#it's been... eight months since he could last visit
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Take Everything
Summary: Dream works non stop on a project for months, and even after it’s finished he still seems like he needs to relieve some stress.
Warnings: Dream x Reader smut, Semi-public sex (on Livestream), Teasing, Cockwarming, Rough sex, Hair pulling, Squirting
Words: 4.3k
No Use of Y/N
Title is from ‘Hypnosis’ by Sleep Token
My hands still ached from the shenanigans we got up to in the early morning hours last weekend. It’s far from me to reject any kind of outing with Sam and Colby, and it’s definitely unlike me to finish an adventure completely unscathed.
It was a simple miscalculation.
Colby was pissed because if I was any weaker I would have fallen 60 feet to broken concrete blanketed with glass, and to that I agreed. It would have sucked.
Two hospital visits and eight days later, the slits across the palms of my hands were finally infection and tetanus free. They were wrapped with soft gauze, though, and while embarrassing, they were very relieving. I finally felt free to do what I wanted for myself.
Telling Dream what happened when I got home was honestly scarier than the actual situation.
“I really don’t understand why you would have to scale the outside of the building though, you’re a dumbass—“
“We went inside, Dream,” I exasperated. “Sam fell through the floor twice! We wanted to get to the top for pictures and I volunteered to go first. I didn’t think the literal fucking—the steel structure around the wall would cave in like that.”
“Well no shit! If you guys are falling through the floors then obviously the building’s gonna fucking collapse!”
“Dream—“
“No, don’t give me that. This is serious!”
“I know it is—“
“Listen to me,” he demanded. My throat closed tightly as he took my wrists in his hands so he could see the damage. Bandages still covered the wounds, but we both knew how nasty they were. “This can’t happen every goddamn time you go out with them or else you won’t anymore.”
“And you’re the one who decides that?”
“Since you clearly can’t for yourself, yeah!”
“What the fuck is going on down here?” We both looked as George entered the room from the stairs. I yanked my hands from Dream to hide the bandages, but George already saw. “What happened to you?”
”Just went out with Sam and Colby—“
“Tell her that she can’t climb old nasty tetanus ridden buildings without gloves anymore.”
”What is wrong with you?” His face twisted with disgust.
“George—“
“No, get away from me, ew.” And he passed us as he shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Dream’s the only one who will give you sympathy around here and if even he thinks you’re an idiot then you won’t like me very much either.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to Dream. He stared back at me.
”I’m going to bed. You guys are ridiculous.”
”Okay but risking infection and, I don’t fucking know, death is a big deal. You’re being ridiculous.”
”Whatever, Dream,” I sighed as I took two stares at a time. “You can’t be upset that my version of fun is different than yours.”
”My version of fun doesn’t risk my damn life. And I thought you said you were going to bed?” He shouted as I walked down the hallway towards our soundproofed offices.
”I’m sleeping in my office so I don’t have to listen to you guys bitch at me anymore.”
”Jesus Christ.”
I shared a bed with Dream now. My room was used as the last remaining guest bedroom in this house—the other house has many more rooms for that—but in a couple days Punz planned to Use it for two weeks until his apartment was ready which was fine by me unless Dream didn’t shape up his attitude. I didn’t have any serious plans of leaving his bed, I just didn’t anticipate a lack of freedom in my decision making process.
Don’t get me wrong; none of the boys were overbearing or overprotective of me at all, even Dream, but I forgot what it was like to come home to questioning eyes wondering where I had been and why my hands were covered in bandages. I lived by myself for so long that I forgot what it was like to share life with other people. Blessings and curses.
I curled myself up in the blankets of the bed and sleep came over me immediately when I closed my eyes. It was too comfortable. Not nearly as comfortable as our bed downstairs, but the pure silence in the pitch black room lulled me to sleep like no other.
Three days later I told George that he was right, and he must have felt bad about my multiple hospital trips and infected wounds because he didn’t even bask in the glory of my fess up.
Eight days later I knew I was on the up and up, and my wounds healed rightly. I stressed Dream out. I could tell, and mixed with everything else going on, he was one more mishap from breaking.
Multiple videos between the three boys were scheduled, and they included incredibly large amounts of time, energy, and money to finish, that by the end of the day—if either of them took a break—there was nothing to do but scarf down their single meal of the day then sleep for ten hours just to do it all over again. At least they deserved everything they had; they worked harder than anyone else I had ever seen.
Dream’s video was finished. His workdays were infinitely shorter now, and he only needed to do finishing touches on other things and get his ducks in order. What he needed to do most, though, was relax. I think we got a solid seven words in to each other every night before sleeping for an eternity and I was impatient. I worked just as hard as them and traveled as well, so when there was any down time, of course we slept like there was no tomorrow.
Until the livestream.
The three live-streamed the night before the first video release, and they played games with friends for a while. It was good—fantastic even—for Dream’s mental health. It didn’t look like he wanted to shrivel up at any happenstance any longer and for that I was grateful.
He just wouldn’t chill. Even with the hard part of the video making process behind him, the stress still kindled inside of him.
Good thing I was so much better at breaking things than putting them back together.
I don’t know what came over me, but with the tension within the house ceasing and my hands not being the problem they were, I was ready for some strife. A little bit of chaos.
And a lot more closeness with Dream.
We had been dating for six months and pining after each other for almost two years and somehow I could count on one hand how many times we had sex. It wasn’t a problem, yet anyway, but if he wouldn’t calm down and separate his work from his non-existent personal life, it would be.
Not because I was selfish but because he deserved to not work himself sick.
I didn’t think twice when I silently opened his office door. Not silently per-say; Dream’s eyes quickly darted to me with concern, but enough that his mic didn’t pick it up.
He muted.
”What’s wrong?”
”Nothing,” I said sweetly. He hesitated and blinked quickly. I walked over to him.
“Did—Are you wanting to be on stream?”
”No.”
”Oh.”
More silence.
”I—I was going to unmute now—oh.” He froze and backed from his desk more when I walked over and straddled his lap. He looked up at me with bright eyes. God, I loved them. And I loved the fact that they stared back at me for longer than a couple seconds.
“You can unmute now.”
”But I—no, what are you doing?”
”Sitting? Obviously.”
”I’m streaming.”
”I know.”
He sucked in a quick breath as I watched the realization click.
“Just tell me if you—“
He unmuted. I held my breath as I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. My chin rested on his shoulder and I closed my eyes to hush the rushing of my heart.
Already, the heat between us sent chills across my skin.
Now that I was where I wanted to be, suddenly the confidence drained. I didn’t check the viewer countâ—good thing too or else I probably would have turned and left his office in a flash—but I knew it wasn’t too good for my blood pressure. I was frozen against him. The heat spread down my body and pooled in my pants. I didn’t listen to what he said, but I felt the way his body vibrated from his voice. It almost lulled me to sleep. But then it happened.
He slowly pushed his hips up and leaned back more to give me more access.
That was all I needed. Just one push.
And I felt him, all of him.
I rolled my hips into his and butterflies twisted in my stomach from the sound of his shaking breath. I couldn’t stop. My hand held the side of his neck, thumb brushed his face, as I kissed and bit down on his neck for security. I needed something for my hands to do, something for my mouth to do, or else a lot more would come from his mic than the viewers paid for.
“Mmm—“ He made a more prominent noise and I did the same movement over and over. That was when one of his hands finally came down on me. Of course he didn’t unmute yet. I knew he wasn’t that gone, and some evil part of me wanted him to be so I kept on and on.
Maybe I was the one we should be worried about. My throat ran dry from the amounts of pressure I mustered to keep quiet. He felt too good against me, and I thought he would be the one falling apart too fast.
Suddenly he pushed his chair back.
”What—“
“Off,” he demanded and cut off my whisper. He had to be muted. I looked down where his fingers pulled back the waistband of my pants. All too quickly, I leapt to my feet and yanked them off me. “God, what is wrong with you?” His voice broke into frustrated whining, but he definitely didn’t push me away.
His hand rose in between my legs and the other pulled me onto his lap again.
“Oh fuckâ—“ I gasped and released some of the pent up tension in my throat. Of course he didn’t invade my underwear yet, pay back, but he did tease me to the point where I thrusted my hips back and forth on his hand for something harder than his light touches.
”Can feel how turned on you are already, you want me that bad?”
”Can you blame me?” I moaned through gritted teeth. He sat back and got closer to his desk again.
”I know, baby, I know,” he sighed and unmuted again.
This time I bit down on his shoulder as the pleasure radiated through me. Good thing he wore at least a hoodie because then it would have interrupted his words. He pulled his hand away only for the pressure between us to intensify. I grinded against him faster, and I nearly blacked out at how painfully hard he felt against me. Finally his head tossed back with closed eyes.
Not until he made noises would I make noises.
”Come on, stop playing,” he whispered so quietly it made me furl inside myself. He leaned forward and focused on his conversations and games. With shaking arms and legs, I lifted myself up and tugged at the waistband of his pants. I only pulled the front of them down enough for access; I couldn’t waste another second and he wasn’t in a place to mute or take his hands from the keyboard for a moment.
He stuttered his words when I pulled him from his pants and stroked him slowly. I knew he couldn’t get mad at me for doing it during a crucial moment; he told me to stop messing around and I did.
I watched him as he focused on the screens behind me with glazed over eyes. Then I pushed my underwear to the side and sank down on him.
First his eyebrows lifted in pleasure and his lips parted with shakiness, and then I heard quicker clicking on the keyboard. I bit on my own lips to make myself shut the hell up. Holy shit, too good. He felt too good I could barely keep myself together.
I couldn’t tell if it was from the unbearable amount of time without being filled like this or if it was the fact that I chose a livestream of all moments to tease the life out of him, but the pleasure was insurmountable as it traveled through my body like powerful acidic waves.
I moved faster.
I held onto him; my fingers laced through his hair and pulled. He pulled back, and there it was. He was losing his cool. I knew it too, obviously. With my hands in his hair, I could get him to do whatever I wanted. I didn’t care if I took advantage of it; he hadn’t complained about it yet.
”Fuck, you feel so good,” I whispered every so quietly in his hair and he fucked his hips forward. I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“You got to be good for me and be quiet if you want to fuck me when I’m streaming like this,” he spat. Then turned back to his game. I didn’t know when he was muted and when he wasn’t; perhaps that was the torture he was able to put me through.
And when he pushed his hips forward, the breath was knocked out of me from the
“Dream—!”
A loud click on his keyboard led a groan, and he kicked us away from the desk harshly.
“You’re so in trouble,” he moaned quietly as if he were still unmuted, even though I knew he would never risk that, and he leaned back in his chair with both hands holding my waist tightly. “Wasn’t fucking muted.”
”Sorry,” I stuttered and then I let all the moans I kept inside pour out. He looked up at me and held my hair back. Tears welled in my eyes from the feeling of how deep he pushed.
”You trying to act up or something?”
“How do you know that wasn’t the plan?” I choked out in between moans as his hands guided me up and down for himself. I don’t think I moved anymore; he used me like he had clearly been dying to.
“Oh so you want me to tear you apart?”
“Please—“ I gasped. “I need you so bad.”
“You think you need me that bad? We’ll see how bad you need it if you can be patient for another 20 minutes.”
“Not if you can’t last that long—“ My sentence hardly left my mouth before he slapped my ass. I fell into him and bit down on my arm. And his hips met mine harsher.
”Oh my fucking god—Dream yes please, you feel so—“
”Yeah?” He laughed. “That’s what I thought. Keep—holy shit—keep fucking doing that.”
And he went back to his game. Cruelly, might I add.
It went on.
I went faster and faster, then harsh hands would still my waist. I knew he bruised me, and in a few hours he would kiss them and repeatedly say sorry, but I didn’t care. I wanted them. Needed them; I needed him permanently on my body, in my body.
”Oh my—“ he gasped suddenly and his fingertips and nails dug into my skin. I yelped and watched his face as his eyes shut tightly and lips part. I slowed my movements and simply watched him; my thumb pulled at his bottom lip as he came to.
”Stop it,” he said. “I’m so—fucking stop!” He must have muted.
”What? You going to cum or something?”
”I swear to god,” he laughed. I bit my lip from laughing at him, but he yanked me down on him and I couldn’t move anymore. “You make me cum and I won’t touch you for a month.”
”Dream—“ I gasped. That was too much.
”Yeah, I’m fucking serious, baby.”
”Just—Just hurry then.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder as my body burned. My desperation ate me alive until I yanked my hoodie off and tied my hair up so it wouldn’t touch my flushed skin.
Of course that distracted him for a moment. His eyes tore across my bare skin so I took the opportunity and moved faster. His hand grabbed me reflexively, but that was when he noticed the tears in my skin from his nails.
”Fuck,” he whispered. “Sor—“
”Uh-Hu,” I told him as I shook my head quickly. “Said I needed you.”
”About to-About to end now,” he gasped.
His own desperation melted the frustration and dominance from him like I anticipated. And god, I loved it.
I held onto him again to give him space and watch the screens and close the livestream. It took another two minutes, but when his headphones came off, I sat up again and brought my hips up and down properly.
”Holy shit!” He cried and tossed his head back.
”Fuck fuck fuck,” I laughed as I finally moved the way I wanted. For the first time I wasn’t uncomfortable with the sound of our skin against each other.
”Look so fucking good,” he moaned. His hands were still on my waist and led me up and down. And his eyes fell lower in between us.
I leaned back and supported my elbows on the edge of his desk.
“Please,” I gasped.
”Please what?” Fuck that ridiculous airy teasing tone. As much as it irritated me, it crawled under my skin and told me I needed more and more.
”Just fuck me already, I need it so hard, please—“ I was out of his lap in an instant. I held onto him as he stumbled with me to the bed. “Dream—holy shit—“
He pinned me to the soft bedding with a kiss. I tugged him down by his hair. I couldn’t believe how riled up I was; sure it had been over 30 minutes of this push and pull, but this was something new. Something I hadn’t experienced before.
I moaned loudly in his mouth the moment he finally took control. He stood up and his hands fell down to where they belonged.
”You are so fucking bad,” he laughed. “I cannot believe we did this.”
”Just needed you,” I whined. I couldn’t tell if he could understand what I said through the loudness of my moans. Thank god the offices were soundproof. I had no idea if George or Sapnap were still live.
”I know.” His voice was quieter; face softened as if he felt bad. “Wanted you for so damn long.” Then he leaned down and finally my arms wrapped around him to keep him close. I fell lost under his kisses and touches, and I wanted so badly for him to stay close, but that itch deep inside of me wasn’t being scratched. Fuck, I loved the closeness, it was all I ever wanted the past few months. However, I needed to feel.
Sometimes I couldn’t feel without intensity.
”Harder, please I need it; want it so bad—“
”Yeah? Is that really what you want?” His whisper pulled a groan out of me, and he pushed the hair around my face that fell from the ponytail I haphazardly made.
Tears blurred my vision all over again. My back arched in frustration.
“Yes! Obviously, just—“
”What do you say?” Again, that sweet tone stung my bones. My heart melted under his hands and that stupid gleam of boyish anticipation in his gaze set me off.
”Please! Please fuck me, I need you so deep inside of me. Want to feel you for days.”
”Turn over, baby.” My stomach fell out of its place as I scrambled around. My stomach met his bed as my toes hit the floor. I balled the blankets in my hands and held my breath to prepare—
All at once, the room spun around me and my body was lit on fire. He shoved himself inside of me and stopped holding back. I pushed my face into the bed because yeah, the offices were soundproof, but I don’t think they were that soundproofed. A trail of expletives and words I couldn’t remember spilled out of me as he filled me relentlessly.
”Oh my fucking god, ugh—“ His moans filled the air this time, and that was when I felt a harsh tug in my hair. He grabbed my ponytail at the roots and yanked. With a gasp, I lifted into the air and supported myself on the bed with my hands. “No no,” he said with a shakingly quiet voice. “That’s not fair; don’t cover your face with the blankets. Want to hear you. Tell me how good it feels.”
”Oh fuck!” If he wanted to hear me, then he would hear me because I ran out of stamina to keep quiet. “So-So good, Dream, you feel so good. Can-Can feel you everywhere.”
”Yeah? Tell me you love it. Tell me you love how hard I fuck you.”
”Holy shit I love it. I love how hard you fuck me—oh my god—you feel so damn good. I love you.”
”I love you too, baby,” he said in my hair; he still didn’t let go of it. After he kissed my head, his fingers on my hips tightened. “Now tell me when you want to cum.”
”I already have to, please, please let me cum already.”
”You’re so cute—oh fuck—but I told you to tell me when you want to.”
”I want to!” My voice broke. God, the pressure was too much. It built too much too fast; I didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t allow me to soon. “I want to cum now.”
”You do?”
Shit.
That tone again.
That stupid sweetheart tone.
“But what have you done to deserve it?”
”I’m-I’m so good for you I-I didn’t make you cum earlier, I told you how good you feel, I-I—”
”Trying to convince me you’re so good for me?”
”Oh my fucking—Dream I’m serious I’m going to. I can’t fucking—“
”Okay baby, holy shit, I know I’m—oh my god I’m cumming.“ The pleasure was all too much for me to handle so I couldn’t process anything else he said. He pulled out of me, and when he did, the pressure released.
All of it happened in a few seconds—
I think I cried his name when my orgasm took me by the throat. My eyes clamped shut and knees gave out; the only reason I didn’t fall to them was because his hand hooked under my hips still. My body writhed from the pleasure, and I was still coming to terms with how much of a mess I made. My thighs pressed together when rivers drenched them and I felt a few cold drops hit the bottom of my legs and feet.
After he finished over me, which was so quick I didn’t even think he had to touch himself after he pulled out, his hand trailed from my hips to my front. I knew he tried to get everything out of me, but I didn’t want it. I did, but I couldn’t handle it.
”Dream! Oh my god, no no no I can’t—“
”Again for me, I know you can; it was so fucking hot.”
”Fuck!“ I shouted again and my hand tried to grab his.
”Hell no,” he laughed. When I felt his free hand reach over and grab mine, I ultimately gave up. Once he grabbed my other wrist, he pinned them to my back. “Squirt for me, do it again baby. Drench me.” And the second his fingers worked me again, I let go and finally, it felt complete.
I relaxed into the blankets with vain attempts to catch my breath. Dream let go of my hands gently and kissed up my back.
“I’m sorry, baby.” There it was. His voice was quiet as he said those words just as I anticipated.
”For what?” I really gasped for breath trying to gather myself. His hands grazed my skin and I felt his eyes staring at every part of me.
“Well hold on,” he said as I tried to move. “I’m using your pants, okay?”
”Whatever,” I laughed.
“I shouldn’t have neglected you to this point,” he spoke as he cleaned his release off my skin. “I feel bad and don’t want to hurt you—“
”Dream,” I grumbled and turned over when he finished cleaning me.
Holy fuck.
It would take a lot for him to convince me to take him from behind for a while. The flush of his face, how messy his hair was, and that hazy gaze in his eyes were too intoxicating for me to miss out on again.
”I want you to relax. You have been so damn stressed and working for so long that I just wanted you to release your pent up stress. I thought finishing the video would help, but it didn’t really seem to do it.”
”So you thought fucking me on stream would?” I laughed and felt my face heat up.
”I mean, it made you upset enough to fuck the shit out of me and you already seem to feel better.” I touched his face and he leaned into it. His hand covered mine.
”I know, I do.” It sounded like he didn’t want to admit it, but at least he did. “We’ll all take a long long break once everything for this project is finalized.”
”Good. Because you really deserve it.”
Comment to be added to Dream Taglist
Love, Rosie
#dreamblr#404blr#dwt x reader#dreamwastaken x reader#dreamwastaken#18+ only#rosie writings#rosie hub#minors dni
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My dad died yesterday, he was 63
I would like to share a little about him and our story if anyone wants to read, this is not a happy story
My parents divorced when I was three and I went to live with my mom so I saw my dad's life in snapshots, once a week at first and then once a year when he moved abroad and I would spend the summers with him. Every time I would catch up with him he would have a different partner or apartment.
My time with him was always fun, he was laid back, adventurous and open, he would let me do all kinds of crazy stuff while my mom was the strict one. He was a genius to me, he taught me how to program my own games when I was nine, he would make me take computers and appliances apart and reassemble them to teach me how they worked, he made me love science, the outdoors and travelling. He was great at teaching and cooking and driving. He worked on tours for famous musicians as a sound tech, he made 3D films for museums and theme parks when it was all very new, he was a photographer, a programmer, electrician, mechanic, artist and could play many instruments and write poetry!!
The first crack between us was when there was a huge split between my mom's side of the family and his over money and a lot of ugly truths stared coming to light. I realized that when it came to money he was willing to put himself before me and the fights between him and my mom were awful. But in the end once the dust settled we both pretended it never happened.
One weekend I went to visit him and realized his current girlfriend would stick around at last and she had a daughter almost my age!! I now had a little sister and I loved it.
A year later the country fell apart and he fled abroad along with them and even though I missed them I would visit for months at a time every year. I saw him start his life over, he started his own company and I was so proud of him!!
Everything was great for eight years, until one day he told me that my step mom and sister left him and he would sell everything and come back to the country. This was the last time I would ever hear of them, they vanished, I mourned my step sister for years. This was also when his life fell apart.
At 17 adulthood came with a lot of revelations. My mom told me that my dad had been an addict since he was very young, before I was born, my whole life, cocaine and alcohol amongst other things, and everyone around him had been putting up with it and helping him but couldn't take it anymore. He had cheated on her when they had me and had cheated on my step mom too. He would lie to get what he wanted and trusting him was getting increasingly harder.
All of my memories of him were now seen through a different lens. I felt betrayed. I could now tell every time he had been high, and knew where the money he asked of me when to, I was aware of every little lie. I was angry and frustrated at him for the pain he caused my mom and everyone around him. And for squandering the potential I knew he had, for always making the wrong decisions, one mistake after another. And I hated feeling this way the most.
After he came back to the country alone he could never recover, he would relapse, overdose, refuse rehab or any medical help. He would escape psychiatrics facilities and hospitals in the middle of the night, he was a menace!! lmao.
Our relationship was still good despite all this, different but still standing, he had always been my friend even if he wasn't the best at being a dad or partner, I would always scold him and tell him of different job opportunities I came up with for him to try out but now there was this distance between us. I became the parent of the relationship in a way and he didn't like being told what to do. I saw him spiral and I was scared for him.
I've always heard all these stories about addicts finding purpose and fighting for their loved ones, so every time he would jokingly talk to me about how high he was and seemed to enjoy it despite my warnings and pleading it made me feel like I was not enough of a reason to get better, as self centered as it may be I was a teen and I felt powerless to stop him, insignificant. People could get better for their children, but not for me.
I knew this way of thinking was flawed and selfish and he was the one struggling, I knew he was a victim. I spent the last of my teenage years and early twenties trying to fight back this feeling so I could preserve our relationship, we always kept in contact but over time he changed and was no longer the person I knew.
He became a stranger, often times incoherent and delusional, his views changed, he was paranoid, his addiction got worse and worse and now all I could feel was pity and guilt, our once good relationship was now reduced to a few interactions where he would ask me for money, I knew I was possibly funding his self destruction and he was likely lying to me but he also needed to pay for medication and so I couldn't refuse him.
I had my own life now, a husband and plans for the future. When I decided to move abroad a few years ago I knew our hug goodbye could be the last, he was broke and unstable but I thought once I was settled and had a job and a citizenship I could have enough money to get him tickets to visit and show him the life I had made for myself like he had done in my childhood.
But then Covid happened, and he would never agree to make calls. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, I would ask about his health and he would say he was fine. He wasn't fine, he was smoking 4 packs a day. He got the cancer removed but refused further treatment, he said he didn't have any purpose left in life and no reasons to keep living, he had a stroke and couldn't feel half his body when he was forcibly hospitalized, his cancer had spread and he hadn't been eating for a long time, he hid all this from me, I first heard it from my aunt in tears over the phone yesterday, he tried to escape the hospital in the night and had to be tied up and sedated, he never woke up.
He died alone, all that is left of his family is me and my aunt and we both live in different countries. There is nobody there to even bury him. I feel like I abandoned him. I've always known I would feel this way when this day came, in a way I've been mourning him for many years and have carried this guilt for even longer.
I had the coolest dad, cocaine took him away. I wish this had a better and uplifting message. I just wanted to get this off my chest. He taught me a lot and made me who I am, and I have a lot of great memories with him. He struggled all of his life with his mental health and despite it all he was still amazing and deserved so much better.
He always said that when he was a ghost he would follow me around, I hope he isl!! so I can live for both of us, I love you dad!! and I'm so sorry 🕯️
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break. (LN)
summary: lando is on break with his girlfriend, but he can’t seem to stop training.
warnings: angst, some small fighting, one cuss word, suggestive at the end but no actual smut.
type: blurb
masterlist here -> masterlist link
^ check my list for all posts! ^
summer break for formula one drivers were generally filled with excitement, beaches, yachts, and alcohol. getting tanned by a crystal clear pool while reading a book. sure, that sounded nice, but your boyfriend had different ideas for his break.
no, not mountain climbing, or visiting family, not even sleeping in. lando was determined to train all day, every day, leaving you with no boyfriend for days at a time.
you would go to sleep with his side of the bed empty, maybe waking up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, one of the few times you got to see him. when you awoke, his spot was cold, probably up for hours now. no doubt running, or lifting weights, possibly using the simulator.
trying to get lando to stop was futile. he was stubborn and eager to win after break. and of course, you wanted him to win as well. not that it mattered as much to you as it did him, but you loved how happy he got when he won.
his face red, but smiling down at you from the podium while he sprays you with the champagne. for days he would be happy, until the next race. he would say that now he needs to win the next one. you didn’t care if he won, as long as he was safe and came home to you.
and now that he was home, you saw him less, it seemed. you had texted kika in hopes of getting her ideas. she, of course, being the sweetheart she is, invited you and lando to go to italy with them for a month. when you asked lando, he simply said, “no, can’t afford that distraction.” kika frowned on the phone, understanding fully how stubborn these drivers got.
so that brought you here, watching yet another old emma chamberlain video while drinking your dr.pepper. it was comforting, but what would be more comforting was if your boyfriend would come spend some time with you.
you paused the video, letting the frame freeze as emma was driving in the car, and you got up to find lando.
when you walked into his gaming room, you saw him on the simulator, exactly where he was hours ago.
“lando?” all you received was a small ‘hm?’
you stood at the door, your heart dropping a bit as he was too focused on his track.
“are you hungry, love? we can order some pizza and watch a movie.” you looked at him as you spoke and as he paused his track.
“i’m really not all that hungry, you can order some though, maybe i’ll have some later when i have time.” he sniffed, drinking some of his water and grabbing another from his mini fridge by his desk.
that was the issue. you could order pizza alone. watch a movie alone. go to sleep alone. how many more things were you expected to do alone?
“right, okay. have fun, lando.” you spoke, sarcasm dripping from your voice as you slammed the door before he even got a chance to open his mouth. of course he knew he wasn’t spending as much time with you, but he didn’t know really how long it had been since he had given you a kiss, a hug, hell, even had sex with you.
you did though. one week ago you got a walk-by kiss on the cheek, a hug about two weeks ago, and sex was a month ago. a whole month and he didn’t seem to notice.
you quickly slipped your shoes on, grabbed your purse and keys by the door, and left. lando wasn’t far behind, opening the door as your car pulled out and down the street.
“fuck…” lando muttered as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. he suddenly realized that it was eight thirty at night, dark out and he hadn’t spoken to you once that day. hell, when was the last time he spoke to you, he thought, running his hand through his hair has he grabbed his keys for the other car.
you however, at this point, were in the mcdonalds drive through and paying by the time he had drove to your spot, exactly where you drove next, not knowing he had left the house.
your spot was this beautiful cliff, overlooking the city. it had one swing to sit on and a little table near it for drinks.
once you arrived, bag and drink in hands, you walked over to your swing, only to find it moving. as you neared closer, you saw curly brown hair. you sighed, letting your shoulder drop.
seeing lando was much better than some weird stranger, but you weren’t in the mood to talk.
like he had heard your inner thoughts, lando patted the swing beside him, “we don’t need to talk, we can just sit, if you’d like.” he peered up at you as you bit your bottom lip, something he always intervened when he could. he’d pull your lip out with his thumb and would tell you to stop, how it drove him crazy.
you nodded and sat, an hour had gone by as you both just sat and listened to the sounds of nature surrounding you. the food was finished a while ago, of course you bought food for lando, you were upset, but you always wanted to help him. you figured you would take it home, to his gaming room, no words spoken, as you went to bed.
but here you were: comfortable silence and slight swings with the night breeze.
“why did you come out here?” you asked, turning to look at lando, seeing his eyes look sadder than usual.
“i’m so sorry. i didn’t realize how much i have been absent, i-“ you cut him off.
“you didn’t realize, lando? seriously? your day consists of running, protein shake, workout, simulator, shake, more running, a shower, and sleeping just to wake up at five in the morning. but you didn’t realize? don’t fucking pull that.” you shook your head releasing a mix of a laugh and scoff.
“i know. i know i’ve been the worst boyfriend this past month, and i’m sorry, and before you say anything, i know sorry doesn’t fix it. but please just give me a chance to fix this summer break?” he questioned, voice trembling.
“are you gonna cry, lan?” you asked, voice softer as you furrowed your brows.
“wha-what? no. no of course not. i just-“ he sniffed, rubbing his nose as your eyes welled up. you understood how stressed he was. he shouldn’t be ignoring you, but this is his job. you could try to make sense of it, but you would just get a headache.
“lando, don’t be dramatic. i’m not going to break up with you. i was going to ignore you but…” you trailed off, smiling as he laughed, making you laugh a bit.
“i was thinking, maybe we could go to spain? carlos has his whole house free, besides himself, daniel, and his cousin.” he asked, looking hopeful.
“mm, that’s a nice offer.” his heart dropped, thinking that was a ‘no.’
“i’d love to go, lando. but no excessive training, or i will seriously never sleep with you again.” you teased as he gasped.
“we must fix this, come on, we are going home. i’m going to show you just how much you mean to me.” he got up, holding his hand out as you took it and walked to your cars.
the last thing you heard before lando got in his car, was, “race you home! last one there doesn’t get to cum tonight.”
which, unfortunately, didn’t click for a few seconds, making you jump in your car. and unfortunately again, you got him last, of course.
_______________________________________________
(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)
#formula 1#f1#formula one#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris angst#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oc#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#lando norris blurb#lando norris
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WELCOME HOME, RASCAL! (a SAGAU)
synopsis. kamisato ayato, a character you’ve been waiting for the past eight months is finally rerunning on the limited-character banner. your luck on the last banner had left you devastated but this time, after being isekai’d into the world of genshin impact, should bring it up a notch.
tags. gn!creator!reader + fluff + implied reader x ayato + but technically this whole concept is like the genshin men x reader lmao + reader is physically affectionate
warnings. none
wc. 1.3k
an. this was inspired by my successful and expensive ayato pulls from last year <//3 also i KNOW the reader is the creator and could technically “pull” for ayato even without wishes but ykw lets say this creator!reader wanted to do the dirty work so they could have the satisfaction when they pull for him (take a fucking shot every time you read pull omg </3)
you’re staring at the sky, inhaling and exhaling heavily. there’s a thin sheen of sweat down your back which makes your clothes cling to you uncomfortably. a breeze blows past your nose, gently tickling you.
venti, i’m fine i promise. you sigh in your mind, knowing where that gust of wind came from. seems like he’s visiting mondstadt today.
for the past few minutes, you’ve been having a staring contest with the sky. your acolytes—your companions—grow worried at the sight of you. you’re unmoving and it also looks as if you’ve stopped breathing.
“your grace?” albedo calls out to you, giving you a soft smile. “the skies are ready for your command.”
you sigh, nodding your head. “yes, i’m aware. i’m just a little—” worried. you finish your sentence in your thoughts.
it’s been a while since you pulled on the limited-character banner.
you’ve been saving for ayato, specifically.
you have exactly sixty wishes—yes, you’re aware how risky it is to pull because if all goes wrong there is no backup plan. you’re tapping your finger against your lips to contemplate your decision again.
“your grace, if it makes you feel any better, i’m happy to remind you that you are the commander of the stars,” thoma’s voice pipes up and your expression shatters with a nervous smile.
“thank you, thoma. i appreciate it.”
“my lord will heed your words, you can count on it!” thoma encourages you, nodding his head like a puppy and you almost coo if it weren’t for the current situation.
you maintain your composure, lifting your hand to pet thoma’s head fondly. “i hope you never change.”
itto, who’s vibrating on the side next to shinobu, is ecstatic to hear about the homecoming of his best bro. honestly, he was just about as sad as you when he didn’t come home the last time. “hit it, your grace!” he yells in excitement.
you turn to the skies that are now a grand mixture of oranges and gold in your abode. “what the oni said!” you grin, voice loud and clear.
your other companions normally watch from the sidelines as you command the skies—or to modern day language—while you make a ten pull for kamisato ayato. there are cheers of excitement and simple “good luck’s” that are thrown into the air, easing the atmosphere and your nerves.
the holographic button shines, the “wish x10” button stares back at you and when you tap on it, a mesmerising shower of blue and purple stars rain across the sky. it is certainly a sight to see. it rivals the meteor showers from your home world. and only those in your abode get the opportunity to witness such a moment. you watch as the blue stars fall in front of you, wisping away and materialising into three star weapons.
you also receive a few constellations for some four star characters including kujou sara and rosaria but other than that, there hasn’t been any sighting of gold in the sky.
“your grace, look up!” tighnari calls you out of your thoughts and your eyes immediately capture the colour of a radiant gold, the dissipating tail of the star glitters like a sunset on the horizon.
you don’t even realise how your feet take you to where the star lands on the grassy field of your abode. you gasp for air to keep up with the excitement but you can’t deny the apprehension that crawls up your spine in anticipation.
“delighted to serve you, your grace.”
you gasp. this voice-
lo and behold, the yashiro commissioner himself appears before you, expression cool and posture poise. only he could ever uphold such grace and elegance.
“ayato! how are you? how was the journey? how do you feel?” you plaster your hands onto the man’s cheeks, checking to see if there were any scars while you bombard him with questions. your hand briefly holds onto his biceps before straightening down his outer coat endearingly.
it’s to everyone’s knowledge of how much of an honour it is for you to physically touch somebody, you are their creator for goodness sake! your hands are delicate yet so powerful at the same time. just a snap of your fingers could erase the existence of teyvat.
so the normally composed commissioner in front of you is rather stunned by your actions. although the experience he’s gained from spending years in politics and serving higher authorities, none of those moments would have ever prepared him for somebody above his rank to react the way you did. he’s stuck in place. you’re so… affectionate. and you carry it with you so boldly too!
goodness me. ayato panics, pursing his lips to contain his smile that desperately tries to reveal itself. “i… i am very well, thank you, your grace.” he avoids your starry-like eyes, voice quieter than usual.
thoma has to use his whole body to stifle his laughter at his lords’ face. how many times are you—is anybody ever going to see the yashiro commissioner so flustered?! oh, he’s never going to hear the end of this from thoma.
“my lord! it seems you’ve been received well.” thoma gives his lord a bright smile and ayato’s eye twitches at the short snicker that comes after his retainer's words. if only my lady were here, she would be giggling along so much too! thoma adds in his mind.
ayato clears his throat, “of course, it’s an honour to be received directly by their grace.” he bows his head towards you and you feel your heart skip a beat at his respectful gesture.
but it’s not the time to be feeling like this. you need to steel your heart. there is still a part of you that wants to scold him for not coming home earlier. “don’t scare me like that again! you had me so worried eight months ago.” you smile through your words but it doesn’t fool the yashiro commissioner.
“that was an oversight on my part, your grace.” heh, figured he’d say something along those lines. “how can i make it up to you?”
hm, how can he make it up to me? you put your chin between your thumb and curled index finger. actually, does he even have to? he’s already here and that’s good enough for me.
“well if you could make yourself comfortable in my humble abode, it’d ease my worries.” you turn your head towards the estate before looking back at him, noticing a strand of his soft blue hair flying in the air. you smile fondly, raising your hand to pat it down.
his eyes animatedly look up to follow where your hand went, and he huffs another soft chuckle at your actions. he’s only been blessed by your appearance once during an official meeting with the raiden shogun and other inazuman officials but who knew you were so loving and gentle in person?
they’re so… adorable. yes, that’s the correct term for them. ayato thinks to himself.
“might i ask if your grace could give me a tour around?”
your eyes sparkle as you nod your own head. “of course i can!”
ayato follows your lead around the abode, listening to your constant chatter, never missing a single word you say. he also gets introduced to everyone in the abode, giving them all a brief introduction with some simple exchanges in between.
you have to hold in your laughter when itto refers to the commissioner as ‘my bro’ again. it seems it still hasn’t occurred to the oni of “his bro’s” identity.
“your grace, i would be delighted to invite you over to the estate for some tea if you have no schedules in the upcoming week,” ayato suggests with a small smile on his face.
you raise a brow. “are you busy right now?”
ayato hums, going over his mental list of things to do. “actually i don’t have a meeting until tomorrow morning.”
“then it’s settled, we’ll have some tea right now!” you offer your hand out to him and he takes it, who is he to decline?
with a soft grunt that leaves his lips from your stronger-than-expected tug of the hand, ayato lets you lead him into your abode.
#ayato x reader#sagau x reader#sagau fluff#ayato fluff#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#kamisato ayato x reader#genshin impact x reader
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Burden
Carmy Berzatto & SIL!Reader
+ Past!Michael Berzatto x F!Reader
Summary: After Michael's death, you moved out of Chicago and took the kids to be closer to your family. A year later, you come back to see the Berzattos and on your last day you have a heart-to-heart with Carmy.
Content/Warnings: Angst, Grief, Guilt, Mention of Death and Suicide.
Word Count: 1,6k
A/N: Carmy calls reader Sis.
— You can read below or at AO3.
Being back in Chicago hurts more than you could have imagined. Even if it's just for a short visit, so your kids can reconnect with their aunt and uncle.
This isn’t the most exciting trip you’ve ever taken, but at the end it’s sad to leave this city behind once again. That feeling won’t ever go away. After all, this is the place where you met and built a life with Michael. This is where your two kids were born. And like in all good tragedies, this is also the place where your soul mate decided to abandon you when he took an early exit by his own hand.
A year later, you're still dealing with the aftermath of it all.
You moved to Minneapolis to be closer to your family mere days after your oldest daughter finished her school year. It was the right choice for all of you. But you all miss being closer to the Berzattos. You've always had a great relationship with most of them.
Natalie has been a great support, even in distance; even when battling with her own grief. She's the one you’ve talked to more often and the one who gave you that little push you needed to come visit.
It’s been a hectic week, especially since they’re reopening The Beef — The Bear — now, and they’re running against the clock to have everything ready for the launch next month. You haven’t stepped inside the restaurant since before Michael's death, and that’s something you can’t still bring yourself to do.
On your last day in the city, Aunt Natalie and Uncle Pete take your eight-year-old Madison and, god help them, your two-year-old Aiden for a fun day out while you hang back in the house.
You take that as an opportunity to pack everything for tomorrow and to finally get the guts to call Carmy to invite him for lunch and have some quality time with him for old times’ sake.
In regard to your brother-in-law, you’ve both been more distant toward the other than you used to be. He's become more reserved after Michael's death, and all your energy has been put on your two kids, and poorly handling everything else.
Back in the day, when Michael was still alive, you were the one to always call Carmy when Mikey stopped ditching his brother’s calls altogether. At some point, you ran out of excuses to give to Carmen on behalf of your husband's behavior. So, you’d just say – Just Mikey being Mikey.
Carmy and you knew that was bullshit.
Michael had a gregarious nature that remained unchanged until the last second. It’s hard to believe it was just a mask he put on to keep everyone happy, including you.
It begs to question what else you didn’t know about Michael, or if there was something different you could’ve done or said to change the outcome of that night.
Nothing has ever filled you with more guilt and remorse for not paying closer attention. It has also left you with a lot of anger the way he chose to leave you and the kids to your own devices. You know it's selfish, cause he had to be hurt beyond words to commit an act like that. The Michael you remember would have never done anything as such. It unnerves you that he didn't feel comfortable enough to come and talk to you. And you've exhausted your mind going over and over all the events preceding that day, searching for something that you'd have said that would have pushed him farther into that abyss. Something was off, and you should have tried harder to figure out what was going on with Michael. But in the midst of handling two young kids and your own job, you missed all the clues to Michael's secret affliction.
Regardless of that, Michael will always be the person you've loved the most, along with your children, and while the wound is still open and bleeding, you need to try to mend that relationship with Carmen before it's too late.
You're folding a pile of clean clothes and sorting them in your suitcase when the doorbell rings.
Swallowing that anxious lump in your throat, you open the door and greet him.
“Hope you don't mind, I ordered some pizza. I'm not much of a cook and figured you'd been so busy with… I didn't want you to…”
“No, that's fine, Sis. Pizza is perfect,” he's clearly nervous too when he takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair. “So they left you alone, huh?”
“Yeah. Aiden is probably driving them nuts. Do you want something to drink?” you gesture toward the kitchen.
“Uh, sure.”
Carmy follows you into the kitchen. He gets a soda, and you get a glass of water.
This is the first time you've seen him alone without Natalie or the kids around to interrupt. It feels a little awkward to be honest. Everything is still so raw for all of you, that locking eyes with Carmy's steel blue gaze feels like being stabbed with cold daggers. It's hard to look at him without seeing yourself in that same sea of despair.
Sipping his drink, his attention is drawn to a picture that Sugar took of Aiden a few days ago, pinned under a magnet on the fridge's door.
“He's gotten so big since…” Carmy trails off, pointing at your toddler. “How are they doing?”
“The kids?” he nods at you. “They're fine for the most part. Aiden is easier. He doesn't…” you don't have to finish the sentence for him to pick up what you mean. He was still a baby when it happened and until he's older, you won't be able to explain what happened. “And Madison… She really, really misses her dad, you know? She tries to put on a brave face, but some days she doesn't want to talk. And every other night she ends up in my bed begging me to not ever leave her.” You place the glass down on the counter, turn around to face the window, so he doesn't see the tears streaming down your face. “Ugh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't burden you with this. You have enough already with…”
“Don't apologize, Sis. God, I hate him for doing that to you and the kids,” Carmen says softly.
“You shouldn't. He was your brother. It was my fault after all. I should've… I'm sorry.”
“Don't go there, Sis. It was nobody's fault.”
“No, it was. I was supposed to look after him, and I failed. He just left one night… and never came back. And I should've seen. I should've known… ”
“Listen,” there's a pause and a sigh while he gathers the rambling of his thoughts. “I have no idea what was going on with him. You and I both know that he could barely talk to me. And these past few months, I've found out things about him that I don't completely understand. But if there's one thing I know about Michael is that he loved you and the kids more than anything, and wouldn't want you to blame yourself for what he did. That's on him. I'm not gonna let you do that, okay?”
Staring at the sink, you vaguely nod, and wipe your tears. Guilting yourself over Michael's death is something that's going to follow you always. Even if it wasn't your fault. There are things about that night that still don't sit right with you. Every day, you wish you could go back in time and scream at yourself to look closer, pay attention, and ask him to stay that night you saw him leave for the last time.
“He was so stubborn sometimes. I should've pushed him harder to talk to you.”
“That's not on you, either. I know you tried.”
“He was very proud of you, you know?” you finally glance over yourself to see his reaction.
Though you knew Michael was highly proud of his little brother, he never got to express that face to face, or even on the phone. Maybe telling Carmy what you know could help him a little.
“Was he?” His head heavily slumps into his shoulders as a response, as if he wasn't completely sure Michael cared at all. He said he did, – I give a huge fuck, – Carmy recalls his brother saying that eventful Christmas. But after that, things went stale again, and he was back to being the odd man out.
“He was incredibly proud of you, Carmen,” you reassure him. “Michael really, really loved you, and respected you so much.”
“Maybe he did, but he didn’t want me here.”
“It wasn’t like that. He… Michael thought you deserved much better than to end up with him stuck in that hole in the wall. His words,” you point out. “He thought you were artistic and talented, and having you working with him would've kept you from going to Copenhagen and working in the best restaurants in the world. He believed that you could do anything, and needed to go out and chase that dream for both, for you and him, and experience everything that he couldn’t.”
“He told you that?” He moves to stand next to you, bracing his palms on the counter.
“Maybe not in that many words, but yeah.”
“He could have done any of that, too.”
“Yeah, he could’ve. But that’s not what he wanted. He took his chances with what he got, and that was his path. Not yours, Carmy. I should’ve told you earlier, it’s just…”
“… Hard. Tell me about it.”
“I’ve missed talking to you. I wasn’t trying to push you away like he did.”
“I know, Sis. I know. You have your hands full. I wasn't expecting you to. I get it. You can call anytime, you know? If the kids are giving you a hard time, or you just need to talk… I’m not Natalie, but I can listen.”
“Yeah, likewise.”
You both timidly smile at the other, and the burden weighing on your shoulders lightens just a little.
#the bear fanfiction#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#michael berzatto#michael berzatto x reader#the bear fx#the bear#jeremy allen white#jon bernthal#angst#darlingwrites#requests
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||The Thread of Fate|| Part Nine
Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.
Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)
Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.
Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,
A/N: So I didn't mean to stay away for so long but then life happened :/ Anyway! Hope you guys enjoy this REALLY long chapter!
To say it had been a close call would be an understatement. Not only had they escaped the Fire Nation Princess as well as the Fire Nation in the past few weeks, but somehow had managed to evade capture once more by two unknown assailants from the Earth Kingdom.
Hiding away in flower pots had certainly not been a comfortable idea, but it proved effective.
While the shopkeeper's son wheeled them away from the small village that had offered them refuge, Orora's mind caught up with all that had happened since yesterday.
Finding someone to help them.
The strange Pai Sho game.
The White Lotus Tile.
Escaping the Oasis.
Iroh's strange meeting.
Falling asleep on Zuko's shoulder.
The last one had a blush stealing across her cheeks, and the memory of it had her stomach flipping in on itself.
It was ridiculous just how strangely her body was reacting to what had happened. Especially when the waking up part had involved Zuko suddenly jumping to his feet and her body flopping to the side on the dirt floor.
He didn't even apologize for it, which only added to her annoyance of having been so rudely awakened.
As her annoyance faded to mild irritation, her mind began to wander had just how much her life had changed within the past few months.
Not only had she left home and her family, but she had also found herself a Master who could teach her. Her healing abilities had increased exponentially given the severity of the patients she had taken care of, not to mention how many she had treated. She had learned how to fight, a feat she was most proud of considering she barely had any training. The Moon Spirit herself had visited her and offered her advice. Her fingers unconsciously brushed against the white patch in her hair.
And then there was the fact that she had also found her soulmate.
Albeit one she could never accept but still. Not a lot of girls from the Northern Water Tribe claimed to have found their soulmates. Most of them had their marriages arranged to someone of their father's choosing before they could do so.
So perhaps she was fortunate enough to know who he was.
Just too bad he was the Fire Nation Prince.
Running a hand down her face the water bender sighed. "I need to stop fixating on him so much." She muttered to herself.
————————–
Boarding the boat that would carry them closer to their destination went about with no obstacles. Which was strange considering up till now whatever plan that was made hit a snag or two along the way. Still, she wasn't about to question fate and did remain on guard should anything go awry.
Her blue eyes were focused on the dock as it slowly grew smaller as the boat sailed away. Her Master had expressed his excitement by proclaiming himself a tourist, while Zuko remained as he preferred.
Pouting and brooding in a corner.
She barely overheard what they were speaking of, content on simply gazing at the clear water. She could see her reflection in it, could see the white patch of hair she had been blessed with.
Was that what it was then? A blessing by the Moon Spirit. Lifting her hand she brushed the tips of her fingers against the strands, tilting her head as she continued to observe her reflection. She wasn't someone who cared too much about her looks, but she didn't think she was unpleasant to look at. Cutting off her hair had been humbling in her opinion, and necessary. And the short hair did suit her, the strands now coming to just curl under her chin, the tips barely touching her collarbone. Still was she someone who could be described as being pretty? She pursed her lips, dropping her hand and shaking her head. Honestly, what was wrong with her? There were other more pressing things to worry about then her appearance.
"Orora, my dear." Iroh's voice barely registered in her mind, so lost she was as she gazed at the water, though she did make a small humming sound, to show she had heard him.
"It would seem there are a few passengers in need of your abilities."
That got her attention. Standing straight, the young girl followed his line of sight to see a young mother trying to console her small child. The little boy's arm was in makeshift sling, and even from here Orora could see how awkwardly the boy was holding his arm.
With an encouraging nod from her Master, the young waterbender slowly approached the duo. The mother looked up as she came closer.
"I'm sorry if his crying is disturbing you. It's just he's hurt an-" Orora shook her head, letting her lips curve into what she hoped was a friendly smile. "That is not the reason why I came. I'm a Healer, and I wanted to see if I could do something to help him."
So saying she bent down on her knees and reached out a hand towards the boy. "May I?" The mother looked a little unsure, but the child let out a loud whimper and she relented. Removing the sling, Orora uncorked her water pouch and coated her hands with the liquid. It glowed under her touch, mesmerizing the boy and distracting him from the pain as well as the fever that raged through his tiny body.
"It is a small break, but one I will be able to fix." Orora observed. She pressed her hands atop the boy's arm and took a deep breath. The blue glow around her hands intensified briefly before dying down. "Now try to move your arm." She encouraged with a smile, once she had removed her hands.
The boy was hesitant at first, but when no pain radiated from his injury, he let out a bright, happy laugh before swinging his arm around. Orora couldn't help but laugh lightly at his enthusiasm. "Well, it looks like you're all better now." She turned her attention to the mother who was looking at her in utter disbelief.
"He'll need something to make sure his fever goes away." Reaching into her bag she pulled out a small pack of leaves. "So just add this in his water and he should b-" The next moment all the breath was knocked right out of her as the mother all but threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Orora in a tight embrace. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She all but sobbed. For her part, Orora patted the woman awkwardly on the back a few times.
When it came to physical displays of affection, her life had been quite lacking. Her father had never hugged her, her mother would only brush her hair in affection. The only embrace Orora could recall was one she had received from her grandmother. And that was so long ago.
She barely remembered it.
Once she was free of the embrace, the young girl quickly stood up and nodded at the small family before quickly retreating to where her two travel companions were. She moved to resume her previous stance when a voice stopped her.
"Why did you help them?"
Her head turned sharply in Zuko's direction. He was standing up against the support beam she had just passed, arms folded and a rather irritated look on his face. Which was the norm really.
"We're supposed to be keeping a low profile. You can't just go around and heal people." His words had her sighing in an almost exasperated manner. "Tell me Lee." The use of his other name sounded strange upon her tongue, and if Zuko were honest a tiny part of him didn't like hearing that name coming from her lips.
He much preferred Zuko.
Without so much as a hint of emotion in her features she continued. "If you came across a person, begging for water, and what you had was the last of your reserve would you give it to them?"
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The silence that followed her words stretched on. Both teenagers refused to look away from the other, having started some sort of staring contest where neither wished to admit defeat. However there were subtle differences between their expressions.
Orora's face was tilted upwards slightly, silently challenging Zuko to answer and nearly taunting him with her eyes as she did. Zuko, on his part, had his lips pursed, and while Orora's stance was more relaxed and at ease, it was clear there was an inner battle that raged within the banished prince.
Then again, there was always a battle raging within him every waking hour.
Unable to bear the intensity of Orora's gaze, he was the first one to look away. The girl let out a small sound that was a mix between disappointment and annoyance. "When you're ready to give an answer to my question, I'll answer yours." She said referring to what he had asked earlier. With that she walked past him towards Iroh who stood nearby trying to act as if he wasn't paying attention to them. And failing at it.
"I'm going to take a walk around the deck. See if anyone else needs my help." With a nod of confirmation from her teacher, Orora gripped the shoulder of her water satchel and with one backward glace in Zuko's direction, walked off.
The young prince watched her as she left. He couldn't understand why she went about helping people like she did. Sure she had done it in the past, but that was mostly to get some money for provisions. These people couldn't give her any money.
Was she simply doing it out of kindness?! Was that even possible for a person to do given how dangerous things could get for her. She was a girl after all. Not defenseless, but still an easy target.
The thought of Orora being an easy target for anyone looking to take advantage of her had a sickening feeling settle in the pit of his stomach.
And it had nothing to do with the smell of the food he had received while he had been lost in contemplation. Pushing away the unpleasant thought, he turned his attention to the broth in his bowl and made a face. It looked like dirt, and he was sure it tasted like that too. He raised the bowl to his lips and no sooner had the broth touched his lips when he spat it right out.
"Ugh! I'm sick of eating rotten food." He growled, looking like he wanted to throw the bowl into the water. "Sleeping in the dirt. I'm tired of living like this!" Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at his stomach that had his previous emotions rising to the surface. Or maybe it was the thought of a certain waterbender getting hurt somehow.
"Aren't we all?" The voice came as a sudden distraction, prompting Zuko and his Uncle to look in the direction of the speaker. A teenage boy with a stalk of wheat in his mouth stepped into their line of sight. He was flanked by two younger teenagers. "My name's Jet and these are my Freedom Fighters, Smellerbee and Longshot." He introduced himself and his companions. The girl, Smellerbee, greeted back, Longshot simply gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
"Hello." Zuko spoke in a slightly dismissive tone, hoping they would go away. However, what Jet said next caught his undivided attention.
"Here's the deal. I hear the captain's eating like a king while the refugees have to feed off his scraps. Doesn't seem fair, does it?" Iroh, who was normally against stealing but couldn't deny his hunger spoke up. "What sort of king is he eating like?"
"The fat, happy kind." Jet stated in a slightly sarcastic tone. Hearing this Iroh's mouth hung open, as his mind began to concoct all sorts of delicious meals the captain might be eating at that moment. Jet turned his attention back to Zuko. "You want to help us "liberate" some food?" He asked with a smirk. Glancing down at the disgusting slop Zuko gripped it tighter in his hand before tossing it into the water. "I'm in."
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With one final deep breath, Orora lifted her hands from the leg she had finished healing. "There. That should heal it." She informed the previously ailing old man who gave her a smile of disbelief and gratitude. His old wife reached out to clasp her hand in a motherly way. "Thank you so much my dear. We were afraid he wouldn't be able to find work with his injured foot when we got into Ba Sing Se." Orora smiled. "Well no need to worry about that now."
As she watched the old couple walk away, the man with an obvious spring in his step, her smile disappeared and she fell to the side, catching herself on the wooden railing. Raising a hand to her head, the young girl pressed her fingers against her temple to try and alleviate the pain that radiated from there. She had been healing for a good few hours now. And though she had had breaks inbetween where she would give out medicinal herbs to those who were sick, she had barely found time to stop and just rest. Let alone eat.
The sun had set a good hour or so ago. Maybe that was enough healing for the day. Her arms were aching from the multiple healing sessions, and her body felt heavy with tiredness. Was this what it felt like to heal people for such a long time? Your entire body felt like it was half-dead? Maybe she had overdone it.
But those people had needed her help, she told herself as she walked back to her travel companions, bending fresh water from the lake and into her water satchel. "Good evening, Orora." Iroh greeted as she sat down next to him. Giving a small nod, the girl stifled a yawn. "And to you Master." She glanced around, frowning slightly when she didn't see any sign of Zuko. "He has made some new friends." Iroh answered her unspoken question, prompting her to look at him in surprise. He simply smiled at her. She blushed at having been caught, but her embarrassment was forgotten when Zuko appeared with three other teenagers, bags over their shoulders.
Bags that was filled with food.
While Jet, as Iroh quickly informed her, distributed the food to the rest of the refugees, Zuko brought over several bowls of what looked like fresh food towards them. Iroh quickly accepted a bowl of noodles and began to slurp them down happily. Orora stared at the bowl Zuko held out towards her.
Their eyes locked, gold on blue, their string shorter when they were close. Slowly she reached out to take the bowl, their fingers brushing as she did. "Thank you."
It wasn't long before she had eaten her fill and was beginning to feel even more sleepier then before. Zuko had settled down beside her eating his own food.
Having distributed all the food, Jet came to sit down with them. She was only able to give him a nod of acknowledgement before resuming her semi-dozing state, trying hard not to fall asleep completely.
"From what I heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se." Said Jet. "I can't wait to set my eyes on that giant wall." He continued sounding almost wistful as he did. Iroh nodded. "It is a magnificent sight." Jet leaned forward, eager to hear more. "So you've been there before?"
The shift in conversation had Orora momentarily forgetting about her lack of sleep as both she and Zuko turned their attention towards Iroh. "Once. When I was a different man." The sadness and despair in his usually twinkling eyes made Orora's heart ache and she reached out to rest a hand on top of his in comfort. Her Master patted her head, silently showing he appreciated her concern for him.
Jet pursed his lips before speaking. "I've done some things in my past that I'm not proud of, but that's why I'm going to Ba Sing Se: for a new beginning. A second chance." For someone talking about the future he didn't sound so hopeful about it, Orora mused to herself.
"That's very noble of you." Iroh spoke, nodding at the teenager. "I believe people can change their lives if they want to." He glanced at his nephew. "I believe in second chances." Zuko too glanced at his Uncle, though his amber eyes shifted to Orora who rubbed the heel of her palm against her eye, yawning as she did. Iroh noticed too, prompting him to reach out and pat her on the shoulder.
"Perhaps you should turn in, my dear. You've had a tiring day." Wordlessly the girl nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open. Slowly she rose to her feet, and had barely taken a step forward when a wave of dizziness overcame her, tilting her to the side and straight into Zuko. Luckily he was quick enough to catch her, though he almost fell back himself. "Orora?" The urgency in his voice was evident as he shook her shoulder. The girl mumbled something under her breath. His Uncle quickly looked the girl over and smiled in exasperation. "She has worked hard today and has passed out from being tired." He finally stated. Zuko scowled. "Well couldn't she have passed out on her bedroll?" Even with the words coming out of his mouth, his grip around her shoulder and waist did not let up.
If anything he seemed to hold her closer. Especially with Jet looking at her like he was. Zuko did not like it one bit.
"I will lay it out for her." Iroh quickly stood and went off to get a pillow and blanket from where they were stored on the ship for their use. Zuko gave a small nod of confirmation, stiffening when he felt Orora shifting a little in his arms before settling once more. Her head rested against his shoulder, and her lips were parted slightly as she breathed deeply. His features shifted to a look of concern as he quickly tried to figure out just how long she had been healing and helping people. And that too on an empty stomach. Of course, not that he could've done anything about it. She was much too stubborn to actually listen to him, but at least he would've had the chance to tell her off when she returned.
But then why should he care? A voice whispered in his head. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his sister's. Why should he care about a lowly waterbender? What was she to him?
"She your girlfriend?" Jet's question cut through his dangerous musings. Zuko leveled a particularly irritated glare in his direction. "No." He snapped, the very word laced with poison.
Just your soulmate, his brain supplied, as Jet raised his hands in a gesture that showed he meant no harm before getting up and going to look for his companions. Zuko stayed where he was, and this time he purposefully avoided looking at the girl passed out in his arms. As soon as his Uncle returned with the pillow and blanket, he laid her down on the hard floor and left her to sleep.
And if he was extra gentle with his movements as he laid her down, he did not think too much of it.
And if he lingered over her, watching her as she settled to make sure she was as comfortable as he could get, his Uncle did not mention it.
And if he leaned back down to pull the blanket over her shoulder properly so she would not be cold, Zuko pretended that he didn't, consciously, allow his fingers to brush against the soft skin of her cheek as he pulled back.
And if he happened to glance at the string around their fingers glimmer with color, he ignored it completely.
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Being on your own isn't always the best path.
His own words resonated in his ears and his mind from his recent conversation with Jet. As he watched the docks grow in size as they neared their destination, Zuko couldn't help but think over what he had said. He had tried that. He had spent nearly a month on his own and it had gotten him nowhere.
If anything, things had gotten only worse for him. Maybe he had gotten used to having someone around him.
His Uncle had been by his side since his banishment. He had been the unbreakable support Zuko had needed in his times of despair. And truthfully, he was the reason he had made it this far alive. How many times had his Uncle helped him out of difficult situations? Though he would never tell him, Zuko's affections and gratitude for his Uncle ran deep. And sometimes, even though he knew it was wrong, he wished that Iroh was his real father and not Ozai.
And then there was Orora. Someone who had come into his life and made it all the more complicated. He lifted the hand where the string was tied to his finger, and followed it's path to the other end. His soulmate stood next to Iroh. Her back was towards him, allowing him to observe her without it becoming awkward for either of them. Despite the fact that nothing would come out of them being each other's soulmates, he couldn't help but wander if mayb-
The sound of the whistle blowing cut through his thoughts as their boat finally docked. The crowd began to chatter excitedly as they made their way towards the gangplanks. Sighing to himself, he walked towards Uncle and Orora.
"Well now, just one more stop and we shall begin a new life together." His Uncle stated jovially as he led the way towards the gathering crowd.
Together.
Such an insignificant word that carried so much weight.
Orora glanced in his direction as she fell into step beside him. He allowed his gaze to meet her own for a brief moment before they both looked away.
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Orora was sure that the ticket woman who stood behind the booth had to be a distant relation to her old tutor, Ms. Chiyo. She had a certain look in her eye, one that Orora had dreaded as a child since those beady eyes would assess her every move looking for a slip up on her part.
The woman had been her manners and etiquette tutor for a good few years, and Orora had despised her. She had always been so harsh and could be downright cruel at times.
"So," The woman spoke, looking over their tickets and passports as the three of them stood in front of her. Mr. Lee, Ms. Orora and Mr. ummm ... Mushy, is it?
Iroh, ever the polite old man, corrected her. "It's pronounced Mushi." The already irritated woman's expression shifted to pure annoyance as she glared at Iroh. "You telling me how to do my job?" She demanded, her voice rising in pitch.
Sensing that perhaps he had done wrong, Iroh was quick to shake his head as he approached the ticket booth. "Uh, no, no." There was a brief pause on his part before he continued with a smile on his face that was, for lack of a better word, sickeningly sweet.
"But may I just say you're like a flower in bloom. Your beauty is intoxicating." Orora could feel her face morph in one of disbelief and slight disgust at the words coming out of her teacher's mouth. Beside her Zuko was no better, looking just as disgusted.
For a moment Orora was almost afraid the ticket woman would call the guards, but instead she smiled in what the young girl could only say was a flirtatious manner and return Iroh's smile.
"You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself, handsome. Roar!"
Oh that part nearly had her bursting out into laughter. She clapped a hand to her mouth, while Zuko did the same but to his eyes, as if he had no desire to even witness what was going on in front of him.
"Welcome to Ba Sing Se." Their tickets were stamped, and they were officially citizens of Ba Sing Se. Iroh grinned happily as he collected the tickets and held them out for the two teenagers to take.
"I'm going to forget I saw that." Zuko grumbled before snatching his ticket and walking away. Orora accepted her ticket as well and followed after the prince, though she allowed herself to be amused by what had happened and let out a few giggles as she did.
Iroh brought up the rear, looking rather pleased with himself.
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As they waited for their train to be called, Orora leaned back where she stood, watching as the refugees boarded the trains that would take them to their destination. It seemed strange to know that she would entering a city. She had only seen small towns and villages so far. But a city as big and grand as Ba Sing Se would surely be unmatched to what she had experienced so far. And that included the Northern Water Tribe.
A familiar voice broke her out of her thoughts. "So, you guys got plans once you're inside the city?"Jet asked as he sat down next to Zuko. Orora couldn't help but frown at the teenager's insistence to be around Zuko every chance he got. What was his problem anyway? She mused to herself, not even bothering to hide her scowl as she glared at the boy. Just then a Tea-seller walked by prompting Iroh to quickly get up and buy himself a cup of Jasmine. Though no sooner had he tasted the liquid when he began to lament his mistake. "Blaugh! Ugh, coldest tea in Ba Sing Se is more like it! What a disgrace!" Orora couldn't help but giggle, reaching out to pat her Master gently on the shoulder as consolation. "I'm sure we'll get you some nice warm tea when we get to the city, Master." He nodded in affirmation. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Jet said motioning for Zuko to follow him. Zuko sighed and reluctantly rose, following after him.
Once more Orora found her eyes trained in the direction of the prince as he walked off. They stood a little ways away talking. But whatever the conversation was, it was over just as quickly as it began. She quickly looked away, not wanting to get caught and turned her attention to where Iroh was drinking his hot steaming tea happily.
Wait!
Hot?!
Steaming?!
A startled gasp fell from her lips, prompting Zuko to falter in his steps and follow her line of sight. His hand darted out to knock the cup of tea out of Iroh's hand. "Hey!" The old man protested even as his nephew leaned down to hiss at him through gritted teeth. "What're you doing firebending your tea?! For a wise old man, that was a pretty stupid move!"
"Honestly Master, that was reckless." Even Orora couldn't help but chime in. But Iroh wasn't listening to any of them, lamenting over his spilled tea. Orora glanced up toe Jet's retreating back. "He didn't see anything did he?" She spoke softly, dread filling her as she thought of what the boy might do should he discover that Zuko and Iroh were firebenders. "I don't think so. Besides, even if he did, he has no proof." Zuko stated firmly as a way of reassuring her as well as himself. The waterbender nodded, though there was a nervousness in her eyes that remained even as they boarded their train a few minutes later.
But then that all shifted to the very back of her mind as they exited the station and were greeted with their every first sight of Ba Sing Se. Eagerly looking out of the window, Orora couldn't help but stick her head out of the window and let out a little laugh of joy as the cool air brushed through her hair.
"I hope Ba Sing Se brings something new for us." She whispered to herself as she watched the scenic view pass by.
Beside her Zuko couldn't help but hope for the same.
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#zuko x y/n#zuko imagine#zuko x reader#zuko x oc#avatar the last airbender imagine#avatar the last airbender fanfiction#avatar#the thread of fate#avatar: the last airbender#avatar the last Airbender
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The Last Goodbye
When they are Kia
Cod characters x f! reader
Inspired by MW3 and the tragic events that occurred this will be a three-part series if I do not get writers block lol.
So sorry for the not posting as much! It’s been a really crazy month and a lot of things had happened and caused me to have a bit of a depressive episode so thank you all for being super patient!
Warnings: mentions of death
John Price
You saw it on the news first before you got the visit. Your breath hitched when you saw the news of the air strike that had hit the base where your husband of 12 years was stationed at everything was decimated. And you couldn’t call or check to make sure that he was all right as he would not have his personal cell phone with him. It wasn’t until two days after the attack did two uniformed military officers showed up at your door holding prices old hat and SAS badge and dog tags. How they got them so quickly, you weren’t sure, but the news came like a sudden wave of cold water. “ we are so sorry for your loss.” One of the officers told you. The body would be arriving shortly within a week or so for proper burial you two had purchased side-by-side grave plots. And the will was already drawn up well before all of this had happened. John was a very precise man and always make sure to think 12 steps ahead. He knew his job was rough and he knew that at any moment he could drop dead. He made sure that his life insurance would be going to you, which was some relief sense the army didn’t pay much.
How to tell your daughter, that her father was not going to be coming back. What is the worst thing you could ever do to her young heart. She was only eight years old. She adored her father practically worship the ground. He walked on. She was always his little girl, and now the war stripped her of him. Stripped you of him..
When she came home from school, you had to sit her down. You held her hands, and with tears, you told the heartbreaking news. The young girl did not understand at first on why her father wasn’t coming back, and once again, you explained that he had died in action, and he would never be able to come home you’re a little girl started to cry, and when he tried to comfort her, she bolted from your arms and ran to her room, slamming the door, and she could hear her wails. You yourself cried yourself to sleep for the first few weeks all the way up until the funeral your friends and family members gathered around you doing everything that they could to comfort you and your daughter people were calling in every single day talking with you for hours on end, while other people stopped by to bring you food.
Every day it felt like a horrifying nightmare. The one that reoccurs every single time slightly more horrifying than the last. As you were going through your stuff and trying to decide what if his you wanted to keep and what of his you wanted to donate you noticed on your phone you had gotten an email from Kate Lasswell. She had sent a video to you actually several saying in the email that he wanted you to have this and gave her explicit instructions in case if he was to ever die.
Pressing the play button, you watched as his face appeared in the camera as he sat down and smiled at you. The way, his eyes twinkled and the crows feet around them creased. “ hello dove” he started at first and you had to pause the video because you were overwhelmed with the emotions. When you stabilized yourself again, you continued. “ I know it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to you and I know that if you’re seeing this, it means that I have passed….. mission was going to be botched no matter what I just didn’t want to tell you the statistics at first…” he paused himself, as he seem to be collecting his words in his own voice was shaking “ I really wish I could come back home to you. I told you that this would be the last mission that I would do before retiring… I promise to take you out on that date that you wanted to go to that fancy restaurant.” he paused again, closing his eyes, and releasing out a large sigh.
“ I’m sorry I never got to take you…. I had so many plans to do with you and Alice… it doesn’t seem fair that I didn’t get a chance to do that” once again, you had a pause the video so that you could take a minute to cry. The plans that you had with each other right now by the wayside. You unpause did it again, and continued on listening. “ I know right now you’re depressed.” he stated, folding folding his hands, and leaning on the desk in a slightly business fashion way. “ in the email that Kate sent you there is several groups that you can join that are for the spouses of the deceased militant partner. Please join one as well as make sure our daughter also goes to one for kids. She’s going to need that support… you both are.” he smiled again, but it was a Sad smile. “ I also made sure to have a college fund started for her. You don’t have to worry about it until she’s ready. There should be plenty of money for her to attend all the way up until graduate year as long as she goes to a decent university. Make sure it’s only used for that if she chooses not to go to university or to go to a less expensive one, you can use the money to buy her a car or whatever she needs to get her life started…. I’m sorry this had all come to this…. As you know I have set aside a life insurance, and the beneficiary goes to you. I also saved up a lot of my savings as well. Feel free to use it as necessary.” he knew that you were going to be smart with the money. “ He paused and looked at you “you are my beloved…. I’m so sorry my dove that you have to face this alone. Please take care of yourself. Find a husband that loves you like I did and a good father figure for our daughter.” This made him tear up. “I will wait for you in heaven and I will watch over you both. You mean so much love. No one or nothing can separate this love. The email that is sent to you also has several videos for Alice. For her birthdays, graduation, moving out to university, marriage and their child. I made sure to make a video for all of that… I also left many for you. Please don’t hesitate to just let me listen to you… I love you.”
The video ended and you sat in the chair, Thinking things though. He set life up for you and your daughter. He was still looking after both of you. You cried for a bit before getting up and knocking on your daughters door. Your little girl opened up with tears on her face. “Hey baby… daddy sent you something.” She sniffed as you picked her up and took her to your old husband’s office. After sitting down with her in his old chair, you turned on the next video. “Hey Angel!” John’s face lit up when the camera started you could see he had been crying. “Angel, im not coming home, it’s not that I don’t want to but it’s because I got called up to heaven. I want you to do something for me my sweet, I want you to watch over momma ok? She is going to need you and you are going to need her. He glanced up as if looking at you then looked back down at his daughter. “You are such a special little girl. I love you so much. Momma has the other videos for you to watch when you grow up. I’m so so sorry to leave you like this. I did not
I did not want to go. I know you were looking forward to see me and so was I… you are my sunshine. My only sunshine.” He stated singing the song he sang when she was down or sad. “You make me happy, when sky’s are grey. You never know dear, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away…. I love you my angel.” The video ended. Your daughter looked at you. “What now?” She asked. “Well… now we do what daddy said… we do our best to move on, but not to forget him. We will be OK.” You held her as you too watched the sunset fade beneath the horizon, a beautiful white dove landed on he window, cooed and looked at you before flying off into the golden rays of the pink sky.
Simon Riley
You were cleaning in the kitchen when you heard a knock at the door. Putting the sponge back in the soapy hot water. You wiped your hands and made your way to the door. Two military officers took at the door, Solum faces as they greeted you. “Hello can I help you?” You asked
“Mrs (y/n) Riley?” One of them asked.
“Yes that is me.” You looked at them worried.
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Simon Riley was killed in action.” The officer said gravely as he handed you a box of his things.
You took the box with tears in your eyes. The men told you that his body was found and would be returning soon. You thanked them and closed the door as you held the box tightly in your arms and sunk to the floor sobbing. Your sweet Simon. He was gone, never to come home to you and your son. You knew it was a dangerous job, but it never really hit you till now. Your husband, the man that always let you take off his mask, the man that would cuddle with you at night and rub your back after a long day, the father of your 3 month old son who he would stay up late to let you sleep. He was gone, ripped apart from you. How were you going to tell your son about his father, the man who loved his son from the moment he was born. You cried on the cold floor till you fell asleep, still holding onto the box. You woke up to the sound of your son crying in his room. Getting up, you walked and a dead sonter to his room. Tomas your son named after your husbands brother, was crying in his cradle. Carfully you picked him up and held him close. He looked so much like his daddy, blonde hair, dark blue eyes, fair skin. “Shhhhh my love” you rocked your son with tears in your eyes. “Daddy isn’t coming back.” You stated as a hiccup got you. “He loved you so much…. He loved me.” You knew your son wouldn’t remember this but it was still so sad to hold your little boy and know he would never have a father and son bonding.
You sobbed as you held onto him. Tomas sensing his mothers destress, he quieted down and cooed. After a while you fed him and put him down to bed once more. You opened the box after sitting down with a hot cup of tea, ready to take on what you needed to. With a sniffle, you opened the lid to reveal his skull mask, the dog tags that he wore, his SAS badge, and a few other things. “Oh Simon” new murmured as you carefully picked up the mask and set the box down as he traced over the lines to his skeletal features on his balaclava. It smelled like him. That rich, earthy smell, that he always seems to have with a hint of gunpowder and bourbon. It was a lingering sent, but it was a good one at that. You held the mass close as you leaned back on the couch and close your eyes. You already missed him more than you did before maybe it was because you knew that you would never see him again, to have him be in the house and be present with you and your son. You would go on with your life fine you are a tough woman, one of the many reasons to why Simon married you, but it was your son that you were worried about. You wanted your son to have a father figure. A dad that he would learn to grow up and love. Simon never had that sort of dad, and had always wanted to be that way for his own children.
Now Simon was never going to live out his dream, and Thomas, your son, was never going to have that sort of special bond. I thought made you incredibly sad once more but no tears fell, your eyes were all dried from the previous crying. The weeks came and the funeral happened, your husband looked peaceful in his casket. You wanted some alone time with him first and held his stiff, cold hand. “ Thomas will miss you… I will miss you. You were my rock and shield. It’s going to be hard without you Si… I will always love you and miss you.” The funeral took place and it was a sad time. The team of 141, your family and friends helped with whatever you needed. Now, you were cleaning out things from your late husband. As you were cleaning out his bedside table drawer, you saw a note, folded up neatly. Curious, you unfolded the lined paper and read the words on the paper.
“My dear (y/n), Birdie if you are digging in my drawer then that means I have passed, the mission was botched… I’m sorry… I know Thomas is in good hands with you. Please don’t worry about money. My account will be given to you. As I am writing this, it’s late, you’re sleeping next to me. It’s the night before we leave… I am looking at you for the last time, taking in all your beautiful details. Your face is so soft in sleep, you look so angelic. I am going to miss you… I know you will miss me too… I’m sorry I haven’t said ‘I love you’ that much. I hope you know I cherished and deeply loved you. I still do. I know you are a strong woman, that is what drew me to you. I know you will move on. If you wish, find someone who can love you and our son just as much as I loved you. I will be waiting for you when you come. I will always be watching out for you. Please don’t let our son forget me. I want him to know how much I loved him and you. I love you my Birdie, my beautiful wife. ~Simon.”
You held onto the paper and cried. This was going to be ruff. You were going to be ok. A sense of comfort filled your mind and warmth flooded your body. “I love you my Simon” you smiled and the familiar sent of him wafted and you felt his warmth envelop you.
Gaz
when the news reached you, it hurt like 1000 tiny little daggers. You had just gotten married to Gaz, your Relationship was just beginning. The two of you had been high school sweethearts. Times had gotten tough for both of you and you broke off your relationship before time being until you rekindled it once again, realizing that he was the only person for you. You had only gotten married a few months prior and just had your honeymoon before he was shipped off. Four months he was gone. And he was supposed to come back in two, however, the letter that you received told a different story. He would never be coming home. His body was blown up so badly that they couldn’t find all the pieces to him. We would do everything that they could to get the majority of him back home so that there could be some proper burial. This broke your heart. He would never get to share the life with you that you too so desperately dreamed about, a small home, somewhere on the suburbs of London with a dog, and maybe a child somewhere down the line. That was your plan at least but now things have changed, and now your beloved was gone.
It had been a few weeks since the death, and the burial of what was left at him. You had moved back in with your parents for the time being. As you were cleaning up your room, doing the best to get over your grieving you noticed a note on your bed they have been delivered by your mother earlier. Carefully you walked up to the letter and looked at it. It was addressed to you by Gaz. A sense of panic swelled in your chest. Did he really survive? Or was this some cool trick that somebody was playing? Quickly opened the envelope, and you looked at the letter the date showing that it was a month ago that he had sent this; before his death. With shaky hands, you begin to read the chicken, scratch lettering, tracing over every word, and taking to heart as if it was the gospel.
“Hey Love!
Things are crazy right now! We’re going to be going into a city not too far from here. I’ll make sure to pick up some stuff for you. I know you’ve been wanting to decorate the house for a while and I’m so excited to see what sort of projects you’ve been working on? How’s the art piece coming? I remember you telling me that you wanted to start up painting again. We always had such a pretty drawings. I have no doubt that they’re not going to be beautiful. I hope you hang them on the wall for us to see. I miss you. A part of me wishes that you were here at least the part that isn’t the most violent. Unfortunately, we’re not in the best area we are being attacked left and right. Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll be home soon! I promise I’ll fix the leaky faucet. I know it’s been driving you crazy. I I sent a letter to my folks, but could you tell them that I miss them as well? I want them to know how much I miss them, but I think I miss you the most. When I get back can we get a dog? Also, can we have like a full day of playing video games just with you and me? I know I sound like I’m rambling, but it’s just what’s on my mind recently. Late night cuddles with you while playing Mario kart. It just sounds so relaxing right now. I’m really tired. Well sweetheart, I better get to bed. I love you and I hope that you have an amazing day tomorrow and the next and the next after that.
Your Husband,
Gaz”
Hugging the letter, you cried your eyes out. Tears streaming down your face as you laid on the bed, holding onto the last remnant of what your husband left you. It sounded as if he was somewhere in a safer, better place. You hoped that he died quickly that he didn’t suffer and his last thoughts were good thoughts. A breeze drifted into the room from your open window and a warm bit of sunshine hit your cheek as the breeze drifted passed it felt like a stroke on your soft face. He was there sitting beside you, even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel his presence. He was safe and he was watching over you.
Johnny McTavish
The news has gotten to you quickly. It was actually delivered by Price himself. You couldn’t believe it. Your Scottish highland your man was no longer going to come home to you. He was shot through the head. Taking a bullet to save a life. Your young son, John, named after his father, was going to be home from school soon the devastating news hurt you more than anything else out there. How are you going to tell your six-year-old son that he was not gonna have his daddy near anymore? Who was going to play football with him in the yard? Who is going to read bedtime stories? Who is going to play in the rain with him? Your son needed his father that boy looked up to his dad, like he was the sun, its self. The news hurt you hard calling his parents and his family was going to be hard as well if they had an already heard the news. He was close with everybody and his family and he had quite a large family.
The upcoming days to the Memorial as you wish to have been cremated, were hard and brutal. Everybody that you knew, and your friends and his family all gave their condolences to you and to each other he was loved and well liked by everyone your son took it hard he didn’t understand why his dad wasn’t coming home and cried and cried and cried it was like that for almost a whole week, he was doing so bad that you had to pull him out of school for the time being because he was unable to function properly. You did everything you could you hold him tight in your arms until he cried himself to sleep at night in which you also cried your own silent tears. You would go walk on the open, Highlands that overlooked the beautiful scenery where your husband, his father’s ashes, cast out upon the open landscape. A small memorial was placed there in memory. You would have picnics out there are frequently, simply listening to the birds call from high above and feel the warm sun cast It’s beautiful rays. They felt cold and dull to you, but you did your best to hold out for your son.
Cleaning out the closet with all of his stuff. What is your next task as you were taking some of his old stuff down you noticed a hard drive they had fallen out of one of his pockets with your name on it. Curious, you took the hard drive and you plugged it into your laptop. It open the file which had a video and it. You clicked play.
The video with your husband sitting on the couch in your living room, smiling at you “Hello my bonne Lass. if yer seeing this then ye know what happened and I don’t think I need ta say anymore abou tha’. I am so sorry that I cannot be with Yer. I love ye so much. I love our son John so much. Please remind hem’ every day how much I love him. Please play football with hem as much as ye can. Please read to hem every night fer me. I know it’s a lot ta ask with what’s going on but I think it might be good fer both of ya ta share tha’ quality time. I’m gonna miss ye both, but I’m always going te be with yer. I’m always going to be watching over mo little family. Don’t worry Lass, life insurance should cover a huge portion of everything. Hopefully it can help provide some security fer you and fer John. I also have tha’ university fund ye wanted me ta set up fer him. Let the money grow and add te it. If ye want by the time he turns 18 he can open that account. The files are actually in my cabinet on the right side of the desk. It has all the important paperwork and documentaries yer gonna need. I really wish I was there with ya Lass. I’m going to miss holding you at night and whispering I love yous.” His beautiful eyes stared right back at you with his stupid little mohawk and broad shoulders facing the camera. “ I know you got this, please don’t ferget about me, but I do want you moving on. Find a man that makes yer heart is happy to be with as it was with meh. I know it’s a lot ta ask for, and I’m not expecting ye ta get married right this instant… I want ta see ye happy I want to see you taken care of. I love ye, my princess.” he reached over to turn off the device that he was using, and the video ended abruptly. A new wave of tears hit your face as you laid your head on the desk and cried for the fifth or sixth time in the past few days. Your son came in the room and gently touched your shoulder. “It’s OK mama! Daddy’s going to be with us. He’s just going to be invisible.” he was quoting some thing that you had told him. When you had to break the news to John, you had told him that the angels up in heaven needed his daddy to help fight the battle up there because he was so good at his job. One day he would be able to meet his daddy up there as well. Now John had taken this to heart and there’s now quoting this in hopes to make you feel better. You carefully picked up your son and held him close to you. “ you know you’re the best against your father had ever giving me? When you were born, he had tears in his eyes and he was hugging you and kissing all over your face and just absolutely doting on you 24 seven. He told me how proud he was of you. He told me how proud he was of me. Those were good times.” Your son gently hold you tight in his own little arms. “ it’s OK mama will make it out together.” You could almost feel a kiss on your forehead as if…. As if your husband was leaning over to comfort you.
#cod x reader#cod x you#x reader#cod#depressing shit#johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#cod john price#kyle gaz garrick#soap x y/n#simon ghost riley x reader#john price x reader#gaz x reader#johnny x reader#simon riley#captain john price#kyle garrick#john soap mactavish#john price#ghost x you#cod gaz
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You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 12
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader
Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?
Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, arguing, dead parents, mentions of major character death, fluff, angst, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.
Word Count: 5.4k
A/N: Aaaaa I’m so sorry it’s been almost a month since the last update! 😭😭😭 Time and life got away from me as well as me taking a short hiatus from the series due to personal reasons. I’m so glad to be back! I missed these two so much!!!
Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter
Today officially marks eight years. Eight years since your mother’s heart attack. It’s Thanksgiving and everyone’s supposed to be meeting at Mav and Penny’s in a few hours. You squirm in front of the mirror as you consider your reflection. You don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, not anymore. You haven’t in seven years. Mickey has pointed out that no one would blame you for taking a rain check but you knew you can’t for several reasons. You’re already closer with the Dogfighters than you ever had been with any of your previous teams and you knew your absence would be notable. And then there’s the whole issue of Bradley. You have a boyfriend now. The two of you had made things official almost two weeks ago and it’s your first holiday as a couple. Not to mention that Thanksgiving dinner is being held at Mav’s and that will be hard for Bradley, especially given the circumstances that occurred the last time he visited. The morning after you’d spent your first night over at Bradley’s apartment, he’d told you about the disastrous dinner or lack thereof while making the two of you breakfast.
You smile to yourself as you remember sitting on his kitchen island while he moved around the space, sure and confident as he dished up two omelets. Your eyes roamed his muscles as they flexed while he beat the eggs and then again as he flipped the omelets in the pan in a way you’ve never been able to figure out. Every time you try to make an omelet you try to flip it too early and end up settling for what quickly becomes loaded scrambled eggs. Since that night, neither of you has discussed your brazen decision to spend the night, not to mention that Bradley had come home to find you asleep in his bed. All you know is that you woke up in arms and it was enough of a confirmation that he wanted you there as badly as you wanted to be there. Admittedly there hasn’t been much time to talk things through. The boys have been busy with games leading up to the Thanksgiving holiday. Thankfully, due to the NFL having a monopoly on Thanksgiving Day game coverage, the boys have the day off. You secretly wish they didn’t so you could let work consume your thoughts instead of having to sit with them but you know the boys have been looking forward to the day off, even if they have to get right back to it tomorrow.
You scrutinize your reflection again and once again you’re unable to see anyone but your mother staring back at you and you feel your fingers begin to tremble as you reach up to tug on the ends of your hair in frustration. Tears blur your eyes and offer so some reprieve from the image in front of you and then you’re moving before you can stop yourself.
***
Twenty minutes later you’re sending a panicked text to Mickey begging him to come over and then you’re sitting with your head in your hands in the toilet when he lets himself in with his emergency key.
“Dios mio,” he gasps as he takes in the sight of you.
“Is it that bad?” You whine, unable to look at him. He crosses the barroom and gently reaches out to run a finger over your much shorter hair. What used to tumble over your shoulders is now not much longer than your chin.
“It could be worse.” He says tentatively. “You could have shaved your head.”
“Mickey!” You snap, eyes wide with fear as he regards the damage you’ve wreaked. “Can you fix it?” You hate how weak your voice sounds as you gaze up at him with damp, red-rimmed eyes. He nods and you feel the tension run out of your shoulders as they slump in relief.
Mickey sets you up in a dining chair in front of your bathroom mirror and you get a good look at the damage you’ve done. Your hair is a lot shorter but at least you don’t look like your mother as much anymore. Mickey examines the kit you’d left on the counter. It was a gift from his mother a few years ago when you went home with Mickey during the holidays and got to meet her. Mama Garcia is a hairdresser and a damn good one. Mickey’s picked up a thing or two over the years and actually cuts not only his own hair but also yours. Mickey picks up the scissors that you had discarded and straightens your head before he gets to work. You watch as he straightens out the bottom as well as adding the layers he knows you like when he cuts your hair on the regular.
When he’s done the two of you take a moment to stare at your reflection. He squeezes your shoulders gently. “Hop in the shower, I’ll hang out in the living room.” You run your fingers through the shorter strands as you examine your reflection for the thousandth time in the metal handle of the shower knobs. It feels strange and foreign to feel your fingers slip free of the wet strands almost as soon as you slide them in. It’s different but you feel lighter both physically and emotionally. You’d always insisted on wearing your hair exactly like your mom growing up, desperate to be just like her, but now you’ve never felt freer than you do now, finally diverged from the burden of subtly trying to be her, to live up to her legacy. You continue examining your reflection as you dry your hair and get ready to head to Mav’s. Briefly, you wonder what Bradley will think about your new look but deep down you know it’s not for him and what he thinks about it, if he does think anything of it, isn’t important.
When you come out of the bathroom, Mickey fusses over you, expressing over and over how much he likes your new haircut and how much it suits you. Time will tell whether you come to the same conclusion.
***
As the two of you drive to Mav’s place in Mickey’s Jeep Mickey keeps glancing your way like he’s about to say something and break the comfortable silence in the car but thinks better of it. After about the fifth time, it’s officially grating on your nerves and you turn to him, a scowl forming on your lips. “Mickey Garcia if you don’t just spit out whatever you’re thinking, we’re taking a detour to the beach and I’m going to waterboard it out of you.”
He gives you a guilty look before he swallows, choosing his words carefully. “So, are you and Bradshaw still…?” he trails off awkwardly and you roll your eyes. You’d been expecting this conversation for some time. You’d told Mickey about your relationship with Bradley not long after getting back from DC and he’d taken the news calmly which was completely different from the way he normally reacted to updates in both your life in general and in your dating life.
“Dating? Yes, Mickey, I’m still dating my BOYFRIEND.” You emphasize the word boyfriend, giving him a pointed look even as giddy butterflies erupt in your stomach at the way it tastes on your tongue. You haven’t had a BOYFRIEND in years. You’d expected Mickey to be ecstatic but you don’t blame him for being wary of Bradley especially given everything that’s transpired between the two of you in the last few weeks. “Look, I know you have a lot of reasons to hate him, but I promise, that’s not the real him.” Mickey hums quietly in assent before he answers.
“I know, and believe me, I believe you when you say that because I trust you but I just- Zam he’s kind of… old… don’t you think?” You watch him wince at his own awkwardness as you blink in surprise. You hadn’t considered it before, but he’s right. Bradley’s 38, which makes him a solid ten years older than you.
“Oh,” you murmur at the realization. “I guess so. I’ve never actually thought about it before.” Mickey’s eyebrows raise in surprise.
“Never?” You shake your head, turning this new information over and over in your mind.
“You know? It’s only been two weeks and yet? I feel like I’ve healed more in that time than I have in the last eight years.” You swallow hard. It’s always hard for you to talk about your mother’s death, especially today. “I just- It feels like… Mickey, he’s the first person who hasn’t tried to fix me.” Your heart aches painfully at the thought. “Bradley’s never once looked at me like I’m broken because of what happened to my mom. And maybe it’s because he’s lost both his parents.” Your voice catches at the end of the sentence as a wave of grief washes over you at the thought of Bradley, all alone in the world for so many years. “But it’s like he knows that I don’t need to change. That there’s no way that I’m ever going to be the person I was before and that’s okay. You just learn to live with the hurt. He doesn’t need me to change, or be the person I used to be.” You sigh. “And he’s letting me take things as slow as I want to. Honestly, his age is the last thing I considered.”
Mickey nods, considering your words. “Okay I just, I can’t help but worry that he’s taking advantage of you. You know I already don’t trust hockey players, and the older ones usually have track records, and I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” You smile absently at that. Mickey’s always been wary of you messing around with hockey players. It was his biggest qualm in college once you started hanging out with him and the other guys on his team. Thankfully, you’d mostly steered clear of the horny athletes though you couldn’t help but dabble lightly as you got older. It was just a hazard of the job. Most weeks of the year you’re jetting around from city to city, in a different one every few nights. It’s a lonely lifestyle and sometimes loneliness drives you into the bed you least expect. You and Bradley seem to fit that description but there’s so much more there. Bradley knows you more than anyone has in a long time.
“Don’t worry. Bradley would never hurt me.” You echo his promise to you on the first night you really saw him, the real him, and suddenly you’re eager to get to Mav’s so you can see him again.
***
So far you and Bradley have been keeping things quiet in terms of your relationship. It’s not that you’re embarrassed to be with him, you just don’t feel like it’s fair to scream from the rooftops that you love him before you even tell him yourself. You’re pretty sure you do and it sends another wave of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. So far the only two people you’ve told are Javy and Mickey, though given Mickey’s need to process emotions out loud, you’re sure Bob probably knows too. You’ve signed official paperwork and anyone who viewed your files would be able to find out about your relationship, but for now, you’re enjoying the peacefulness of relative anonymity amongst the hustle and bustle of your work life. You feel bad that you haven’t told the girls or Jake yet, but part of you knows you’re dreading the inevitable variants of the conversation you just had with Mickey in the car. You don’t feel like having to defend Bradley to your friends. It’s not that you won’t, because of course you will. You’re just already stretched thin between work, your budding relationship, and your own complicated emotions relating to your mother, and you’re not sure you have the energy to manage your friends’ concerns with the grace they're afforded.
When Mickey pulls into Maverick’s frankly gigantic driveway you can’t help but gawk at the house. Bradley had told you it was extravagantly large for the fact that only two people lived there but even your imagination couldn’t have prepared you for the sight. You do your best to keep your expression neutral and your eyes inside your skull as the two of you make your way up the porch. You can hear voices and music coming from inside and feel your body tense at the reminder of what you’ve signed up for today. Mickey is carrying a casserole dish of something that smells amazing. You’re empty handed but Mickey had assured you that it would be fine. You have enough going on emotionally today as it is. Everyone will just be glad to have you there, he reassured you.
“You okay?” Leave it to your best friend to notice the tension in your body.
You nod, weakly. “Yeah, just mentally preparing myself.”
“Hey,” his voice is soft, and gentle, as he shifts the casserole dish to one hand and reaches the other out to squeeze your arm. “If it’s ever too much, you come and find me, and you can take my car and get out of here, I’ll just catch a ride home with Bob.” Your shoulders slump with relief. Leave it to Mickey to have a contingency plan in place for you. He’d insisted on driving so that you couldn’t get out of it, but he’s also made sure you have a way to get home.
“Thank you,” there’s so much more you want to say but you don’t know how to put it into words so you just give Mickey a lopsided smile that he returns before reaching to swing the door open.
The smell hits you first. It’s so distinctively Thanksgiving that it almost sends you to your knees. You can smell the feast that Penny has undoubtedly been whipping up as you cross the threshold. Guys from the team linger everywhere in sight. There are a host of unfamiliar faces as well that you assume must be their families and partners. You follow Mickey through the crowded foyer and down a hallway towards the kitchen. Your eyes catch on the photographs framed on the wall. They all contain Penny, Maverick, and a young girl who fluctuates in age between the photos that you’re sure must be Penny’s daughter. The hallway opens into a wide open-concept kitchen and living room. A whole host of guys are crammed on or draped over the back of the sofa, watching the football game that’s displayed on the huge TV. You spot Bradley and Jake a few feet behind the couch, chatting and occasionally glancing at the screen. A glance out the large windows reveals Bob, Bugs, Nat, and Dragon outside playing with a host of kids. Mickey greets Penny as he hands her the casserole dish. He gives your shoulder a squeeze as he heads out to join Bob and co. You give her a chagrined look as she smiles at you.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Zam, I'm glad you could make it.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Penny, thanks for having me. Sorry, I didn’t bring anything… I’m not really much of a cook.” Not a lie by any stretch, but also not the whole truth. She just smiles and waves you off.
“Don't worry, we’ve got plenty.” She gestures to the rest of the kitchen and you see that almost every available inch of counter is covered with foil trays full of food. You chuckle awkwardly before excusing yourself.
Your eyes find Bradley again and his gaze shifts from Jake to you. You watch the corners of his lips lift in a smile even as his eyes widen slightly at the sight of your new haircut. You smile shyly back at him. Bradley excuses himself from Jake who waves him off, turning to the TV as Bradley makes his way towards you. You’re shuffling on your feet, suddenly anxious about Bradley’s reaction to your hair but all your worries melt as Bradley reaches you and pulls you into his arms without a second thought. You’re surprised by the ease with which he crosses that line but you settle against his chest with a contented sigh.
“Hi Bear,” you greet him quietly and he squeezes you gently.
“Hey Honey, I like your hair.” He twists a strand in between his fingers.
“Really?” You can’t help the nerves that plague your vice as you question him. He nods against you, squeezing you again before pulling away to get a good look at you. He reaches out a hand to brush the shorter strands away from your face as he takes in your features like he’s committing them to memory.
“It suits you.” He decides and you can’t help the way you preen under his praise. His eyes soften at your reaction. “You always look beautiful, Honey.” He assures you and your cheeks heat in response. You’re overwhelmed by his attention and as the boys on the couch shout in celebration of a touchdown, you push up on your toes and press a sweet kiss to Bradley’s lips, smiling against his mouth. His hands come up to grip your waist gently as he returns the kiss. When you break, he leans his forehead against yours, bumping your nose with his gently. “What was that for?” He asks and you giggle, bumping his nose back.
“Just wishing you a happy Thanksgiving,” you say with a teasing smile and he pulls away before tugging you to him again and you sigh, content to be in his arms when you spot Dare standing in the entrance to the hallway, a bemused smile on her lips and a faraway look in her eyes. You start to pull away from Bradley and he turns to follow your gaze, holding you tighter when he sees Dare.
“Hey Aunt Dare, happy Thanksgiving.” You can hear the grin in his voice and you feel your heart squeeze at the boyish tone.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Bradley, and you too Zam. Don’t stop on my account, I’m old, not a nun.” She flashes a teasing but fond smile at the two of you. You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as Bradley presses a kiss to the crown of your head from behind. “And Zam, I’d love to have you over for dinner with Bradley one day.” You smile at that, nodding as best as you can from your position in Bradley’s arms.
“I’d love that too.” You agree and Bradley gives you a squeeze.
“Great, you and Bradley find a day when you’re both free and he can let me know.” She heads into the kitchen with a smile and you detangle yourself from Bradley’s arms, not missing the way he pouts slightly at you.
“We do have to talk to other people, Bear.” You remind him and he grumbles before relenting.
“I’m going to the kitchen to get a drink, can I get you anything?” You shake your head and he heads after Dare into the kitchen.
You’re making your way over to the back door to go see what Mickey and Bob are up to outside with the idea when Javy intercepts you on his way back from refilling his plate of appetizers in the kitchen.
“Sweetheart! There you are! He wraps his free arm around your waist and you roll your eyes.
“Hey Javy, so what did you bring?” You raise an eyebrow while you snag a bacon-wrapped shrimp off his plate and pop it into your mouth with a satisfying crunch. He snorts, bumping your hip with his.
“Very funny. Bold of you to assume I can cook.”
“What a waste of a New Orleans upbringing.” You chide and he laughs at that.
“Funnily enough, that’s exactly what my mother says.” He pulls the shrimp tail from your lips and places it back on the plate. “So, how’s it going with Bradshaw?” He waggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes.
“My boyfriend? Oh, it’s great.” You grin, loving the way the word sounds on your lips.
“Damn, Sweetheart, so the turkey isn’t the only thing getting stuffed this Thanksgiving?” You gag at the joke in disgust.
“Javy Machado, you are DISGUSTING!”
He just laughs before bumping his shoulder with yours. “Where’s your food, Sweetheart?”
“Right here,” you point out, picking some assorted cracker smeared with a jam of some kind off of Javy’s plate and grinning around it as you toss it into your mouth. He glares at you, holding his plate away from your reach.
“Begone, woman, get your own food!” He wiggles away from your grabbing hands and you laugh as he dashes back towards the crowded couch. Shaking your head, you slip out the door to the back deck.
Standing there, looking out at where your friends are playing with a small crowd of kids is Josie Fitch. You haven’t had a chance to get to know her very well but Mickey’s been singing her praises since he first moved to New Jersey and met her and Reuben. She turns and smiles as you come out and join her by the railing. “Zam, we haven’t really gotten a chance to meet properly, but I’ve heard so much about you from Mickey.” You smile back.
“Same here, he sings your praises any chance that he’s able.” She laughs at that and rolls her eyes.
“Well, that’s definitely Mickey. He’s a good kid.”
“That he most definitely, is.” You smile absently. “How’re you adjusting to living in San Diego?” She shrugs.
“I’ve been moving with Reuben for years. It’s almost second nature at this point. Sure, it’s harder now that the kids are a part of the equation, but we get by pretty well. Thankfully we’ve been able to stay places longer since having them, but they seem to like their new school and they're already making friends so that’s good. They’re good at adjusting, but I suppose you have to be when your dad spends half the year jetting around the country for work.”
You nod. The life of a hockey player is exhausting, but nothing compares to the exhaustion of being a hockey wife, especially when kids are involved. You’ve known plenty of moms that made it look effortless as well as ones that were barely holding on. Josie seems to fall on the effortless side of the spectrum. A small part of your mind wonders which kind you’ll be and you catch yourself imagining a future as not just Bradley’s girlfriend, but his wife, and the mother of his children. You would be a hockey wife. You feel your cheeks heat at the thought even as you chide yourself for being so hasty. You and Bradley have barely been dating for two weeks. It’s way too early to entertain such delusions.
“How are you enjoying your new job? Mickey said you’re a teacher?” You ask and she brightens.
“I love it. Acacia Academy is a great place. I actually wanted to bring one of my coworkers here tonight.” She frowns slightly. “She doesn’t have a lot of friends and doesn’t get out much so I’ve been trying to include her in things but I’m not sure she would have survived this many people.”
“Is she a teacher too?” You ask and she nods, lost in her thoughts.
“She teaches kindergarten, she’s actually Skylar’s teacher. She’s sweet but she doesn’t do well with crowds, especially when they’re strangers. She’s an anxious little thing. I feel so terrible, I can’t imagine how lonely it must be for her.”
“Maybe we can do something smaller soon, and you can bring her then?” You suggest and she gives you a rueful smile.
“Hopefully,” the two of you linger on the deck a bit longer before you go to join the rest of your friends.
***
About an hour later, Penny has wrangled everyone into the gigantic dining room that’s been arranged to try and fit everyone. You’re carrying a full plate of food from the kitchen that's been set up as a buffet-style experience, looking for a seat. You’re among the first to arrive so you and Mickey manage to find a row of three empty seats. You’re unofficially saving the seat on your other side for Bradley and you catch his eye as he enters the dining room with a couple of the other guys. He gets your drift and heads towards the seat when someone pulls out the chair. You turn to tell them that the seat is claimed but the words die on your tongue when you see who it is. Cyclone gives you a good-natured smile as he sits down next to you.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Zam. Good to see you.” You force a polite smile before looking back at Bradley to see him scowling at Cyclone as he takes the seat across from you. You flash him an apologetic smile, nudging his foot with yours under the table.
Bradley’s patience with Cyclone is wearing thin. He’s been inviting you out frequently over the last two weeks. From dinners like the lunch you’d shared in the hotel in DC, to an art gallery exhibition hosted by one of his friends, he just seemed to want to spend time with you. Hell, earlier this week you’d sat courtside with him at a Laker’s game. Beau told you all about your mother in college, sharing both stories you’d heard from her as well as new ones you’d never heard before. Now and then he’d share stories from his childhood and while there weren’t any obvious ulterior motives, you were, quite frankly, weirded out by all the attention he was showing you. You weren’t uncomfortable per se but you weren’t comfortable either. Of course, since you’re now having to split your already-limited free time between Bradley and Beau, Bradley’s irritable at best when you have to turn him down for yet another outing with Beau.
Add onto that that Beau is the last person you want to talk to today of all days. You’re feeling your nerves start to fray and you find yourself dreaming wistfully of Mickey’s keys. For better or worse, another problem decides to seat itself across from Beau, next to Bradley. You watch his shoulders stiffen as Maverick takes the seat, beaming at you. “Zam! So glad you could make it today!” He greets you cheerfully, none the wiser that he’s sent Bradley into turmoil. You develop a sudden interest in your food as you greet Maverick in return. He beams at the small group seated at this part of the table as Dare appears and takes the seat on the other side of Bradley and you’re struck by the fact that this could have been Bradley’s life in another world. Seated between his godparents, it’s a broken family that makes your heart ache for him. You’re glad he has Dare at least. And now he has you too, you remind yourself and you nudge his foot again and watch his eyes soften a bit, his shoulders dropping a little.
“So, what kind of Thanksgiving traditions do you all have with your families?” Maverick asks as he butters a roll. You stiffen slightly and Mickey reaches for your hand under the table, squeezing gently as you feel yourself shuttering. Mickey picks up the conversation easily, regaling the group with stories of his family Thanksgivings back in Chicago as you struggle to drag yourself back down to earth before you can drift too far. “What about you, Zam? Do you usually have Thanksgiving with your family?” Your breath is stuck in your throat and Mickey’s hand gripping yours tightly is the only thing tethering you.
You swallow, trying to clear your throat as you formulate a response. “We don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving.” You answer, forcing a tiny smile. Anymore. You don’t celebrate it anymore. When your mom was alive, she loved Thanksgiving. She loved to cook but not nearly as much as she loved to eat. She loved that Thanksgiving was a holiday that brought people together and your house was usually full to bursting with friends and family. She’d be blasting Christmas music while everyone crowded into the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning to cook up a feast for a late lunch. Once upon a time, it was a favorite for you too because of how excited it made her.
“Really? Katarina loved Thanksgiving.” Cyclone remarks and you consider pushing him out of his chair. Mickey’s hand clenches tighter around yours.
“Yeah, yeah she did.” You mutter, awkwardly and suddenly it feels like every eye is on you. You try your best not to squirm under their gazes as you search for the words.
“I went to Thanksgiving at her house once,” Cyclone continues. “It was such a grand affair. It feels weird that she wouldn’t have continued that tradition.” You can’t stop the words that fall out of your mouth after that.
“She did. We just kind of stopped celebrating Thanksgiving when she dropped dead on it.” You could have heard a pin drop at that section of the table. You drop your gaze to your half-empty plate as you feel your eyes rapidly filling with tears. You push to your feet abruptly, stumbling over your chair in your haste. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I need some air.”
You push past people still trailing in from the kitchen and all but sprint to the back door. You burst out into the cool November air that kisses your cheeks as the tears spill free. You let out a loud, ragged sob as you crumple. Strong arms wrap around you before you can hit the ground and you bury your face in Bradley’s chest as you fall into pieces. Your sobs are ugly, your chest heaving with exertion as the emotions of the day catch up to you and crash like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under. You cling to Bradley like he’s your lifeline, the only thing keeping you from drowning in your grief. He doesn’t say anything, he just holds you as you fall apart. You can hear the beating of his heart under your ear and you focus on it, trying to calm yourself but nothing can console you right now. Bradley doesn’t seem to mind as he rubs uniform circles into your back.
***
You’re not sure how long it takes until you’ve cried yourself out but you feel raw and numb as you finally settle. “Bradley?” You don’t recognize your voice as you croak.
“Yes, Honey?” You can hear the poorly concealed concern in his voice as he squeezes you gently.
“Can we go home?” Right now you don’t care that you’ve just referred to his apartment as home and he doesn’t point it out as he nods. He shifts his hands lower, gently cupping your thighs.
“Come on, Honey, let’s go home.” You let him pull you into his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist like a monkey as you cling to his strong neck. Your eyes are closed, face buried in his neck, smothering yourself in his scent that instantly soothes you but you don’t hear any doors open, just a creak that must be some kind of gate that leads to the front yard. You hear the familiar chirp of the Bronco as Bradley unlocks it. He deposits you in the passenger seat and if he notices that it takes you a moment longer than usual to let go of him, he doesn’t comment on it. Once you’re both buckled, Bradley reaches out a hand to tangle your fingers, knowing you need the grounding touch. He turns on the radio, a silent reassuring that you don’t need to talk yet. That he’ll be there when you’re ready. The familiar notes of one of your mom’s favorite songs grace your ears and you feel your lips involuntarily lifting in a soft smile at the sound as Bradley sings along softly with The Beatles. “Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.” You feel silent tears track down your cheeks as you let your eyes fall shut and you see your mom dancing around the kitchen, singing into a spatula while Bradley croons in the background. She would have loved him. The way you do.
A/N: Yikes, what a mess… our poor girl can’t catch a break and Maverick is really trying to catch Bradley’s hands 🫣 Also I hope you caught that teeny tiny False Confidence tease in there 👀
#you catch more bees with honey // sdd#ycmbwh // sdd#san diego dogfighters#san diego dogfighters au#san diego dogfighters hockey au#top gun maverick hockey au#tgm hockey au#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#Bradley rooster Bradshaw x you#rooster x you#rooster x reader#no use of y/n
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figure you out part 1 - jj maybank x fem!reader
summary: y/n hasn't seen her friends in quite some time and decides that it's time to pay them a visit, but her best friend JJ Maybank isn't very fond of her
warnings: hurt/comfort, verbal fighting, JJ being a bit of an asshole
word count: 4.3k
author's note: it's very much more hurt than comfort ig. I know I fucked up the southern drawl thing that JJ got going on, but I'm not very knowledgeable in that so don't focus on it too much.
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y/n hadn't been that attentive of her friends lately. She had a lot on her plate ever since switching schools, from Kildare High to KCD, and moving out of her family home and into the condo her boyfriend had provided for her after her parents had to move away for work. She hadn't minded it much. She had always been more on her own, had always known how to take care of herself. Growing up on the Southside hadn't been easy, but it had taught her a lot about life, especially to appreciate it when good opportunities were at hand.
So she said yes to the car Travis had gifted her on her 18th birthday. She had said yes to moving into the penthouse apartment with him, although he technically still lived with his parents to keep up the facade. His parents were old school, so she had said yes when he had proposed to her. "It's a good match. You will be taken care of, sweetie," her parents had told her. y/n knew it was the right choice, the smart choice. She would go to college, and then they would get married after. He would take over his parents' company, and she would play the trophy wife, raise the children and look pretty. It wasn't a bad future for someone who came from nothing.
The only cons to the big plan were her friends. Well, if they would still call her, that was to be questioned. She had only seen them a few times at parties in the last eight months, but she had come to the conclusion that now, as the end of the school year was right around the corner, she should finally pay them a visit again. y/n missed her friends dearly. She missed hanging out, drinking beers and smoking. She missed surfing and falling asleep in the hammocks at the Château afterward.
Before y/n had switched schools, her friends had held a long discussion over the issue. The fear that she would forget them and never look back was great, especially after they had all experienced a similar situation when Kiara had had her "Kook year" like they used to call it. But it hadn't mattered what the Crew had to say, the decision had already been made. Her future was more important, getting off the island had been the only goal for her ever since her first day of High School. She had become valedictorian for this one reason and nothing else.
But the worst part had been that they had all been right about her, about the changes.
When y/n looked in the mirror that evening, she could barely see her old self anymore. The washed out shirts and cut off jeans she had always worn had been replaced by pretty sundresses and blouses and other fancy Kook clothes. She looked like a Kook, she lived like a Kook, and anyone who didn't know her from childhood on might think she had always been like this.
She had tried to pick something that wasn't too on the nose. A white loose blouse and light blue jeans shorts. Her hair hung over her shoulders in fine beach waves, and for shoes she wore her usual gray low Chuck's.
The whole drive over to the Cut, she was plagued by fears. 'What if they hate me? What if they say I betrayed them?' were just two of the many questions that pondered her mind.
She parked her car at the Chat. The old, wooden house still looked the same as it had the first time she had laid her eyes on it. It sat rather idyllic at the sound, and the afternoon sun was painting everything in a golden glow.
The HMS Pogue was towed to the pier and the Twinkie parked in her usual spot. y/n thought back to the many adventures she had gone on with her best friends, especially John B and JJ.
"Hey there, old girl," she mumbled and let her hands run over the metal of the little, orange bus.
"She's not that old, you know," John B laughed from behind her, and she snapped around just in time to be embraced in a hug.
"Where were you? Fucking missed you, sharky," he sighed while holding her in his arms.
"Missed you too, bird," y/n laughed, and they broke out of the hug.
"y/n!" Kiara screamed and slammed her surfboard into Pope, who walked next to her, just for her to run into y/n's arms.
After a warm welcome from all of them, they were sitting on the porch, sharing beers and being happy about the reconnection.
"I know I should have come by sooner, but school is a lot and then my parents moved away. It was so much, and I promised myself to focus on my future. I'm so sorry, guys." y/n apologized for possibly the millionth time since she got there.
"We would never judge you for that," Pope assured her, and she gave him a thankful smile.
"We do judge you though for not texting once, and rather fucking some Kook than coming by to surf or something," JJ sneered as he walked onto the porch.
"Jay," y/n hushed as she looked at him. He was hurt, and he was actively fueling his pain over seeing her again into his rage.
"No, I get it. You're a Kook now. The car, the fancy clothes, living Northside. You've got it all, don't you," he hissed at her.
"It's not that simple," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't even attempt to calm down.
"It's very fucking simple, actually. You're a Kook now. No Kook is a friend of mine. You can go." JJ pointed towards the door, expecting her to get up and leave immediately, but she didn't.
"JJ, that's enough," Sarah admonished him.
"She left us, so don't expect me to be so stupid to let her back in just because she is bored or whatever and decided to pay us a visit," JJ yelled, and it was the last thing y/n had needed to break. She had expected him to act this way, he had always been hot-headed, but this was worse than what she had prepared herself for.
She stood up and walked away. "I'm sorry. I should have asked before coming by," she mumbled before leaving towards her car.
"And there she runs again. You don't have to come back again, cheater," JJ called after her as she got in her car and drove away.
"What the fuck is wrong with you," Kiara screamed at JJ and pushed him so that he stumbled backwards a few steps. "She wanted to come back, and you pushed her away because you can't fathom that life isn't just black and white. Get your head out of the gutter, JJ, she's not the same girl she was when we met her."
"And that's exactly the issue!" He spat out and turned towards John B. "Whatever that was, that's not the same girl we grew up with. She's not our friend anymore!"
"Leave! I will not have you call her names and all that crap you are trying to pull right now. Go, and don't come back unless you apologize to her. She had a tough year, and you're just making it worse with your selfish bullshit. Because to me, she is still the girl who kept running into this very door frame because she has shit coordination skills. Maybe you can't see that, but it's true. People don't change that much, not at their core. Leave!" John B stared his best friend down until he angrily ripped the porch door open and left.
Meanwhile, y/n cried the whole way home. She had wanted to spend the weekend reconnecting with her friends, and not just because her boyfriend and his family were out of town. No, she had wanted to do so for a long time, but she had never gotten the opportunity to. But now this was also ruined. Her best friend had ruined it. At least she had still thought of JJ as her best friend before he had screamed at her.
JJ Maybank had been y/n's best friend since third grade. John B and JJ had saved her from a bully at recess, and since then the three had been inseparable. They had spent every free minute with each other. Had consoled one another after a heartbreak or after a fight.
JJ had been her first kiss because they had decided to not take any chances with someone who would turn out to be an asshole, at least that had been the reasoning she had used to convince JJ. What she had never known was that Jay had always had a crush on her, just a tiny one, but he was still sure that she was his first love.
He had of course never told her about that, or the fact that his heart broke a bit when she had called him crying after losing her virginity to some guy who had only pretended to like her. He had never mentioned that he had beaten the guy up the day after to teach him a lesson. He had never told her how much she meant to him, not even when it might have been the only thing that could've held her back from switching schools.
But then again, y/n had never been that truthful either. She hadn't told him that she had always compared every single guy to him, and that none of them ever came close to how he made her feel. That he had always been her safe haven, the only one she trusted blindly, the only one who had never judged her.
Yet he had been the only one to do exactly that as soon as she had come back to her old life. And she hated him for it. They had promised each other to never hurt the other too deeply, but he had done exactly that.
She knew his mannerisms. Knew how he tended to push everyone away, the more damage the better, but she had never thought to be on the receiving end of his rage. The betrayal over the broken promise hurt just as much as the words he had thrown at her that night.
y/n cried herself to sleep in the empty apartment that had never truly felt like home because nothing in it was like she had wanted it to be. It was white and clean and fancy. Stone and metal where she preferred wood and old shipped away tile because someone had once thrown a plate out of rage.
She missed her actual home, but no matter how much she would have worked, she couldn't afford to rent out the whole house on her small waiter salary. Besides, now that she was engaged and ready to leave for college, she didn’t need the job anymore. She had actually been advised to not keep on working. "It doesn't look good for the family," her boyfriend's parents had persuaded her and as the dutiful girl she was, she followed the orders of her future in-laws.
On the other side of the island, JJ was driving around on his bike, trying to let go of his rage, but nothing seemed to work. Seeing her had caused him distress. Seeing her had brought back all the feelings that he had pushed down so far that he had forgotten they existed.
The first time he had seen her in the arms of the Kook, he had wanted to rip the guy's head off. He didn't deserve her, JJ was sure of that. But in JJ's eyes no one was truly worthy of her.
He had hoped that she was miserable with him, that once she came back she was crawling, begging for forgiveness, begging to be taken back. But that hadn't been the case. She had proudly presented her new Kook life as if it was the best thing to ever happen to her.
JJ had looked at her, and the y/n he had seen had looked nothing like the one he had fallen in love with years prior. He was ashamed of ever thinking that she might not turn into one of them.
His rage drove him back to his old home, a place that wasn't his home anymore, it hadn't been in a long time.
He had nowhere to go, John B had kicked him out with good reason and none of his friends would help him out, he was sure of that. So the young man drove on and on until he found himself at her old house. It stood empty, no one had wanted to rent it at the high price the owners were asking for. When JJ had heard about y/n's parents leaving, he had assumed her to go with them. And when she had stayed, he had thought she would be allowed to keep living in their house, but even that had not been the case.
Instead, she had moved in with her boyfriend, one of the most annoying Kooks he had ever met. JJ thought it was all a trick, gifting her a car, offering a place to live for free, helping her get into her dream college. The only thing he was sure she had achieved on her own was the scholarship, but now that he thought of it, it all seemed too perfect to not have been meddled with.
JJ snuck into her old bedroom, the same color on the walls as it had the last time he was there. The old mattress lying on the bed frame he had helped fix many times. The closet they had hidden in the first night JJ had run from home, the closet she had kissed him in for the first time.
He laid down on the bed, like he had done so many times before, just that he was alone now. No one there to help him soothe the pain that he had been holding back ever since she had reappeared in his life. Or was it really a reappearance if you had always looked after her from afar? If you had made sure that nothing bad happened to her? He wasn't quite sure of it, but seeing her smile while talking about her new, pretty and fancy life had hurt him deeply. And pushing her away and hurting her had just done even more damage to himself than he had anticipated at the moment. John B was right, he needed to apologize. And it needed to be a damn good apology at that.
y/n decided to sleep in after that very emotionally turbulent night. Her mind hadn't stopped racing, though. She wanted to go back, to make things right, although it wasn't even her doing. She had tried to reconcile, had tried to get back together with the people she loved most, but he had denied her. 'No, if anything he has to apologize. I won't let him treat me like that, especially him,' she thought while making some breakfast. But her thoughts had occupied her so much that she had burnt her eggs to black goo, and she didn't even have any left to make new ones. So she decided to skip breakfast and go back to bed, turning on the TV in the bedroom. She tried to focus on the movie that was playing in front of her, but she really couldn't. 'Ten things I hate about you?' she thought. "I could give you millions of reasons why I hate him right now," she spoke up without noticing, but then she remembered that she didn't have to stay quiet. She was completely alone, no one to judge her thoughts.
y/n paused the movie and sat up. "I hate that you hurt me. I hate that you think you are better than me just because I had to make decisions that will impact the rest of my life. I hate that you never called, either. I hate that you blame me for everything. I hate you so much, JJ Maybank!" She screamed the last part so loud that she would have nearly overhead the knock on her front door.
It was already noon, and she was still dressed in her sleeping shirt. It was an old one she had once stolen from JJ, a weird coincidence really.
"Who is there?" y/n asked before deciding whether she should open the door.
"It's me, JJ, please let me in," he begged, but she was reluctant.
"Are you gonna yell at me again?" she asked while unlocking the door.
"No. I came to apologize," he said, and she opened the door for him to walk in. Closing and locking it again as soon as he was inside.
"Better to be safe than sorry," she explained after he gave her a weird look because of her actions.
"Nice place," JJ mumbled while looking around. "That's marble, isn't it?" he asked as his long fingers ran over the kitchen island. His usual shirt and shorts combo was the same as the night before, and y/n immediately knew that John B had taken her side in the whole dilemma. He had kicked him out, and that was the only reason JJ was now standing in her home.
"Yes, it is," y/n answered while crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Open room concept," he turned around and looked at everything. "I bet the bedroom is back there, just like the bathroom," JJ said while walking into the direction he had just pointed at.
"What are you doing?" y/n asked as she followed him around. She was well aware of the game he was playing. He was trying to find just enough clues to piece her life together; her life without him in it.
"A bathtub and a shower, that's what I call Kooky, cupcake," he noted and winked at her before turning away from the bathroom and towards the bedroom that was lying opposite of it.
"That's a good movie." JJ nodded while looking at the TV screen. He jumped on the bed and tested the mattress, pressing himself into the sheets and sighing before getting back up.
"Travis," he hissed. "He's a real charmer, isn't he," JJ mocked as he walked back over to her, looking into her eyes, but she didn't let him get to her. He didn't deserve to see her falter even a tiny bit.
"You know, I always thought you'd end up with someone who's less of an asshole, actually," he whispered before brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
"I always thought apologies didn't include mocking the recipient or someone who is close to the recipient," she hissed back at him, and he laughed.
"Fuck that, I'm not gonna pretend to like him. I should've at least broken his nose the first time he even looked at you." JJ moved past her and back into the living room.
"Two flat screens? You really are a Kook. Disappointing," he sighed, not even turning around to look at her. He was aware of the fact that he kept on hurting her, but that was part of his plan. Make her see what she actually needs instead of what everyone tells her to want.
His eyes fell on the balcony doors that were covered by big, heavy gray curtains.
"Don't," y/n called out as he opened the curtains and then the doors.
"I bet he never even cared to ask, because if he did, he wouldn't have given you the fucking penthouse," he sneered before turning around while staying in between the opened folding doors. "You never told him, did you? How long has it been? Half a year since you got together, and he never even considered asking?"
"I don't like to make a fuss, you know that," she replied with her eyes closed. Even just looking out of the window at this height made her feel sick. "Can you close it again please," she begged and as soon as she heard the curtains close she opened her eyes again.
"I don't like when you lie to me," JJ whispered after stepping closer again.
"You came to apologize," she reminded him.
"Answer me one question, and I will apologize and leave. You will never have to see me again if you don't want to, but you can't lie to me. You promised to never lie, remember?" He stared into her eyes and she in his. The bright blue that she loved so much, that reminded her of the sky, the sea. It reminded her of freedom and, most of all, of love.
"What do you want to know?" she asked, although she knew it was a bad idea to play his games. Even though they hadn't properly talked in so long, she still knew him best. Other than her, JJ hadn't changed a single bit since she had left.
He leaned in closer before leaning to the side and whispering in her ear. "Has he ever made you cum?"
She gasped, not only because his words had shocked her, but because the warmth of his breath against her neck, the closeness of him to her, was completely overwhelming.
He moved away again to fully look at her, his pupils dilated and a smirk on his lips.
"Why do you want to know that?" she pressed out while trying to not let her desire take control of her body and mind. y/n had always wondered what it would be like to have it all, to fully be his. She had always thought that JJ was the one. That he would be her first in everything, not just the first kiss, but y/n had been wrong. JJ had told her that there could never be anything between them, the rules made sure of that.
"I'm interested, that's all. He doesn't seem like the guy to know his way around a woman." He let his eyes wander over her. Well aware of the fact that the shirt she was wearing had once belonged to him. Maybe it was a sign, he wanted it to be one.
"We haven't-" y/n started to speak, but JJ just interrupted her.
"You're joking right? You have to be joking. Is something wrong with him? How can he wake up and fall asleep next to you every day and not want to fuck you?" He laughed hysterically because in his eyes it was impossible to not cherish her like she deserved it.
"He thinks I'm a virgin. I didn't tell him. And he doesn't sleep here every night," she tried to defend her boyfriend, but there was truly no reason for it other than to spite JJ.
"I see, he's not only boring as fuck but also the dumbest Kook in town," he laughed.
"We agreed to wait until-" She wanted to yell at him, but the words got stuck in her throat. No one knew that they were engaged, no one was supposed to know until the engagement party that was planned to happen a week after graduation.
"You're joking? Nuh-uh, you seriously have to be crazy to do that. You're gonna marry a guy who hasn't even seen you naked? Seen you in your most precious moment?" JJ shook his head in disbelief.
"His parents are very old school. It's a good match. A good and stable future," she argued with him.
"Good and stable can fuck off. You don't even love the guy!" JJ yelled and ran his hands through his hair as he paced the room. He couldn't believe that she was actually planning to destroy her life like that.
"You don't know who I love," y/n whispered.
"You are so smart, so fucking beautiful and smart, and you want to throw all of that out of the window for the possibility to play housewife for some asshole that will only end up playing golf and fucking girls half his age?" JJ was disappointed in her. He had always thought that they would actually pursue the dreams they had pictured for their lives when they were kids. He had always wanted to run his own charter, or have his own garage, to do something he was good at. And from what it was looking like, he would get to have a similar enough life to what he had dreamed. It wouldn't be his own business, but at least he knew the guy that owned it, and if he did well enough he would maybe get to take over one day.
But y/n? y/n had always dreamed big, and he had never made fun of her for it because he knew she would be able to make it, to achieve anything she set her mind to.
"You wanted to do law, remember? You told me you would one day be the youngest supreme court justice ever. That was the big dream, not some sad housewife who hates her life. Please, you can't really mean this, y/n." He was desperate because if she actually had decided to turn her back on the big dream, then there was no turning back. In his eyes, she would be lost if she didn't even consider not going with the plan Travis' parents had laid out for her.
"I know, Jay, but things change. I can't afford to study law." She was close to tears, but she didn't want to break down in front of him.
"I don't believe you. You can't throw it all away, not for someone who you don't even love." He was adamant about it. There was no way in hell or heaven that she was actually in love with the Kook.
"That doesn't matter," she muttered while looking at her feet. His fingers hooked under her chin as he tipped her head back up.
"It matters so much, darling. I won't let you make that mistake, not without giving you an outlook on what could be instead," he hushed before searching her eyes for just a short second. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho
pt.2
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#obx#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank hurt/comfort#obx fanfiction#my writing#~figure you out#~fanfiction#jj maybank x y/n
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22 for your blurb game please 💕
pastel, this one hurt, ngl. absolutely devastating. i love it.
#22: "ORANGE JUICE" BY NOAH KAHAN (STEVE HARRINGTON)
"you said my heart has changed, and my soul has changed, and my heart - my heart."
warnings: pure. angst. all hurt, no comfort. mentions of issues with alcohol/alcohol addiction.
wc: 2.8k+
It was a mistake from the moment he’d received the invitation. He knew he should have tossed it into the trash, should have gone about his day and never lingered on the small postcard that had been sent to him from his hometown. There was a single good thing to come from him answering the call.
And yet, he did.
Hawkins, Indiana was one of the few graveyards filled with ghosts that could make Steve Harrington bleed. People, places, memories – were they all always this sharp? It was the only thing on his mind as he drove through town, through the streets he grew up in and past the stores he no longer shops at, and felt it all coming back to him. His skin never grew tougher, despite his delusional thinking these past few months, and was thin as thawing February ice, cracking under the sight of you. You, stood in the living room of Robin’s downtown apartment. You, who hadn’t so much as glanced at him since he entered the room.
You, who he had left behind. A bleeding wound that he’d stuffed with the gauze and ignored for a long eight months. The ghost with the sharpest knife.
“Come and grab a drink,” Robin insists as she drags him through the front door, hardly letting him have the time to untie his shoes and shove them off with other familiar pairs of sneakers and boots, “We have so much to talk about, Dingus.”
“I don’t…”
The words die on his tongue. She’s not even listening, too eager to catch up with her best friend.
I don’t drink anymore.
He hadn’t drank since that last night, that last fight. Even the scent of whiskey made his stomach turn since he’d left. Vodka burned more than just his throat, and gin made his eyes water. He couldn’t drink.
“Rob,” he tries as she drags him right past the couch, right past you, “Rob, I have to drive. I can’t-”
“You could stay the night,” she teasingly sings over her shoulder as she passes through the archway to her small kitchen, him right behind her.
He could, but he won’t. He already saw the drink in your hand, and he already knows that the couch is your final resting place tonight. He won’t do that to you – he won’t hurt you, again.
“I really can’t,” he sheepishly replies as she finally drops his hand. Her palms are colder, even more chilled than they had been after afternoons of slinging ice cream together at StarCourt. He doesn’t know if it’s because he had no heat to offer from his own palms, or if he’d just been a leech and absorbed all the warmth she’d offered in that small touch. “I promised my mom I’d visit with her and my dad while I’m in town. The Harringtons are already headache-inducing enough without a hangover.”
It’s a sorry attempt at a joke, but Robin laughs anyway. The kind of laugh that cuts to his bone, that saws right through his thin skin and makes the first incision. He missed her – he misses her. She’s right here in front of him, and he’s never felt further away.
Robin navigates away from the bottles of chilled alcohol on the countertop either way, whether she’s realized to not push the topic or not, and heads straight to the fridge.
“We might have some pop in here, if you really want. I’m pretty sure I bought some Coke on my last grocery run. Or- Oh!” she pauses, peeking her head back out from behind the fridge door, hiding something in her grasp as she grins radiantly, “How about some orange juice?”
The carton is nearly crushed in her grasp, mostly empty as she holds it up.
It immediately reminds him of all the summer clementines you’d shared with him before he’d burnt everything to the ground. Sticky and sweet, innocent and divine. Before the fight, before he’d packed away his entire life into his car and drove as far away from Indiana as he could. As far away from you as his half tank of gas could take him.
The bile rises in his throat, but he nods anyway.
He watches her navigate the unfamiliar kitchen; she knows it well, knows it like home. Every cupboard and every drawer, she clearly has them mesmerized, because this is her home. Hawkins is still Robin’s home, is still your home, even if Steve has sworn it off.
“So,” Robin presses as she fills a crystal cup with orange juice, looking up eagerly at Steve.
It’s hard to be bitter when she looks at him like that. Like he’s done nothing wrong. “So?”
“Tell me about it!” he jumps from her excitement, cringing as she hands over the glass, “Tell me all about the big city. Is it as cool and refreshing as you had dreamed it would be?”
Steve looks anywhere but at his best friend. He looks over the chipping wallpaper in the hallway, flowery images faded from the years. He glances over the dated backsplash of the kitchen itself, noticing how the checker pattern clashes terribly with the steel appliances. His mother would have a fit if she stepped foot in this apartment – whoever had been the interior designer had had more than just questionable taste. The yellow-toned lights from overhead certainly wasn’t doing it any favors.
“It’s-” More words doomed to die on his tongue. They’re ashen, stickier than any clementine. Bitter and biting, burning and cutting. There’s not a singular positive attribute about his new home he can think of mentioning, because it doesn’t really feel like home. And it’s funny, because he had said the same exact thing about Hawkins when he was leaving it behind.
Looking back, this place felt more like home than any big and gouache city ever could. But it has nothing to do with back roads he once sped down, or lonely parks he once cried in.
It has everything to do with the bright-eyed, soft-freckled girl in front of him. It has everything to do with the shadow that suddenly enters the entryway, quieter than ever as it leans against a splintering frame.
“You made it.”
Your voice is a whisper, so soft he swears he imagined it. But then his head turns, and you’re there. Not a figment of his imagination, not a dream he’ll wake up from in a cold sweat. You’re standing there, tangible as ever, arms crossed with a blank face.
“I made it,” he echoes back, voice even lower than yours.
Three little words, and not a single one resembles what he really wants to say.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it. Any of it.
If I bruise my knees now, will I ever see your forgiveness?
You’re a picture frame frozen in time, looking the exact same as you had the day he’d watched you fade from his rear-view mirror. Same stubborn-set lips, same disapproving eyes.
But more importantly, same soft hair. Same sweet perfume. Same shaking hands, built to hold, not fight. They should have never been forced to form angry fists; but he’d never given you a choice. He’d forced your hand – he’d taken all your soft curves and loving edges, and turned them colder than stone. Colder than Robin’s hand.
That was his fault to carry to his own grave.
“I’ll… leave the two of you alone,” Robin says, slowly passing over the glass of juice as she takes a few steps towards the doorway. There’s a fear in her eyes, as if this is the real reason why she had drug him to the kitchen so quickly – she hadn’t wanted to run the risk of this. All this tension, all this hurt. But it was inevitable, and Steve had already put on his Sunday best in preparation for it.
He waits on you to make the first move. Whatever happens, whatever is said is all in your hands. Hands he hopes have let go of the fists you’d had to raise against him. Hands he hopes will hold him gently, even if nothing more than metaphorically rather than physically. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel those hands hold him again; not as a lover, not as something to be gripped onto. They would never thread through his hair again in the morning light, and they would never fist his t-shirt through tears in a somber dusk.
You make your way across the kitchen, just as Robin had, before you settle against the counter. You lean against it, facing him fully, arms still tightly crossed as you stare. And he stares right back. But it’s a losing game; he knows his gaze will always be softer on you than even the blankest of looks that you will give him. There will always be love behind his, and there will never be kindness behind yours again.
He deserves it. He left you. You begged him and begged him not to, and he still left.
“I didn’t think you’d show up,” you quietly admit after some silence, fingers pressing down into your bicep as if withholding yourself, “She mentioned she’d sent an invite but…”
“But you figured I would be too busy?” he offers when you trail off.
“Something like that.”
Something like that. God, he hates it, he hates this. He hates that all he wants is to take you in his arms, to admit all his sins and pray for forgiveness at your altar. He hates that all he can think about is how your lips tasted the last time they’d pressed against his – salty from your tears – as you’d exhausted your artillery of ways to get him to stay. He hates how he still feels the weight of your body curving and meeting him halfway, wrapped up in you but not tightly enough to not still wake in the morning and just drive away.
Your eyes look over him, slowly trailing up and down, but nothing like they once had. “You’ve… changed.”
That was putting it nicely. You were here, haunting him, but he was the one that resembled a ghost. Nothing more than a transparent sheet of the boy he had been.
Maybe the city had been what changed him. Maybe his new job at some stuck up law firm had made more than just internal changes. Maybe it was his abstinence from alcohol that had changed him, letting the wrinkles in his face fade and making the moles across his cheek and neck a little more noticeable. Maybe the lack of sunshine had turned his hair darker. Maybe that had also turned him paler.
But that’s not what you meant. He knew you saw right through him – you saw straight to the rotten core he’d been hiding away for six months. Something old, something abused, something tired. Something yearning to come home to a place that was never his at all. You were talking about all the sleepless nights sponsoring the bags beneath his eyes, all the guilt that was eating him alive from the inside out. All the missteps that he had taken that led him to the lifelong regret and mistakes he can’t ever take back. He could bandage the wounds, he would hold his chest high, but it doesn’t hide the bloodstains of the self-inflicted carnage.
“So have you,” he nods, looking you up and down, lying through his teeth.
The only change present was the one he’d already seen before he left. The one that sucked the light from your eyes as you asked him to just stay. Not even in Hawkins, but with you. You would have followed him to the ends of the worlds, you told him as much, and he’d still said no.
Why the Hell did he ever say no?
Your eyes dart to the crystal glass in his hand, “Isn’t it a bit late for a mimosa?”
“What?” he follows your gaze, and sees the way you’re almost glaring at the glass in his hand, “It’s not- I- this isn’t a mimosa.”
Your nose scrunches, “What? You always said that mixing cheap wine and orange juice still counted, it was just the poor man’s mimos-”
“There’s no alcohol in the glass.”
Your mouth hangs open ever so slightly, eyes squinting in disbelief. And then he sees it. God, he wishes he wouldn’t have witnessed it – the slow fall of your face, until you’re nothing more than a clean slate of marble again.
But in the transition, he saw it. The realization that he had changed, that he had made some of the right changes, just a little too late. He was capable of being a better man, just not for you.
“Why not?” your voice is tight, lips a hard line as you refuse to meet his daring gaze.
Look at me, he begs. Please look at me and let me explain myself.
“I haven’t drank since-” Since that night. Since that fight. Since you begged me to give it up, to call you beautiful without the whiskey flooding my bloodstream. Since you asked me to stay, and I still went.
Unlike Robin, you know the words he can’t say.
“That’s-” you choke on your words, your composure cracking for the first time since you’d entered the kitchen. You take a moment to clear your throat, “That’s good. That’s… great, Steve.”
He can hear your hurt, clear as day. He can hear every question ricocheting in your mind: why couldn’t you have done that for me? Why couldn’t you have given me an inch when I gave you all my miles?
He’s glad you don’t vocalize any of them. He doesn’t have a single answer. You deserve one, but he can’t offer one.
It’s not supposed to be this way. You and him shouldn’t be leaning on opposite counters, oceans apart in the middle of Robin’s kitchen. It should be your kitchen – one shared between you and him. He should be holding you, twirling you around in the quiet of the night by the light of an open fridge, the only sounds being you stifling your giggles over the padding of bare feet.
The two of you should’ve made it.
You’d given him all of your love, every last drop, and he’d turned cheek and ran. You’d never risked asking for more, always settling only for what he was willing to give. No labels, no talks of the future. Hiding you away in the dead of night as the two of you shared cheap wine on rooftops, burying you between his sheets as he’d steal away another piece of you that he didn’t intend to keep but carried all the same. Sticky kisses, but only when no one was looking. Whispered admissions of devotion, but only when no one was listening.
You always gave him a slice of your clementine, peeled and pleading and begging silently for anything in return, and he’d given you nothing. Just a mouthful of bloody goodbyes and nights reeking of whiskey.
“You look beautiful,” he spits out before he can think better of it. The pulp of the juice is on his tongue, and you look so broken for just a second that he swears he can turn back time. He can make it right. He can offer you more than a burial ground.
Your sad smile says it all.
He’d finally said it. He’d finally admitted just a fraction of the hold you had him in, and not a single drop of alcohol in his system. No need to see you naked, no need to pretend the words hadn’t been uttered once the high was over. He’d finally said it.
“I’ll see you around, Steve.”
And it was too late.
You leave the kitchen without another word, and it takes everything in him to not chuck the glass of orange juice at the wall.
He didn’t even like orange juice. The pulp would get between his teeth and drive him mad, it left an odd film on his tongue he couldn’t stand, and it was always too sour for him to find refreshing. It’s the same reasons he hated oranges growing up. Until you, until your clementines. And he thinks if you walked back in, if you asked him to, if you held out a palm with a slice of all you had to offer to him again, he’d find a way to swallow the taste again without complaint.
You’re not going to walk back in, though.
It’s too late.
So Steve crosses the room the counter you once leaned against, grabs the closest bottle of cheap whiskey, and pours. Straight into his mouth, not even bothering with the orange juice.
He never thought a ghost’s knife would taste of clementines as it stabbed through his gut, even through the burn of alcohol. His mistake.
#ghost's tunes 2023#steve harrington#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#we're back and worse than ever!#all of these will be unedited. my bad
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Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [2]
Author: @akittenwrites
Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.
Type: multichapter series
Chapter: two
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader
Word count: 1498
Warnings: swearing.
Part one.
A slight breeze caressed her skin as she dipped her fingers in the ice-cold water of the small lake. Winter was coming. The ground around her would be covered in snow in a few months.
She looked at her reflection in the water. The past year had come and gone, robbing her of her father and the innocence in her eyes. She was still young, her skin bright and her lips plump, but her life had taken a turn for the worse since she had lost the only parent she had left. Her brothers were too young to take on the role of Lord of Winterfell, so it had become her burden to bear. And so far she had done so with responsibility and dedication, taking care of her people and honoring her father's memory.
Yet now everything had changed. Eight months ago they had received a message from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch: winter was coming. Almost at the same time, her most trusted maester warned her that war for the Iron Throne's succession was looming in King's Landing as it appeared the King had trouble producing an heir.
Winter would be harsh for the entire realm, but especially the North. There was no way of predicting how long it would last. It could be two years, or it could be twelve. Facing the effects of war in the south or being forced to participate because King Viserys' dick didn't work? Because Daemon was apparently too unlikeable to sit on the damn throne? No, she refused to be a part of it. She wouldn't send her people to die for that. Northerners had their own war on the horizon, and it was a real war, not the product of politicking. Ravens flew from Winterfell and back for months, and soon her letters informing her bannermen of the threat that was near were followed by the summoning of the heads of their Houses for a secret meeting to discuss and agree on a strategy.
That night the lords named her Queen in the North.
Now she had to live up to the title.
The rustling of leaves behind her made her stand up, the long skirt of her gown feeling heavy as it hung to her waist. She dusted it off without turning around, the grey silk of its outer layer a gift Daemon had given her the day she left King's Landing, almost a year ago. She knew he would recognize it. He always did.
"This castle is terribly guarded."
Oh, how she had missed that cockiness. She smiled to herself, relishing the sound of his voice after so long.
"Well, nobody comes here, I've been told it's a cold and unwelcoming place, so we do not bother with such pointless matters."
She turned around with a smirk on her face. Daemon stood next to the heart tree, a black cloak covering his clothes but with the hood off, his pristine silver hair framing his face. She raised an eyebrow, questioning his choice of attire. Did he really think he could blend in dressed like that? Just one more example of how disconnected the South was from the North.
She was still impressed he had managed to find her so quickly, anyway. It was a place he hadn't visited in decades, even if she had intentionally made it easier for him, waiting there, in the Godswood. It was a small clearing in the woods, away from the noise of the castle and prying eyes. Only the Gods were listening. The ground was covered in red leaves from the Weirwood tree, and the lake reflected the grey sky above. Her long dark hair moved in the breeze.
"You arrived thirty minutes ago," she stated plainly. Then she pointed to her left. "Caraxes is six miles that way. You didn't sneak into Winterfell and the Godswood. My guards follow my orders. I let you in."
"Then I am relieved," he said, walking a few steps in her direction, careful to avoid the tree roots. "I would hate to think you weren't properly guarded."
He paused, gazing into her eyes with such intensity she held her breath, waiting for him to close the short distance between them and kiss her with the same fiery passion he did the day they said goodbye.
But he didn't.
"You were expecting me."
It wasn't a question.
She nodded.
"I had faith."
"Faith?" Daemon laughed. "Faith in what? That it would be me that would come here to talk to you peacefully instead of a handful of dragons flying around and burning you and your people to death?" His eyes didn't leave her, his brows furrowed. He looked at her almost as if he was scolding her, but something else caught his attention then. He sensed movement near, inside the woods, and his eyes darted around for just a moment. That was when he saw a few pairs of bright green spots glowing in the dark.
Direwolves.
All around them, watching. Ready to attack.
"Why are you so bothered?" Y/N responded, claiming his attention again. Daemon had grown tense, and she knew it was because he realized they were surrounded, but he had nothing to fear. The wolves answered to her. "Dragons and armies are not known for their stealth. Had that been Viserys' answer to my message, I would've received them accordingly."
"What game are you playing, Y/N?" he questioned, examining her face, trying to read her, to figure her out. "You are gambling your life."
"It's not a game," she answered, walking up to him. She placed a hand on his chest, yearning for his warmth, and felt his muscles relax under her touch. "You know me, Daemon. I do not wish to be your enemy."
"Yet that's what you are," he whispered, looking into her eyes.
She sighed, feeling him so close yet so far as they stood in the center of the Godswood, their faces barely a few inches apart, their eyes refusing to look away. She caught a whiff of his scent, smoke and musk, and had to fight the urge to bury her nose in the crook of his neck.
Why had she let so much time pass without writing to him? Why hadn't he visited her?
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible. "I missed you."
His hand found the underside of her chin, tilting her head up as he examined her face. She let the hand she had on his chest wander until it reached his shoulder, keeping her ground as she looked at him too. He hadn't aged a day.
Her eyes became glassy and she closed them, unwilling to show weakness. And yet, a few seconds later, when his lips found hers and she felt her heart jump in her chest, a lone tear fell down her cheek.
He was hesitant at first, kissing her slowly, lingering. And when she kissed back, parting her lips, desperate, his other hand grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him, their bodies finally becoming one. The kiss was long and intoxicating, deepening as his tongue found hers, exploring, so intense and drugging. They had both been longing for this in a way it couldn't be described. For their lips, for their kisses, for each other. They parted for just a moment to catch their breath, slightly opening their eyes to look at each other, to make sure it was real. Daemon used his thumb to wipe her tears, worry evident on his face.
"Why are you crying, love?"
There it was. The Daemon only she knew. It had been so long since he had called her that. It brought her back to all those times they laid in bed together, completely naked, the bed unmade and only a few candles alight. He would call her love and look at her with such tenderness her heart would swell inside her chest.
"No reason," she whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I just missed you."
He pulled her in again for another kiss, capturing her lips fervently, his hands stroking her hair, her back, her arms. He was everywhere, hungrily sliding his tongue between her swollen lips, and she let herself get carried away, mindlessly hugging his strong body, trying to become even closer to him, if it was even possible.
When they finally parted, he rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. She closed hers too as she recovered her breath and soon she could feel his heart beating against his chest, against hers. Were they his heartbeats or hers? It didn't matter. She cherished the moment because it was just them and nothing else mattered.
His warmth embraced her, and as they stood like that, in each other's arms as the sun set and darkness found its place around them, she wished they could stay like that forever.
But they couldn't, and they both knew it.
It was the calm before the storm.
Next part.
Tagging: @batprincess1013 @lollaa-puff @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mamamooqa @queenmendes @chevelledahuman @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @boofy1998 @lovelokiqueen @kmhappybunny240 @dudde-44 @dankfarrikdin @gothicgay14 @ilovemarauders @ilovemydinoboi @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @how2besalty @kaitieskidmore1 @thhriller @omgsuperstarg @missyviolet123 @booksnink13
TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.
#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon imagine#daemon targaryen#hotd x reader#queenoficeprinceoffire
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Happy Father's day to our Papa Viktor 😭❤️ can we request a short scenario of them celebrating Father's day pls? 🥺
Aww 🥰 Of course! The scenario ends up being a bit longer than I expected, so I have put it under the cut! ❤️
Father’s Day Drabble — Viktor
You are sitting on a bench in the arcade, watching your kid and Ash flitting around from one game to the next, skipping around excitedly. It never fails to make you smile, seeing them so happy.
They’ve been in the Arcade for a couple of hours now, maybe more. Usually, you don’t really let them stay for this long, but today’s an exception.
If someone had told you that you’d be a father eight years ago, you probably would have laughed in their face. But here you are, spending the day hanging out and celebrating Father’s Day with your child and their best friend.
You remember how you used to celebrate Father’s Day with your father too. He was such a busy man—and still is, you’d wager—but even he had always managed to make time to spend with his family, even if it rarely span the whole day like this.
He’d cancel and rearrange meetings with important people, just so he could have lovely and peaceful dinners or lunches with you, Luka, and your mother. And most times, he would hang out and talk with you and Luka or even sit down and watch some movies that Luka picked.
You sigh wearily. It’s memories like these that sometimes make you really want to reach out to him first. And then, you’d remind yourself why you ran away and usually, it’d be enough for you to shoot down the idea instantly.
But not this time.
It has been years since you last met him and your mother face-to-face, and Luka, your mother, and even Cara have been asking and begging you to go to New York for a visit.
Just the other day, your mother talked to you over the phone about throwing a private and small Christmas celebration later this year and how you should come with Sasha, Luka, Cara, and Ash. She even told you about how she and your father have been dying inside to meet their very first grandchild.
It made you feel guilty and the guilt is still eating at your heart right now. You feel yourself caving in.
“Maybe. I’ll see,” you answered her, and that was enough to lift up her mood and you could hear the hint of joy seeping into her tone.
And it was not until the call was over and you were lying in bed at night that you fully realized that you were not lying to her. You actually are contemplating on visiting them this Christmas with Sasha.
Well, you still have months to make up your mind about it. For now, you’ll just set it aside and enjoy this day with your child.
You see Sasha and Ash playing at the basketball arcade machine. Ash is throwing ball after ball at the hoop and the score quickly climbing up, while Sasha is intently focused on grabbing and passing the balls to Ash, tongue stuck out in concentration.
You chuckle at their impressive teamwork. And sure enough, a few seconds later, the machine stops and spews out a long line of tickets. Sasha and Ash whoop and high-five. Sasha hands the other tickets they have been accumulating to Ash before bending down and grabbing the new line of tickets, quickly counting them one by one as they roll the long line into a more manageable size.
Sasha finishes counting and pumps their fist in excitement before the two of them bound toward where you’re sitting.
“Dad! Dad! Where’s the rest of the tickets? I think we have enough!” Sasha babbles almost breathlessly.
You pat the little plastic bag full of tickets beside you. Those are the tickets that the two of them have saved up before today.
“Don’t worry, it’s safe with me,” you chuckle as you hand it over to Sasha who quickly snatches it.
“Thanks, Dad! Wait here, okay? We’re going to trade these in and then we’re ready to go!” Sasha grins before taking off towards the ticket counter, Ash swiftly trailing behind them.
“Hey! Don’t run so fast or you’ll trip!” you call out after them and you see them slow down a bit into a jog. You shake your head exasperatedly.
Five minutes later, the two of them return but you can’t see whatever toy they exchanged the tickets for in their hands and Sasha is bowing their head.
“Did you have any trouble exchanging the tickets?” you ask, frowning as you lean forward.
Sasha shakes their head and before you can blink, they launch themself at you and bury their face in your chest. You hug them back, still surprised, but then you feel their body shake.
And for a second, you’re ready to stomp up to the ticket counter to have a talk with the staff. Thankfully, you haven’t moved yet because Sasha lifts their head and instead of a teary face, you see a widely grinning face.
“Sasha?” you ask, confused.
“Happy Father’s Day, Dad!” they exclaim, pulling out a black metal ring.
“Is… Is that for me?” you gape, reaching out tentatively.
“Yes! Who else?” Sasha giggles.
You take the ring gently in your hand and inspect it. It’s just a simple band of black metal with chrome accent. It might look like nothing special, but to you, it has become one of your most important possessions.
“I have one too! So we can match!” Sasha lifts up an identical ring and shows it to you. “I can’t wear it yet though, because it’s still a bit loose…” they pout. “Can you wear it, Dad?”
You try to put it on, but it’s stuck on the second knuckle. Sasha’s shoulders slump in disappointment.
“Hey, hey. Don’t be sad! I really love the gift! Thank you, baby,” you quickly reassure them. “We’ll get chains so we can hang it around our neck. How about that?”
Sasha perks up. “Whoa! That’s a really good idea, Dad!” They hand their ring to you. “Can you help hold it for me in the meantime, Dad? I don’t want to lose it.”
“Of course, baby,” you say, putting the two rings in the inner pocket of your jacket safely. “Now, who’s up for some ice cream?” you ask as you take them in your arms and stand up.
“Me! Me!” Sasha squeals, kicking their little legs excitedly. “I want the cookies and cream flavour!”
“How about you, Ash?” you ask, as you take their hand in yours.
“Rocky Road!” they answer eagerly. “Or maybe I’ll try a new flavour!”
“Alright,” you chuckle. “Let’s go then.”
#asks#anon ask#char: viktor#char: mc#ro: ash#drabble#if: vendetta#if vendetta#vendetta if#if game#if wip#dashingdon#choicescript#cyoa#cyoa game#choice of games#hosted games#interactive novel#interactive fiction#interactive story#interactive games
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Salvation
Pairings: John Price x F!Reader
Summary: after a few months since his last visit, john finally gets the chance to see the girl.
Word Count: 1.7k
tw: fluff, angst, allusion to human trafficking, NCA, terrified girls. nothing too descriptive. bad english and poor grammar as usual. if i missed anything just lmk💕
A/N: so this took a little longer since it was supposed to come out during the weekend. i was planning on making it longer but didn't, maybe a second part could happen🐸 anyway, i love price✨🩵!
Masterlist✨ | Part 2
She hears it while cooking her homemade cherry pie. As far as she recalls, no one was supposed to come today. No. Officer Davis came that morning at eight o'clock like he always did. He had handed her some new books she's been wanting to read for a few months now and was kind enough to buy for her.
Since she wasn't allowed to give her address to anyone,and let alone type it on some random website, she was always asking officer Davis for favors. He was truly an amazing man. Although, even if they ever let her do such thing, giver her some freedom, who would want to go to the house in the middle of the forest to drop off a package?
Freedom. She scoffs. Such a strange word.
Making her way out of the room she walks towards the front door, but not before taking the remote that was given to her by the NCA. All it takes is pressing the red button twice and she'll have the whole police in her doorway. She stands behind the white wooden door, hesitating. Her heart begins to race, feeling it beat against her ribcage.
What if someone had finally found her location?
I can't go back there.
Frozen in her place, hand barely touching the doorknob and tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.
"It's me, sweetheart." A deep voice comes from the other side. "It's okay. I'm sorry for not coming sooner."
John.
She mumbles his name, like a prayer, and then opens the door.
He stands there, tall and broad. The same baby blues that saved her a year ago looking back at her. The lines on his forehead soften at the mere sight of the girl. He's wearing that black beanie that once sat atop of her head when the winter had begun that first time he visited her here.
The only other one that knew where to find her. Because she knew, they all knew, he'd do anything for her.
-
John can hear the river outside the old house. The rustling of leaves moving against the wind, soon it'll be dark. The humid weather making his green shirt stick to his skin layered with sweat. He inhales deeply. This mission. This fucking mission has been going far too long. But everything they found les the task force to this very place. He goes room by room, entering with his gun aiming ahead and the safety off. Always.
Despite not having execute authority he wanted nothing more than to put several bullets in their bodies. Whomever they were.
A creak echoes on the second floor so he rushes upstairs stealthily. The place above doesn't look much better that the bottom part of the house. There's a weird smell in the air. Like blood and death.
After checking the first room, the bathroom and all the cabinets just in case he sighs.
"Only got one room left to check. Anything out there?" He waits for an answer, in the middle of the bedroom. The mattress was torn and dirty. He thinks of all the atrocities that must've taken place there.
"Negative, Captain. Got you on my sight just in case." Ghost's monotone voice interrupts the eerie silence engulfing his surroundings.
"Copy."
The radio dies and John walks to the next door across the hallway. Except it's locked.
Of course.
"Last door locked. I'm going in. Gaz, Soap you're in position?" He asks
"Aye sir. Both ready."
Next thing that happens is a bullet. He shoots the doorknob and the door bursts open with a loud sound of his firearm.
And screams.
Terrified screams and cries from... girls. At least seven of them. Price swallows hard, his eyes scanning the room when they land on the girl shielding a younger one. She's terrified, shaking, yet still looks him in the eye imploring to be saved.
-
She's hugging him in an instant, almost making him stumble back on his steps, but embraces her body nevertheless.
"What took you so long?" She asks, her face resting on his hard chest. Price can feel the softness of her skin against his calloused hands.
"Special Ops." She smells like strawberry and caramels. Pulling away so he can look her in the eyes. "How're you doin' love?"
Her heart skips a beat. Never gets tired of hearing Price calling her that.
"Come in and I'll tell you."
Taking his hand she guides him to the kitchen where the pie is almost finished. John drops his duffel bag on the wooden floor, contemplating her small form moving around effortlessly.
"I got some new books this morning. Turns out I've been missing a lot. Davis was kind enough to bring them since... you know." She shrugs.
"They're still not letting you out?" He asks with a serious tone.
"Nah. Might be dangerous." Taking out the pie from the oven she places it on the counter between the two. Price doesn't say anything for a moment, merely looking at her, pondering. "The boys are alright?"
"Yeah." He nods,"Had to drag one or two out of a burning building but that's not new."
She laughs softly, taking a seat, motioning for him to do the same. He obliges.
"How long do you think they'll keep me here, John?" It's a genuine question. It's only been a few months. A year, almost.
"Love..." he sighs. "It's complicated. I don't know much."
"Yeah but, but once they're all captured..." she stammered.
Price could never say he understands what she's going through. What she endured was beyond him. Whenever he thought of it it just made him want burn the fucking bastards. All of them.
"I promise you this. Once it's safe for you I'll personally come and give you the news. And we'll go wherever you desire, yeah?" Although it's not entirely what she wanted, she could wait a little bit longer. John had never let her down. He saved her and in all honesty she'd trust him with her life. "I'll tell you what." He stands up, making the small kitchen look even smaller with his tall form. "Have you heard about the town fair?"
Her eyes light up.
"No... is, is that..."
"Let's go." She doesn't move. "Why don't you go get ready."
"John, I'm not supposed to leave the house you know that, I mean I want to, but... you said..." She's mortified, yet excited. A breath of fresh air. That's what that man meant for her. No one ever cared about her like he did.
"I've got contacts, love. I don't need their permission. For all that matters you're safer with me. Come on, out we go." He points to the front door. "I'm a patient man but don't keep me waiting for too long eh."
-
He was right.
It was a sight to behold.
John watches her eating the snack he got for her. She loved sweets so much therefore he couldn't let this opportunity pass. When was the last time she got to experience something like this? Sometimes so simple.
Something so mundane.
Her eyes are glimmering whenever she looks at the different attractions at the fair. John takes a long drink from his beer bottle. Right hand finding her lower back whenever she's about to bump into some other person when she's distracted.
"You like it huh?" She looks at him confused. He points the stuffed otter in her left hand. A smile crossed her features.
"I do. And I still don't know how you did it... I mean, I guess being in the military does help when you try to shoot a moving horse toy at the fair to win something." She laughs, embarrassed about what she just said. She thinks she sounds stupid, almost making her want to hit her head against the nearest tree.
He smiles, the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes more prominent than the last time she'd seen him.
"I guess it does, love." He agrees wholeheartedly.
"How long are you going to stay?"
Price looks down at her when she stops before the ferris wheel. The wind blows her hair swiftly. What was that in the air? Her perfume?
"For as long as I can, dear." He takes a strand of hair in his hand, and gently put it behind her ear.
There she is.
"John..." she breathes. "I feel so lonely when you're gone." The grip on the stuffed animal tightens. "I've no one. If it wasn't for you..."
"No." He gently reprimands her. "Don't say another word. With or without me you'll be fine, love."
"What if I don't want to be fine when you're not around?" He's silent, yet his mind is so loud. "You saved me, John." She states. "Any other person would just continue with their lives. You were just doing your job. Another one in the endless missions you're assigned." Swallowing, she asks: "Why are you still here? Why do you keep coming back?"
He doesn't answer the question right away, instead looks over her head, lost in his own thoughts as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. He then clears his throat and looks back at her, who's waiting with wide eyes and lips slightly parted. She was right. Any other day John would've turned page. He would sure remember, after all these are stories that will stick with him until his last day. What made this mission different?
"I think you know bloody well why."
-
Price helps her sit inside the helicopter to get medical attention. Feeling her weak body trembling even under the black blanket she was tightly wrapped in. He had carried her body all the way outside from that house when she collapsed. The adrenaline running through her system disappearing when she realized they were being rescued at last.
Simon had side eyed his Captain when he didn't let anyone take the girl from him. Why her? He couldn't say. So he went away and led one of the other girls out of there instead with Soap's help.
"There's nothing to be afraid anymore, kid." He reassured her, voice soft trying not to startle her more than she already was. "We got you. All of you."
Her big eyes once terrified and filled with tears of despair finally saw the light at the end. It was him. What she always prayed for. Salvation.
It was staring back at her.
#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod mwii#cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#john price#john price x reader#cod mw22#141 x reader#price x reader#john price imagine#call of duty#cod price#simon riley imagine#john soap mactavish
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A Special Visit
Pairing(s): Rooster x Future Wife!Reader, mentions of Goose x Carole
Author’s Note: I’ve been meaning to write this story for a while! It’s about the first time Bradley ever took the future Mrs. Bradshaw to visit the cemetery where Goose and Carole are buried.
Warnings: Some mild angst and mentions of grief/loss, but mostly lots of fluff.
You could feel your body slowly starting to rouse itself with those hints of early morning consciousness, hanging in that strange limbo between slumber and wakefulness, but you were determined not to open your eyes just yet. Instead, you tucked your chin inside your sweatshirt—or rather, your boyfriend’s sweatshirt—and burrowed yourself deeper underneath the covers, feeling your thigh brush against the solid, muscular form lying beside you. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt the warmth emanating from him, immediately chasing away any chill that had managed to cling to your skin in the early light of dawn.
Eyes still closed, your other senses were heightened as the stirrings of a new day began invading the small bedroom where you and Bradley were currently ensconced. You could hear the sounds of birds calling to one another and squirrels chattering as they scampered around the tree just beyond the back porch. You could feel the cool breeze wafting in through the window you’d left open just a smidge before going to sleep last night, and smell the crisp, fresh scent of autumn as it swirled over your cozy little hideaway. Snuggling closer to your boyfriend’s side, you could even still taste his kiss from the night before, sweeter than honey and more delicious than any five-star dinner.
At the sensation of Bradley’s breath on your cheek, your eyes finally started to flutter open and your heart immediately came stuttering to a halt at the sight you were met with.
Bradley Bradshaw really was the most breathtaking man you had ever known.
Even in the throes of a deep sleep, you had never seen a man more handsome or more capable of turning your brain to mush. His sandy brown hair was mussed and knotted, sticking up at wild angles that almost made you giggle except for the fact that you didn’t want to wake him. His dark eyelashes were kissing ruddy cheeks that looked flushed and warm from a night spent huddling under two blankets in a worn hoodie and sweatpants. And his lips, those lips that were so soft and tender when they brushed against yours or whispered sweet words of love in your ear, were parted slightly, the sounds of his heavy breathing a sign to you that he was still very much asleep.
God, you loved him so much.
Reaching out with a gentle hand, you brushed your fingertips delicately across his cheek, absorbing the heat that seemed to flow from him in waves. You knew he was exhausted. These past couple days had been meaningful for the both of you, but you also knew that they had been emotionally draining for him as well. And today would be the toughest day of all.
You and Bradley had arrived in Virginia just two days earlier, though it felt longer for all you had already managed to accomplish during your short trip here. After over eight months of dating, it was the first time you were getting to see Bradley’s hometown, the place where he had grown up and been shaped into the man he was today.
He didn’t have much family left in the area, he had explained to you before you arrived. Just a few aunts and uncles and a couple cousins. He had never had a very large extended family to begin with, and many of them had since moved out of state. But this was where he had been born, where his parents had tried to put down roots and where his mother had raised him. It was the place where his parents were buried. And so it would always be home.
The two of you were staying at the home of Bradley’s Aunt Betty, Carole’s older sister who didn’t share much in common with her vivacious younger sister except for her eyes and her smile. She was a kind woman who had graciously opened up her home to you and made you feel quickly at ease. As a nurse, she worked long shifts at the local hospital, but it had been nice getting to spend time with her and to hear stories about Bradley’s mother when she was a little girl. You knew it meant a lot to Bradley, too.
Besides meeting Bradley’s family members, he also took you on a full tour of the town, showing you all his favorite places, including the baseball field where he’d played all the way through high school and the diner where he and his mom used to go get breakfast every Sunday. Seeing the joy on his face as he’d shared stories from his childhood, eyes sparking with memories as he gazed upon the sites that had been the center of his world while he was growing up, filled your heart with such love for him that you thought it might overflow or actually stop beating altogether. It didn’t seem possible that a heart could contain so much feeling without simply ceasing to function.
There was one place Bradley hadn’t yet taken you though.
The cemetery.
You knew he wanted to. It was the main reason you were here in Virginia.
“I want you to meet my parents,” he’d told you seriously, when he first proposed the trip. “You know, if that’s not weird for you,” he’d quickly amended, the tips of his ears turning pink as he averted his gaze in shy embarrassment.
“Of course not,” you’d assured him, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing his arm comfortingly. The truth was, you’d never been so touched by an invitation. “I want to meet your parents, too.”
Today was your last day here, so you knew it had to be today. But you had a feeling that Bradley was anxious about it, so you wanted him to get as much rest as he needed. Leaning over in bed, you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead before silently slipping out from underneath the covers, tucking them around his still body and carefully tiptoeing out of the bedroom.
Aunt Betty had mentioned the evening before that she was working an early shift at the hospital today, so you knew she was already gone as you made your way to the bathroom for a quick shower. You dressed with care, choosing a pair of jeans and a flattering sweater that you knew would keep you warm in the chill November air. Once your hair and make-up were done, you took a step back to critically examine yourself in the mirror. You’d met boyfriends’ parents in the past, but nothing felt as momentous as this. Even though you knew you wouldn’t actually be getting to “meet” Goose and Carole, the need to make a good impression hung urgently in the air all the same. As anxious as you knew Bradley was feeling, you were feeling rather nervous yourself.
Walking into the kitchen, you scribbled a quick note to Bradley, letting him know that you were going to run a couple errands and that you would be back soon, just in case he awoke before you returned.
Just as you were walking out to the car you and Bradley had rented, your phone suddenly buzzed with an incoming text message.
How’s it going?
It was Maverick. You smiled, grateful for what a dear friend Bradley’s godfather had become to you in the months that you had known him.
Really well! I think Bradley’s happy to be here.
Has he taken you to Rosewood yet?
Maverick knew better than anyone the main reason why you and Bradley were here. He and Bradley both tried to visit Goose and Carole as often as possible, and it had been a while since either of them had been able to get here.
We’re going today. Bradley’s still sleeping. I think both of us are a little nervous.
They would love you.
You felt tears welling up in your eyes at Mav’s message, knowing how heartfelt it was and how much it meant coming from him.
Thank you, Mav ❤️
Talk to you soon, kid.
Putting your phone away, you jumped in the car, wanting to get through these errands as quickly as possible so that you could get back to Bradley.
When you returned back to the house a half an hour later, dropping the car keys on the kitchen counter, you could hear movement in the bedroom.
“Honey? Is that you?” Bradley called out, the sound of a door opening down the hallway followed by the patter of footsteps on the carpeted floor.
“Mhm,” you called back, setting the tray you were holding down on the table. “I went to grab coffee from the diner,” you explained, smiling when you suddenly felt a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist. “Good morning,” you greeted him, your cheeks flushing pleasantly when he pressed soft kisses to your neck.
“Good morning,” Bradley murmured, his voice still thick with sleepiness despite the fact that he had clearly showered and gotten himself dressed for the day. “Thank you for the coffee,” he added, nuzzling your cheek affectionately as he reached to grab the cup that was marked Black.
Stepping back for a moment, he looked you up and down appreciatively, his free hand resting on your waist. “You look beautiful, honey,” he told you, his eyes warm as he took a sip of his coffee.
You flushed happily at the compliment, glancing down at the outfit you had carefully selected. “You think it’s alright?” you asked self-consciously. “I have another sweater I could—”
Bradley cut you off with a kiss, his lips tasting strongly of dark roast coffee. “It’s perfect,” he assured you, brushing a loose lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re perfect.”
You smiled, resting your hand over his. “I know how important today is for you,” you said softly, gazing up at him. “I want you to know it’s important for me, too.”
Setting down his coffee cup, Bradley swallowed deeply, suddenly looking a bit overcome. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close and not saying anything for several minutes. You just wrapped your arms around him and let him sway gently, rocking back and forth.
“I’ve never wanted to bring anyone with me to see my parents,” Bradley admitted hoarsely, reaching up to stroke your cheeks with his calloused thumbs. “I’ve always gone to see them by myself. You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to take with me. I’m so glad you’re here with me,” he whispered, burying his face in your hair and pulling you close to his chest.
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” you whispered in return, stroking his back soothingly.
The two of you stood like that, locked in each other’s arms, for a while before Bradley finally took a step back, clearing his throat. “I have a couple things to put in the car and then I’ll be ready to go, okay?” he asked, squeezing your hand in his.
You nodded, smiling. “Oh, baby? I picked something else up while I was getting the coffee,” you told him, walking over to the bag you’d left by the door when you’d returned to the house. “I hope it’s okay. I know you mentioned they were your mom’s favorite, and I wanted to have something to bring for her,” you explained, suddenly feeling a little nervous as you pulled out the small bouquet of red roses you had purchased at a florist’s shop on your way back to the house.
Bradley was quiet as he stared at the flowers in your hand, and for a moment you worried that you had overstepped. Maybe he’d already picked something up for his mom. Maybe the bouquet wasn’t big enough and he wanted to leave something nicer for his mother, but now he was going to feel forced to leave it because you had gone and picked it up without talking to him about it first. Maybe…
Your mind was in such turmoil that you didn’t even realize Bradley had moved until he was suddenly pulling the flowers out of your hands, laying them on the kitchen counter and wrapping his arms around you once more. He was silent, but you could sense the slight shudder running down his spine as you held him close, and feel the tears that were leaking onto your shoulder.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Bradley rasped, his mouth close to your ear as his face remained hidden by your hair. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, honey,” you murmured, gently pulling his head back so that you could look him in the eye. The emotion was written plainly across his face as you leaned up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.
“The flowers are beautiful, baby,” Bradley told you, glancing over at the bouquet once again. “My mom would love them.”
“I’m glad,” you smiled warmly, feeling proud that you had picked out something Carole would have liked.
“Let me pack up the car, and then we’ll be good to go,” Bradley said, dropping a kiss to your forehead before hurrying out of the room to go grab the things he needed.
Ten minutes later, you and Bradley were making your way towards Rosewood Cemetery, Bradley holding your hand tightly in his as he maneuvered the steering wheel down the small, winding roads. You knew he was nervous. You could feel it in the way he was gripping your hand, his thumb brushing absent-mindedly across your skin. You were nervous, too, your heart pounding in your chest the closer you came to the cemetery.
The car was quiet as you pulled through the gates a few minutes later. Bradley had turned the radio off not long after you got into the car, and neither of you had said anything since. You kept your eyes fixed on the grassy hills in front of you, lined with the tombs of all those who had been loved and lost over the course of generations.
After taking a few sharp turns on the tight, curving paths, Bradley finally stopped the car and put it in park. But he didn’t move. His one hand was still gripping yours, the other clenching the steering wheel tightly.
“Bradley?” you asked gently, not wanting to push him, but also wanting to make sure he was okay.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Bradley murmured, as if suddenly realizing what a mental fog he’d been in. He loosened his grip on your hand immediately, lightly massaging your knuckles with his fingers. “I just…”
“Is everything okay?” you asked, resting a comforting hand on his arm.
He swallowed nervously, seeming almost unable to turn and fully meet your gaze. “It’s just—when I come to visit my parents, I usually stay for a while. A few hours. I sit and I talk with them, you know? Like they’re still here. Like we’re having a conversation.” He swallowed again, suddenly fidgeting in the driver’s seat. “And well—I realize now that that might seem a little weird. And if it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to stay that long. It’s just something I’ve always done, but like I said, I always come by myself and so…”
Bradley’s sentence trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, still not looking you in the eye.
It dawned on you in that moment that Bradley was nervous not because he didn’t want to bring you here, but because he was feeling self-conscious about what you would think, watching him interact with his deceased parents. You couldn’t blame him for that. What he was doing today, what he was inviting you to be a part of, was probably the most intimate and vulnerable thing he had done in the nearly nine months you’d known him. He was opening his heart to you in a way he had admitted he’d never done with any other person. And you felt privileged to be a part of that.
“Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching over and cupping his face in your hands. “Baby, look at me,” you urged gently, waiting until he had lifted his brown eyes to meet your gaze. “Honey, I think it’s beautiful, the relationship you have with your parents. I think it’s beautiful that you spend this time with them. You don’t ever have to feel embarrassed or ashamed about that. This is your time to be with them, and I’m just so grateful that you want me here for that. We will stay here as long as you want to.”
Nodding his head slowly, Bradley grasped one of your hands in both of his and lifted it to his lips, kissing it softly. “Thank you, baby. Thank you.”
Taking a breath, Bradley opened his door and stepped out of the car, hurrying around to your side so that he could open your door as well. Grasping your hand, he helped you step out, then moved to the trunk of the car.
While you grabbed the bouquet of flowers for Carole, Bradley grabbed the large throw blanket and thermos he’d packed earlier, slamming the trunk door down with his elbow.
“Don’t want you getting grass stains or freezing out here,” he grinned, holding up the items with a soft chuckle.
That was your Bradley. Thoughtful and selfless beyond all measure. Goose and Carole would be so proud of the man their son had grown up to be.
“Ready?” Bradley asked as he came to stand beside you, juggling the blanket and thermos in one arm so that he could wrap his other around your waist.
“Ready,” you nodded, allowing him to lead you up the footpath.
The two of you walked for a couple minutes until Bradley stopped at a particular row, then took a right and led you to a spot beneath the shade of a stunningly beautiful red maple tree. November really had been a perfect time to visit.
Bradley’s hand slipped inside yours as he brought you before a large tombstone, BRADSHAW etched in bold letters across the stone face.
“Hi, Mom and Dad,” he breathed out, squeezing your hand gently as he smiled down at their gravestone.
Your heart skipped several beats as you gazed at the names carved into the stone—Lieutenant Nicholas Anthony Bradshaw and Carole Marie Bradshaw. What struck you even more deeply were the dates underneath Bradley’s father’s name—July 19, 1962-July 29th, 1986. Goose Bradshaw had died just ten days after his 24th birthday. So young. So much left to live for. So much that he never got to see.
Including the man who was standing beside you.
“I know it’s been a little while since I last visited. I can just imagine what you’re saying, Mom,” Bradley grinned ruefully. “But I had good reasons, I swear. And I’m hoping today’s visit will make up for it. I brought someone that I wanted you both to meet,” he said softly, turning his head to gaze over at you tenderly. “And she’s pretty amazing.”
You blushed slightly at that, a soft breeze rustling through the red maple and lifting your hair off your shoulders as you smiled down at Bradley’s parents’ grave. “Hi,” you greeted them softly, feeling a little shy at first, but bolstered by the feel of Bradley’s strong hand on your lower back. You introduced yourself by name, grinning warmly. “Bradley’s told me so much about you both that I feel like I know you already,” you added, suddenly remembering the bouquet you held in your hand. “Carole—oh, I mean, Mrs. Bradshaw—”
“She’d want you to call her Carole, trust me,” Bradley laughed, rubbing your back in slow circles.
“Carole,” you said again, smiling. “Bradley told me how much you love red roses, so I brought you some,” you explained, carefully settling the flowers into the small vase that was resting at the base of the tombstone. As you straightened up, you turned to look at Bradley. “Oh, I should have brought something for your dad. I feel terrible.”
Bradley smiled, shaking his head. “Knowing him, he’d say it was all about Mom anyway,” he told you with a wink. “I’m sure he’s happy with the roses.”
Chucking you under the chin affectionately, Bradley laid the large throw blanket out on the grass, the two of you working together to stretch it out flat on the ground before taking a seat upon it.
“There’s so much that’s happened since I was last here,” Bradley murmured, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I don’t even know where to start.”
“I’m sure they want to hear it all,” you assured him, pressing a tender kiss to his shoulder. “Just start from the beginning of wherever you last left off,” you encouraged him.
So he did.
You rested comfortably against your boyfriend’s side as he regaled his parents with tales of getting recalled to TOPGUN, of the uranium mission, of his reconciliation with Maverick, and all the new friends he’d made along the way, friends who had become like family. He told them about getting to be part of a special squadron stationed at North Island, how he now got to remain in San Diego, which was why it had been so long since he’d been able to travel back home.
And then he told them about how he met you.
“You were right, Mom. I know you love hearing that,” Bradley grinned, resting an arm around your shoulders. “You were always right. It happened just like you told me it would. I saw her in the middle of The Hard Deck, and it felt like the whole world stopped turning.”
“You’d be very proud of him, Goose,” you chimed in, laughing brightly. “He caught my attention with a very rousing performance of Great Balls of Fire.”
The next couple hours flew happily by, you and Bradley laughing until your sides hurt as you recalled the various antics of your friends and all the adventures—and misadventures—the two of you had gotten into since your lives had intersected. You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as Bradley shared with you stories of his parents, and the shenanigans they had been known for, especially whenever they were with Maverick.
As the late fall sun began making its slow descent across the sky, Bradley sobered slightly and took a deep breath as he turned his focus once more to his parents’ tombstone.
“Alright, Mom and Dad. It’s getting late and I think we talked your ears off enough,” he said, slowly rising from his spot on the ground. Letting out a soft groan as he stretched his back, he reached his hands down and helped you rise up as well. “I promise I’m going to get back here soon to visit you guys again.”
“It was wonderful getting to spend the day with you,” you added, holding the thermos in your hands as Bradley folded up the throw blanket. You paused for a moment, before continuing. “Thank you for the gift of your son. He’s an amazing man, and I know that’s because of the two of you.”
Bradley’s head shot up, and he looked a bit startled by your words. “Honey,” he murmured softly, the tips of his ears turning pink in a way that had nothing to do with the autumn chill.
“What? You complimented me enough in front of them,” you teased, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.
He chuckled at that, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Goodbye, Mom and Dad. I love you,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to his fingers before laying them atop their gravestone.
“Goodbye, Goose and Carole,” you murmured, mimicking Bradley’s farewell kiss.
The two of you were quiet as Bradley took your hand and led you back to the car, quickly dropping the blanket and thermos back into the trunk before opening the passenger door for you. As soon as you were both in the car, he turned and took you into his arms, cradling the back of your head in his hand.
“Today meant so much to me, honey. More than you can even know. Thank you,” he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours.
“Thank you for trusting me, baby. Thank you for bringing me here,” you replied, stroking his cheek delicately. “This was so special.”
“You’re so special, baby. And I just know my parents would have adored you. I know they’re looking down and that they’re so happy that I found you,” he told you, kissing you softly.
Pressing one last kiss to the back of your hand, Bradley put the car in drive and began to pull away, a light breeze picking up once more as you began the drive out of the cemetery.
And as the two of you drove away, a few delicate red rose petals floated on the breeze behind you, a little goodbye kiss from two people whose love would always be stronger than separation and death.
#mr. & mrs. bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#mrs. bradshaw#rooster x wife!reader#rooster x reader#x reader#x female reader#top gun#top gun: maverick#miles teller
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In a Twist
I just can’t stay away from Bob smut. Here’s another request from the inbox, which is still open for TGM and The Bear requests!
The below is mostly smut and fluff - 18+ only!
Call me simple, but I just love the Bob-has-a-hot-girlfriend trope.
You’d spent most of the morning primping. Bobby was being awarded a commendation on base today and it was your first time visiting him at North Island.
You’d started seeing one another about eight months ago while he’d been stationed in Key West. Starting as friends, you’d met through your girlfriend, who was dating a sailor, Bobby had made the first move, something that both surprised and delighted you.
You’d been fortunate that for a majority of your relationship so far, you’d been in the same state. However, he’d been put on assignment in Miramar five weeks ago, and you’d missed him terribly. Your communication had been minimal and though you’d been aware when he had a work incident that landed him in the hospital, he reminded that even if you came to Miramar, you wouldn’t be able to actually see him.
Thankfully, you’d been able to text and FaceTime a few times since then, but you were thrilled when he’d sent you the invitation to the ceremony.
You’d flown in last night, renting a car and spending the first night eating room service and doing as many spa treatments as you could. You were smooth as a dolphin – hair recently highlighted, brows plucked and all nails buffed and polished.
Bob had been staying in base quarters, so you’d splurged for the suite for a handful of reasons: you knew he wouldn’t want to be sleeping in a twin bed again, and you’d now been celibate for six weeks. A twin bed with a roommate was not going to cut it.
You were grateful that Bob had emailed you all the instructions to get on base and where to go – it was slightly different than visiting him on base in Key West. You’d nervously tapped your fingers against the steering wheel after parking your car, your permit tag hanging on the rearview mirror and printed out invitation in hand. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d used a printer, much less asked for help printing something at a hotel.
Sliding the invitation into your clutch, you’d spotted a well-dressed family getting out of their car, and you decided to tag along so you wouldn’t have to walk into the reception hall alone. Adjusting your appearance in the reflection of the car door, you stutter-stepped in your heels to catch up to the family.
You were excited and nervous to see Bob – reuniting after being apart for the first time put butterflies in your stomach. There was a small reception first, then the ceremony, then another more informal reception – though Bobby said they’d likely head down to a local haunt instead.
There was a large gathering of people in the reception – probably 150-200 people, with a few aviators sprinkled in wearing their white dress uniforms. You felt like you were in for a treat, you’d seen Bobby in his service khakis and some of his more casual pants and Navy tees, but never these get-ups.
You lifted onto your toes, trying to see as much as possible past the crowd in your heels, but you weren’t gifted with height. There was a loud buzz of conversation and for a moment, you felt bad that Bob’s family wasn’t able to join today, but you’d not met them before and it would likely be sensory overload to have a reunion on top of meeting his parents.
“Hi,” your attention was pulled over your shoulder, met with the gaze of another aviator in his formal attire.
“Hi,” you smiled, dragging your attention back to the crowd, searching desperately for your boyfriend.
“I’m Bradley,” he continued. You smiled distractedly, offering your name before turning back to the crowd. “I’m being honored here today,” he continued. “For deeds of valor and bravery,” he added.
“Congratulations, thank you for your service,” you smiled. “Sorry, I’ve got to find someone.”
“Maybe I can help,” Bradley said, taking his hat in his hands, holding in front of him. “Who are you looking for?”
“Robert Floyd,” you said hopefully.
“Bob?” Rooster asked, “I don’t see the resemblance,” he added. “But yeah, I can show you were Bob is.” He shrugged.
You followed at an even clip, keeping up with Bradley’s long strides, hands clasped excitedly in front of you. Over by the organized aisles of chairs, and off to the side by the podium stood your boyfriend, speaking with another aviator, his own hands wringing over themselves.
“Bobby!” You called, immediately gaining his attention. You’d hurried over to Bob, whose smile was taking over his face, heels clicking loudly across the polished concrete floor.
Throwing your arms around his neck, you’d nearly knocked his hat off as he wrapped himself around you as well, hugging you tightly.
“Bob’s sister is smokin’ hot,” Jake Seresin commented to Bradley.
“You’re telling me,” Bradley scoffed. They both watched as you rocked forward on your heels, kissing him soundly.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Baby on Board?” Jake mumbled, looking at Bradley with wide eyes.
“I missed you so much,” you smiled, gently brushing some of your pink gloss off of Bob’s lips with your thumb.
“Missed you more,” Bob insisted. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Sorry, I’m getting makeup all over you,” you giggled, to which Bob blushed.
“I don’t mind,” Bob said earnestly. “C’mere, let me introduce you to my friends,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours and leading you back over to Bradley and a few other of the aviators. He introduced you to the group and you squeezed his hand between your bodies, legs crossed over in front of the other as the skirt of your dressed flowed about your knees. “Babe, this is Jake, Bradley, Natasha and Javy.”
“It’s so nice to meet you all,” you smiled, leaning further into Bob’s side, tilting your head toward his shoulder. “Congratulations on your commendation,” you added.
“And so how exactly did you two meet?” Jake asked, finger wagging between you and Bob.
“It’s an embarrassing story,” you blushed, as Bob slid his arm around your waist to the small of your back, squeezing your outside hip. Bradley’s eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline. However, you were saved by the bell as they began wrangling everyone to their seats.
“I’ll see you after,” Bob said, kissing you once more before he was ushered to the front of the hall.
Your eyes were brimming with tears of pride as you watched Bobby receive his award – looking so handsome in his uniform. This separation and trip had been a big milestone for you two, and you didn’t realize how much you’d been holding your breath until you’d seen him again in the flesh.
He already knew he’d be heading back to Key West after he was wrapped up here and you couldn’t wait to have him back in your apartment. You’d taken some days off of work so you could lay about the beach and do absolutely nothing together.
After the fanfare, you were reunited with Bob, who was happy to introduce you around to some of his superiors and other friends from this stint here in San Diego.
“Bob, you need a ride to the Deck?” Bradley asked, glancing between the two of you once again as people started filtering toward the refreshments table. It was clear the pilots didn’t plan to stay at the reception too long.
“He’s got one,” you winked, watching the blush crawl up your boyfriend’s neck. Bradley’s eyes blinked slowly, wondering if for a moment, he had forgotten how the English language worked.
“We’ll see you there,” Bobby nodded, fixing his glasses. Bradley wasn’t quite out of earshot when you turned to Bobby and asked discreetly if he knew a back way out of the hall. Bradley looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what he was.
Bobby led you out of the hall through the side building entrance and the moment the metal door swung shut again, he was on you like he’d been traveling the desert and you were a mirage of water.
“Fuck I missed you so much,” you laughed into his mouth, hands cradling his face against yours.
“I swear I missed you more,” Bob reassured you. “You look so beautiful, even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said sweetly, making you grin like crazy before he could pin you up against the building. “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel.”
You blinked up at him owlishly, Bob still an inch or two taller with your heels on.
“I can’t wait till we get back tonight,” you said genuinely. Bob’s eyes cut all around and there were too many people milling about. “Let’s go to the car,” you tugged on his hand. He was happy to follow you back to the parking area. You tossed him the keys from your purse in time for Bob to wave at Bradley and Jake who already heading to the bar.
“Feels good to drive,” Bob said with a grin as he pulled out of the parking lot. You’d held his hand in yours. When you’d gotten off of base and headed down the highway along the water, you’d pointed out a scenic diversion that went down toward the ocean off of the road.
“Pull over,” you said, squeezing his hand in yours.
“Here?” Bob asked, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“Here,” you agreed. He followed instruction and the second he put the car in park, you’d tossed yourself at him in the front seat. “You look so good in your uniform,” you said, kissing him firmly. Your ass sat on the center console, fingers laced behind his head. Bob’s hands slid up your sides, making you squirm. “Bobby, please,” you begged, gasping for air.
“Sweetheart, get in the back seat,” He said, squeezing you gently. You didn’t need to be told twice, crawling into the back as Bob got out of the car before cranking open the rear door. Your feet dangled out of the opening, just above the ground as you reached up to yank Bob down to kiss you again.
“Please Bobby, I’m soaking wet,” you begged, watching the air leave his lungs at your comment. You reached for his belt, shakily unbuckling it and yanking his pants down his thighs.
“Panties,” he mumbled, reaching up your skirt, calloused hands skimming your soft thighs to grip the gossamer pink fabric between your legs, looping them tightly around his wrist like a ponytail holder. “Gimme your ankles,” he commanded, happy to have your shoes over his shoulders as he lined up his cock with your sex, pushing in slowly.
“Jesus fuck,” you cursed, bracing your hands against the driver’s seat and headrest next to your.
Bob let out a strangled gasp, hip shuddering into you.
“You’re so tight,” he huffed, eyes going unfocused for a moment. “Missed this pussy so much,” he added.
“Bobby,” you giggled, turning into a soft groan as he withdrew before pushing in once more. “God I feel like a fucking virgin,” you blushed.
“Baby,” he gasped, clutching your legs to his chest, “Christ it’s good to be home,” he groaned. You reached down, swiping a finger through your wetness before finding your clit, which was begging for attention.
“Bobby, give it to me,” you demanded, circling your clit hastily. “You can fuck me slow tonight, but right now, I need you to make me cum immediately.” Bobby was a man who took direction well, and today was no different. He anchored himself against your legs, pumping into you at even keel with his blunt tip hitting you exactly where it needed to.
“Missed you so much,” he panted. “Feels so good to be inside of you - was thinking about this for almost two months,” he groaned.
“Harder, Bobby, please,” you begged. Bobby complied, giving it as good as he could. He spit down onto his fingers, batting your hand out of the way as he swirled his fingers around your clit, giving it a firm press at the same time he pushed in, bottoming out inside of you. “Right there, don’t stop!” you sighed, hands gripping at the foam seats.
“You gonna cum?” Bob asked, sweat lining his skin beneath his hat.
“Cum inside me,” you all but begged, “please Bobby.”
“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned, and he held your clit hostage as his thrusts became erratic, his orgasm shooting off deep inside of you. He thrust gently through his orgasm, a strangled groan climbing from his throat as your sex clamped down on him, your knees shaking against his chest as you let out a loud sob.
As soon as you could remember which way was up again, you grinned blissfully.
“Welcome home.”
Bob leaned against your legs, his arms looped tightly around them as he hugged them to his body.
“Love you,” Bobby smiled back from between your ankles, making you giggle.
“You’re always so cute after you orgasm,” you commented, making him laugh as well, jostling you in all the right ways and making you gasp softly.
“Baby, you’re gonna get cum on your dress,” he commented quietly.
“There’s wet wipes in my purse,” you laughed, covering your face as you could feel his orgasm leaking out. A few minutes later, you were pinned up against the car once again as Bob kissed the breath from your lungs.
“We can skip the bar,” he insisted.
“No, you deserve to celebrate,” you insisted, straightening his collar. “But I am going to wear this hat – and only this hat – later.” You promised.
It was another three miles to the bar and you made Bob do several once-overs of your outfit to make sure you were all put together again before walking in.
“You look like a dream,” he reassured.
“Bob!” Phoenix summoned them to the back of the bar where the drinks were already flowing. His front-seater handed you a drink and you gratefully accepted it, clinking your glass against hers. Jake appeared at Bob’s side, extending another full beer to your boyfriend.
As Bob reached for the glass, his arm stretched, sleeve sliding up and revealing your panties twisted around his wrist to damn near all of his buddies.
“Mighty fine bracelet there, Bobby.”
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#bob fucks#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd smut#bob floyd fluff#top gun maverick smut#top gun fic#top gun maverick#top gun fan fic
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Could you do meeting stepdad! Pedro for the first time? Please and thank you!😭💗
To Build a Home (Pedro Pascal x Teen!Reader)
Pedro Pascal Masterlist
A/N: I feel like this one was too short but I've been having writers block and this is the best I could do! I hope you enjoy it!! <3
Word Count: 2,880
Summary: Your mother decides it is time for you to meet her boyfriend of six months, you are defensive at first, but you think you could get used to the idea of having this one around more often.
This is fine.
Everything about this situation is okay.
No need to panic. You thought to yourself. Watching your mother frantically cook in the kitchen as if her life depended on it. You have never seen your mother this frantic since the day your grandmother decided to do a surprise visit.
“Mom?” you quietly said, walking around the counter.
“Honey, can you grab me some garlic, it should be next to the bananas… bananas… shit! I forgot to make dessert!” She groaned to herself as she handled the hot pan in front of her.
You sighed, grabbing the garlic and setting it down on the counter beside her, “Mom,” you said a little louder.
“What, honey?” She quickly gave you a glance before taking notice of the garlic you had placed on the counter. She grabbed it, taking it over to the cutting board.
“Can you look at me for a moment?” You asked desperately.
She sighed, putting down everything before turning to give you her full attention. “Si, Cariño?”
“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.” You regretted the words as soon as they had left your mother, seeing the reaction on your mother's face. How her eyes watered and her mouth frowned.
“But, Cariño, you told me you were ready. We had a whole discussion– I don’t understand.”
You sighed, “I know, I–I think I’m nervous ‘s all.”
“Nervous? Sweetie, how do you think we feel?” You shrugged, “Pedro has been messaging me all week about how he wants to cancel because he’s nervous.” She sighed, “Honey, you’re not the only one that is feeling this way.”
“So, we should cancel?”
She shook her head, “It’s time for you to meet Pedro.” You feared that she would say that. It only meant one thing. One thing you truly feared, she was deeply in love with him. That what they had was something serious and it could lead to them becoming more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. It meant that you would now have to share your mother with someone and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.
Especially with how the last time ended. You still had nightmares from when your father was around, images in your head that never left. What if Pedro turned out to be just like your father?
“Okay,” you felt defeated. Your mother was a person who didn’t budge. Once she had made a decision it was final.
“Now you either help me cook or you get out of my kitchen,” she stated, turning her body to face the counter once more to busy herself with the garlic in front of her.
For the longest, it had always been you and your mother. Your father had no visitation rights since you were eight, so for the past five years, you and your mother picked up the pieces and started a new life. A better life.
Your mother focused mainly on work in the filming industry and eventually, she was able to afford a nice house for the two of you. That’s what it was, just the two of you. You never imagined that one day, it could potentially be three of you. That your mother would one day want to find love again.
“Do you love him?” You hesitantly asked.
Your mother stopped everything, letting out a deep sigh, “I’m afraid to answer that question,” she admitted.
You were afraid she would dodge that question, but also you were sad that she had. You had hoped that your mother wouldn’t tip-toe around the subject with you. Maybe she could be honest with you about a topic that wasn’t common in this household.
“Be honest with me,” you reassured. “Do you love him?”
“Love is a strong word,” she whispered.
“And your daughter meeting him is a big step.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I do love him.”
You gave her a small nod, “Then that’s enough for me.”
She gave you a smile before walking around the counter to pull you in for a hug, “Thank you.”
“But this doesn’t mean that I’m not going to give him a hard time, I still don’t trust the man.” You grabbed one of the potatoes that were on the counter, grabbed the peeler, and made your way over to the trash can. “Don’t expect me to call him dad,” you said jokingly, referencing to the movie Stepbrothers.
Your mother giggled, “I don’t expect that at all from you, amor,” she smiled.
The hour quickly passed, and you anxiously sat on the couch, your eyes not peeling away from the clock on the wall. Your foot bounced against the wooden floors, creating a gentle but persistent thud. The sound echoed throughout the room and for a moment you were glad your mother was busy in the kitchen, distracting herself with the neatness of the dining room and kitchen and if she had enough time to whip up something quick for dessert. You could hear her muttering to herself about whether Pedro would enjoy a bar of chocolate for dessert or if that was stupid.
It was any second that Pedro would walk through those doors and your life would change for either the worst or the best. You didn’t know which and you were afraid to find out.
“Sweetie, are you going to wear that?” Your mom asked as she walked into the living room.
You looked down to see what you were wearing, it was what you had worn to school, a plain tee, flannel, and some jeans. It was casual wear for you, “Um, yes?” She raised her eyebrows, “would you like for me to change?”
She sighed, “Would it be fucked up for me to say yes?”
“Kind of, I mean, if he really liked me he wouldn’t care what I wore right? But, on the other hand, I can change to make you feel less anxious.”
Your mother stood there for a second, thinking about what you had just said. Giving you a small nod, “Don’t change,” she stated.
You smiled, knowing you had won, “Alright.”
Your mother's head whipped towards the door at the sound of the doorbell, “Oh my god, that’s him.” She let out a deep breath before looking over at you, “is it too late to cancel?”
“Hey, I tried earlier but you said it was too late.”
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, “What the fuck am I doing? I mean, are we even ready for something like this?”
You sighed, getting up from the couch, “Ama, I think you’ve been ready for a while, you’ve just been scared, but I’m no longer a little girl, Mom. You deserve happiness.”
She gave you a soft smile, placing a hand on your cheek, “Cuando creciste?” (When did you grow up)
“Cuando no estabas mirando,” you smiled. (When you weren’t looking)
“Alright, let’s do this,” she whispered. You trailed behind her as she walked towards the door. You stood back, watching as your mother opened the door. She deserved happiness, no matter what. Even at the cost of yours. She deserved it.
After everything she had been through to protect you, it was the least you could give her. You saw the way she had been these past few months, the after-dates smile, and how she grinned from ear to ear the day after. He made her happy and it scared you, but you couldn’t tell your mother that. You couldn’t ruin it because somehow seeing her so happy made you happy, even if you were weary about the man who was causing it.
Your mother's voice was muffled as she greeted Pedro on the other side of the door. Meeting him meant a lot of things, it meant that it was no longer the two of you on adventures, that he would more than likely tag along. It meant that eventually, you would have to get used to your mom always being with him. He could be here for breakfast some days and you know what that meant. He could be here for dinners on other days and it also meant expressing boundaries.
She deserved this happiness.
“Y/N,” your mother called for you as she stepped aside to let Pedro in. There he was, with a nervous smile playing on his lips and a bouquet of flowers in his hands that you knew was for your mother. “I’d like for you to meet my daughter, Pedro.”
He let out a nervous laugh, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, your mother speaks so much about you.” He held out his free hand for you to shake, and you gently shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you too,” you gave him a hesitant smile.
“Oh! I got you these, your mother said you loved sunflowers and well,” he nervously chuckled, “I hope you like ‘em.”
You gave him a surprised look, glancing at your mom who grinned from ear to ear, “For me?” He gave you a nod, “T–thank you, I–I don’t know what to say!” Pedro handed you the bouquet that was beautifully displayed sunflowers with a few purple flowers here and there and baby’s breath surrounding them. “They’re beautiful, thank you, Pedro!”
Pedro grinned from ear to ear, he relaxed a little. He had been nervous all day about handing you the flowers, afraid that you’d reject them. Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be so bad and maybe he could bond with you after all. He knew some things about you from what your mother had said, but it was only some things. He did know the struggles you and your mother had gone through, knowing very well that this transition wasn’t going to be easy for you. Pedro is determined to try his best to get you to trust him because all he wants is to be a positive influence in your life, it was the way he was. His heart broke to hear what you had been through at such a young age and he wished there was something he could do. Something he could do for you and your mother.
“Well, dinner is ready,” your mother states, “let me show you to the dining room.”
“I-I’m gonna put these away,” you say as you walk towards the kitchen. You set the flowers on the counter, staring at them for a second. This was the first time anyone had gotten you flowers. Your first time getting flowers were supposed to be meaningful. A moment you’d remember forever and for a second you were afraid he had just ruined that. For just a second and it was gone, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the bouquet. “Don’t,” you whispered to yourself. The sound of your mother's laughter coming from the other room. This all felt too good, it would all soon come tumbling down and you knew that, but you did not know if you could handle it.
You took in a deep breath before joining your mother and Pedro in the dining room. You sat across from Pedro at the table, “smells good,” you commented as you began piling food on your plate.
“Thanks, mija,” your mom smiled.
“So, Y/N, your mother tells me you are in the drama club at school?” You gave him a nod.
“She’s thinking about starting auditions for actual films soon, right, mija?”
You shrugged, “It’s still a big maybe.”
“For film? I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Maybe Pedro could give you some pointers,” your mother suggested.
You cleared your throat, “So, how many siblings do you have?”
“Y/N,” your mother warned.
Pedro chuckled, “It’s okay, Yesenia.” For a moment you forgot your mother had a first name, you were so used to just calling her mom. “I have three siblings.”
“Pedro, you don’t have to answer her questions, she does thi-”
“How many sisters and how many brothers?” You asked.
“Two sisters, one brother.”
You nod, “Please stop interrogating him,” your mother pleaded.
You gave her a small glare before looking over at Pedro, “Where are you from?”
“Chile,” Pedro smiled. He found this amusing and cute. You were protective over your mother and he loved that you were. “Next question?”
“When did you move here?”
“That’s a long story.”
“I have all night, it’s a weekend.”
“Y/N,” your mother warned.
Pedro chuckled, “It’s okay.” He looked back over at you, “Long story short, my family moved here when I was very little but we had to go back when I was a little older when I was old enough I moved back on my own to pursue acting.” He gave you the cliff notes of his life, leaving out the personal details that were still hard for him to talk about, but enough to keep you satisfied. Your mother gave Pedro a sincere smile and he smiled back. She knew the longer version of the story and she was grateful he was answering your questions to his best ability. “Next question?” he asked.
“Do you want more kids?”
Your mother rolled her eyes, “No,” he chuckled.
“No?”
“Yes, he said no and I don’t want more kids either, Y/N,” your mother stated.
“Why not?” you directed the question towards Pedro.
“Because of my schedule mostly, but I also never saw myself having kids. I’m already almost fifty and I don’t think it’s fair on the kid to have a parent that old, you know?”
“Plus, your mother can’t have any more kids and if she could she wouldn’t because childbirth is no joke.”
You rolled your eyes this time, “Alright, last question.”
“Hit me with it,” Pedro stated.
“What are your intentions with my mother?”
“Y/N!” your mother warned.
Pedro chuckled, “I love your mother and I love spending time with her and right now I would like to get to know you because I know you mean the world to her. I know you both have…” Pedro hesitated, “I don’t intend on hurting your mother in any way. I see myself spending a lot more time with her and hopefully, one day, growing old with her.”
You watched as his eyes never left your mother, the way they idolized her as if she were the only thing that mattered. He really loved her and you could see it in him, but could you trust him? You didn’t know. It was hard to know. You barely had any trust, to begin with.
You remained quiet the rest of the dinner, listening to the two of them laugh as they joked around and told stories about some of their dates or their time together on set. He was an actor, he’d be on the road a lot and your mother knew that yet she was okay with it. She was okay with everything about him.
Your mother got up to answer a phone call, leaving the two of you alone.
You pushed your food around with your fork, “You okay?”
You glanced up at Pedro, his eyes showing concern, how you hated that they did that. “Yeah.”
He sighed, placing his fork down, “You don’t have to like me.”
“You got me flowers,” you whispered.
“Your mother kept mentioning how you loved sunflowers, and it felt like the right thing to do.”
“No one has ever gotten me flowers,” you stated.
Pedro sighed, “I’m sorry if I stepped over the line or–”
“No, you didn’t… just taken back ‘s all.”
He gave you a small nod, “Do you like them?”
“Love them,” you corrected. Giving him a small smile, he smiled back. “I just… I always kind of dreamt that my dad would be the first person to get me flowers, you know?”
He nodded, “I’m sorry, I probably should’ve–”
“It’s okay,” you reassured.
He sighed, “I’m not him, you know.” You stayed quiet. “I know, you don’t trust me because of him, but I am not him and I’m willing to give you all the time you need in order for you to allow me in your life. I love your mother, Y/N and I hope that if you get to know me and I get to know you… we could develop a sort of bond… would that be okay?”
There was a little voice inside your head that was screaming yes, she was shouting it so loud that it gave you a headache. Yet, your mouth never moved, seconds passed and you sat there wondering if it would be okay. The little voice argued with the bigger one. One was more naive than the other and one was more hurt than the other.
Your mother stepped back into the dining room, “I was thinking while on the call, maybe the two of you should hang out together sometime soon? Without me there, get to know each other you know?”
Pedro smiled, “Sounds good to me, what do you think, Y/N?”
You shrugged before giving your mother a nod.
She clapped in excitement, “I’ll plan it out for you guys! It’ll be great!” Would that be okay? His voice trailed inside yours for the remainder of the dinner. You wanted it to be okay, but you couldn’t give him an answer, not just yet anyway.
Pedro Pascal Taglist: @Sophieelizabeth01 @tracysnook @cilliansangel @change-the-world-someday @graciegoeskrazy @oggystine93 @t-stark35 @twkobii @picklehat3r @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @white-wolf-buckaroo @steadydragongalaxy @rooting4theantihero @soupinasock @Ilovehotdadsandshit @dzaga890 @marantha @emmasauger @marysucks-blog @pcotato @scrappybear89 @dlwrish @what-ever-man213 @boiohboii @drowning-in-paragraphs @stoneredsworld @xmurph7 @sleepylunarwolf @glossy01 @aot-task141-lover @uwiuwi
#pedro pascal x teen#pedro pascal platonic#pedro pascal x platonic!reader#pedro pascal x teen reader#pedro pascal x teen!reader#pedro pascal x daughter!reader#pedro pascal x daughter reader#pedro pascal x step!daughter reader#stepdad!pedro pascal#pedro pascal x platonic reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal daughter#pedro pascal daughter!reader#pedro pascal teen#pedro pascal teen!reader#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal daughter reader
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