob too. He was still deployed with Rooster and the others after all, “He’s alright,though. You know this mission has been hell for them.”

The car rumbled softly as it navigated the suburban streets, the occasional streetlamp casting a warm glow over Beatrice's troubled expression. "I know, and I'm proud of him. It's just... I miss him, you know? It's hard not having him around, especially when the kids are growing up so fast."

Shells turned into the quiet street where Beatrice's house stood, easing the car into the driveway. She put the gear in park and turned to face her friend. "Bea,it's okay to miss him. It's okay to feel a little lost without him around. But you're holding it together like a champ."

“Am I?”

“If you weren’t I’d beat your ass.”

Beatrice managed a weak smile, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her seatbelt. "Thanks, Shells. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Shells shrugs softly, pursing her lips, “Your life would be pretty boring.” As she followed Bea out of the car, the brunette laughing in agreement as she pulled out the keys from her bag. The dogs ,well Eleanor, started barking as soon as she noticed someone coming.

The warm glow from the porch light spilled onto the front lawn as Beatrice and Shells approached the house. And both women paused as Bea slid the key to the door. “You smell that?”

“I do.”

“...shit Bea,is your mom cooking??” Shells snapped her gaze to her friend’s hand, “Open the door!”

Beatrice turned the key, the door swinging open to reveal a wave of inviting warmth and the tantalizing aroma of home-cooked food. The barking escalated as Eleanor, bounded toward them, her tail wagging vigorously.

Beatrice's parents were obviously busy in the kitchen, she could hear her father’s voice echoing as he talked to her mother. And it wasNicole, who snuck away to meet them first with Jolene being the most faithful pitbull behind her so she doesn’t fall.

"Mama!" Nicole giggled, waddling faster towards Bea who just tossed her bag to the side and crouched down to her level..

"Hey, sweetie!" Beatrice lifted Nicole into her arms, squeezing her tightly,combing some of the brown hair away from her face. "Miss me?" Nicole babbled happily, a few sentences did sound like ‘yeah!’ before she pointed to the kitchen.

Beatrice chuckled, pressing a kiss to Nicole's forehead. "I missed you too, baby girl. What are your nonni planning,hm?”

Shells stepped closer after she locked the door for Bea, “And can auntie Shells have some because you know, your mama’s family is Italian and your nonna is the best cook ever.”

Beatrice laughed, “I’m sure there’s enough food there for an army.” she said while carrying Nicole towards the enticing aroma emanating from the kitchen. Shells followed suit,almost vibating with excitement.

As they entered the kitchen, the sizzle of something frying, and the murmur of Beatrice's parents engaged in animated conversation were the only distraction from something in her oven.

"Ah, Beatrice! You're home!" Claudia exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron and rushing over to embrace her daughter. "And Nicole, my little sunshine! You escaped from your nonno,” she tuts playfully, tapping her granddaughter’s nose.

Rafael sips his tea, he hates it but it’s better for his heart ever since his surgery, then looks at the group, “She has the Schiavoni genes, what can I say?”

“And what,” Bea begins after handing Nicole to her mother, “Does that mean,papa?”

“Well, you know, “ he waves his hand, “She’s unstoppable.”

“Uh-huh.” Beatrice took a seat at the table, Nicole on her lap, while Shells stood by the counter, trying to contain her excitement for the impending feast. Jolene,had found a cozy spot in the corner, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings with Jack joining her like the good mama’s boy he is, “Mama…are you baking bread?”

“Well just a little something.” Claudia waves her hand, “I figured you’d come home hungry and,well, I wanted to give you a little something.” she turned her gaze to Shells, “And since Shells took you to work I assumed she’d bring you back. So I did a little something for both of you.”

Shells looked ready to cry.

“Mama, there was no need,”Bea whispered, “Really, you two are already doing so much for me…how were the kids tonight, by the way?”

Claudia smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she closed the oven once she checked on the loaf of Italian bread. "Oh, they were angels, as always. Your father and I love taking care of them. Nicole is an angel,Aurora is such a sweetheart, and Gavin, well, he's got his father's charm."

Rafael chuckled from his spot at the table. "That boy is going to break hearts one day, just like his old man." followed by a swat from Claudia.

Beatrice grinned, “Well,I’m in no hurry.” she looks down when Nicole waddles close to her so she can be picked up and placed on her mother’s lap. Beatrice kissed her head once she’s settled, “But mom, really, there was no need for all of that.”

Claudia waved her off as usual. “Nonsense.” she just grabs a pot that’s boiling with something that smells great “I made us some meatball soup to go with the bread.”

“Wh-mom–”

"Mrs. Schiavoni, you're a miracle worker in the kitchen!" Shells exclaimed, "I might need to recruit you for some cooking lessons."

“You hate cooking.’

“Well, your mom doesn’t know that!”

Claudia laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, Shells, you're too kind. But I'd be happy to share a few recipes with you. Cooking is a labor of love, and I can make you appreciate that." it was the kindest threat Shells ever got so she took it kindly. “Now, please, let’s eat.”

Beatrice blinked, then stood up from her chair, “I’m just going to check on the twins and charge my phone.” she shakes the small device in her hand while holding Nicole with the other, “I won’t take long,promise.”

“You better because if not I’ll eat everything!!”

Beatrice laughs softly before walking up the stairs where she tiptoed into the nursery, the soft glow of a night light illuminated the room. Gavin and Aurora, wrapped in cozy blankets, lay peacefully in their cribs. The rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths were accompanied by the tiniest tinkle of a music box that brought back so many memories for her.

They used to put it in her room when she was young.

She leaned down to gently stroke Gavin's soft curls, smiling at the innocence that radiated from his cherubic face. Aurora, mirrored his peaceful slumber in the adjacent crib...little brows furrowed however as she appeared to be in a deep dream The sight of her children sleeping so soundly filled Beatrice's heart with warmth. The heaviness disappeared…for a little bit.

“Say good night to your brother and sister,Nikki.” she whispers to her oldest toddler who just nw learned to say ‘night night’ and used it to her advantage, waving her little arm down at her siblings. Soon enough, Jack slowly trotted in, his large furry form immediately flopped under the cribs and the huge dog let out a sleepy sigh while giving Beatrice the biggest puppy dogs eyes ever.

Beatrice chuckled at the sight of Jack, stationed as the guardian of the nursery. “Maybe we should give you a knight’s helmet too,Jackie.”She leaned down to give him a quick pat on the head. "Good boy, Jack. Guard the fort."

As she exited the nursery, the soft strains of the music box lingered in her ears. Beatrice made her way to her bedroom, where the faint glow of her own night light shone through. She plugged in her phone as she set the toddler by her side on the bed, glancing at the screen to see a few missed emails. Ignoring them for now,since they were nothing serious.she took a deep breath and allowed herself a moment to unwind.

She fell back on the mattress, closing her eyes and inhaling the air around her, with a bit of spices coming from downstairs. “...we’ll be back down soon,Nikki.” she tells her daughter who immediately crawls over to her, “Mama…just needs a quick break.”

Nicole, with her newfound ability to express herself, babbled happily, playing with her mother's hair as Beatrice lay there, soaking in the tranquility. The scent of lavender from a nearby diffuser wafted through the room…her mother must’ve bought that because she doesn’t remember getting it.

Beatrice's mind drifted to Rooster.

Was he eating well?

Was he sleeping?

Maybe she should message him to check–no.No, he’s busy right now.

Nicole fidgeted with her mother's hair, Beatrice couldn't help but smile. "Just don’t tug mama’s hair,Nikki," she whispered, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on her daughter's back.

Downstairs, the aroma of Claudia's cooking continued to permeate the air. The savory scent of meatball soup and freshly baked bread hung enticingly, drawing the attention of everyone in the house. Well…everyone awake that is. “...you know, your dada would love this.” Bea whispers to Nicole,chuckling softly, “...nothing would make him happier.”

Nicole babbles more, dropping her mouth on her mother’s forehead to what should be a forehead kiss but it felt like mainly drool and that Nikki figured out how to use Bea’s head as her own megaphone.

Beatrice chuckled at Nicole, not at all bothered by it. "Well, I'm sure Dada appreciates your unique style of affection, Nikki," she said, wiping off the drool with a small grin. "Let's get some of Nonna’s dinner,hm?."

She sat up on the bed, gently lifting Nicole onto her lap. The toddler squirmed and giggled, clearly enjoying the attention. Beatrice glanced at her phone, debating whether to send a quick message to Rooster.

She decided against it, realizing that he was likely immersed in the demands of his duties.

Even if she really wanted to talk to him.

Beatrice made her way back downstairs, the savory aroma guided her like a comforting trail. The family gathered around the table, and Claudia beamed as Beatrice joined them."Ah, there you are, my dear. Took a little longer than expected, but no worries. The soup is still piping hot," Claudia said, ladling generous portions into bowls.

“Mama, it was just a few minutes–” Claudia just poured a generous amount into a bowl with a large slice of bread, still steaming, next to it. “..thanks mama.” Beatrice sat at the table, a warmth spreading through her as she watched her daughter energetically bouncing on her high chair as her mother started dipping pieces of bread into the savory meatball soup to feed her.

"So, Beatrice, how was your day?" Claudia inquired, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

Beatrice took a moment to savor a spoonful of the rich soup before responding. "It was good, Mama. The usual chaos at the bar, but nothing we couldn't handle.Right Shells,” Shells was busy shoveling food in her mouth

Claudia nodded, her gaze remaining on Beatrice. She shared a silent look with Rafael who just ate his own bowl silently, “Well…I’m glad. You know, I remember that whenever there was something going on, I made this soup. It warms the soul, doesn’t it Nikki?”

The toddler beamed, her face smeared with bits of bread and droplets of soup. "Dada! Dada!" she exclaimed, giggling.

Beatrice felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Rooster. She glanced at the empty seat beside her, the one usually occupied by him. The chair seemed to echo with the absence, heavily "He'll be back soon, Nikki," Beatrice reassured her daughter, a gentle yet sad smile playing on her lips. "Before you know it.”

“Mama,” Beatrice whispers, “You really don’t have to tuck me in.” but she wasn’t complaining, especially after that dinner. Shells went home with containers filled with food and Nicole was fast asleep in her crib “You guys will go back home in a little bit too.”

"Sweetheart, a mother's job is never done," her mother, replied with a tender smile. She adjusted the blankets around Beatrice, tucking them in just a bit tighter.

Beatrice sighed contentedly, feeling the comforting weight of the blankets. She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sense of belonging that wrapped around her like a soft embrace.

Claudia sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from Beatrice's face. "You know, if you want, we can stay with you. Your father and I.”

Beatrice opened her eyes, her gaze meeting her mother's. "Really?" Beatrice asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. Her parents had their own lives, their own routines. The notion of them altering their plans for her felt both surprising and deeply reassuring.

And yet, so very them.

Claudia nodded, her smile widening. "Of course, sweetheart. We're always here for you. Your father and I were thinking it might be nice to spend the night with you…you look tired, tesoro.”

Beatrice felt a warmth spread through her chest, warmer than the blanket."Thank you, Mama," Beatrice whispered, her voice soft. She reached for her mother's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'd really like that."

Claudia's eyes softened with understanding as she returned the squeeze. "Alright, then. We'll get some of our things from the car and make ourselves at home."

“Okay.”

As Claudia left the room, Beatrice shifted her gaze to the dim glow of the nightlight in the corner. The soft hum of the air conditioner, the distant sound of crickets outside — it all felt like a lullaby, inviting her into the comforting arms of sleep. She smiled to herself.

Soon, the door creaked open, Rafael, appeared by the entrance, head tilted."Hey, sleepyhead," He planted a soft kiss on her forehead once he was close enough. "You doing okay, sweetheart?"

Beatrice nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, Dad. Just happy to have you all here."

Rafael groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed, “That’s not what I asked.” he whispered, “Tesoro, are you okay?”

Rafael's concern was etched in the lines of his face. Beatrice took a moment, considering her father's question. She didn’t want to make him even more worried.She nodded, her eyes locking onto her father's. "I'm okay, Dad. More than okay. I swear.”

Rafael's expression softened into a relieved smile. "Good to hear, sweetheart. Your mother and I, we worry about you two. You and Bradley…I know you are worried about him.” she drops her eyes guiltily, “Please, I can read you like a book, tesoro. And I know how that boy makes you feel.”

“Papa, Brad isn’t a boy.”

“Well he’s younger than me isn’t he?”

“...true.”

Rafael chuckled, the sound deep and resonant in the quiet room. “You know what I mean."

Beatrice couldn't help but smile at her father's easygoing manner. He had a way of diffusing tension with a simple joke or a warm gesture. It was one of the many things she loved about him. “I do.”

The door creaked open again, and Claudia re-entered the room with a small suitcase in hand. "Alright, bedtime essentials are here," she announced with a smile. "I brought some of your favorite snacks too, just in case."

Beatrice's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "You really thought of everything, Mama."

Claudia winked. "That's what mothers do, isn't it?"

Rafael leaned back against the headboard, surveying the room. "This place feels different from the last time we visited. Cozier, I'd say."

Beatrice chuckled. "Well, the last time you were here, it was very chaotic."

Rafael nodded. "It’s a home," he whispers, savoring the word. "You've done well for yourself, Beatrice. We're proud of you." hestands from the bed, rubbing his lower back, “We’ll stay in the guest room, alright?”

Beatrice nodded, bringing her blankets up to her chin. "Thank you, papa. I'm just glad to have you both here." she whispers, “Goodnight.”

“Buona notte,tesoro.” he says, slowly walking away from the door.

As her parents settled into the guest room, Beatrice lay in bed, her mind buzzing with a quiet contentment that she hadn't felt in a while. With a sigh, Beatrice let her thoughts drift to Bradley. She clenched her eyes and whispered quietly.

“I just want to hear your voice, know you are okay…please Brad.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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