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dear-bunnyboo · 6 months

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I am in love with your fics 💕

Can I please request a Joe Burrow one shot where it’s about his calf early in the season, the reader constantly worries about Joe and tells him to sit each game out but Joe is stubborn so he doesn’t listen and Joe snaps at one point and it hurts the reader. Then it moves to one day where the reader doesn’t even bother worrying about him because the reader knows Joe won’t listen. Can it be angsty but end on a good note.

first Joey B one-shot angst!!! Love this request so much and it kinda lowkey reminded me of my other Joe Burrow one-shot— IDGAF 🤍

I never intended this one-shot to be too perfect for our current situation but it is what it is. This is for all my loves who are all lowkey freaking out because of the game, hope this makes you feel better even more just a moment 🤍

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐒 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joe Burrow x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You just want Joe to listen to you and say yes for once.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, cursing, mentions of injuries, shouting, frustrated!Joe, arguments, crying, fluff in the end

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You thought that this season would start different for your boyfriend Joe but it seems like it’s simply rotten luck on his part— you could say that Joe is a lucky guy; from being gifted with insane talent, skill, looks, personality, and the likes. However, he seems to have a knack on starting his football season either injured or sick.

It started with his knee injury during his rookie year— tearing left ACL and MCL during one of his games. Then him rupturing his appendix the year after, earning him another trip to the surgery table.

You honestly thought that this year was gonna be different for the quarterback. He has always been vocal about his disappointment in missing the beginning of each season— one of Joe’s many goals every year to to start the season healthy and end it healthy.

You and Joe thought that this year would be finally be the year he starts off strong and healthy— you were both wrong.

After getting a call from the Bengals’ coach Zach Taylor about your boyfriend being carted off the practice field for straining his calf; you were pretty sure you were close to crying. Joe’s calf injury surprisingly is the least serious out of all the injuries he had sustained but seeing your boyfriend so depleted once he got home from that practice hurt you.

Joe loves football. He loves what he does and it hurts you to see him so defeated.

However, Joe is not one to give up that easily. Once he got the clearance to continue with practice, he went straight for it and he was adamant on playing their first game of the season. You, however, you didn’t think it was a good idea for him to do so. Most of the people around him want him to sit the first few weeks out— you especially; scared that he might aggravate his injury even further.

But Joe was a lot of things and stubborn was one of those things.

He simply brushed your concerns off with a smile, “I feel good to play, baby. I need to play.” Joe reassured you before slightly limping over to his office to do his film study.

“You really don’t need to. It’s the first week, Joe.” You tried again before he could even leave your sights.

Joe turns to face you, and gave you another reassuring smile, “I’m fine. Alright? I’ll be okay.”

He was proven very wrong when week 1 rolled in and they loss to Cleveland— a terrible start for the season, you love Joe and are pretty bias towards the Bengals but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t play like ass that day.

Joe clearly wasn’t playing like himself. Everyone with two working eyes could see that his injury was holding him back—every tackle, every run, every movement he made made you gnaw on your lips.

You knew that he was blaming himself, yet you also knew that this would only push Joe to try even harder when the one thing he should be doing is rest.

“Joe, seriously. I don’t think you should play next week.” You tried reasoning out to your hard-headed boyfriend who seemed like he had his mind already made.

“That was a terrible game we just had. Which why I need to play next week so we can start strong— get our footing back.” Joe sighed as he ran his hands over his face in frustration as he remembered his awful performance.

“You are injured— you’re calf isn’t fully healed yet, people understand.” You said standing in front of the quarterback, trying to console the inconsolable.

“That’s not an excuse.”

“It is—”

“I’m playing next week— that’s final. Now, can we please talk about something else?” Joe cuts you off.

You blinked a couple times at your boyfriend before sighing, succumbing to his request you turned to move to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat?”

You succeeded in changing the subject to your surprise earning a appreciative smile from Joe. As you made your dinner, you conversed with your boyfriend while you thought about the next game against the Ravens.

…

0-2

Week 2, different team, same predicament.

The Bengals lost, again. Which honestly didn’t come as a surprise for you— it was a better game at least, compared to the shit show that was week 1.

Joe did however, re-tweak his calf. Seeing him limp off the field after the game broke your heart. You could practically feel the frustration come out of Joe from a mile away— hopefully, this time he says yes to you and rest.

However, when Joe got home, you knew right away that his injury wouldn’t him from playing.

When you opened the door to greet your boyfriend, you immediately noticed the way he was leaning all his weight on his good leg. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pressed into a tight line— you had an inkling that you were not going to like whatever he was about to say.

And you were right.

“Before you even say anything— I’m fine. I only re-tweaked it and yes, I will be playing next week.” Joe hobbled inside the house, heading towards the kitchen to fix himself a drink.

“Joe you’re not okay.” You said firmly finally putting your foot down causing Joe to turn to look at you.

“You just strained your calf, you only re-tweaked it, what the hell is next, Joe?” You said trying to keep you voice calm, however, your furious eyes staring into Joe’s was betraying what you truly felt.

Your boyfriend threw his head back with a deep sigh in frustration. You two have seem to have the same conversation over and over again every week— and Joe didn’t understand why you can’t grasp the fact that he will be present every game. While you didn’t understand that Joe can’t grasp the fact that he needed to sit his ass down before he hurts himself even more.

In all honesty, you were scared— terrified even. You knew what you signed up for the second you accepted to be Joe’s girlfriend. You understood how dangerous it’s gonna be, you understood how hard it’s going to be for the both of you. But after tearing his ACL and MCL you were just living on the edge; constantly in fear that something even terrible was going to happen.

Getting that call from Zach, shook you to your core. You remembered dreading that it was gonna be career ending, luckily it wasn’t— just a strained calf, but on the rate Joe is going, you’ll never know.

“How many times am I going to tell you that I’m fine?” Joe was finally angry… angry at you. Listening to his tone made your heart drop, yet you can’t blame him. You know how much pressure he’s in; the amount of times people called him names just because of his bad performances; especially after signing a $275 million deal.

“All I’m asking is one game, Joe. Just one. Just sit one out— if you listened to me and didn’t play week 1 we wouldn’t be in this predicament.” You said defeatedly.

“And if you listened to me you’d actually know that I’m fine.” The quarterback retaliated.

The two of you were now face to face in the kitchen, both trying not to let anger get the best of you two and scream.

“Stop saying that when you are clearly in pain, Joe!” You threw your hands up in frustration as you watched your boyfriend eye you up and down.

“I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about this— it’s my health, my job, my life!” Joe grunts moving to walk away to hole himself back into his office.

His health. His job. His life. While his girlfriend is losing her goddamn mind.

“I’m concerned, Joe. It’s my job to worry about yo–”

“Then fucking don’t!” Joe snaps at you making you step back in shock.

Joe has never yelled at you, not once.

“And again, I’m playing next week whether you like it or not.” Joe’s tone finally calmed down, his blue eyes eyeing your still figure as you stared at him as if you didn’t know who he was.

Just then did Joe realized what he said to you— and moreover, how he said it. His eyes soften under the realization, his tall figure walking towards you to gather you in his arms and apologize.

But before he could do so, something snapped inside of you.

“Baby, I’m so so–”

“No. You’re right. I’m sorry.” You shook your head as if snapping yourself out of a trance before looking up at your now concerned boyfriend who was watching you closely.

His health. His job. His life.

“What do you want for dinner?” You smiled at him, the fakest one you could muster— Joe noticed, he wasn’t stupid… maybe he was a little.

“Do you want pasta? I’ll make you pasta.”

…

Thankfully week 3 was successful.

The Bengals’ first win of the season. The game wasn’t up to par with their usual standards of playing but a win is a win— and you were grateful for that win, for your sake and Joe’s.

The days leading up to the game against the Titans were fast approaching and Joe was frustrated. During practice he took notice how he still wasn’t 100% healthy and that bothered the quarterback; it affected his mobility and his speed mostly which throws his game off.

They won their first game of the season and Joe knows not to be complacent. Yet, he can’t help but hear that nagging voice inside his head that was telling him that you were right— hell, everyone was right. You weren’t the only one who wants him to skip a few games. Ever since his calf injury, his teammates, his coach, his parents, and the fans were all adamant for him to rest.

Obviously, Joe didn’t listen which only caused his calf to take longer to heal which you warned him would happen. As he hobbled up inside his house after practice, he was greeted by the sound of the living room TV— there you were snuggled up on the couch fully immersed as you watched your favorite show.

“Hey.” Joe announced his arrival causing you to turn the TV off and turn to him with a reserved smile.

“Hey, how was practice?” You asked before walking up to the quarterback placing a kiss on his awaiting lips.

“It was tiring as usual.” Joe stated as he wrapped his arms around your waist before continuing, “My calf is sore too.” He confessed guilt filled his face as he awaited for your reaction.

“I’ll prepare an ice compress. Sit down and elevate your leg up the couch.” You pulled away from him before pushing him down the couch lightly. You placed a few pillows at the end of the couch and carefully helped Joe place his injured leg on it.

You quietly moved to get his ice compress not saying another word which was unusual for you— shocking Joe. He was so sure the you were gonna scold him again.

But you didn’t.

You placed the ice compress on his injured calf, placed a kiss on his lips, before turning to him and saying, “I need to shower. Just yell if you need anything.”

Then you left.

No scolding, no questions, no expressing of concern— nothing.

Clearly what Joe said the other day is still bothering you. You still cared and loved the man, obviously. You still took care of him. But your opinions— as much as you’re concerned are not needed, so you kept quiet and kept them to yourself.

Joe didn’t like it at all. He knew he messed up the second he said what he said. The look on your face pained him, he hated himself for talking to you in such way and making you feel like you were in the wrong.

And now you’ve shut down.

While Joe was thankful for the ice compress, he can only hope that the next one he gets from you would be accompanied by the same smile that always greets him whenever he gets home from a long day of practice.

…

2-2

It was the last week of September and the Bengals were still winning. However, Joe wasn't winning.

The quarterback knew that you were still angry with him. He knew that ever since the moment he got home. It's been weeks since he had a proper conversation with you— it was as if the both of you were living separate lives, and it killed him.

Every morning he would wake up with his breakfast and medicine ready and every night, dinner would be on the table with your plate untouched and the leftovers covered and put away inside the fridge.

Joe had never been in this position before. You have never been mad at him, never. Not once. Sure, the two of you have fought over trivial things here and there but never had the two of you had a fight as big as this one.

Joe knows how much he fucked up, yet he's not sure if you were ready to forgive him or if he even deserved it.

And it seems like, the universe is testing his patience.

Joe was frustrated, so damn frustrated. This season wasn't going as well as he wanted it to go and with his calf injury, his mobility was greatly affected and the pain was also hindering him from playing to his fullest capacity.

And it was getting harder and harder to hide it from his girlfriend.

You were starting to catch on, and you were starting to suspect that something was going on with him. But being the stubborn and proud man he was, he refused to let it affect his performance, or the relationship with his girlfriend.

After an excruciating practice, the quarterback was greeted by the sight of his beautiful girlfriend, who was already in the kitchen cooking for dinner.

"Hey." Joe greeted.

"Hi." You simply greeted back without even looking up from the vegetables you were cutting.

"Smells good." He tried, wanting to engage a conversation with you.

"Thank you." You smiled before throwing the vegetables in the pan, "Dinner will be ready in a bit. Can you wash up?"

Joe stared at your back for a few moments before nodding his head, "Alright."

You heard the bathroom door close and that's when you decided to let the tears fall from your eyes.

You missed your boyfriend. You wanted your boyfriend back.

This whole thing was draining you. You hated having to keep yourself together and act as if everything was alright. It was eating you inside.

You weren't the type to hold grudges, especially to Joe. You always understood his point of view, and even if he was wrong, you'd always forgive him. But the way he talked to you last time, the way he treated you, made your heart ache.

"Fuck." You muttered as you wiped the tears from your eyes and proceeded to cook dinner.

You can't remember how long it had been since you've properly talked to Joe. The both of you have been tiptoeing around each other, not wanting to push the other's buttons.

And you were sick of it.

"How was practice?" You asked once the two of you had sat down at the dining table to eat.

Joe looked up from his food and gave you a small smile, "It was good."

You nodded your head and proceeded to eat.

"How was your day?" Joe asked after a few minutes of silence.

"It was fine."

Joe sighed before looking up at you, "Please don't do that."

"What?" You feigned innocence.

"Pretend."

"What are you talking about?" You said defensively.

"Baby, come on. You know exactly what I'm talking about." Joe said.

You rolled your eyes before scoffing, "I'm not pretending."

"You've barely said a word to me in the past three weeks. Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Oh, because you didn't say a word to me either. And you were the one who told me to not worry. So, I'm not worrying." You fired back.

"You're being stubborn."

"Oh, now I'm the stubborn one?" You chuckled sarcastically.

"Yeah. You are." Joe nodded his head.

"So, what? Are we just not going to talk until we die?"

"Well, clearly that's the option that you're leaning on."

"I can't talk to you when you're acting like a dick!" You exclaimed, clearly tired of him putting the blame on you.

"Because you're the picture perfect definition of maturity and rationality."

"You're such a fucking asshole." You muttered, pushing your plate away from you before standing up.

"Where are you going?"

“Away from you.” You moved to walk towards the bedroom.

Joe let out a frustrated groan before standing up to catch your hand in his.

“Can we please talk about this? Properly like adults?” Joe was practically begging at this point.

You stared at him, contemplating if you should actually have a civil conversation or just brush him off.

However, Joe didn't give you the time to think.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and sweet and everything you needed to finally snap. You pulled away and looked at him, his blue eyes gazing into yours.

"Joe..."

"I'm so sorry."

Joe didn't know where it came from. One moment he was pleading for you to listen to him, and then the next thing he knows is that his mouth was already moving, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry for not listening to you, and I'm sorry for taking it all out on you. I'm sorry for hurting you, baby. I didn't mean what I said, and I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. I'm so, so sorry."

He kissed your forehead before cupping your face in his hands.

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I'm not even gonna ask if I'm forgiven because I probably don't deserve it. But, I need you to know that I'm sorry."

You looked up at him before nodding your head, "I'm not mad at you anymore, Joe. I was, and I was hurt. But I wasn't mad."

"I was hurt sure but I knew how frustrated you were and how much pressure you are in— so i understand.” You sighed. “ I hate seeing you hurt and I know how much you love your job but what if it’s also the reason you lose it?” You finally confessed as your eyes filled with a light mist.

“I just want you to rest. For a day at least— cause that is never gonna get better if you didn’t and you know it.” You pointed at his injured calf as you explained.

“Yes, baby. I know and I will.” Joe promised.

And he kept that promise— leading on after their bye week, they have been winning games after games. Joe’s performance drastically changed from how he started. Everyone could see that their quarterback was back, which you couldn’t take credit for— cause Joe was a lot of things; stubborn, hard-headed, but he is also hard working.

And you couldn’t be more proud.

dividers: @cafekitsune

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55sturn · 3 months

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SWALLOWIN’ MY PRIDE

↳ series masterlist!

↳ summary: in which chris is forced to swallow his pride as he comes to terms with the new that y/n has shared, realizing it’s not just her fault. however when he mentions the alternatives, he fails to see how much it hurts his girlfriend.

↳ pairings: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

↳ warnings: swearing, angst, chris not wanting a kid, verbal arguments, big talks about abortions and giving the kid up for adoption, mentions and descriptions of vomiting, a loooot of angst tbh.

↳ important things to note: this is a heavy chapter so please keep that in mind if you choose to keep reading, i’ve done my part and have warned you about what this chapter entails so please do yours and close out of this fic if you cannot handle those topics. i am not your mother i cannot stop you, but if you choose to keep going despite being uncomfortable with the things i’ve warned you about, you are not allowed to get upset with anyone but yourself. enjoy<3

THIRD PERSON POV

chris was left utterly speechless as he stared at the thin plastic stick in his hand. the only thing running through his mind, was “what am i going to do? i just signed the contract today?” he felt guilty being so absorbed in his doubts about his career but it was something he had worked for his entire life. he knew his concerns were selfish, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop worrying about them.

the words “we’re pregnant, chris.” rang in his ears like a bell chiming, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he wasn’t able to breathe. he quickly shifted y/n off his lap so he could begin pacing, he held his head in his hands as his skates clunked against the padded locker room floor.

“what the fuck are we going to do y/n?” chris spits, his voice broken and unsteady as he looks at his girlfriend, her eyes red with unshed tears as she shook her head softly and shrugged.

“i don’t know chris.”

“why weren’t you careful?” chris exclaims, unintentionally putting all the blame on her as her head snaps up, her brows furrowed tightly as she breathes out a listless laugh.

“how is this all my fault?”

“i’m not saying it’s your fault. but why didn’t you just get an abortion?”

“in case you forgot what you were taught in fifth grade health class, it takes two people to make a baby, chris. you were the one that wanted to hit it raw and you promised to pull out but clearly you didn’t. and i didn’t want to abort it without your input because this child is half of you, too. and i would not be able to sit through that alone!“ she scoffs, tears dripping down her cheeks as she stares up at him, guilt and regret chipping away at the slight glimmer of hope that chris would be okay with it that she held.

“i just signed a good contract baby, i can’t miss my games for this shit.” chris sighs, his heart rate slowing down, but his mind was still racing, leaving him blind to the internal battle his girlfriend was facing.

he felt sick, he had everything mapped out for the next five years and this baby completely threw a wrench in everything that he had meticulously planned. there was no way a baby this early in his career would look good, it’d make him look reckless and uncaring about his job.

“do you not think i’ve been thinking about that, chris? that’s the only thing i’ve been thinking about since i found out or even had the slightest idea i was pregnant, i have been terrified of derailing the life plans you’ve set up for yourself and i don’t know what the fuck to do but what i do know, is that we’re pregnant and we have to make a decision about this. so until you’ve processed this, you can stay with one of your brother’s, i will be waiting at home.” y/n replies, her voice gradually getting quieter and breaking even more as she finishes. wiping her tears, she quickly exists the room, the need to vomit overcoming her.

her mind wouldn’t stop racing. it brought every possible scenario to the surface and she was beyond scared. what was she going to do? chris sure as hell didn’t seem to want the baby, and she thought she didn’t either but talking about it to chris had her realizing that she wants a family more than anything.

as she knelt in front of the toilet , she couldn’t help but laugh internally. finding out you’re expecting a child was supposed to be a joyous and happy time. finding out that you’re carrying a life that is half of yourself and the person you’re in love with, the person you’re fully committed to for life, was supposed to have you feeling over the moon. and instead, it had y/n’s stomach twisting with guilt, regret, heartache, and distress.

ash she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, she sat on the edge of it, letting her tears fall as she let the feelings of hopelessness and loss fully consume her heart. would she really see this pregnancy to term if chris didn’t want anything to do with her and the baby? if she did, would she let chris back into her life when he decides he wants a family? or would he seek a family somewhere else?

“how the fuck am i going to survive this without him?” she whispered to herself, quickly exiting the public washroom and making a beeline for the front entrance.

chris on the other hand, was stoic as stared at the wall opposite of him, the thin plastic stick beside him taunting him and his mind, almost as if it was telling him that he was acting selfishly. instead of comforting his girlfriend, who was as equally terrified of their recent news as chris, if not more? he blamed her. he yelled at her.

he callously told her to abort their baby to be. to get rid of the life growing inside her as if it meant nothing. as if it wasn’t the product of two people that loved each other deeply. even if it wasn’t planned or considered, that child to be was still the result of chris and y/n’s love. of the fact that they held each other so closely that they made love without any preventative measures. but chris couldn’t look at it that way, he didn’t want to.

his focus was on his career, hockey was everything to him. it made him everything he is. but was hockey really the only thing that mattered to chris? as he mulled over the answer, images of y/n sobbing as she held the freshly positive test, of her sobbing and scared in front of him waiting for him to pull her into his arms in the middle of that locker room flash through his mind. he felt guilty, he hadn’t even hugged her as she sobbed, he so badly wishes he could rewind the clock a few minutes so he could react differently but he couldn’t.

he knew he wanted a family at some point in his life, but now? it was so early. he wanted to bask in all the glory of being the newest and youngest star on the bruins without the responsibilities of his personal life hanging over his head. but that wasn’t possible.

as his team made their way down the hall, chris shoved the test into the side pocket of his hockey bag and plastered a fake smile on his face. the team cheered and hollered as they had won the game. chris joined in on the festivities, briefly forgetting the decision he had to make as the team got dressed in their suits and dress clothes, deciding to hit the bar in the lounge above the rink nd celebrate their win and landing bracket in the playoffs.

y/n was in the complete opposite state, she sat at the table, the meal she had prepped hours ago as soon as she got home after leaving the game early sat on the table in front of her. it had grown cold and stale as she tried to bring the urge to eat to life but she couldn’t bear the thought of choking back her food. she hated eating without chris. she knew he wasn’t going to join her after she told him to stay with one his brothers, but out of pure muscle memory she made a plate for him and it sat across the table from her, taunting her, as if to say “this is what your future will look like if chris decides he doesn’t want the baby.” and it broke her heart into a million shards.

could she really handle a life without him? they’ve been together for so long as it is. was it worth it to go through everything that they have already, just for a child to tear them apart? she didn’t know the answer to that and she didn’t want to. she hoped that somehow, chris’ mind would change and he would have this great epiphany and realize he wants this, the family life with y/n.

she knew how important this spot on the bruins’ team was to chris, she knew that more than anybody else. but was it more important than a life with the woman he called his soulmate? was his career more important to him than his relationship?

y/n, truthfully, had began to believe it was. he would call off dates and anniversary dinners to go hang out with the team, he would come home late the nights he promised to be home early. he put so much of their time together on the back burner, and maybe this child was the wake-up call she needed. maybe she wasn’t cut out for the life of dating a superstar hockey player.

sighing, she cleared the plates off, putting the leftovers in an air-tight container and leaving them for her or, hopefully, chris to eat another day. she quickly loaded the dishwasher and started it before cleaning the rest of the kitchen. as she had finished, she flicked off the main kitchen light, leaving the light above the stove on so that when chris came home, if he had made up his mind yet, he wouldn’t be surrounded by complete darkness. but she knew in the back of her mind, chris coming home tonight was just wishful thinking.

as she laid in bed, she scrolled through instagram, chris’ story updates catching her eye. pressing down on his profile circle surrounded by a pinkish purple ring, she was met with the sight of chris and john shot gunning beer in their suits, leaving her slightly hurt that instead of talking about things with her or his brothers he chose to party with his team. she knew that making an appearance at the after parties was important, she had just hoped their situation was more important. but refusing to let herself dwell on what she meant to chris, she rolled over and willed herself to sleep.

it had been a few days since her confession to chris and she had yet to hear even just a single word from him. and the silence was killing her. after her doctors appointment, which confirmed that she was in fact two months along, she had received texts of congratulations and more from his family so she assumed he had said something and maybe he wasn’t completely ashamed of what was happening, but she had a gnawing feeling of doubt in her stomach telling her that wasn’t the case.

“matt i don’t know what to think.” chris sighed, looking to his more level-headed brother for advice in this situation.

“well chris, do you really want her to abort it? like can you live with the fact that you’re putting her through that, you know that she’s completely all for it, but it’s different when it’s the one going through it. so would you be able to live with the fact that you’re pushing her to take away this chance, both of yours and hers, at a family right now?”

“well when you word it that way-“

“and who’s to say that you won’t be looking at having a family the same way down the line if, let’s say, she aborts the baby now and this entire thing happens again? would you put her through it twice? when you could just as easily implement all the later plans with your career that included a family into your plans for now. it would be much easier to maneuver things around right because the ink on your contract has barely dried yet. you do it later down the line and shit could go up in flames. but if you’re still dead set on pushing her to an abortion, by all means do it. it’s up to you man but from the way you’ve talk about it, y/n wants to have a family so what you’re doing is most likely killing her, and if you pushing her to do this wrecks your relationship, you won’t find another girl to love you the way she does. and i know you didn’t actually ask for it, but my opinion is that you’re being a fucking idiot. you and i both know that all you’ve wanted with y/n is to raise a family. you talked about your future kids’ names with her two months into the start of your relationship. so i’m not sure why you’re doing all this shit, chris.” matt rambled, his words cutting directly into the flesh of chris’ heart, he knew matt was right. every word he spoke nothing but truth clinging to it. so why was he putting both him and y/n, mainly y/n, through all of this? sighing, chris nodded and thanked him for the advice before plucking his keys off the counter of matt’s kitchen before heading out the door and climbing into his car.

chris made quick work of driving home to y/n, he felt so unbelievably guilty for leaving her alone with her thoughts for as long as he had. as he stepped into their shared home, he felt like an intruder, he didn’t feel like himself, because in what world would chris, the same chris who is so unbelievably and irrevocably in love with y/n, push her to terminate their child? chris should’ve been ecstatic and sobbing over the news. instead he let his job cloud his judgement and focus, and he felt terrible.

“baby?” chris calls out, quickly climbing the entryway stairs and standing in the main hallway, waiting for y/n to answer.

“in here.” she calls back, her voice tired and strained from all the crying she had done. as chris rounds the corner into their room, his heart breaks at the sight of her curled up on his side of the bed in his hoodie.

“i am so sorry y/n, i’ve been an asshole.”

“i’ll say.” she whispers, shifting back to her side of the bed as chris climbs in beside her.

“i want to apologize for blaming you, it’s not your fault. and for suggesting an abortion without actually hearing what you want. if you want one, i’ll support you. i talked to matt and he made me realize what a jackass i’ve been. if you genuinely want this baby, then i do too. i love you, and i want you to be safe and happy. and if having a family makes you happy, then i’m willing to raise this baby with you because in all honesty, i do want this baby.”

“what about your career?”

“we’ll figure that out when we need to.”

“okay. i love you.”

“i love you forever and a day, y/n. i’m so sorry i’ve been so shitty, i was scared and lashed out on you when i should’ve acknowledged that you were scared too, i shouldn’t have let you deal with it on your own.” chris hums, wrapping his arms around her as she dries her tears and rest her head against his chest.

↳ taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @carolsturns1 @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @heartz4chris @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi

↳ this story is far from over, let me know if you want a part three <3 there’s gonna be so much angst i actually feel bad which is crazy bc i never feel bad for writing angst

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infinitywrites · 9 months

Text

I Didn't Expect You ~ Conrad Fisher

(Part 2) (Masterlist)

gif credit @henryofwales

synopsis: Y/N never expected it to be the summer that everything changed. Conrad, Belly and Steven were all dealing with the consequences of recent break ups while Jeremiah's wasn't acting like himself. Susannah was undergoing treatment that provided unpredictable health results and kept her loved ones on the edge of tragedy. Had they drained the well of the magic of Cousin's beach? Or could something new fulfil it again?

warnings: multichapter slow burn, warnings will update with every chapter, timeline is post SEASON 2 with changes, Susannah is sick, Belly is heartbroken, Jere is bitter, Conrad is struggling, everyone swears, Laurel/Cleveland, Belly and YN briefly critique their bodies but the focus is ultimately positive

word count: 2,275

___________________________________________

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Isn't it, isn't it, isn't it?

This summer there was no one to greet us when we pulled up at the beach house. It was quiet but the beauty of Cousin's Beach and the house itself was as overwhelming on first glance as it had always been. Maybe the sky seemed filled with a few more clouds, darker even without someone to remind the boys that the Conklin-Parks had arrived. Either way, Steven and Belly didn't seem to notice and were already grabbing their bags and bickering about who had their house key handy.

"Do you think we're the first ones here?" I asked as I walked up slowly to the property to look for signs of life.

Belly was by your side in moments, "No, Jere said he was picking up Rosie's for lunch. He should be here somewhere. They were supposed to get here a little early to make sure Susannah was all set up with…everything." I just nodded and watched her walk to the door with the key. It wasn't surprising that she didn't mention Conrad.

Belly had already vented her nerves about coming at all after her breakup with Conrad at Prom. I didn't blame her and assured her I'd be right by her side no matter what happened or what was said. Belly and Conrad grew up together just like the rest of us and if no one else would make sure a failed romance wasn't going to ruin that forever, I definitely was. They hadn't talked since and I promised I'd help her fix it and I would. Conrad would be reasonable about it whether he liked it or not. I was always a fixer, the Mom friend if you will, and there was no reason this could be fixed.

Last summer when I saw it brewing between them I couldn't help but worry. Of course, I wanted Belly to have what she'd always wanted but could Conrad really return her feelings of adoration and worship the same way? Apparently yes, for the six months they were together at least. But it had been three months since the breakup and I knew I had to do everything I could to refocus the group into supporting each other. There had been too much drifting and it broke my heart. Despite life changes causing difficulty in the planning of it all, everyone had agreed to come back to Cousin's for the 4th at Susannah's request so that was a great start. She would have insisted on the whole summer if she'd had the energy but it was time to accept that some things would just never be the same again. We were barely children anymore and the summers were going to change.

"Y/N! Come on, Jere's got apple cinnamon for you!" Steven called out to me from the open front door.

As soon as I entered the house, the smell washed over me, my shoulders sagging in relief and the comfort of finally being here and smellling that smell brought me. The greetings were quieter when I walked into the familiar kitchen full of people I loved most, just like pulling up to the house but that was okay too. Jeremiah squeezed me just as tight as he always had even if he didn't shout my name and lift me off your feet. This wasn't even the whole gang of people who'd been through hell and back the last year but we were all here. All coming back for Susannah's favourite holiday.

The pressure I put on this last summer before I moved halfway across the country to start my freshman year at Stanford wasn't fair to anyone, especially myself but it felt like the end of an era. With Susannah's health changing everyday, I wasn't sure if it could ever be the same again. Was the magic gone? And if so, could it ever come back again? The test would be when the house was full and the party planning was in full force. Susannah would put us all to work and everything would feel normal again even just for a little while.

"What the--Ohmigod!" I spun around and used my hands to block the cold water drops spraying all over me. "Fuck you too, cretin," I said glaring at the shit-eating grin standing in black surfing gear that awaited me.

Conrad has snuck up behind me during small talk and shook his shaggy soaked hair into the back of my exposed neck. "Always a pleasure Y/N, " he finally said, nodding without looking in my direction again and focusing on greeting the other new arrivals.

I was happy to see a short but sweet acknowledgement between him and Belly and she didn't even look like she wanted to die after so maybe this wouldn't be as hard as I thought. Laurel showed up last, announcing her presence at the door and warning everyone not to embarrass her in front of Cleveland. It was a surprise but a happy one and I knew instantly that Susannah was going to lose her mind in the best way. Conrad mentioned that she would sleep until dinner around 6pm so don't be late.

The boys made plans that didn't interest me or Belly and just as I thought they were leaving I saw Jeremiah pause and look at the guys with intent. Belly was always quick on the uptake and tried to protest but the tradition held strong. The boys celebrated a successful throw that had poor Belly flailing in the air so long it felt like slo mo and this time none of them fell for her tricks and got pulled into the pool after her. Not even me, though I should have when I felt bad for a moment, held my hand out and walked towards the edge of the pool in her direction. Conrad was quicker and scooped me right up off my feet from behind, just in time to escape Belly's trap as I gasped at the realization.

"You wouldn't! I didn't throw you in!"

"Yeah, and you didn't try stop them either!" But even in her feigned anger she was chuckling as she swam to the ladder.

After the shock left my body, I joined the boys in hysterical laughter. Conrad was still holding me tight but he must have lost his balance as I crashed to the ground on top of him. He was still in a fit, only uttering the occasional "ow" which spurred on more giggles that infected everyone else. I got myself together before he did and had to pry his surprisingly strong, wiry arms from my waist to be able to stand again.

"My god, you're like a world's tallest spider monkey." I was trying to give him shit but but the sight of him giggling on the ground made him look like a sweet toddler.

That helped sober him a little, "You love it...besides I saved your ass. You should be thinking up ways to thank me." I only caught his smirk after brushing the grass off my clothes but it was enough to stop me in my tracks and stare him down.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." This was ridiculous and everyone was listening to the two of us– but no, we'd always done this. This was the root of the relationship I'd always had with the oldest Fisher brother. He riled me up and I gave him shit. Simple. "Let me know if you have any special requests," I said over my shoulder as I headed back inside.

"Good idea! I'll text you!" He was yelling now, the idiot, but it was still making the boys laugh so the final word would be Conrad's this time. I could have sworn I'd heard him mumble about how uptight I could be and I was rolling my eyes as I met Belly in the hallway with an exasperated smile that she shared.

Conrad Fisher and I had never been the closest of the group, always seeming to piss each other off in one way or another as kids. Susannah had said that our personalities clashed and that it was a great challenge to overcome as we matured. Anyone would say that both of us were still working on the maturely overcoming it part. It's not like I thought he was a bad guy; he was my friend no matter what, someone who knew me better than most without even trying. If I set a hard boundary he was the first to listen, respect it and make sure everyone else did too while also being the one to lay into me if I screwed up somehow or rib me to death for acting stupid. It was infuriating at worst and addictive at best so I never judged Belly's undying admiration. He was always the leader of the group as the oldest and that came with a certain power that I later realized was also responsibility. Sometimes he knew what I needed even before I did. It was eerie, that sixth sense he had. He was actually pretty damn good at taking care of everyone so sometimes I even let him take care of me too. If Conrad was the fearless leader then Belly was the baby and while he made it look easy taking care of everyone else, I always knew how to take extra special care of her.

The two of you headed upstairs to the room you shared. It originally had a double bed for Belly but Susannah quickly changed it to two singles side by side the second summer you visited. Belly and I liked our tradition of unpacking first; it felt like being at our second home where everything had a place.

"So...how was it?"

I could hear Belly rolling her eyes before she even spoke. "Okay, it could have been worse. I thought he wouldn't even speak to me."

"Why wouldn't he speak to you?"

"Because the last thing he said to me was that he could never give me what I wanted and that I deserved better." She was frustrated as she said it and I couldn't help but sigh.

"I mean, there are worse things to say when you're breaking up with someone..."

"Y/N!"

"What? I'm sorry! It doesn't mean you aren't allowed to be hurt, I'm just saying at least he wasn't a jerk about it." I shrugged and put my pile of new pajamas in the bottom drawer.

Belly paused and turned to look at me, "He said he was sorry it happened that night but he didn't want to be angry at us anymore. Not even me, Y/N, but us."

I got up and went to stroke her arm in a soothing rhythm, "It wasn't fair how it happened but you said you could feel it coming."

Her eyes start to shine with unshed tears, "I thought it was Susannah...I didn't think it could just be me..." When her pretty brown eyes closed the tears ran down her cheeks but she didn't break down, she didn't sob. She just took a deep, steadying breath as her body shifted underneath my hand.

"Hey, it wasn't you, it was him. Look at you, it couldn't have been you, you're stunning!" I shook her shoulders as her lips turned up at the corners. "Absolute perfection! Come here and see." I guided Belly towards the full length mirror on the corner of the room and planted her right in front of it. "Now, I know you thought Conrad was Prince Charming and you'd live happily ever after but fairytales aren't real. But this volleyball bod is." I smacked her butt to make my point and snap her out of her gloomy daze.

"Oh! You're so ridiculous they need to invent a new word–" Hearing her giggle was always a joy because Belly giggled without a hint of shame.

"I'm not finished! I know a breakup can kill your confidence a bit and I need you to look at yourself and really see what you're bringing to the table this hot girl summer."

Even through a big smile she shook her head, "God no, you are so embarrassing."

"I mean, come on, tight ass already acknowledged, newish boobs that are perfectly perky as ever and the prettiest smile on the face of the planet! You can have any boy you want, Isabel Conklin!"

Belly's smile fell a bit as and twisted and turned in the mirror. "You don't think my shoulders are kinda...broad?"

I hung my head as the patience exited my body with a slump. "You're actually insane. Some of us have real problems like cellulite on our thighs and an ass that doesn't fit in most jeans."

"Oh, shut up! Steven told me Frankie and those guys call you 'the ass that won't quit'."

"Belly, I'm not sure that's a compliment." I didn't hate the nickname as long as they didn't say it to my face but I still wasn't sure it meant good things.

"You're delulu, Y/N. Okay, we gotta stop. You're right. Hot girl summer with me and my cousin in Cousin's!" She grabbed my hand and started shifting her feet like we were about to have an impromptu dance party.

I covered my face with my hands and stifled a giggle at the silly phrase, "I fucking hate when you start that shit..." And just like I expected, as my chuckle became a belly laugh, my baby cousin turned on the Bluetooth speaker in my room and we danced out all the pent up heartbreak, nerves, grief and leftover stress and sent it back home where it belonged.

___________________________________________

Author's note: I promise there is so much Conrad and romance coming up even if it wasn't much in this chapter! I hope you stick with me if you saw the potential. So much of this story was inspired by fics I've read in the last few weeks and this is my thank you! Reply with comments and let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist. If you'd like to ask me about any upcoming chapter warnings you wanna be warned of ahead of time (angst? 18+ smut?) then come visit my blog with any questions and I'll be happy to answer!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #tsitp fanfic #tsitp conrad #the summer i turned pretty #team conrad #Spotify

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bobluvbot · 2 years

Text

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

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taylortruther · 5 months

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something that stuck out with me yesterday was not the "locked inside for six years" comment but the "we are proud of each other comment" like thinking about taylor for the past few years possibly feeling that the love of her life is not proud of her makes me feel sick especially considering how intertwined in her art he is

it has been said by blogs more insightful than me, but in 2016, taylor was so wounded - the world was telling her she didn't deserve her career anymore, she didn't know who to trust, she was pushing people away; for someone who dealt with self-loathing and trust issues and fear she'd lose it all for one misstep, this was a true nightmare scenario. the idea that joe loved her for her, who didn't judge her or see her as damaged goods, was so healing. the thing is, i think taylor was fearful of being Taylor Swift, Superstar - she was actively rejecting it for a time, imo, because she blamed it for her downfall in a way, but also because she knew that's not the her that joe knew or loved.

i don't know if taylor meant she regretted her time with joe. i don't think that's what she meant, i think it was more about how she wished she hadn't lived in fear for so long. we see now that she thinks the chaos when she goes to dinner or a game might be over the top, and she was actively avoiding those situations before - now she's just living her life, come what may. so imo it's more regret about letting fear dictate her decisions than anything. but her relationship with joe coincided with that time in her life. so if she partly regrets sticking around - in that mentality, in that relationship - well... that makes sense to me too.

also, again, the daylight outro, not wanting to be defined by fear, precedes taylor going back into the public eye (on her own and with joe) in 2019... and then the pandemic happened and pushed them back inside again. that's telling!

#writing paragraphs about taylor swift #*cages

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itsgrimeytime · 10 months

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Magnolia in May (Part One) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Song Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: mentioned infidelity, abandoning children, and rumors.

[[ A/N: Is a Southern accent accurate for this time period? No, no it is not. Do I care? No, no I do not. Pride and Prejudice vibes. You are the sister of Maggie and Beth, and the daughter of Hershel. For plot purposes, I've decided you're the oldest. I was twirling my hair and giggling at this soooooo... And yes it is a quote from The Princess and the Frog. Anyway, thanks for reading!! ]]

"Oh, please," Maggie laughed, "-a rich man? Here? Never."

You added in a shushed voice, as it was late in the night, "Last man I saw around here was Mr. Knightley, and I'd surely say he's much too old for my taste."

The giggles filled the candle-gleamed room, it was coated in a special shade of orange -almost like a sunset. You thought it'd be a nice painting were you to ever find the motivation to paint.

The rumor that had been spilled in the quiet of the night was a man with a vast fortune on the hunt for a wife -nothing was known about him. Just that he was rich and wife hunting was enough for some people. Most people.

"I heard he's quite handsome," Beth whispered -across the room in her single bed, while you and Maggie shared the double.

You quipped, "I supposed someone imaginary might be so."

The pillow that went flying across the room only allowed more giggles to surmise in the dim room -an aura of pure joy.

Beth, who was now smiling but still wished to be taken seriously, "I'm serious! Cassandra a few towns over said she saw him in his carriage."

"I'm not so sure you should be looking in carriages, Beth," Maggie retorted -laughter on the tip of her tongue.

"You two are despicable," hissed across the space, as yet another pillow flew toward the bed.

It was such a far-off idea, really. A visitor? Here? Really? Alexandria was a far too quiet town for anyone to even travel to. Everyone knew everyone and so a visitor would only be talked about rather than be approached; eyes across the road, everyone would be waiting for a mistake. For something to spread.

"If there is such a man," you spoke, leaning back against the bed after the giggles were silent and the candles extinguished, "-I'd say he's rather brave for it."

You woke up that morning to the birds chirping -bright and sing-songy. It was like an alarm to you, pleasant noises against the cold of the morning and you thought just for a second... Maybe you could sleep in just a few more moments.

"Girls! We must be up and ready," her voice echoed up the stairs -pointed and sort of squeaky, "-I have some grand news!"

Naturally, your Headmistress had halted those plans -always eager to instill proper behavior. It was her job, after all. Your father had hired her, shortly after your mother had passed -a sickness not even your father could fix. It was a difficult decision, but with three young daughters and no mother, you never really blamed him. In order to excel, you needed to be married, and to be married, you needed to be proper.

"If I could, I'd hold the house on my own. But, I'm getting older and I'm not what I used to be."

Your father was much looser on restrictions, and you and your sisters would've never gotten this far with your Headmistress Elisa, tragically. She was quite the bore.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you pulled yourself up -beautiful birds washed out by Ms. Elisa's fussing. Quickly brushing your hair back into something more presentable, you shook and woke both of your sisters, whispering that you'd stall until she came looking.

"Headmistress, Father-" you spoke, adjusting your dress (the one you'd hardly worn because it was terribly out of fashion) and stepping out into the open, "-good morning."

Your father was at the table, head flickering between a file laid at his fingertips -a patient, you assumed. He often took cases home that irked him or needed more thought than what he could do at the clinic. Drastically careful with the personal details, you really only learned of medical issues instead of the faces behind them. Your father was adamant in never went farther.

"Good morning, darling," Elisa smiled, a little frustration in the pull of her lips -probably at the noticeable lack at your sides, "-good to know someone listens to me."

And then she paused, eyes racking along the dress you'd chosen in a split second -as you knew she would.

"Oh, no no no-" she echoed, tsking as she pinched the fabric in her hands -eyes analyzing the fabric, "-this won't do, Dr. Greene, we need much better dresses for the girls-"

"Headmistress, I'm sure I could find something more fitting, I foolishly assumed this was just breakfast-"

"Better dresses?" he questioned, file laid closed by his hands, "Whatever for?"

That was when your sisters had joined, hair not perfect but much better than you thought it would be on the time limit. Their dresses were much the same, evidence of a lack of current fashion trends -you flinched at the Headmistress's gaze settling on it.

"Well, now that everyone is present," she spoke, tone clipped and posture impossibly straight, "-Alexandria is expecting rather prolific company."

Father straightened then, attentive to the prospect, "And who may this be? Would I know them?"

"You must-" her voice was almost dreamy at the prospect of such a lavish living, "-the man's rather well-known in Atlanta, rather, the family is. Rhee, darling."

Your father paused seeming to take in the information -like he was trying to remember if he'd known the name, or maybe specifically the person.

"But-" your Headmistress grinned, the most excited you'd ever seen her, "-there’s even more! The younger man of the Rhee name, he's close friends with the man who owns the large estate only a few miles off of here."

"It's safe to assume they'll both be around, then?" Beth asked with the shyness that reflected her age -she was rather doe-eyed.

It had always caused you to worry, your youngest sister out in the world. She was capable, really, just a smidgen naive, and such a beautiful girl can't afford to be naive.

Before the headmistress could answer, Father seemed to add some things together -the furrow on his brow prominent, "Wait, the man who owns the estate? You mean the one off the road around the Henleys?"

"The one with the lavish fountains, yes," Elisa answered, a bit disinterested in this turn of conversation.

"I know Mr. Grimes," he stated -a sort of empathy deeply seeded into his tone, "-and knowing him makes me certain he is not looking for a mistress. Not after the first one."

You pursed your brow, a bit confused by the wording, "Is the man a widow?"

Your father faltered, a bit of uncertainty flattening upon his lips, "Well, not quite, dear. He lost his wife, yes, but not the way you think."

"If you count 'running off with a soldier' losing her, you mean."

Father's face stiffened, "Miss Elisa, it's rather disrespectful to speak of a man's life that way."

"Just the truth, Hershel," she leaned in to you three -whispering the rest, "-I heard it was the man's own best friend."

"If you must know, I'd much rather tell you correctly. Mr. Grimes is a man I rightly respect," your father sighed, a bit of defeat on his tongue but you honestly couldn't say you weren't interested, "-She did run off with a soldier, General Walsh -I believe. And it was Mr. Grimes most trusted companion, a friend from youth from what I understand. Left him and the children about 2 years ago."

Maggie, who'd been silent until now, asked, "Children?"

"Yes," your father added, a little forlorn, "-he's to raise them himself. I find I empathize him."

"More reason for him to be on the look," your Headmistress tsked, "-who wouldn't want a maternal figure for their children? It'd be truly shameful."

You bit your tongue at the implication, heavy stares at your father, "I'm sure he has their best interests at heart, Headmistress. It's not right to assume a man's honor just on rumor alone."

"Not right, indeed," Father agreed, turning back to his file so slightly, "-if he is looking for a mistress, as you say he is, he'd be a wonderful suitor for you girls. So, I'm not very opposed."

And then the Headmistress was off again, fiddling with each sister's hair and pulling out old fabric for ribbons (she asked for new ones, and was met with the conundrum of dress or ribbons). She'd especially fussed over you, being the oldest of the group -she wished to have you married first. "The longer you wait, the harder it'll be, trust me, deary."

Needless to say, you were quite joyous that Headmistress had still sent you on your weekly visit to the shops.

It had intially started much like how this morning had -a wish for anyone to ask for your hand or even begin courting you. After that ended (only because any man in a ten mile radius was either not rich, happily married, or much too old), she'd requested you simply because you were the most trained.

Maggie was in a bit of a rebel streak, Headmistress surely feared any time she left the house without supervisor, and Beth? Well, she was rather well-composed but still naive. The first -and last- time she had gone, she'd spent much more than you'd probably spend in a month. Local men had swindled her and she hadn't even noticed.

You were a middle ground, already having your rebellious streak and fully knowing how to stand your ground.

That morning the market was busier than you expected, as you navigated through the stalls each one only smelling better. Your first stop was always fruit, as the better stock would always be taken early you urged to get the best... reasonably.

The man who ran the stall was kind, had a wonderful smile and always remembered your name, you found you always remembered his : Mr. Elliotts.

He was old, and seemed to only really have the fruits to his name -he was rather fond of talking and had told you a lot. You knew much about the man, and dreaded the day he'd close up shop -you'd miss him if he did.

"Hello, miss," his voice was big and grand, tone ever-so-happy to see you, "-I've got quite the selection for you today. All your favorites."

"After my heart, Mr. Elliotts?"

He laughed, a jolly sort of laugh you would've expected Saint Nick to have when you were young, "Funny, don't let your father hear that one, eh? I've got all types of berries for you, specially grown."

"Oh, thank you," you said, grateful.

Mr. Elliotts was not a clean man, you knew that much, his facial hair was overgrown, and his face was always dusted in a healthy spatter of dirt. It had always just seemed more natural to you, than the other cleaner stalls decorating the square. You knew very well you were often the only customer of his, just because he looked like he'd gotten the fruits himself.

"No problem," he grinned -big and toothy.

Once the conversation had settled, you'd ordered your berries with a sense of ease -merely pointing gently at the types just in case he couldn't hear you. You were comfortable with him and were rather fond of his presence. So even after packing away the fruit you'd bought into your basket, you still stayed near.

After the first few stories though, there was something odd.

On your arm, the basket rested -poised prettily, properly. It felt like a familiar weight at this point -used to the trips that you'd become rather excited about. But what wasn't was the slight tug on your dress -you'd barely noticed it, merely feeling like a gust of wind.

On instinct, though, your head turned to check it -eager to keep your dresses in good condition so your Headmistress wouldn't lose her head. And when you had, you'd met an unfamiliar face.

It was a little girl, her hand cinched on your dress and pulling on the fabric -intent on getting your attention. She was blond, a mess of curls gracing her head only alluding to what she had been up to earlier that day -you couldn't help but smile at her.

"Well, hello, little one," you hummed, crouching down to her side and looking around for anyone that had been looking for her, "-where are your parents?"

The little girl didn't speak, as you thought she might know a few, only leveling with your basket -brown eyes heavily focused on the fruit within. You pursed your lips, watching her as her little tiny hand extended toward you -open and shutting her fingers in a grabbing gesture.

You smiled, still flickering in the crowd for anyone with that familiar worry, "You want one?"

Still crouching down, you fished into your basket -grabbing one that she could hold and gently placing it in her palm. Her grin was a little toothy, as she with ease ate the blueberry -dribbles of the vivid blue making a mess along her mouth.

And then, a voice with an unfamiliar accent spoke about the crowd, "Judith? Where are ya? Have you seen a little toddler 'bout yay big little pink dress, blonde curls-"

Without so much as an extra thought, you gently grabbed her clean hand -keeping her close to your side. Your eyes wandered to match the voice of the man, guiding Judith back to her home. The market was a little too busy to go just on noise-

And then, you saw him.

A tall man with pushed-back brunette curls that were elegantly brushed behind his ears, and a pinch of worry in his eyebrows. He was currently turned to an older lady -crouched slightly to speak to her appropriately. You could see the brush of stubble across his jaw, and a hint of bright blue eyes.

You spared a thought, he's quite pretty. Before pushing it away, and trying to gather his attention, "Sir? Hello, excuse me-"

The man spun to your attention, blue eyes settled intently on you -a bit in shock. You immediately realized he was quite finely dressed for such an occasion, a neatly pressed white shirt and brown vest -a sort of detailed satin. Sleeves elegantly rolled up from the heat, he still looked starchly overdressed -you brushed at your dress insecurely. He seemed to start to say something-

"Dada," the girl, Judith, squealed -escaping your hand to run to him.

The man stalled for a second, eyes still set on you -before seeming to shake his head back into shape. He crouched down to match her enthusiasm, arms open wide and grinning, "Jude, thank god."

Pulling the girl to his chest, he stood. Eyes uncertainly settling on you, but still with an expert air of gratefulness, "Thank you so much, you really don't know what you've done for me, Miss uh-"

"Greene," you answered, unused to such affection displayed by a father -you found it rather charming, "-Ms. Greene. And really there's no need, I'm glad to help. She's a sweetheart."

"No, no, really-" he spoke, still a little uncertain, "-Is there anything at all I could do for ya? You have no idea-" And then he paused, looking towards his daughter with a peculiar eye (the smudge of blue still prominent on her lips) and then your basket.

"Oh, right, sorry-" you apologized, straightening the basket on your arm with a sort of nervous fidget, "-I just bought them from a stall, Mr. Elliotts, she seemed to want one. I apologize if I overstepped-"

"Could I buy ya more?"

You stalled, "I... what?"

He paused, thinking over his own words, "Well, she ate one and I'd like to thank you-"

"Sir, she only ate one," you answered -smiling at the odd idea he'd explained, "-trust me, it won't be missed."

"I insist," he carefully spoke, Judith bouncing gently in his arms a passive sort of affection you found rather endearing.

You opened your mouth, rather unused to such forward generosity -especially for something so simple as what you had done, "Well, it wouldn't-"

And then, as if the world had heard the offer (and hated you), the church bell rang -a sort of melodic noise that brushed over the center. You usually enjoyed it, keen on the tone that settled over your skin, but this time, you didn't.

"Oh, is that the bell?!" you stopped yourself, frantically looking up at the swinging golden symbol, "-I'm so sorry, I'm going to be late for breakfast. Perhaps next time?"

"'Course," he responded -the low rasp of his voice sounded quite melodic itself, you noted, "-'til I see you again. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Right, yes-" you shook yourself out of your stupor, and you think you heard him laugh, "-you and Judith enjoy your day as well, okay?"

"We will," he said -a semblance of a grin brushing across his face, you turned a bit crimson at it. All perfectly white teeth and dashing charm, "-Goodbye, Ms. Greene."

That was the last you heard, as you hurried across the courtyard -not very eager to listen to your Headmistress screech about timeliness and its importance to a proper woman. You'd imagine she'd nearly die if she could see you running through the courtyard now, actually.

You thought, just for a spare second, it might be worth it.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may

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munamania · 3 months

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ok um i am going to vent on something as someone with an outside perspective and people are going to be normal about that right. okay lol. im sick of hearing about taylor swift <3 as compared to a few years ago even she is like... suffocating. and i feel like we never advance this conversation because on one hand we have people who swing into full misogyny when talking about her, and on the other we have people who won't admit that she blatantly uses feminism to deflect from her problematic behaviors, or at least they won't like, do anything about it, and in this way she sort of ends up misleading a lot of young girls into like. girlboss liberal white feminism. im not saying shes a supervillain for it but you can't deny the ramifications of what she does and doesn't speak up about, just given the absolutely massive platform she has. she is the biggest pop star in the world

for the record, i don't expect taylor to be like. a normal person. she was very famous from a very young age and people aren't normal about teen/adolescent stars, especially when they're girls and women. she had her personal drama aired out in front of the world, had so much misogynistic dialogue surrounding her, from demeaning her success to interrogating her dating life (and never holding the pedos who preyed on her at a young age to any sort of standard!) and for many years people weren't very critical of that. it was normalized to be trashing this young girl's name and saying vile shit about her to like the entire nation and i dont blame her for being like, a little off after that. and yeah i also don’t think we should look to celebrities as our end all be all of activism and opinions on sociopolitical issues

but we've gone full swing into like. she is so famous and so big that her actions can be harmful and she does these things anyway because she doesn't expect her fanbase to hold her accountable, lest they be acting like the very sexists who tried to ruin her career. at least i imagine that's what the thought process is like, at least at some level, but at this point it's just like. this woman makes so much money. so much money it's ridiculous. idk how y'all fathomed paying so much for concert tickets but like i'll give props that they at least seemed to have some insane production/theatrics... so like alright. there's that.

but she is reselling the same songs. sometimes that don't sound that good. and making more money off that. yes yes to 'officially own them' and whatever. and releasing vault tracks and other versions of albums with different songs on them. but never all the same bc u need to collect them all. and the thing is some of them are like kinda bad. but you listen to them anyway because we live in a time of overconsumption/consumerism in late capitalism and it's like trendy and fun to be able to tell what song of hers is playing in the first millisecond. sorry or just your personal attachment to her. and don't say it's embarrassing to be a taylor swift fan these days she's like. so huge. and some of you equate embarrassment with having to hear criticism toward her. which might not be as common if swifties idk stepped it up and actually expected something from her?

which i guess is getting me to my main point here. can you imagine like. what would happen if taylor swift actually said anything about palestine? or anything of value in the world right now? no one's asking her to be a fucking scholar on it but genuinely sorry there’s like a genocide. several. the most documented real time genocide of our time i don’t care if it makes you upset that people expect something from her. she is time's person of the year. she has everyone from young girls to lesbians to gay men to bored football wives to dads to well fucking etc you get the point tuned in. she has dabbled in so many different spaces done so many collaborations aligned herself with so many entities who can keep up? if she, as massive as she is right now, posted something as simple as 'free palestine' or called for a ceasefire, can you imagine what would happen? i can’t help but think about it when day in and day out my feed is filled with screaming people being pulled from rubble or having their limbs amputated.

but she won't, because, quite frankly, what does she have to gain from it? she’s teaming up with the nfl right now to make some more money, she's gotta have at least like 4 new albums recorded in the last two years and at least um what three more that you're expecting? and she doesn't even have to like? write new music really? (edit: oh boy!) why the fuck would she be doing anything with her time other than poisoning the planet with jet fuel to visit her pr boyfriend?

taylor swift is never gonna be punk or what the hell ever beyond like a white liberal-at-best moderate woman. but if any of you could talk to each other and talk about, like, organizing in ways that it would be impossible for her to continue to ignore these situations, and just keep playing her tour FILM (how could i forget) in israel and etc, like if you could flood her socials or do a mass movement (and it would be massive given the sheer amount of peoples' top artists she's in) of not listening/buying/interacting with her stuff, until her agents and whatever had to make some sort of statement? like that's the only chance we've got with her

i'm not saying don’t be her fan, or listen to her music, or have an attachment, etc, but she's been around enough vile, anti-feminist, racist things this past year that y'all DO need to hold her accountable. like way more than you do. or it's going to be like really difficult to. tolerate it. haha. like you SHOULD be vocally and loudly disapproving of her actions when it causes a lot of damage overall. speaking up about her insane climate irresponsibility when we're having the hottest years on record is not the same as the people who felt the need to like pick apart her dating life on the news. but can we talk about how she's officially like. circled back and now is purposefully making news about her dating life? for her personal gain and that of the fucking nfl? lol. in a way it is funny for her to ‘take that power back’ in a way, of her image, and i think that’s how some people might view it, but like on the other hand she obviously is gaining a lot from this. you know. a lot of actual money. she is going to profit off this image of her being misunderstood etc for as long as u guys allow it and well i just think that has run its course. yk

continuing into 2024 (edit: and now with the release of a new album!) i don't want to see swifties automatically exonerating themselves from difficult conversations because like they feel like their fave has faced enough unwarranted criticism. or bc other people should also be criticized. much of it is warranted! and you guys need to grow up and be able to talk about it and stop painting taylor swift's face as like the Pinnacle of feminism. she doesn't and shouldn't have to be, and she isn't, and she should in fact be held accountable when she does really fucking shitty things on account of they're shitty! i don't care that she's a woman! it's like that meme of oh yay a woman democrat sent these missiles. oh yay a woman is massively damaging the planet and proudly dated a violent misogynistic racist, and faced minimum criticism for these things over and over because your only comeback is ‘well what about’ if a man did the same thing, etc, you refuse to just look at the situation we do have. yes we should. we should do that we should hold men accountable but you can also like not accept awful fucking behavior from your faves when you have a chance. do you think that’s helping feminism genuinely. use your voice use your power (your money) to like. do something for once. i cannot keep living in the taylor swift echo chamber.

and for the record. i like enjoyed taylor like back when i was a young girl and she had a few songs on the radio, and i honestly even had a moment where i used guys' opinions on her as a first step to navigate who i felt safe around in a very hypermasculine sexist college space. because yes. some people do need feminism 101 and some people's genuinely misogynistic rage will be demonstrated in their hatred of taylor and her success. but at some point we gotta move on from that. if some people will look at the most powerful woman in the world, who has enough money to stay away from them and an extremely massive loyal fanbase watching and supporting her every move - if some men take out their hatred on her, a powerful white woman, how do you think they view and treat women who are not white, thin, "conventionally"/eurocentrically attractive, or accessible to cis/het audiences?

anyway i hope that i can bring a conversation to the swiftieverse cause i honestly believe u guys could have comparable impact to like. bts stans. maybe. if you put your minds together for a good cause. and we don’t have to do the oppression olympics or whataboutisms or WHATEVER for forever. can we please move the conversation forward does anyone else feel insane with like where we’re at

on that note, i really do think now is the perfect moment for you to disrupt shit with your voices and demand better from her. it might not save the world, but it could make a huge difference in changing peoples' minds

okay um. thanks 👍

tldr i can’t do another year of swiftie discourse i just can’t please if there is a god out there help us

#abby talks #well here’s a draft that i guess is relevant #taylor swift #swifties #swiftie #midnights #1989 #folklore #evermore #taylor’s version #travis kelce #long post #ok swiftie mutuals u better have my back here 😇👍

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f1letters · 1 year

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bigger than the whole sky | ms47

"i'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been what should've been you"

summary: guilt consumed her alive when she lost the baby she initially didn't plan on having... maybe the outcome could've been better if she did something different, she thought

warning: very heavy and very sad story, angst, heartbreak, swearing, mentions of a panic attack, grief, death, mention of unplanned pregnancy, miscarriage, brief mention of blood, loss of a child, mention of the hypothetical future that the baby would have had, happy-ish ending

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

word count: 2.9k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past. I would also like to point out that this one has to be the hardest story I have written so far as it is very personal to me. I've thought a lot about NOT posting it over the past few days, exactly because of these heavy topics. but I think this needs to be spoken about a lot more than it is, especially with how many women/people with reproductive systems suffer from miscarriages in silence. please read the warnings before reading!

german words used: liebling = darling; schatz = sweetheart; mama = mom

on a less sad note, I think everybody knows how much I love mick, I hope we still get to see him next year (please papa toto, rescue my man!!!)and that he gets another chance in the 2024 grid. with this being said, I hope you enjoy this one and have your tissues with you!

masterlist

No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Many say that grief is the price of love.

That grief is just a form of love; a love that can't be given anymore to someone we could hug and kiss and see before they were gone.

That grief is the result of a space that is left empty in our lives after someone physically loses strength and lets their soul rest.

But as much as we are prepared from childhood to grieve for someone we had time to love, nothing prepares us for the heart-wrenching experience of losing someone we didn't even have a chance to know and cherish.

Such suffering, pain and anguish seemed impossible to fit in Y/N's small and fragile heart, as she tried to accept the aftermath of the loss of her baby.

She stood there, stuck in time, just thinking of everything she could have done differently. Searching for an explanation for why life had played such a cruel trick on her. Wondering why.

Why me? Why with us? Why them?

As the young woman lay on her back in the middle of her big white bed in search of answers, the only sound that echoed between those four walls was her painful sobs as salt streamed out of her eyes and into her ears.

That same sound was her only company, as her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn't blame him though. She knew that his absence in the room they shared was due to her own cold and distant attitude towards him over these last few days.

But she just couldn't face him.

Looking into his eyes would only make her realize that they mirrored the exact same pain in hers.

And as selfish as it sounded, she wasn't ready to face his loss when she could barely accept her own.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

She didn't want to see him or talk to him. Even during the night, Y/N found herself escaping to the uncomfortable couch in the living room to avoid sleeping next to Mick, almost as if she was too afraid to touch him and thereby infect him with her sadness.

Everything for her suddenly changed, and she couldn't wrap her head around how a being so fragile and so precious that never even had a chance to live could be the only meaningful thing in her life at that moment.

'Pregnant 1-2'

Leaning against the cold tiles of her bathroom, sitting on the marble floor, the young woman tried to calm her uncontrolled and panting breathing.

It couldn't be. This couldn't be happening to her.

Her eyes read over and over again the small letters on the digital display of the pregnancy test in her hands. Almost as if she expected that at any moment they would change and that she would wake up from the nightmare she saw herself in.

Her head was all over the place. She couldn't have a child now. She was in her early 20s, she had only been with her boyfriend for a little over a year, and he was just starting his second year in Formula 1.

Not that she doubted her love for Mick or his for her. If there was one certainty she had in the world, it was that he was the love of her life, even if their relationship was fairly recent.

But they never even spoke about having children in the long run, let alone already. She hardly saw him herself most of the year. How would she be able to take care of a baby in those conditions?

The pressure was building in her lungs and her vision was beginning to blur as the girl panicked more and more, until she was awakened by the sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door.

"Schatz, are you okay? You've been there for over thirty minutes." She heard the driver's concerned voice on the other side of the door. "I'm getting worried, can I come in?"

From inside the bathroom, Mick got no response and only heard the cries of his partner who had finally given in. Without thinking twice, he opened the door and went down to her level, kneeling on the floor in front of the girl.

"Liebling, what's wrong? Talk to me." He brought both his hands up to the sides of her jaw, leaving soft caresses with his thumbs until her gaze met his.

"I'm sorry, Mick. I'm so fucking sorry." Y/N replied, shaking her head in denial while crying uncontrollably.

The boy was only more confused by his girlfriend's apologies, but when he looked down at her lap and saw the blue stick, he immediately realized what was happening and his arms dropped to his sides in shock.

"Fuck. Y- You- Are you pregnant?" He asked, shaking with nerves. He leaned against the wall on her side as well, letting his head relax against the tiles.

His hand went to Y/N's thigh in an attempt to comfort her and after a few minutes to assimilate everything that was happening, he spoke again. "Okay. Okay. We're going to be fine. Don't worry, we'll handle this together. I have more than enough money to support the three of us and-"

"Mick, stop." The young woman replied, with some aggression in her tone. "I can't have a baby right now. This is insane."

Remembering that day now brought only heartache and pain, because it was all over now, all out to sea.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

What could've been, would've been you

"Y/N, I know you're nervous. I am too, but I know that together we can do this." Mick confessed, grabbing both of the girl's hands and looking at her with the most loving gaze she had ever seen on anyone.

"I barely know your family, you don't even know my parents." She continued with her rambling. "I spend 99 per cent of the year alone in this house while you are God knows where around the world."

"I'll quit." Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the boy's suggestion. "You are worth more than any sport and any dream. You are my dream, both of you are. I want nothing more than to grow old with you and have a family together, so I'll quit in a heartbeat if I have to."

"I would never let you give up on your dreams, Schumacher, and you know it." Y/N felt her body relax for the first time in hours, letting her back lay against her boyfriend's chest, his hands resting on her stomach. "Are we completely crazy for even considering this?"

And for a short time, they were indeed crazy. Crazy for each other and for the future they envisioned for the three of them.

Even without seeing them or touching them, their baby filled their hearts so intensely, with a love they never knew before, that they grew in size with that insane amount of adoration.

Only to be broken into bigger pieces.

Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia?

Did some force take you bеcause I didn't pray?

Every single thing to come has turned into ashes

'Cause it's all over, it's not meant to be

So I'll say words I don't believe

For a few more weeks, the couple lived inside their dream bubble, filled with so much happiness and excitement for their future. Although no one else knew about Y/N's pregnancy yet, everyone noticed how much they glowed, more in love than ever.

Until Mick had to come back to the real world and had to travel to the United States for a race, leaving his girlfriend alone again in their home in Switzerland.

The young woman couldn't explain why she felt so apprehensive and so scared at the idea of being alone. It was not the first time this happened, but inexplicably her sixth sense was already on high alert as she held the German much longer than usual at the airport, as if she was too afraid to let him go.

Two completely normal days passed after the driver left: he called her every day when he woke up, at lunchtime, and when he went to sleep, in an attempt to make her feel less lonely.

But on the third day, she didn't answer him.

He didn't think anything special of it, thinking she was probably busy with something at work, so he went about his morning as if nothing had happened. Hours went by as he was dealing with his media duties, until, on his lunch break, he picked up his phone again and his world seemed to come crashing down in a single instant.

'15 missed calls from Schatz'

'9 missed calls from Gina'

'7 missed calls from Mama'

Alone at home and with no family living in Switzerland, Y/N found herself in complete despair when she saw blood running down her legs. She knew right away what it was, even though her brain begged for another possible reason.

The girl silently prayed for the better as she searched through the kitchen drawers for the paper where she knew her boyfriend's mother, Corinna's number was written.

Y/N simply couldn't face this all by herself.

Although they only met a couple of times before that day, the young woman couldn't be more grateful to have had the Schumacher family's matriarch by her side, to hold her hand and to wipe her tears away as the doctors told her the worst news she would ever hear in her entire life.

"I'm sorry miss, but I'm afraid your baby no longer has a heartbeat."

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

Those words just turned every single thing to come into ashes.

And she couldn't help but feel guilty.

Maybe she had done something she shouldn't have done. Eaten something she couldn't. Made physical efforts that she could not.

Maybe she should have prayed for the baby. She should have accepted the pregnancy sooner. She shouldn't have doubted their ability to have that child.

She was looking for something: an answer, an explanation, a reason.

And although her head knew it wasn't logical, she blamed him too.

Maybe if Mick were here. If he hadn't travelled to the other end of the world. If only he hadn't left her in that house without help and company.

She needed him more than ever, but at the same time, all the distance between them didn't seem enough for Y/N.

The wooden door to their room opened unexpectedly, making the girl turn her back to Mick to prevent him from seeing her tears.

He slowly approached her figure and she felt the mattress lower next to her as he sat up and placed his hand on her bare shoulder.

"Please, I beg you. Talk to me." Y/N heard his voice shake, and it became clear that he was crying too. "I can't take this silence anymore. I'm suffering too, you know?"

She knew she was being unfair to him. After all, he too had lost his child, his future, a part of him, even if he wasn't the one to physically carry it.

She was a childless mother, but he too was a childless father.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

The truth is, she didn't believe the words she was saying in her head.

Mick was the most supportive person she knew. He made a point of asking her over and over again if she was okay, if she needed anything, if she wanted to talk.

But it wasn't until she was forced to face her partner's sadness that she realized that blaming him wasn't going to mend the hole in her heart.

He was the only one who could ease her pain if she let him in.

The girl turned to the boy, finding his back trembling with the sobs he let out. She hugged him from behind, feeling his body relax against hers with the physical contact he desired so much.

Mick lay down next to her on the bed, pulling her as close to him as possible, and they stayed there for hours, in comfortable silence, while they both mourned their loss in each other's arms.

"I'm so sorry, baby." Y/N broke the silence. "I was trying so hard to find a reason for all of this that I ended up blaming myself, blaming you. It was unfair, and I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have ever done that."

"It wasn't anyone's fault, liebling." Mick whispered with his lips brushing against her forehead. "It just wasn't meant to be."

Y/N looked up at the driver, meeting his sad gaze, and the two let the tips of their noses touch.

The two lovers' lips met again after days apart and, even if only for a moment, they both felt whole again.

What could've been, would've been you

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

What could've been, would've been you

Nothing hurts like an unexpected goodbye, but they both knew they would carry their baby forever in their hearts, even if they hadn't been able to carry them in their arms.

They were never going to be able to see the baby say their first words and take their first steps.

They were never going to have the opportunity to see their child go to school for the first time, or attend their graduation.

They were never going to be able to comfort them when they had their first heartbreak, or tease them when they had their first crush.

But even though they knew their baby was more than just a short time, they knew the mark they left on them was permanent.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

Two years later, the couple couldn't be in a better place, even though their loss would never fully heal.

Y/N had just won a promotion at work, allowing her to reach the position she always dreamed of holding at the company she worked for.

Mick had returned to the Formula 1 grid after two troubled years in his career and now wore the four Audi rings on his polo shirt with the greatest of pride, alongside his longtime friend and returning champion, Sebastian.

But most of all, the incomprehensible sounds that came out of their rainbow baby's mouth were what made them the happiest they have ever been.

Their newborn baby girl filled their hearts with renewed hope and unlimited love, bringing back colour in a world that was previously only black and white.

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you

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@ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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joesalw · 5 months

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This conversation about Taylor's downfall in 2016 and what led up to it, plus this lie that most criticism of female celebrities is just misogyny is really interesting to me because it's something I talk to people about in real life. There's this idea that in mainstream media people love to build female celebrities up and then rip them apart when they get successful, which don't get me wrong is absolutely true, but in some cases it's a little more complicated than that. There are times when certain celebrities brand and present themselves as "the ideal dream woman" of whatever period they're in, and then when the societal image of what "the ideal dream woman" shifts but the celebrity's image doesn't, the facade cracks.

I think a good example of this is Jennifer Lawrence. I was a teenager when the hunger games movies were coming out and was obsessed so I used to watch a lot of the interviews with the cast. Jlaw presentes herself very much as a "cool girl", she was the youngest of 2 older brothers so she was a "tomboy" that loves sports and drinking beers and shots. She also made it a big deal about how she doesn't diet and is constantly eating yet still has a slim body and doesn't know about designer clothes and is so above all this fame thing. Whilst all this was happening the Gone Girl monologue was gaining traction particularly the part about cool girls and how women alter their personality for men's consumption. Eventually people caught on about all the fictional women and celebrities that fall into the trope and were over it, yet jlaw kept up with the persona. Couple that with her continually working with David o Russell, the insensitivity to other cultures, the overexposure and people realising her acting ain't really all that, you have the general public getting sick of her and her having to take a break. She's sort of made a comeback now and people are just chalking her downfall to "misogyny".

I wasn't really following what Taylor was up to in the lead up to her crash because I'd gotten sick of her long before that and avoided her stuff like the plague, but I did see someone on Reddit talk about how her winning album of the year over Kendrick Lemar and then using her speech to shit on another prominent black hip hop artist over something that was a lie wasn't a good luck for her. Add in the racist undertones in shake it off and wildest dreams videos for good measure.

This time around I do think her not adapting to the political and societal change is going to be a major factor if (I hope) she has another downfall. Before I get to the next part I do have to say I'm from England (you may have heard of it but it is a very foreign country/s) so if I'm wrong about the American political atmosphere someone feel free to correct me. After the election of trump there was a whole knew political awakening and conversations happening, one of them being about how Hillary lost due to misogyny (not completely true) so there were conversations about patriarchy, sexism, double standards and all that. This was the perfect climate for Taylor to be able to swoop in and use all these buzzwords she's learnt and blame anything bad that happened to her on misogyny and made all of her problems into "women problems". You had her giving quotes like how women are only allowed to react or some shit and released "the man" (side note but does anyone else find the bridge to the song kind of racist? Especially the way she's constantly compared to black artists?). She was of course celebrated for all this and had successfully rebranded to politically conscious Taylor Swift.

I don't think she expected the political climate to shift so quickly once again. In 2020 we had those viral videos of white women calling the cops on black people and the conversations about how white women use their privilege and tears to harm others and get away with it. During BLM there were talks about how certain white women will present themselves as allies and progressive but still have friends and date people who are bigots showing their politics is skin deep *cough cough*. COVID had us talking about the disconnect from celebrities about the real world and how capitalism is just another plague that is killing us normal people. You had certain companies and people becoming billionaires during this time and this truly began the crumbling of the pedestal the rich and famous were on.

Flashforward to now, where there are multiple genocides happening in front of our eyes. A time where you can't open any social media site without seeing innocents being slaughtered in ways that fills you with a rage and sorrow I can't even put into words. A time where our world leaders are doing Jake shit like some Arab leaders or actively funding it like the UK and US. A large number of Americans are saying they won't vote for Biden next year, others are screaming if you do that we'll get a repeat of 2016. But people are rightfully pointing out that Hilary is also a war criminal and the DNC were told people are not going to vote for her so pick a different candidate, they didn't and lo and behold those people stuck to their word. Women being in power does nothing if they uphold the same system which is exactly what women like Taylor do.

So the women Taylor rebranded herself to is the exact kind of woman whos shit people are sick of. Her face literally being used as the face of the western media ignoring the atrocities happening to brown and black people and upholding the status quo is just poetic justice. Add in the absolute shallowness of that interview and the whole capitalism is okay when you're girl bossing and you've got people wondering who the fuck does she thinks she is.

There's obviously a lot more to any potential crash Taylor may have and this is all my observations that may be wrong, but I do find all this shit fascinating and I wish people smarter than me would look into it to see if I've got a point.

You’ve got a great point

#anti taylor swift #anti swifties #swifties dni

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i-smoke-chapstick · 3 days

Text

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART FIVE]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You discover Jervis has some skeletons in his closet. Perhaps literally.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) The slow burn is slow burning. She fell first, he fell harder. This part got some angst to it...the beginning of a whole mess. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Reader meeting Alice. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. Jim Gordon is STILL...Jim Gordoning. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom @sweetlimeharvest

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - 'PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT,

♫ “For you, I would cross the line.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Five minutes. Five minutes is all it takes for you to say, fuck that, I'm following them.

With Tabitha and Barbara doing god knows what, and Butch disappearing, probably to go take his anger out on some poor sap who tried to avoid tipping, you're left by yourself.

You always hated that pit of loneliness inside you. You had plenty of people in your life. Though, each one you counted, acted less like a friend, and more like a mentor of sorts. They were all either trying to parent you, or trying to guide you. Even Selina. You're a few years older than her. She still thinks she knows better then you.

Digging through your thoughts, your mind is made up. Besides, what if your dad tries something crazy on Mr. Tetch? He was ready to beat an answer out of him five minutes ago. You shudder.

Turning on your heel, you push through the people in the club. You hear the small noisy shouts of "Watch it!" and "Hey!" as you make your way out the back. You don't have the time to care right now.

You try to think about where they could be. The direction where Jervis turned. The rooftop. The balcony. It made sense in your head.

You finally hear your fathers distraught voice through the haze.

"So, what is it in Alice's blood that makes it so infectious?" He spits. "She doesn't look sick to me."

You peak through the window in the door. Watching the two standoff with one another. You're reminded of your mother telling you, you're such a curious little thing.

Then the ticking of a pocket watch makes your eyebrows furrow. You've heard that before.

"She's not sick," Jervis chimes, embittered. "She's powerful, sir."

"Powerful how?" Your father steps closer, and you watch on the edge of your seat. A pit forms in your stomach that something isn't right. "I need answers, Tetch."

"You deserve some." Jervis responds, half-heartedly, as though he really doesn't seem to care. "Do you hear my watch ticking?"

You watch in slow motion as it all falls down.

You see your father, listening, keen. You hear the ghosts of words on Jervis's tongue- speaking softly.

"It synchronizes with your heartbeat, yes?" Mr. Tetch sighs. You watch your dad zone out right before your eyes. With baited breath, you lean in closer. He's hypnotizing him. Why?

"Take out your gun and put it on the ground."

He could just be doing this to protect himself. You try to convince yourself. Dad has a reputation.

You watch as the gun clacks to the floor.

"Good," Jervis speaks, slowly. You feel your heartbeat quicken. "Now walk to the edge and climb onto the wall."

Fuck.

You're trying to comprehend the situation. You're frozen in place. There's no way your dad, or you for that matter, gets out of this alive. There's no way this is real.

This is Gotham, that voice in your head taunts. Anything's real.

You watch, as Jervis continues. With every insult, every remark, your father blindly agrees with him.

"I am going to count to ten. When I reach ten," Jervis has the gull to smirk. "You'll find everlasting peace."

Your fists clench.

"One."

You remember how your dad would come home after work on Fridays. He'd buy you pizza. Tell you to hide it from mom. It was your little secret.

"Two."

You think about how your dad looked when you told him you wanted to be just like him when you were older. Half happy. Half depressed.

"Three."

You think about how he's changed. Everything's changed. You wonder if a part of you wants him to die.

"Four."

You recount Jervis's words. He can only make a person do what they secretly wish to do. All this time, you thought you were keeping him afloat. The reason he was alive. His little girl. Were you never enough?

"Five-" Jervis begins, before a voice interrupts from behind you.

"Stop!" It's high-pitched, feminine. For a moment, you almost think you spoke. You see a woman march past you, opening the door. She ignores your presence, but offers you a scared glance. She has a gun in her hand.

You suddenly feel hot tears run down your cheeks. Were you crying?

Jervis whips his head around, and it's as though the world has been delivered to him on a silver platter. He marvels at the sight of the woman.

"Alice?" He breathes, not noticing your shaking form, still clinging to the shadows in the doorway. "Thank god! At last, I've finally found you!" You feel your eyes and throat burn, trying to keep quiet. You can't stop staring at your father hanging over the balcony.

"Tell that man to get off the ledge." She speaks, firm, but her voice breaks. So this is Alice, the woman he's been dying to find.

Between desperation and anger and anxiety you don't know if jealousy is an emotion you should be feeling right now. But it's buried deep inside the pile, beside yourself. Nothing feels right. It only makes your stomach twist more.

"Never mind him, put down the gun." Mr. Tetch puts his hand out to the gun. He reminds you of the boogieman you were scared of when you were younger.

"Mister! Get down!" The girl calls, and you feel guilty for feeling that twinge of jealousy. She's doing more to save your father than you are. The thought elicits another scared sob from you that you choke down.

"He can't hear you," Jervis assures her. His voice is gentle in comparison to what it was with your father. It's like how he was with you.

"Don't come near me." She stands, grip on the gun tightening.

"Why are you here if you don't want to talk?" There's something in his voice that breaks. It makes you hate him. Hate how much you still feel sorry for him.

The woman starts to cry, the same as you.

"Put the gun down, Alice." He urges.

"You're evil." She breathes, and you wonder if anyone's truly evil in the world. You think of your mom. You think of the man who tortured her into becoming what she is. "Leave me alone!" Alice screeches, and her grip on the gun starts to shake.

No, no, no, no. Don't you dare miss this shot. A part of you argues. A different part of you hopes she misses entirely.

"But Alice," He looks desperate. "I love you."

At those three words, the shot rings out. You close your eyes at the sound of him letting out a groan, and the bang that echoes through the balcony. You see your father loose his footing on the ledge.

Silence be damned, you think. You rush to your dad in the flurry of bullets. The woman continues to shoot at Jervis, scared out of her mind. He hurries away, heavily breathing. Before he parts, he catches your gaze. You don't make out the rest of his face. Just those dark eyes that have been haunting your dreams.

You and Alice both pull Jim back before he falls, tears staining both of your cheeks. As he steadies his footing, all you and her can do is look at one another. Your lungs frantically breathe for air.

When a moment has passed, adrenaline closing, your father looks at Alice. As though you're not even there. In a way, you don't blame him. In a different way, how could he know you didn't step in? He should be thanking god he's still alive to hug his daughter.

"Thank you." He tells her. He doesn't look at you.

The click of handcuffs is the only thing you hear as he grabs Alice's wrist.

#gotham #x reader #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #batman rouges gallery #batman x reader #gotham villains x reader #dc comics #jervis tetch imagine #fic series #jervis tetch gotham #jervis tetch #jervis tetch x reader #the mad hatter #the mad hatter dc #the mad hatter x reader

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kasagia · 1 year

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My (and your) tears ricochet

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader Summary: You and Klaus have a difficult relationship. For 500 years, you bond, break up, and get back together, being both your worst nightmares and your longed-for dreams. But after Lucien bites you and you die in Klaus' arms, the true feelings of your "lover" come out. And you're as delighted as devastated. Warning(s): angst, de@th, mourn, mentions of depression/mental breakdown, vampire violence, a bit of comfort at the end Word count: 5k+ Inspired by: "My tears ricochet" - Taylor Swift

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room

I never thought this would be my end. Killed by one of Klaus' many enemies because I rushed to save the love of my life. An Y/N from 200 years ago would have laughed in my face for my own stupidity.

To die for Klaus Mikaelson - the enemy of my family, the bane of my existence, and the only one I ever truly desired.

It would have been as improbable to my past self as the entire Mikaelson family mourning me with my sister Katherine by their side.

Yet I was here. In the spirit world, watching the original vampires and Kath line up in front of my coffin, they silently watched the sunlight illuminate my gray, lifeless face.

Maybe Klaus was supposed to be my undoing after all.

At least Katerina put me in a nice dress.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me?

Involuntarily, I began to reminisce about the events leading up to my unexpected death, as I was looking at Klaus' stone, emotionless face.

"What? I betrayed you?! I should've seen that coming. After everything I do and sacrifice for you, you still can't trust me, can you? I'll never be your precious Camille."

"Don't bring her to this! I'll ask you just once more and for your own good, love, tell me the truth. Did you tell Aurora about her?!"

"No Klaus. I didn't tell your psychopathic ex that you were fucking your therapist. You have to find someone else to blame for her death."

"I didn't fuck with her."

"And I don't care."

I turned away from him to leave his studio, but the man grabbed my arm in a strong, aching grip, effectively stopping me. I turned to meet his furious gaze again.

"We're not finished."

"YES, WE ARE! I'm so done with being a toy you can throw out and take back whenever you want! I deserve something more than a hybrid who has an existential problem with himself and thousands of enemies on his back. I'm done with you and whatever is between us. You're not worthy of my time, and I'm so dumb to believe that you can feel something more than anger or a desire for power. Mikael was right about you. You're just a scared boy who is pushing everyone away from you because you're too afraid of being betrayed."

I burst out, fed up with his sick attitude. From the moment I arrived at his call, he treated me with fucking hostility and distance. After everything we've been through together, I didn't deserve to be treated like a traitor.

At least that's what I told myself to keep from falling apart, seeing the complete lack of love for me in his captivating eyes, which I loved as much as the day we first met.

"Calm down. I've killed people for lesser slander. You're lucky you're still breathing, love." he whispered, placing his hand on my neck and squeezing it lightly to remind me that he could end my life at any moment. Good thing I was never afraid of him.

"And you're lucky to still have someone by your side after hurting your whole family again and again. This killing of everyone out of fear that someone would dare lay hand on you is pathetic. And as you can see, it doesn't quite work well." I snarled, yanking my arm out of his grip and walking away from the even angrier man than before.

After all, the one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest. This was always our guiding principle whenever we argued and broke up for a couple of decades.

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day

"Are you leaving so soon, sister? You just came." Katherine asked as I ran down the stairs towards the exit of the mansion.

"Well, apparently my presence is not needed here. In the house of the great Klaus Mikaelson, there is no place for vile traitors and untrustworthy whores."

"You can not fool me! I know what you really think and feel. And I sympathize with you with all my heart. You're making the right choice, little sister. He is not worthy of your love."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." I growled, unable to bear what she was saying and knowing that it was true.

"You still love him... after everything he has done, after he pretended to be with this bartander and broke your heart..."

"Once again. I didn't ask about your opinion, Katerina." I interrupted her to hurry out of the house. If I had known then that this would be one of our last conversations…

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Lucien is running around trying to get to my loved ones at all costs, and you're taking bloody walks around New Orleans?!" Klaus was yelling at me after he pushed me against the wall of one of the alleys.

"You just answered yourself. Lucien is after your loved ones, and I am not one of them."

"Stupid woman, can't you see how much you mean to me?!"

"You've shown me this for the last fucking weeks by flirting with Aurora and playing Camille's damn boyfriend!"

"I did it to protect you!"

"Not telling me anything, keeping me like a prisoner in your house, and treating me worse than an enemy - this is what you call a fucking protection?!"

"How else was I supposed to keep you from participating in a war that wasn't yours and keep you safe at the same time?!"

"It would be too easy to let me know your plans, wouldn't it?"

"Can't you understand that I can't let anything happen to you?! That losing you too will be the final nail in my coffin!"

Suddenly, a strange, disturbing feeling came over me.

"Klaus."

"No. Let me finally end this and tell what's should be told 500 houndreds bloody years ago." Completely unable to focus on Klaus' words, I glanced over to see what was going on behind him. Lucien pointed the pistol at him with a smirk. Whatever was loaded into the gun, it couldn't end well. "Y/N, I love…"

The shot drowned out what he wanted to say. In an instant, I switched places with him, taking a shot at myself. I gasped as I felt my cool blood begin to ooze from the newly formed wound. My gaze, however, stayed hard on Klaus' terrified eyes.

Lucien's venom.

"Y/N!" his scream managed to cut through my dazed body before I collapsed limply on top of him, sinking into the enticing, blissful darkness.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

"I don't see a bit of sense in what we're doing." Klaus whined as we walked along the lakeshore. Every now and then I would stop to pick up a nicer pebble and put it in one of our pouches.

"Don't be grumpy, old man. Had you never done this when you were a child?"

"We had other activities. Hunting, learning to fight, mother being one of the more ambitious decided to teach us to read and write - looking at Elijah, one of her worst ideas. We had all kinds of holidays, but we never did something as stupid as collecting useless stones."

"My God, you're worse than Katerina. Shouldn't you, as an artist, see beauty even in something as simple as stone? Besides, what if we happen to come across a diamond thrown away by some rich aristocrat's angry mistress? I'm about to waste my chance at finding a ridiculously expensive gem just because you're particularly cranky today." I asked indignantly, pulling him closer to me and smirking as I waited for his response.

"Your overactive imagination worries me sometimes. Also, I'm capable of giving you your own diamond if you want." he replied, unconvinced, staring at me with feigned concern. Sparks of amusement shone in his mesmerizingly beautiful eyes.

"As far as I remember, my imagination didn't bother you last night. You actually complimented it a lot."

"I won't answer that, just because, apparently, I'm the only one in our humble company who cares about a little tact."

"Well… you weren't last night." I kissed him briefly and run away from him laughing.

"Come here, you little tempting, irritating thing!" he shouted, chasing after me with his own smirk.

He grabbed me, pulling my back to his chest. I started laughing even more as he started placing small kisses down my neck.

"I can give you every little diamond ring you want. Just say a word." he whispered in my ear, nuzzling my jaw with his nose.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene

Consciousness slowly began to return to my body. I felt like I was in a sea of verbena. Every little muscle burned with hellish pain.

I must have been in hell.

"Not yet, love. I won't let you get away from me that easily. You must fight." his voice instantly brought me back.

I struggled to open my eyes, hissing at the blinding sunlight. The man sitting by my bed rushed to the windows, covering them, before immediately returning to sit by my side. I felt a sudden pressure on my skull. I angrily pushed his hand away, severing the connection between us.

"Get out of my mind." I wheezed, wincing as I heard my hoarse voice. The hybrid, undaunted by my condition, moved closer to me and handed me a glass of blood from the bedside table.

"Make me, love. I dare you." he whispered as he watched me greedily drink the red liquid.

He helped me hold the glass in my hand, embracing it and stroking it tenderly with his thumb. Had it not been for the knowledge that I would die in a few hours, I might have found the whole scene romantic.

"You know that even if you throw me a thousand challenges, you won't keep me for long. I'm gonna die, Klaus. Like Finn and Cami."

"NO. I will not let you. I'll go to Lucien and snatch this damned cure from his throat."

"Klaus, I'm already dead. There is no need…" he cut me off, tangling his hand in my hair to pull me into a desperate, demanding, needy kiss.

I let the warmth of his lips touch me one last time, letting a soft moan escape my throat as the emotions I felt became too much for me to hide any longer. He grabbed my waist, pulling me to him so that I was sitting on his lap. We broke apart. I leaned my head against his forehead, staring into his tear-filled eyes.

"You can't leave me. Not like that."

"I guess I don't have much choice." I whispered in a trembling voice, stroking his cheek tenderly, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Klaus? Earlier in this alley, before all this happened, You said you love me. I…" he didn't let me finish by pressing his lips against mine again.

"You can say you love me tomorrow. You won't die today, love." he kissed my forehead and left in such a hurry that I couldn't even try to talk him out of the stupid idea of chasing Lucien.

I could only hope he wouldn't do something stupid and share my fate.

You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

The funeral was not extraordinary or grand. By Mikaelson's standards, it was quite modest and therefore more personal. It was good to know they'd miss my presence, but I couldn't focus on anyone but Klaus.

He was strangely calm. Emotionless, expressionless. Like a dead sculpture. My concern for the vampire only increased when I saw the necklace (which I gave him for his 1,000th birthday) with the pendant of a wolf howling at the moon hanging proudly from his neck, gleaming in the sunlight. His blue eyes stared blankly at my coffin, which they were hiding in the crypt.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear Katerina and Rebekah crying.

However, the one person I cared about and worried about ever since I left the world of the living spent the entire funeral in astonishing silence.

It was at that moment that I knew he wouldn't accept my departure so easily.

I smiled as I saw Elijah come over to comfort him afterward. My smile faded as the hybrid growled aggressively at him, shoved his brother away, and ran to a place only known to him.

It must have been harder for him than he dared show anyone.

"Please, let one of his siblings be able to get to him. Despite his best efforts to keep them at a distance."

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

If I thought the funeral was hard for Klaus, then the wake must be his true hell.

Most of the originals have recovered by now, sitting in their living room sipping drinks, recalling all the funny, sad, and crazy things that had to do with me.

I thought it would somehow ease his pain.

Katerina seemed a little cheerier as she talked about all the compromising situations that WERE SUPPOSED to go with me to the grave. But I couldn't really blame her. I would probably do the same in the reverse situation.

It was Kol who unwittingly unleashed the storm.

"Remember when Nik tried to propose to her in the 19th century, here in New Orleans?" my heart and the whole world around me stopped for a moment. Propose?

"What?! How?" my sister's surprised exclamation perfectly reflected my current state. I had no idea that idea could ever enter his head.

"He has had hundreds of attempts over the centuries, but at this time most of us thought he'd finally made it." a single tear escaped my eye as I lamented the future that would never happen. "I even spent all of my money from the safe in Chicago because Nik had planned to…"

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, silencing the original. Everyone's attention shifted to Klaus, who had shards of glass stuck in his hands. A trickle of blood began to form from his hand, staining the chair and the carpet beneath it.

"I have enough of this pathetic show." he snarled, brushing off the shards of glass as he walked away to his art studio. Rebekah and Elijah didn't give up so easily, catching up with him on the stairs.

"Is that how your life will look now? You'll growl at us every time we mention Y/…"

"DON'T EVEN DARE SAY HER NAME!" he burst out, running to his studio. Elijah gave his sister a knowing look and returned to the living room, letting her do her thing.

Rebekah and I followed the hybrid, finding him in the middle of the ruined room, weeping over one of my portraits that had miraculously survived the crash. The blonde kneeled, hugging her brother and combing his hair comfortingly.

"Oh, Nik. That pain will never go away if you don't accept…"

"I WILL NEVER ACCEPT THIS!" he wrenched himself free from her grip, wary of the painting. "And this damn witch knew it! She enchanted me the first time I saw her. She put a dark spell on me, so I never found any other woman even a little bit as attractive as her. She is my heart, my half soul, my happiness, my sadness, and my madness, and now… now she is gone. And will be my curse for the rest of my life, Rebekah. Nothing can change that, especially not passing time, because every second, every minute, every hour, and every day without her by my side is meaningless."

"But you two were apart before, and you never acted like that, Nik."

"It was easier to let her go knowing she was happy and safe rather than cold and dead in some bloody tomb."

"And what about Hope? Your daughter, remember? You must be strong for her."

"Maybe it would have been better if she had never known the wasted shell I became after SHE left."

The blast of air (and all that mess) was all he left behind. Rebekah hesitantly reached for my portrait, staring at it with tears in her eyes.

However, it may not be so easy to let me go for all of them.

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home

"You just beat yourself up more. By the way, he himself too." Cami's voice came from behind me. I turned to face her, leaving the hybrid alone with my crypt for a moment.

"I thought it was healthy to grieve a little over someone's death."

"Yes, but what you two are doing is obsessive and bordering on pre-depressive. You must let him go. And he you. Holding on to him will get you nowhere. If you don't want peace yet, you might as well travel to other places. You can go anywhere you want."

"Anywhere I want, just not home." I muttered bitterly, looking at the hybrid sitting across from my grave and sipping a bottle of bourbon.

"I don't think I can do anything here. Just remember you have a choice, okay?"

"You're going to find peace?"

"Yes, and don't make me wait there alone for long. Watching them won't help you. I'm so sorry, Y/N." she gave me one last comforting, sad smile and turned to leave.

"Good luck, Camille!" I called after her and turned on my way, approaching Klaus again.

"For you too. I hope you'll find your peace." I heard before the blonde was gone for good.

"I already did." I murmured, grabbing Klaus' hand, enjoying the slim chance of being close to him. At the very least, I could fool myself into thinking I was still with him.

Because the truth was that I would never find my peace without him.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones

Klaus had slept for a week and stayed only in my bedroom, occasionally popping up to visit my grave. With a heavy heart, I laid down next to him on my bed, watching him sleep peacefully, hugging my pillow, and inhaling my scent left on it.

Involuntarily, I remembered my last hours in this bed.

"I will kill anyone you thought was your friend. I will tear out their throats and hearts one by one and torture them until they feel half as much pain as I will feel. I'll make this whole bloody world go up in flames, and it'll never rise from its fall, and neither will I if you leave me."

"Were you always so dramatic, or did it just happen in your old age?" I taunted, taking a sip of water to cover up my earlier sudden coughing fit from him. But I doubt I'll be able to explain the blood on the mirror if he looks in the bathroom when he returns.

"I'm not joking, love. If you die before I find a cure, I'll follow you straight to hell and drag you back with me. No one and nothing can take you from me."

"I'd find it romantic if you didn't presume that I'm the spawn of the devil. What if I'm an angel in disguise?"

"Then they did a fantastic job of camouflaging you. I have to go now, love. You have one task: Don't die. Can you do it?"

"I'll try. Nik, I lo..." he hung up before I could finish. "I love you, Nik." I whispered to myself, trying my hardest to control the sudden dizziness.

Klaus, whatever you're doing, please do it faster.

And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky) And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)

"I think you should go in the red one. This color has always suited you." I mumbled as I stood next to my sister and watched her look at herself in the mirror.

At one point, she sighed resignedly, falling onto the bed where Rebekah was sitting. The blonde pulled away from the phone, glancing at the doppelgänger.

"What's wrong with you this time? We went through all our wardrobes, and you didn't pick anything? You always look stunning, just go for something."

"Usually, it was Y/N who helped me choose a dress for a date."

The deafening silence that filled the room probably hurt me more than it hurt them. How I would love to be there with them.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"You don't have to. How could you know? I just… really miss her."

"Yeah. Me too. All of us do."

"I'd probably borrow something from her if she was still here and if Klaus wasn't guarding her room like a vault."

"Speaking of him, I should probably check on him. If you can hear me in any way, take the little red one. Elijah will be delighted." I said getting out of bed and heading to my bedroom. I've probably spent more time in it as a ghost than a vampire.

I entered the room, neatly dodging the piles of books and clothes that Klaus had scattered around, looking for things that still smelled of me. I dreaded thinking what he would do when they were gone. Maybe he'll be in the mood to use my perfume instead and go outside? It was the best scenario.

I sighed, recognizing his curled form on the bed. He was wearing my favorite sweatpants and a (too big for me) sweatshirt. I was a little scared that he could easily fit into my clothes. Several bottles of alcohol and bags of blood were placed next to him. At least he was feeding. I sat next to him, running my hand through his hair (pretending to do so).

"I know it's hard for you and that you can't move on; come to terms with what happened. I'd probably be in much worse shape if I couldn't hear you, see your ridiculously handsome face. But you are stronger than me. Much stronger. You have to get out of this. For yourself, for your siblings, for Hope… for me." I began to cry, trying to somehow hug the also weeping hybrid. "I'm so sorry, Nik."

Suddenly, a very angry Hayley burst into the room with a nervous Elijah behind her.

"KLAUS! That's enough! You have to get yourself in order and get out of this hole. It will be best if you go for a walk with YOUR DAUGHTER. Do you still remember her? Hope misses you and has been restless for several weeks. I can't calm her down, so do your fatherly duty and move your ass, or I'll do it for you."

"Go away." he mumbled, not even looking up since they came in.

The brunette snorted, trying to take my blanket from him, which covered him. As soon as her hands were on the material, the hybrid growled, snatching it from her hands and pinning the woman by the neck to the wall.

"Touch her stuff again, and I'll make it the last thing you do in your miserable, meaningless life."

"Niklaus! Let her go!" I screamed along with Elijah. Klaus ignored his brother, only tightening his grip on the barely alive woman.

"Do you think Y/N would want you to kill your baby's mother?"

Luckily, this convinced the hybrid. He released Hayley from his grip and shoved them both out of the room, locking the door behind them. He threw himself heavily on the bed, inhaling my scent to calm himself down. After a while, tears started flowing from his eyes.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

The worst thing about this illness wasn't the debilitating pain. Loneliness was the worst.

Each of the Mikaelsons and Katerina were involved in obtaining the cure. They still had hope. But I resigned myself to my fate the moment Lucien's venom pierced my body with a wooden ball.

That didn't mean I wanted to die alone.

As if on cue, Katerina burst into my room and sat on the bed next to me. I could see her lips move, but I couldn't hear a sound in the world. It wasn't until she poured a glass of cold water over me that my complete consciousness returned to me.

"Are you crazy?!" I shouted. "If you want to get me to my grave faster, there are other ideas." Katerina stopped laughing and suddenly tensed up, glaring reproachfully at me.

"Don't even dare say that. You're not going to die, do you understand? Klaus is getting a cure right now. You will recover. I promise." she said, grabbing my hand and planting a kiss on my forehead, brushing sweaty, wet strands of hair out of my eyes.

"You may be the best liar that ever walked on this earth, but I always knew when you were lying."

"I'm glad I'm not doing it this time. You'll see, you'll be cruising around again in a few hours, avoiding Klaus' argument about obeying his orders."

"At least when I go to hell, I'll meet our father and kick his ass for separating you from Nadia. Maybe Mikael and Dahlia will be on my hit list too." I mumbled, giving in after several hours to the urge to close my eyes. Then I felt that I had been shivering with fever all this time.

"Y/N, open your eyes. You've got to open your eyes for me, just for a little while longer. Please, Y/N."

"We should saddle our horses today and take a ride to the lake. We haven't done that for a long time."

"We'll go to Bulgaria I promise, just open your eyes for me. Molya te, sestrichke otvori ochi."

"Obicham te Katerina." I whispered, feeling the last bloody tears fall from my eyes.

"Y/N! Wake up! Freya!" Katherine screamed in panic, trying to wake me up by shaking my shoulders.

The next few minutes were weightless as I waited to pass into the ghost world. With the remnants of my ebbing life, I felt the commotion around my bed. The bitter liquid was forced down my throat, and someone clenched my jaw to make sure I didn't spit out the horrible liquid. In the background, I could still hear Freya and Davina mumbling, Katerina and Rebekah crying, and Klaus screaming in rage before I was swallowed up in pain-relieving darkness for good.

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

It's been a month and a half since my death, and Klaus has made one small, significant progress. He didn't throw his fangs at anyone who so much as uttered my name. After the attack on Hayley, he had controlled his aggression and was not a relative danger to society. Well… at least not more than usual.

I, on the other hand, felt much better than a months ago. My vampire speed somehow reactivated, saving me from chasing the rushing original for half a day. Also, watching my loved ones brought me some relief. Only Klaus was still stuck in place, unable to let me go.

Hayley and Freya joined forces to talk some sense into him and set him on the right path. But even their best efforts could not change the stubborn hybrid's mind.

That's how I got here. At my grave, watching Klaus clean it and add new flowers, throwing out the ones that had faded since his visit yesterday. I got more flowers from him after I died than I've had in 500 goddamn years.

He usually worked in silence, occasionally humming some old song I made him sing ages ago when I was upset. He has always had a wonderful voice.

But today, after a particularly bad fight with Hayley, Elijah, and Freya, he sat on the bench in front of my tombs and did something he hadn't done before. He was talking to me (or rather, to a stone slab with my name on it, but still).

"I know you wouldn't approve of my behavior. I know you would yell at me and get angry. My gods, I never imagined that I would miss it so much. I really wish I could be there for Hope, but I can't. I can't let her see me like this. Even if she's so little now. I know she needs me, but... everyone I love is dying. And I can't let anyone else die again because of me. Especially not my daughter. I want her to live. I want her to grow up. I want her to love, even if it brings you pain and sadness. Be a strong and beautiful woman, as you and her mother. I don't know what to do, Y/N. And I really wish that you were here to tell me, my little vampire."

A fountain of tears spilled from both his and my eyes. For the first time today, I reached for him, pulling him to me in a poor imitation of a hug.

The hybrid jumped up from the bench in fear, staring shocked and suspiciously at the place he had recently occupied. My heart beat faster. Did he? No. It is impossible. Klaus has the same incredulous look as mine. But what if…

"Y/N?" for the first time in these long, cold months, I shed a wave of relief tears. I sat there in shock, staring at the uncertain hybrid with unimaginable happiness. He could feel me. Like I him. "Please, show me it's you, and I'm not delusional."

I rushed over to him, hugging him with all my might. The hybrid almost knocked us to the ground. He probably didn't hear my loud laugh because he would have looked a little more offended than full of disbelief and happiness.

"I'll recognize that smell anywhere. Cruel woman, if you really are just a figment of my imagination and I make a fool of myself by running to my siblings with this, then know that I will meet you soon in hell and will not let your soul depart from me again." I slapped his shoulder for saying such nonsense, and he just laughed, gropingly trying to pull me closer to his chest.

I allowed myself, for the first time in months, to sink into the blissful feel of his warm skin. We needed a moment to ourselves before he shared this discovery with Freya, and their next fight to retrieve me from death's clutches began. For now, I enjoyed Klaus' clinginess.

"Don't even think that I'll deprive you of your touch for a moment. I'm going to hold you until the end of the bloody world." he whispered, moving around me from memory to put his chin on top of my head after he kissed me there softly.

It sounded good. But I knew it wouldn't be enough for us for long.

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