#and it's easier to picture him if his voice is shaking in the cold or his tone pitches up when Carlos compliments him

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #request

[alexlwrites]

from my notes app:

Just picture it: Yoongi who just... never had a crush. Sure, he has felt attraction that sometimes evolved into something more through dates or other encounters. But a crush? Feet kicking, face blushing, giddy giggles? No, he couldn't say he ever experienced that.

Until you.

Until you showed up, a new manager at the company, and left him shaking in his disconcertingly large boots. You were bright, witty, charismatic and hard working and he stood there, arms hanging by his side awkwardly like a damn emoji, hovering around you unsure about what to do, what to say, how to act.

It was so frustrating! He never felt this way before and at 30 years old he felt as if he was going through a late puberty: voice cracking when he tried talking to you, waking up sweating from a dream way too realistic, poorly timed boners when he saw you walking around the office with skin tight pencil skirts.

His so called friend weren't making it any easier for him: Yoongi had officially become the butt of every joke as the members collectively regressed back to the 5th grade, murmuring everytime you showed up "here comes your wife, hyung, here comes Mrs. Suga".

Thankfully, you seemed unaware of their jabs, even as yoongi's pale cheeks blushed fiercely at the name.

He didn't know whether to be greatful or resentful for your obliviousness. On one side, you didn’t seem to hear the constant on going teasing from the other 6 raccoons he shared a band with, which saved yoongi from the swift death at the pearly hands of embarrassment, ripping his dramatic soul from his even more dramatic body.

On the other hand, you couldn’t seem to take a hint! He tried all of his best moves: standing there silently next to you, offering you a single tangerine, playing the guitar when you walked in whilst offering absolutely no explanation or context, even wearing his most scandalous, whorish outfit: a white tshirt that showed his collarbones instead of his usual 37 layers of clothing.

He didn't know how to make it any more obvious! Should he just take you against the wall of his studio (he totally should!, his lower brain unhelpfully provided as you once again strutted past him leaving him sniffing after your perfume like the fucking dog he was)?

He even tried asking his friends for advice, the lowest form of humiliation possible: Jungkook offered only baby oil and told him to lose a couple buttons. Hoseok made him couple matching beaded bracelets. And Namjoon, scorpio venus horndog, told him to actually go through with the wall taking idea.

Funnily enough, Jin was the one with the most plausible idea: give her a gift, bake her something! Homemade goods would show her how much you care.

So there he was, at thirty years old, holding onto a plate of cookies like a lifeline, cold sweating in front of your office, ready to flee the building and suck up those cookies like a hungry Kirby and mop in his own lameness like the international grammy nominee celebrity he was.

And then you opened the door and his body just reacted on his own, thrusting the plate towards you silently as his eyes screamed pure panic.

"For me?" You asked and he just nodded "Thank you so much, you are so sweet!"

Yoongi felt his lips curving and even without a mirror he could tell he had a dumbstruck smile on his face.

"What's the occasion?"

Ask her out, he urged himself. Tell her how you feel, how you can't stop thinking about her face, how her smile fuled his daydreams and her perfume haunts his days, bleeding into his psyche and sinking its claws into his heart, turning every song he wrote into a proclamation of adoration and lust, tell her how...

"Hm, for all y-your hard wo-work" he sputtered, mentally face palming himself at his own words.

Bugger.

Bugger it all to hell.

(Part 2>>>)

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts fluff #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader

[bradshawsbaby]

Homecomings and Heart-to-Hearts

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bradley returns home from a mission carrying the weight of a burden he doesn’t know how to set down.

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: I was inspired to write this story after watching Miles’ performance in Thank You for Your Service. The idea came to me right as I was going to sleep, and I couldn’t get it out of head.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, references to injuries sustained during a mission, near-death experience, implied sex, allusions to breastfeeding, insecurities, hurt/comfort, family fluff.

Every deployment and mission was different. And that meant that every homecoming was different, too.

You and Bradley had both learned to expect the unexpected when it came to orders from the Navy. Despite the fact that your husband was permanently stationed on North Island, it was always possible that he was going to receive instructions for a special mission or deployment at any given time. That’s what happened when you were one of the Navy’s top fighter pilots. No matter how many times you tried to remind yourself that that’s just how it was, however, it never got any easier.

Six weeks ago, the orders had come in for a classified mission that required the skills and experience of the best of the best. You had been able to tell the news as soon as Bradley walked through your apartment door, before he had even been able to open his mouth or put down his things. It was written all over his face.

“They’re sending you away?” you asked softly, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you rocked your four-month-old son in your arms. It was always painful when Bradley left, but this would be his first deployment since Nicholas had been born and you didn’t know what you were going to do without him. The thought alone had your heart racing and tears filling your eyes.

“Only for six weeks,” Bradley rushed to reassure you, dropping his bag to the floor and immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his other hand coming up to support the back of Nick’s head as he dropped a kiss onto your son’s forehead. “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone,” he tried to smile, running his fingers through your hair as he leaned in to give you a kiss as well.

You knew he was just saying that to comfort you, but you almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the notion was. As if you wouldn’t feel his absence every second he was gone. You would be counting down the minutes until his return from the moment you saw him off, and the apartment would feel empty and cold until he was back to hold you and Nick in his arms once more.

“I’m coming home to you, honey, I promise,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he lifted Nick out of your arms and cradled him close to his chest. “Don’t let him get too big while I’m gone,” he added, trying to swallow back his own emotion as your son wrapped his hands around one of his fingers and babbled up at him, a little bit of drool dribbling down his chin.

This would be Bradley’s first time having to say goodbye to both you and your baby boy, and you knew the thought of it killed him. Behind his golden brown eyes, you could see the ghosts of his past haunting him, and you knew he was thinking of all the times his dad had had to say goodbye. Right up until that final time.

“I’m going to take pictures every day,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you gazed down at your perfect little miracle, who was now chewing on Bradley’s finger while staring up at you with eyes that were identical to his father’s. “Videos, too. You’re not going to miss a single thing.”

Bradley turned to look at you, and in his eyes you could see the same skepticism you had felt when he told you you wouldn’t even know he was gone. And yet, he nodded and smiled slowly, kissing you again. “I’m going to miss the two of you so much,” he murmured softly, sighing as he rested his forehead against yours.

“We’re going to miss you, too,” you told him, your eyes welling up once more. “But like you said, it’s only six weeks, right? The time will fly by,” you lied, trying to be strong. You knew he needed you to be strong.

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, rocking Nicholas back and forth as your son’s eyes started to flutter closed. “It’s gonna fly by real quick.”

Time hadn’t flown by. In fact, it had felt like the longest six weeks of your life. Every time you started to set the table for two, or woke up in the middle of the night to feed Nick and saw the empty space beside you in your bed, your heart broke all over again and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped and coursed their way down your cheeks. Communication with Bradley was almost nonexistent, and the truth was that you didn’t even know where in the world your husband was. The mission was classified for a reason, which meant that even you weren’t privy to all that it entailed.

Every time your phone rang, the hairs on the back of your neck rose and you could feel your stomach drop out from under you. You were terrified it was going to be Vice Admiral Simpson, informing you that something had happened to Bradley during the mission. One night, you felt so anxious that you actually turned your cell phone off and slept in the nursery with Nick, trying to push away all the intrusive thoughts of what could be happening to your husband and all the ways the mission could go wrong.

But all of that worry and anxiety was over now because Bradley was coming home today.

You had been up all night last night, preparing all his favorite foods and desserts to celebrate his homecoming. And this morning, you’d been up before the sun, too excited to get much sleep.

“Daddy’s coming today, Nick!” you’d cooed happily as you lifted your son out of the crib and got him ready for the day. It was his very first homecoming experience, and you wanted it to be a special one.

Decked out in his “Daddy’s Wingman” onesie and shorts, and a pair of baby aviators you had found online a few weeks ago, Nicholas looked just as handsome as his father as he rested on your hip at the hangar, where you were waiting with all the other Navy families anticipating their loved ones’ return.

“Daddy’s going to be here so soon,” you told your son, bouncing him gently with one arm as you held the Welcome Home, Daddy! sign you’d finished the other night with your free hand.

Nicholas giggled softly and wiggled in your hold, but you barely felt his movements over the erratic beating of your own heart. No matter how many homecomings you had attended over the years, it was always like this. Every time you stood there to welcome Bradley home, it felt like the first time. You just couldn’t wait to hug him and kiss him and hold him in your arms again.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” a little boy exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down as he pointed in the distance and then looked back at his mother.

An excited buzz filled the air as the news filtered across the hangar, everyone standing on their tiptoes and shielding their eyes to try to get a glimpse of their husband, wife, father, mother, brother, or sister. Even after all this time, it sometimes still baffled you just how many people it took to man an aircraft carrier.

It took a few moments, but amidst all the happy reunions happening around you, you finally caught sight of Bradley and the other Daggers making their way through the crowd.

“Nick, look!” you exclaimed happily, pointing in the direction of your husband as your son slowly followed your gaze. “It’s Daddy!”

As Bradley and the others came closer, however, you noticed that while they were smiling, they all had strained looks on their faces, exhausted lines around their eyes and mouths. They were happy to be home, but something had happened. That much was clear.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable flip when you looked from face to face and realized instantly that one was missing.

Where was Coyote?

Bradley didn’t stop or slow down as he approached you and Nick, just immediately barreled into you and wrapped you both tightly in his arms. You could feel the tension still radiating through him as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and the perfume he loved so much on you.

“God, I missed you so much,” he mumbled, his mustache tickling your skin as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“We missed you, too,” you whispered back, squeezing your eyes shut and clinging to him with your free arm.

The two of you stood there like that for what felt like ages, just holding one another, until Nick finally began squirming and fussing against your side.

Pulling back, Bradley smiled and took Nick into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “Hey, buddy,” he greeted him, chuckling as he noted the baby aviators that were now sitting askew on your son’s face. “Cool outfit,” he told him, running his hand over his belly. “Look how big you got. I told Mommy not to let you get so big,” he teased, glancing over at you and smiling.

It was a tired smile.

“You must be so exhausted. We should get you home,” you said gently, resting a hand on his back. You still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite shake. You glanced over at where the rest of the Dagger Squad was loosely scattered, and noticed that Coyote still hadn’t joined them. Was he still on the carrier? “Is everybody doing okay?” you asked quietly.

Bradley looked down at you and could see instantly where your attention was focused. “Coyote’s being taken to the infirmary,” he replied, his voice low. There was a heaviness in his tone that had you whipping your head back in his direction right away.

“Is everything alright?” you questioned, growing worried. You thought of Coyote’s happy-go-lucky smile and infectious laughter and immediately wanted to cry at the thought of anything happening to him.

Your husband was quiet for a moment, shifting your son in his arms and looking over at the other Daggers before directing his focus back to you. “He got struck by enemy fire while we were over there. It didn’t take long for search and rescue to find him, and he’s going to be okay, but they want to monitor him on base for a couple days.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that news. On the one hand, you were of course thrilled to hear that Coyote was safe and was going to be okay. But on the other hand, it was horrifying to be so bluntly reminded of the risks and dangers that your husband and friends faced every time they were deployed for a mission.

Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s waist and buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of jet fuel and aftershave. You were comforted by the feel of his strong arms wrapping around you, and of your son’s chubby fingers tangling in your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head, slipping his hand into yours as he allowed you to lead him to where you and Nick had parked the car.

It was a quieter homecoming than many of the ones you had experienced in the past, the stark reality of Coyote’s injury still hanging over Bradley like a shroud. He was almost completely silent during the drive home, and only managed to get down a few bites of the lunch you’d prepared before he was slipping into the shower and crawling into bed.

“I’m sorry, baby, it tastes amazing, but I’m just so exhausted,” he murmured, squeezing your hip and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, I understand. Get some rest,” you told him, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you began clearing the table.

He ended up sleeping for the whole rest of the day, and all the way through the night. Sometimes you forgot how much these missions took out of him, both physically and emotionally.

The next morning, Bradley was up before you were, making a couple cups of coffee and heating up the breakfast you’d made the other day.

“Mmm, morning,” you mumbled sleepily, your eyes still half-closed as you stumbled into the kitchen, wearing a pair of sweatshorts and one of Bradley’s UVA Alumni T-shirts.

“Morning, honey,” Bradley greeted you, planting a kiss on your lips before taking a sip of his coffee and reaching for the toast that had just popped. “Here you go,” he added, sliding a mug of freshly brewed coffee towards you, prepared just the way you liked it.

“This is a nice way to wake up,” you grinned, lifting the mug—Bradley had chosen your personal favorite—and blowing gently before taking a tentative sip. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” Bradley chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry I slept all night, baby. I know you had dinner ready, and I really wanted to spend time with you and Nick,” he apologized.

“It’s okay,” you insisted, shaking your head. “We’re still here, and we’re not going anywhere, so don’t worry. I’m just glad you were able to get some rest.” You paused for a moment, setting down your coffee mug, before asking, “Any updates on Coyote?”

Bradley sighed softly, running his fingers through his hair so that his dark locks stood up at a funny angle. “Yeah, he actually texted all of us this morning. He’s doing a lot better, and feeling good, so they’re probably going to release him soon.”

You let out a relieved breath. “Well that’s good,” you said, stepping closer to your husband. Glancing up, you noticed that there was still a troubled expression on his face. “Bradley, are you okay?”

“Hm?” he asked distractedly, his eyes clearing as he looked at you. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, probably still just a little out of it after the trip home.”

Biting your lower lip, you watched as he turned and began buttering his toast. “Okay. But you’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” You could only imagine the toll it had taken on him, witnessing one of his closest friends being shot down by enemy missiles.

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, kissing your cheek before carrying his food and his coffee to the table and taking a seat.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still something he wasn’t saying, but you decided to let the matter rest for the time being, sitting down opposite your husband and enjoying a little bit of uninterrupted time before Nicholas woke up.

The rest of the day was peaceful and uneventful. Bradley had a couple weeks of leave now that he had returned from the mission, which meant that he got to spend all day with you and Nick. You couldn’t even put into words how much it warmed your heart to watch Bradley as he lay on the floor to play and do tummy time with Nick.

“I seriously can’t get over how big he’s gotten,” Bradley marveled, his eyes widening as your son rolled from his back to his stomach with ease, and then pushed up from his tummy onto his elbows. “Look at that, honey! He wasn’t doing that when I left!”

Smiling, you nodded as you sat down beside them on the living room floor. “I took him to the pediatrician just last week, and he gained another pound and a half since his last check-up. Dr. McCarthy says he’s hitting all his milestones. He just started rolling over like that a couple weeks ago.”

A trace of sadness passed over Bradley’s face as he gazed down at your baby boy. “I’m sorry that I missed it,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke Nick’s downy head. His hair was starting to come in thick and dark, just like his daddy’s.

“I took lots of videos,” you promised, reaching out to lightly squeeze your husband’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve missed out on anything.”

Bradley took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it, smiling up at you. “Thank you, baby.”

The remainder of the afternoon flew by quickly, and after putting Nicholas down for the night, you and Bradley spent the rest of the evening making up for lost time and showing one another just how much you’d missed the other.

“I love you so much,” you whispered against his bare shoulder, pressing kisses to the scar that lacerated his skin.

“I love you, too, honey,” Bradley whispered in return, squeezing you tightly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, when you awoke, Bradley was still fast asleep beside you. He didn’t even stir as you climbed out of bed to go check on Nick in the nursery. As you were sitting in the rocking chair, nursing your son, your phone began buzzing with text messages from Penny. A couple deliveries for The Hard Deck had gotten delayed, and she was wondering if you were free to run some errands with her that afternoon. You assured her that you would check with Bradley and get back to her as soon as possible.

Just as you rose to find a change of clothes for the baby, Bradley stepped into the nursery, a sleepy smile on his face. “Morning, my loves,” he murmured, kissing you and then pressing a kiss to the top of Nick’s head.

“Nicholas, can you say, ‘Good morning, Daddy?’” you teased, bouncing your son on your hip as you took one of his hands and waved it in Bradley’s direction.

Nick gurgled happily in response, and both you and Bradley laughed.

“Any big plans for the day?” Bradley asked, lifting the baby into his arms so that you could go through the dresser drawers and pick out an outfit for him to wear.

“Actually Penny was just texting me. She wanted to know if I was free to help her run a few errands this afternoon. Would that be okay?” you asked, laying out a simple blue and white striped onesie for Nick.

Turning, you glanced up at Bradley. He seemed to be doing better since he’d first arrived home. He wasn’t as tense or preoccupied, and his mood had improved considerably when he learned that Coyote had been officially discharged from the infirmary. But still, you knew how much of a handful the baby could be when you had to take care of him all on your own, and you didn’t want to spring that on your husband when he was still getting acclimated to being back at home.

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, rocking your son back and forth in his arms. “You hear that, Nick? We’re gonna have some father-son bonding time while Mommy goes out to help Aunt Penny. Does that sound good to you?”

In response, Nick spit up all over Bradley’s shoulder.

“I’m going to choose to take that as a yes,” Bradley winced, grinning at you when he noticed that you were trying to hide your laughter behind your hand.

“It’s definitely a sign of his love and affection for you,” you giggled, taking the baby out of your husband’s arms so that you could clean him up and get him changed. “I think a little father-son bonding time sounds perfect. And I’ll only be gone for a few hours. I’ll text Penny to let her know that I can meet her in a little bit.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley nodded. “In the meantime, I think I’ll go take a quick shower,” he chuckled, pointing at the drool still coating his shoulder.

A few hours later, you were showered and dressed and ready to go meet Penny.

“Okay, so I fed Nick not that long ago, but if he gets hungry while I’m out, there are bottles in the fridge that you can warm up. And his diapers have been giving him a little bit of a rash lately, so I’ve been using this cream that Dr. McCarthy gave me whenever he needs to be changed. Oh, and—”

“Honey, relax,” Bradley laughed, resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to be gone for a few hours, not a week. I can handle this.”

You bit down on your lower lip sheepishly, looking over at where Nick was currently relaxing peacefully in his sway swing. “I know,” you nodded, smiling as you leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Bradley’s mouth. “You know me, I always just get crazy whenever I have to leave him.”

“We’ll be fine. You go have some girl time with Penny, and we’ll have some man time here,” he grinned, kissing you gently.

“Okay,” you smiled. Turning towards Nick, you beamed as you knelt beside him to smother him in kisses. “Enjoy your man time with Daddy, my love. I’ll be home in a little while,” you told him, giving him one more kiss before rising back to your feet.

“I’ll see you in a little bit. Call me if you need anything,” you said, giving Bradley another kiss before grabbing your keys and your purse and heading out the door.

“We’ll see you soon! Tell Penny we said hi!” Bradley called out as he closed the door behind you.

As much as you hated being away from your two favorite guys, you had to admit that it was nice getting a few hours “off” to spend time with a dear friend, even if you were driving all over San Diego to run errands for the bar. You kept checking your phone every ten minutes or so, but there were no texts or calls from Bradley, so you figured everything must have been going fine at home.

Hope you and Nick are enjoying your man time! Don’t miss me too much! 😉

It was just a silly, teasing text, but when you received no reaction or reply, you started to grow a little antsy. Was everything fine at home? You had only been out for a few hours, but you also knew that Bradley had been under a great deal of pressure and strain these past several weeks. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, and when Penny offered to pay for lunch as a thank you for helping her out, you told her that you’d have to take a rain check.

“We’ll talk soon!” you promised her, giving her a quick hug before jumping into your car and driving just slightly above the speed limit to get home as quickly as possible.

As you were hurrying into your apartment building, you checked your phone one last time and saw that you still had no messages or calls from Bradley. Fumbling around in your purse for your keys, you skipped the elevator and took the stairs two at a time until you reached your floor.

You hoped that you were wrong, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened. Call it women’s intuition, but you knew something was off. Heart pounding, you approached your apartment door and that’s when you could hear the wails coming from inside. You recognized that cry instantly. Nicholas didn’t cry like that often, that throaty, inconsolable wail, but when he did, it could be extremely challenging to figure out exactly what it was that was causing him to be so upset.

“Oh, God,” you mumbled, trying to shove your key into the door, but in your hurry, you kept choosing the wrong one.

“There you are,” came the rude voice of Mr. Lanfranchi, one of your neighbors a couple doors down. From the moment you and Bradley had moved in, he’d seemed determined to have a problem with you. When you turned, you saw that he was standing in his open doorway, arms crossed, scowling at you. “That kid of yours has been screaming for over an hour. About time you showed up.”

Although you would have loved nothing more than to tell Mr. Lanfranchi where he could shove it, you decided killing him with silence was a better solution as you turned your back on him and finally managed to get the right key in the lock. Slamming the door behind you, you dropped your purse and practically ran in the direction of your son’s cries.

“Bradley?” you called out, a hint of panic in your voice. “Baby?”

Pushing open the door to the nursery, your heart plummeted at the sight before you. Nicholas was lying in his crib, kicking his legs and loudly sobbing, while Bradley was sitting on the rug, head in his hands as he stared down at the floor. For a moment, you just stared at the two of them, not sure who needed you more. But then your feet carried you to the crib and you were lifting Nick into your arms, trying to rock him back and forth gently, even as he continued to wail in your ear.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, my love,” you cooed soothingly, rubbing his back as you tried to calm him down. “Sh, sh, sh. Mommy’s home. Mommy’s here. It’s okay.”

Looking over at Bradley, you saw that he had lifted his head and was peering at you through bleary eyes. He looked exhausted, but also deeply troubled. The tension you had seen in his shoulders when you’d picked him up on base had returned, and he had a defeated look about him that broke your heart.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he was mumbling, burying his face in his hands and then raking his fingers through his hair wildly. “He—he hasn’t stopped crying. I haven’t been able to get him to stop crying,” he told you, sounding almost numb.

You remembered the first time Nicholas had gone into one of his crying fits like this while you were home alone with him. It had been incredibly draining and emotionally taxing. You had felt like crying yourself. You could only imagine how Bradley was feeling right now.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said, trying to reassure both your husband and your son at the same time. When you felt Nick’s diaper was dry, you tried to figure out what else could be the cause of his upset.

“Bradley,” you said gently, carefully kneeling down on the floor near his feet, Nick still cradled in your arms. “Honey, look at me. Is he hungry? Did he eat?”

Bradley pointed across the nursery, where an empty bottle was sitting on the table near the rocking chair. “He seemed hungry earlier, so I fed him a bottle. He was doing okay, and then he just started crying and he hasn’t stopped. I—I don’t know what’s wrong,” he admitted, and you realized that that admission terrified him. He looked desolate as he gazed down at the baby. “I don’t know how to help him.”

“It’s okay,” you told him, reaching out with one hand and gently squeezing your husband’s. “It’s okay, Bradley.” You thought you had an idea what the trouble might be now.

Rising up, you laid Nick down on the changing table and began to gently massage his belly in a clockwise motion, singing a calming song to him in a soft voice. It was a song you often sang to help him go to sleep at night. As you continued to rub his tummy, he slowly started to quiet down, his desperate wails turning to softer cries. Lifting his feet in both hands, you began to bicycle his legs slowly, kissing the soles of his tiny feet as you did so. Slowly but surely, his cries soon turned to whimpers, then to little hiccups, until finally he stopped crying altogether and simply blinked up at you with tired eyes, all tuckered out.

Bradley stood up slowly, staring down at Nick and then gazing up at you in awe. “How did you do that? What was wrong?” he asked, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“He had a gas bubble,” you explained, carefully lifting the baby into your arms and cradling the back of his head. “It happened once before when I gave him the bottle. He’s okay now, baby, I promise,” you assured him, noting the worried expression that was still on your husband’s face. “I know it can be overwhelming when he cries like that. I had no idea what to do the first time he did it when I was alone with him. But it’s all okay now. See?”

He just continued to stand there, staring intently at Nick with a sad look in his eyes. “I couldn’t even help my own son,” he murmured, reaching out to lightly touch the baby’s back before dropping his hand again.

“Bradley, no, you—”

Before you could even get a full sentence out, Bradley was turning and walking out of the nursery, his head clutched in his hands. Your heart broke when you saw the defeated slump to his shoulders, and the heaviness he seemed to be bearing.

Not wanting to alarm Nick, who seemed to be on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, you continued to whisper soothingly to him, rubbing his back and rocking him in your arms until his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. Cradling his head carefully, you lowered him into the crib and watched him for a few minutes to make sure he really was sound asleep, then stepped out of the nursery on quiet feet and closed the door halfway behind you.

Concerned about Bradley, you immediately went in search of him. You checked the bedroom first, but when you didn’t find him there, you moved to the living room, where you discovered him sitting silently at the end of the couch.

“Honey,” you said softly, kicking your shoes off and curling up beside him on the couch. “Talk to me. What’s the matter?” You knew it had to go deeper than just Nick’s crying. Something had been off ever since Bradley returned from the mission.

“I’m a terrible father,” Bradley said quietly, tears stinging his whiskey-colored eyes as he turned his face away from you, seemingly too ashamed to even look you in the eye. “Nick was in pain, and he needed me, and I didn’t know what to do. I just froze. I didn’t even call you or anything. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing!” you exclaimed, reaching out to cup Bradley’s face in your hands so that you could turn his eyes back to yours. “Nothing is wrong with you. Do you hear me? Babies cry. A lot. And sometimes it’s hard to know why. That does not make you a terrible father,” you insisted, looking directly into his eyes. “Do you hear me?”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said again, shaking his head slowly. “I keep messing up.”

“Bradley, baby, you haven’t messed up anything,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair. He seemed so shaken up by this, and you were trying to understand why.

“It’s my fault that Coyote got hit,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze and staring down at his lap.

“What?” you asked, startled. Resting your hand over his, you leaned in closer and rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is,” Bradley told you insistently, his whole body tensing up beside you. “I was mission leader. I was the one making the calls, and I made a bad one. I thought we were clear. Bob and Fanboy weren’t picking anything up on radar. But that SAM just came out of nowhere,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“Oh, baby,” you said softly, cradling his cheek in your hand. “You can’t take all that responsibility and put it on your shoulders. You did the best you could. You said it yourself, even Bob and Fanboy didn’t pick anything up. You couldn’t have seen it coming.”

“But I should have!” Bradley’s voice was firm as he gazed at you, an agonized look in his expression. “I should have! Coyote could have been killed, and it would have been my fault. I feel like I just keep letting everyone down. And then today, I couldn’t even take care of my own son!”

You took a moment to process your husband’s words, to process the pain and the feeling behind them. It would be easy for you to sit here and tell him that it wasn’t true, that he shouldn’t feel that way, but who were you to tell him how he should feel? If that was how he felt at that moment, then he deserved to be heard.

“Baby, I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through right now,” you began slowly, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’ll never be able to fully understand what it is you go through every time you go up in one of those jets, every time you fly some classified mission that I’m sure I don’t even want to know the details of. And I’m not going to sit here and tell you not to feel the way you feel, because you’re allowed to feel whatever you need to. But I do want to tell you that I think you’re an amazing man. An amazing husband, an amazing father, an amazing friend, and an amazing fighter pilot. You deserved to be mission leader because no one cares about that squad more than you do. You would put your own life on the line for any of them, and that is what makes you a good leader. Coyote knows that. And I know that he would never blame you for what happened. You didn’t let him down, baby. You didn’t let anybody down. You all came home, and that’s what matters most.”

Bradley swallowed, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs as he silently drank in your words, tears that refused to fall coating his dark lashes.

“You didn’t let Nick down either, honey. It’s hard, taking care of a baby. Trust me, I know,” you said, trying to laugh softly to lighten the mood. “Do you think I have all the answers? Believe me, I don’t. I only figured out what to do today because the last time it happened, I called Penny sobbing and begging for her to help me. I felt like the world’s worst mother that day.”

“You’re an amazing mother,” Bradley insisted suddenly, lifting his head and taking one of your hands between both of his own.

“And you’re an amazing father,” you replied evenly, arching a pointed brow as you looked at him. “One tough day doesn’t change that. Our son is so lucky to have you,” you whispered, caressing his cheek lightly as you leaned in closer.

Bradley took a deep breath, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of the hand that was resting against his cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what was bothering me when you asked. I just—I felt ashamed of what had happened. And—” He paused, struggling to get the rest of his words out. “And I didn’t want you to stop thinking of me as a hero,” he confessed.

“That would never happen,” you assured him, crawling into his lap and holding his face in your hands. “You’ll always be my hero.”

“And you’ll always be mine,” Bradley murmured softly, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in for a kiss.

Kissing him deeply, you rested your hand on the nape of his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his body slowly relax as the tension and anxiety oozed out of him. When you finally pulled back for air, you rested your head in the crook of his shoulder and whispered, “I love you so much, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

You could feel his chest rumbling as he chuckled in response. “I love you more, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

“Not possible,” you teased, tilting your head back and grinning up at him.

Just then, the sound of the baby monitor that you kept in the living room came crackling to life as Nick awoke from his little hysteria-induced nap. You could hear him babbling and whimpering slightly, clearly in need of being held.

As you shifted to move off Bradley’s lap and go to your son, however, your husband stilled you with his hand. “I’ve got him,” he told you, sliding you easily off his lap and rising himself.

“Okay,” you smiled, nodding up at him. You knew this was something he needed to do after all that had gone on that afternoon.

Bradley smiled at you in return before walking out of the living room and down the short hallway to the nursery.

Within a few moments, you heard the sound of your son’s soft cries cease completely, which made you smile happily. You waited another couple minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore, and then you tiptoed quietly down the hallway and poked your head into the nursery.

Your husband was standing next to the crib, rocking a happily gurgling Nicholas in his arms as your son grasped onto one of his father’s large fingers.

“Daddy’s here, Nick. Daddy’s right here,” Bradley was whispering softly, gazing down at your son with a look of unadulterated adoration, a look that absolutely melted your heart. “I’m home now, and I’m not going to leave you or Mommy again for a very, very long time. I promise I’m going to be right here for you always.”

With tears in your eyes, you stepped into the nursery and wrapped your arms around both your boys, your heart full to bursting with how much you loved the two of them. It was more than words could describe.

“Thank you, honey,” Bradley murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he wrapped one arm around you.

“For what?” you asked in surprise as you lifted your head to gaze up at him.

Bradley smiled, lightly brushing his fingertips across your cheek. “For always being my safe place to land every time I make it back home.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #rooster x wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

[rosesaints]

help wanted ! chapter six.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader 

summary: miguel lets you into his world a little bit more.

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) 

warnings: oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of emotional abuse/neglect

series masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

In the year of 1999, Miguel O’Hara’s world came into focus for the first time. He was six years old, and the world was blurry and still too large for him to even begin to comprehend.

His mother, Conchata, was an eccentric woman. When he was younger, he believed that it was just her unique charm, a puzzling and unpredictable quality that drew her to pull him out of class to run to the fair at the last minute or speed through a silent grocery store on a shopping cart. It was unbecoming of a scientist’s wife, but as she rolled him faster down the condiment aisle, he was still too young to care, and it was still just him and his mom in their own little corner of the world.

“How come papa never joins us for dinner?” He had asked his mother once, a long time ago, across a table that was too long and empty for just the two of them. The words pushed themselves off the tip of his tongue clumsily and awkwardly, but something pulsed within him too loudly to ignore.

“No te preocupes por eso, Miggy,” Conchata replied between bites of the frozen food they had picked out at the store earlier. “What if we went to the science center again tomorrow? Just the two of us?”

“Mama—”

“No más preguntas,” Her response was brisk and cold, unlike the way she would usually speak to him. When she saw how Miguel’s eyes retreated to the floor, her voice softened. “Please. Let’s just enjoy this.”

After that, it helped to balance out their family, he reasoned, having found comfort in the spontaneity when his father would often disappear from the picture altogether.

1999 was when Gabriel was born. Gabriel was a gift, an undisputed blessing from the moment he was born, and for a time, Miguel had to admit he resented him. Resented the way his father looked at him with more pride and joy than he had ever cared to shine his way, resented the way his mother nervously glanced from him to Gabriel to him again, resented the way he was forced to sit alone in the waiting room while their relatives and family friends came to visit the rest of his family at the hospital.

Holiday photos became strained; he would remain on the outer corner of images, always, on the opposite side of his father and Gabriel.

There were a few times when he resolved to get to the bottom of it, to force his father to look at him and see him and give him just a little bit of the attention that he gave so easily to Gabriel, but to no avail. There was always this unexplainable distance, a rift that grew miles long between them.

But then Gabriel’s first word was “Miggy.” Not “mama,” not “papa.” Miggy.

The resentment toward Gabriel didn’t last long at all, making way for something easier and lighter. Suddenly his mother’s shopping cart became a little more crowded, and finally, he had someone else to share the rush of evading the manager at the grocery store with, as their mother pushed through tight corners and raced faster down the aisles.

But no matter how much Gabriel loved him wholeheartedly, like love was just something that deserved to be unconditionally given out, it made no effect on how tense and strained things became between Miguel and his father. While Gabriel was following him from the moment he could walk and step towards him, every day it felt like his father was walking farther and farther away.

A defining memory with his father took place a week before his fifth grade science fair.

Miguel remembered the day clearly, standing quietly beside his father on the subway while holding onto a railing, watching as other parents and kids held hands while the train would shake and rumble. His father kept his hands squarely at his side.

Conchata had begged his father to allow Miguel to accompany him to work one day at Alchemax, in order to gather inspiration for his project, a silly experiment that tested genetics among generations of fruit flies. It was a last-ditch attempt to connect with his father with something, anything.

As he stepped into the grand halls of Alchemax Headquarters, a twinkle of awe sparkled in his eyes, growing even brighter as his father guided him into his very own laboratory; His father allowed him to look over current and previous experiments without his usual, stern warnings, and like a fool, he believed that it was a turning point in their relationship.

He could still remember the way he shook in excitement, breathlessly cooing over vials and serums that rested on his father’s workbench, so eager and glad to be a part of the one facet of his father’s world that remained untouched by Gabriel.

“Miguel,” His father called with a strained voice. At the sound of his name, he turned hastily to find his father facing an unfamiliar man. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as Miguel approached the man standing beside his father. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

“Come introduce yourself,” his father urged, his hand resting on Miguel's shoulder. It was a touch he had still not grown accustomed to, one that felt like a vice, trapping him in place.

As Miguel drew closer, he couldn't help but notice the uncanny resemblance between himself and the man he was being introduced to. The stranger's eyes bore into him, reflecting his own features back at him. It was as if he was looking at a distorted mirror, a reflection that sent shivers down his spine.

“Tyler Stone,” his father introduced, his voice carrying thinly veiled resentment. The weight of his father's hand on his shoulder seemed heavy, sharp nails digging into his skin that he couldn't wrench away from. He remained frozen, his eyes locked with those of Mr. Stone.

“This is my son. Miguel.”

The words hung in the air, a moment pregnant with significance.

The next words that came out of Mr. Stone's mouth were intended to be a compliment, but to Miguel, they felt like an unbearably cruel joke, a mockery of his existence. “Well. Don't you look  just like your father?”

For the first time, Miguel saw his father the way his father saw him. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the truth that had been hidden in plain sight all along. He saw the expectation and disappointment, the unspoken burden that hung between them during his entire childhood.

The anger came in droves soon after.

He stood parallel to his father on the subway back home hours later, fists squared at his sides as the train shook and rumbled on its tracks. No words needed to be said between them.

He had spent his childhood searching for validation, trying to prove himself worthy of his father's love. But that day, standing face to face with his own reflection in the form of Mr. Stone, he couldn't help but feel a surge of self-hatred. Every imperfection, every flaw, felt magnified, as if he had been carved from the same flawed mold.

Miguel clenched his fists, fighting the urge to lash out, to scream at the unfairness of it all.

A week later, it was as if his hands were moving at their own accord. His science fair, a day that he had spent so long preparing for, and he felt so—so angry. Fucking enraged to his core. He didn’t remember when he picked up a baseball bat, didn’t remember when he started swinging aimlessly. But he vividly remembered crying in the midst of a ruined fair, destroyed projects and mock volcanoes and dioramas as other parents and children watched in horror.

Most of all, he remembered his mother cradling him in her arms, cupping his face, and sobbing along with him. “Miggy—Miguel. Look at me, mijo. Lo siento. Lo siento. Lo siento.”

He had never felt so small, so insignificant before. Worst of all, his father didn’t even bother showing up.

“Hey,” You snapped him out of the recesses of his dream, carefully pushing stray strands away from his face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he became acutely aware of his surroundings.  The first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He was lying in bed, the warmth of the covers cocooning him, and the soft, steady breaths of you beside him, a soothing melody in the early morning silence. Next to them, nestled between their forms, laid Gabi, her cherubic face peaceful in slumber.

The lines of worry that had etched themselves into his face over the years seemed to momentarily fade away, realization flooding through Miguel like a cleansing wave. “No. No, it was nothing.”

“Is everything okay?” You looked at him with so much worry and care, and Miguel felt as though his heart might burst.

"Better now," Miguel whispered, his voice carrying a tenderness that seemed to envelop the room.

Subconsciously, his fingers moved of their own accord, gently tracing the contours of your face, fingertips grazing the softness of your skin. He was mesmerized by the way your lashes fluttered in the sunlight, the delicate rise and fall of your brows relaxing at his response, the way your fingers traveled up to intertwine with his. He noticed the way you paused at his bruised knuckles. "Don't worry about it . "

A warm smile tugged at the corners of Miguel's lips as he met your gaze. He wanted to ease your concerns, to make all your problems go away. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” You responded, a smile mirroring his. Your eyes drifted down to Gabi. “She had a nightmare in the middle of the night and decided to join me. Poor girl was crying and I just couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t mind.”

I just woke up with my two girls next to me. How could I mind that? “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”

There were flowers in the kitchen. Miguel didn’t remember the last time he got flowers, but he soon found out that it was yours and Gabi’s doing. A vase filled with daisies smiled up at him as he popped the breakfast pizza in the microwave. The room felt lighter; Gabi’s colorful crafts were hung up with lettered magnets on the fridge, your phone was blaring some Etta James song, and you were trying to coax Gabi to sing along with you.

“I want a Sunday kind of love,” You crooned to Gabi off-key, dancing around with her in your arms as she rolled her eyes and tried to fight a grin. “A love to last, past Saturday night! Sing along with me, Gabi!”

“Dad, make it stop,” Gabi giggled, spinning after you twirled her on her tip-toes. ‘Get me out of here.”

Miguel shook his head, chuckling softly as you swung Gabi around once again. “No, I think I’m good over here. Nice try, though.”

After the science fair incident, his father hardly spared any effort in sending him away. In a whirlwind of hurried arrangements, he found himself hastily boarding a train, his meager possessions in tow, journeying from the bustling streets of Midtown to a stately preparatory school nestled in the heart of the Bronx. He barely got to say goodbye to his mother or Gabriel.

Structure and Control, was the school’s motto. No one approached him at the dining hall, having been dubbed a liability and a risk by the school staff. He spent the rest of his childhood stewing in the anger he felt that day, surrounded by four walls and people who didn’t know him, mourning the loss of a father he knew and a father he didn’t know.

But he wasn’t a powerless child anymore. He was standing in the kitchen with you and his daughter, and you were dancing with Gabi on the vinyl floor, soaking up the sunlight that streamed lazily in through the window.

Eventually, you relented once Gabi’s laughter died down, content to hum and sway along to the slow tune as she sat perched atop a tall stool, her hair falling in gentle waves around her shoulders as you began to braid earnestly. You looked across the kitchen table, grinning as he set the breakfast down in front of them. “You’re a godsend. When did you even have time to get all of this?”

“I’m a ninja,” Miguel mused, pulling up a chair next to them and grabbing some pizza in earnest. “Didn’t you know?”

He knew that there were bigger responsibilities waiting for him, saw proof of it with the dozens of unopened emails and text messages on his phone, knew that there were bound to be some repercussions for him acting so recklessly earlier that morning with your ex-fiancé, but as you and Gabi beamed at him with so much unfiltered joy, Miguel knew there was no other way he wanted to spend his day.

It was easy to place his phone on “Do Not Disturb” for the day and even easier to set his undivided attention on his girls. “What’s the plan for today?”

After breakfast, at Gabi's eager request, the day's activities seamlessly transitioned to the familiar haven of the backyard. Miguel laid a worn and cherished blanket on the verdant floor, the years of use visible in its fading print. He reclined on the blanket, a spectator to the impromptu game unfolding before him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched you engage Gabi in a spirited round of soccer.

The twinkle in your eyes mirrored hers, your movements fluid, but clumsy. He couldn't help but chuckle as Gabi, fueled by the same, stubborn determination that coursed through his veins, effortlessly outmaneuvered you at every turn. With each triumphant goal, her excitement radiated, intermingling with the shared laughter that filled the backyard.

After a while, you crossed your arms and dropped against him on the blanket, heaving as Gabi kept running around the yard with her soccer ball. Miguel found himself gravitating closer to you, legs intertwining with yours on the grass. “Giving up so soon? You were doing so good.”

“Shut up,” Miguel ducked as you playfully swatted his arm in feigned annoyance, but settled closer into the crook of his arm anyway. “She’s too fast and way too athletic for a five-year-old, no thanks to you. I barely even passed gym class in high school. It’s a surprise I lasted any longer than I did.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did slightly better than the other five-year-olds she plays against.”

“She’s growing up way too fast,” You turned to him, eyes wide with bewilderment. “Did you know she was telling me that she didn’t need my help anymore with tying her shoes the other day?”

“You can’t tell me things like that,” Miguel sighed, eyeing his daughter with a mixture of bittersweetness. “I’m just glad she still pretends to need my help.”

“Can’t be too long now,”  There was something teasing in your tone, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “She’s going to realize she’s way cooler than you and start tying her shoelaces herself.”

“Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen anytime soon. I don’t know if my heart could take that.”

You hummed in response, the melodious sound resonating deep within your chest. "I don't think my heart could take that either," you whispered, your words carrying a gentle echo of shared sentiment.

Gabi scored for the umpteenth time that day, kicking her ball into an imaginary goalpost against the fence. Moments later, she bounded towards the blanket, breathless and sweaty and wide-eyed, joining your little cluster on the blanket. You were mussing up her dark curls, singing her praises and laughing and inviting him in, and everything felt so right, so unequivocally real.

As the day wore on, time seemed to stretch, as if honoring Miguel's silent plea for the day to last as long as possible. They lingered in the backyard as conversations flowed, intertwined with bursts of laughter and moments of comfortable silence.

It was distinctly summer; the scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of a distant barbecue.  He could hear other neighbors milling around the block, but it all seemed to blur away.

As the sun set, signaling the approaching end of their idyllic day, Gabi's eyelids grew heavy, her energy spent from the day's activities. No matter how quickly the years passed, he still carried her like he did the day she was born. Miguel scooped her up in his arms, cradling her gently as he carried her to her room with you in tow.

He wanted to raise her in a way that was different from his upbringing, wanted her to grow up in a place that was overflowing with warmth and care, to feel his love from the soft glow of her nightlight that illuminated the room, to feel it when he tucked her into bed with the blanket he bought for her with his first paycheck. “Felices sueños, mi cielo.”

Once she fell asleep, a familiar sense of comfort guided him through the familiar paths of his bedroom, leading him to the bathroom where you patiently awaited his arrival.

“Let me take care of you,” Your voice was soft,  laced with tender affection. “Just for tonight.”

With deliberate movements, he allowed you to undress him and guide him into the soothing embrace of the bathtub. The air was thick with tension and want and he needed to be closer – he needed every inch of your bare skin touching his and even then that wouldn’t be close enough.

It’d been years since he’s felt taken care of; delicate were hands running through his hair, humming “A Sunday Kind of Love” against his ear as you caressed the shampoo into his scalp. Miguel closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto your shoulder, and allowed himself the rare opportunity to let his defenses down.

You traced the contours of his back, his shoulders, all the way down his arms to the bruising, purple swells that emerged from his knuckles. He inhaled deeply, aware of the way you were examining him under a close eye. Wondered if you saw through the carefully constructed facade and the pain that rested just below the surface.

(He wanted nothing more than to spare you from the ugly details, countless meals and nights he spent alone after years of ceaselessly pursuing meaning in his life beyond his family, how often he slept nestled between the cold walls of his office and his cluttered laboratory bench, resting his head on invitations to important events that were sent unopened back to him. There was the fact that he hadn't seen his mother or father in almost a decade, how none of his family members even knew that Gabi existed. That Gabi was even named after Gabriel.)

“You don’t have to tell me about it right now,” A beat passed. “But I’d like to know when you’re ready.”

Miguel nodded, the lump in his throat dissolving as you enveloped him in that all-consuming way of yours.

When you stepped out of the tub, draping a towel between the two of you and ushering him back into the bedroom, he thought he could be content forever.

This was a dance that you had played with him many nights before, but every time, he couldn’t resist staring in awe as you bore your body to him, as if recommitting you to memory for the first time.

His eyes fluttered, wonderstruck, and leaned forward first, but you were the one to deepen the kiss, pulling him down to your level and undoing the towel around his waist. You pressed him back for a moment, examining him with a breathless look before you winded your hands around his hair, water droplets be damned.

“Let go for me,” Then you were pushing him down on the bed, descending upon him like a prayer. Shivers ran through his body when he discovered your next actions.

You started out so torturously slow. A kiss on his thighs, followed by your breath fanning his skin. Your mouth was a sharp contrast to the cold air, and your teeth brushed against his skin just so. He was tempted

to plunge himself within you, to do away with this game of back-and-forth, but the way you were playing with him was exquisite.

You licked one strip from the base of his cock to his tip, just to taste, and Miguel felt like he was short-circuiting. But you remained patient, attempting to hide the smile that you hid between his legs. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes back, shuddering as you showered him with praises about how good he tasted, how well he was going to fit in your mouth.

“So good, Miguel. Unwind for me, that’s it.”

His cock was straining in his arousal, unable to do much more than enjoy the feeling of the lazy spins of your tongue around his head, dizzy with the way you complimented him perfectly.

When you took him in your mouth after what felt like eons, hollowing your cheeks to try and take more and more of him, his breathing grew ragged. You liked him like this, at your mercy, and he wanted nothing more than to fall apart underneath you.

He vaguely registered the way your other hand rutted against your core, your praises fizzling into high-pitched mewls that sent low sensations reverberating throughout his cock. “ Fuck—oh my god—such a sweet girl, takin’ care of me.  Dios. ”

Gasping out, he felt the outskirts of his orgasm approaching and his hands went flying, pleading with you. “Fuck me,” he begged, temple pressing against your head as his arms yanked you up, forcing you to straddle him with a low groan. “Let me in, amor, déjame terminar dentro de ti.”

To his pleasant surprise, you were soaked from taking him in your mouth, his eyes fixed on the wet shimmer of your pussy as he slotted himself in within you, cursing as you took him in one, fell swoop. His girl, always so sensitive to his touch, tight and pulsing in anticipation.

“Always taking care of me,” His large hand snaked behind your back, going lower until he could knead the supple skin of your ass in preparation. “Need to take care of my girl too.”

He snapped into action, working himself to the bone inside of you, strokes going faster even as your nails dug into his back in an attempt to ground yourself, delirious with the way he mercilessly pounded into you.

“Miguel, Miguel—-Miguel, please.”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” He murmured against your lips, tasting himself on your tongue as his rough hands came around your back to pull you lower.  “How much you affect me,” He relished in the way your breath hitched, sinking his teeth into the plush of your bottom lip to capture your sounds, but it wasn’t enough. “How often you cross my mind,” He was near delirious and his heart was soaring then, and it was an admission he’d make for you in every possible way. “The things I would do for you.” The things I have done.

“Miguel, I think I’m––” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as he snapped back, and you swore he was fucking you harder with each stroke. His hands ran up and down the sides of your waist, gripping your flesh so hard in a way that you knew there were going to be bruises in the morning.

“You’re gonna let me fuck more out of you, huh? You’re gonna let me give you everything you need?”

All it took was for him to stroke your clit one last time, and you were falling apart like putty in his arms.

His face dropped forward, drinking in the feeling of losing control as your back arched, lost in the way your walls clamped down on him, thrusts growing sloppy while you writhed and clashed your hips against his to make it last.

Miguel saw white and came with your name as a constant chorus on his lips, warmth painting your insides as he pushed rope after rope within you.

A slow, lethargic feeling overcame him, like a breath that he had been waiting to release all day.

In the darkness, Miguel stilled his trembling hand as he found yours, his thumb gently caressing your palm as he felt the rhythm of your breath gradually slowing.  He watched you fall asleep in his arms and held you just a little tighter, a little closer to his chest.

He had lived his life by the principles of science. His reality laid in the tangible realm of facts and figures, where equations and formulas held sway. He believed in precision and unyielding logic, finding solace in their certainty and finality.  

There was no certainty in your future together, didn’t know how long this thing with you would last, but the pessimistic scenarios that began running through his head paled in comparison to what he held in his arms.

He hadn’t felt this hopeful since Gabi was born and he was given the chance to begin anew. Not since he was a child, skating past grocery aisles on the rickety wheels of a shopping cart. What he held in his arms was tangible and real, and it filled him with hope that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #oscar isaac #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #mdni #tw: abuse #tw: neglect

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

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“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, emotional?, referenced canon typical action/violence, cursing?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Gotham Knights video game)

| 1k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

“Hey, Hood, may I have a word with you?”

Hood - Jason. Jesus. - on his way toward the exit stalls and looks at you with what you can only assume is a grimace. He looks incredibly out of place for someone whose presence naturally takes up so much space.

It was getting that much easier to superimpose the showman he was on the field to the studious little smartass who used to ask you to “peer review” his essays for fun, but that connection was still something you needed to remind yourself of.

You wait, settling on your heels with your hands clasped in front of you. He doesn’t know it’s you under the mask and you almost fought him an hour ago, of course he’s reluctant.

Jason is just watching, body coiled like he’s weighing whether it’d be best to just cut and run, when Dick slides up and nudges him.

“I didn’t agree to this,” the younger instantly objects. “Just the med bay and Alfred not…Nightfall.”

He says your name like he’s cussing you out just by uttering it. It’s nasty and you can’t not smile. That sounds like your boy alright.

“I dunno,” Dick nods over at you with a coy little smile on his face. “If you give it a shot you’ll see just how much you two have in common. Just once and you can always leave if you really hate it.”

At his continual refusal to budge Dick delays for a few beats then that grin that always precluded a checkmate back in the day takes over his face.

“How bout I call in that favor early, then? You just…try to talk to her now - for me - and you’ll walk out of this cave with nothing to owe.”

His weedling finally pays off because Jason’s shoulders rise and drop dramatically as he sighs.

“Fine.” He levels the LEDs of the helmet in your direction, voice getting lower. Getting flat. “But you better not try anything.”

“Of course,” you nod.

Jason eyes you for a few more beats before giving a terse nod of his own then skulking off towards where you indicated deeper in the cave - because you did not need everybody in your business.

You give your oldest a quick side hug behind his brother’s back and he accepts the kiss on the cheek with a smile before you go after Jason.

When you close the door to the comfortably sized weapon’s room your hands tremble against the door knob; your body acting as if it’s cold in the warm space.

You clamp your hand on the knob until your knuckles pop to ground yourself. Five seconds you use not to breath but to force the shaking to cease, before turning fully in one movement.

Up close like this the sight of him makes your stomach hurt, or maybe your abdomen, you can’t tell. The fact that if you hadn’t been told you would never in a million years think to guess this was your son makes you shake worse somehow.

You ball your hands into fists and take a deep coiling breath that only serves to make the man in front of you more on edge.

He shifts a foot forward and then to the side; towards the emergency exit tucked into the back of the room. A trick you’d taught Jason a half a decade ago to trick people into thinking an escape plan was simply just nerves. To make everyone think you were about to bolt forward right before you booked it backwards instead.

No plan was truly crucial like an escape plan after all.

A few more seconds tick by and your mouth opens under your mask.

“Listen-” the other starts and a million potential conversation starters die in your throat.

“Jason…?”

The faint name doesn’t make him freeze, he’d been good at not getting caught in a lie long before Robin, but it does make him puff up for a millisecond before he catches himself and plants his feet.

Too defensive for a case of mistaken identity from his point of view but not a confirmation either. Your heart hammers.

“Who?”

The hammer pauses in mid air, your heart stutters.

For a moment it’s like the floor has dropped out from under you. Fuck the little signs he’s giving you. Fuck Bruce’s word that didn’t mean shit anymore. Your son was dead and you were being ridiculous. You’ve lost your mind. Come back from the grave? How stupid were you that you fell for that? You look the person in front of you up and down and the way nothing rings familiar makes you want to scream.

Then you see his boots - tactical grade, nothing to ride home about, run of the mill ass boots but they still ping somewhere in your temporal lobe despite their mundanity.

You remember to breathe alongside the burn of your saliva from your rough swallow. You nod to his feet.

“You got a knife in those boots?”

It was so stupid. A little line from a made up code, Jason and you’s made up code. One he’d created because he’d never forgotten about that little knife even though neither of you ever acknowledged it. One he’d made because your little man had trusted you, had wanted something just for the two of you. An action you’d taken for granted from a malnourished little punk gone too soon.

This time he does freeze and your eyes close together without your permission. The building moisture in them being squeezed and trapped inside. If this was a trick - if a strand of the black mercy or some rogue had gotten to you - you didn’t want to watch it melt away. You couldn’t.

“…You think I’m dumb enough to only carry one?”

You suck in a breath and the speed nearly chokes you.

One of two possible responses he could have given you and he didn’t even bother telling you to fuck off with the other. The code was for when people came over, when Bruce was being an ass, everything. A simple do you want to leave and a yes or no in reply.

The man responds so quietly the helmet makes his words sound like a failing humidifier. Soft gusts of words that aren’t sure if they want to be known or not. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard the faint appearance of blood shocks your mouth right into moving again.

“Is it really you?”

A breath. Two. He seems to be looking you over before he speaks up in that same broken humidifier tone.

“…Y/n?”

“Yes? No, yeah, I’m - goddamn!” you rip your mask off and fling it to the ground. “Yeah it’s me.”

Another pause but you’ll give him this one. You are by zero means under the impression that you look good right now, let alone like the put together woman he probably remembers. You didn’t like to let your kids see you cry on principle but right now you know there’s no other option.

“Jason?”

This time when you prompt him you get it out at a steady-enough volume. And this time he lets himself react, body going just that much looser and him teetering closer, fingers shifting at his side like he wants to reach out and touch. No matter that there was at least six feet of space between you two.

You’re already mirroring him when the creaky too soft proclamation of “Ma?” comes through the modulator.

…TBC

NOTES: Alright listen, I’m not splitting this up the way I am to be a dick I am simply just struggling to get everything down the way I want. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

if you’d like to leave a comment that’d be appreciated, but I won’t respond cause this is a sideblog. I read everything though 🫶🏾

Tagged: @aarinisreading

#jason todd #red hood #black!reader #black y/n #black!batmom #•long overdue (the series) #jason todd x black!batmom #batmom & jason todd #jason todd x batmom #batmom x jason todd #red hood and reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #red hood angst #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader #red hood & black!reader #jason todd & black!reader #jason todd & black!batmom #bruce wayne x batmom #divorced!batmom #batman x batmom #batmom!reader #batfamily x batmom #batmom angst #batmom

[bodhranwriting]

My Favourite Action Sequence: Tocktick by Bodh M.

I promised you guys this, but one of my favourite action scenes simply because you get so much character development. Who's your favourite?

The night had closed in as he stepped into what was ostensibly the lavatory.

It was an alleyway with some crates tastefully arranged into some modicum of privacy, a small lantern lit over the door. It reeked. Obviously, many of its visitors were beyond aiming once they stumbled onto the scene.

Holding his breath, Sixsmith picked his way to the drain – helpfully labelled in glowing white paint – selected a conveniently eye-level brick to become suddenly fascinated with and proceeded about his business.

Just as he had committed every red crack to memory, something round and very cold pressed against the back of his neck.

He froze.

“Hello, doc. Thought we said not to wander off anymore.”

Fuck.

Somehow, his voice didn’t shake even as his heart landed somewhere around his ankles. “Carter.”

He could picture Carter’s smirk and heard someone else snigger. Two of them then. As much as he had enjoyed it, antagonising the man last night had probably not been one of his better ideas.

Neither was kicking him in the crotch, but he felt that was a crime of which the universe would absolve him.

Carter, however, would not.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“What, right now?”

An awkward almost-silence followed.

“… No, you can finish what you’re doing.”

“Very kind of you.”

The gun at his neck didn’t move an inch. His thoughts raced; plans flicked up like cards in a game and were abandoned just as quickly. If he ran now, they’d catch him. Worse than that, they’d make sure he couldn’t do that again. Fighting wasn’t an option. He’d rather go toe-to-toe with a locomotive.  

He took as much time as he dared, wondering if anyone would hear him if he shouted, wondering how exactly they were planning to get him back to the tavern. If, of course, that was where they were going. They could have shot him in the head and been five streets away by the time the echoes died. There had to be some kind of transport, right? A cart or carriage of some sort – unless they were planning on marching him several streets.

And he wondered why.

Finally, Sixsmith turned around. The gun was so close he had to go cross-eyed to keep it in his vision – a battered-looking thing with a fat bullet chamber and most of the paint scratched off on one side. Carter jabbed it at him while his companion – a stout, grinning man armed with a cutlass who he didn’t know – fished in his pockets for something.

Hesitantly, he raised his hands and tried a smile. “Miss me already?”

The door was less than ten steps away, six or seven at a dash.

But they were going to be faster. Not smarter. Carter was a bully. He thought with his fists.

“Not really,” Carter said coolly, “There’s plenty of sawbones hanging around. Just need to dip into the nearest alley.”

Sixsmith widened his eyes as innocently as he could. “Why don’t you bugger off and do that then?”

The crack of his head striking the wall was gunshot-loud, a white flash blinding him. His legs buckled and the only reason he didn’t fall was the hand around his throat, pinning him against the damp brick. The gun pressed against his cheek.

Sixsmith tried to swallow.  Now was the time for panicking.

“Have you always had a smart mouth?” Carter asked mildly.

He managed to shrug.

“How are you still alive?”

“Luck,” he croaked. The words were getting stuck in his throat, only partly because of the clamp on it. “C’mon, Cart-Carter. Gotta… be – easier pickin’s.”

“Yeah,” Carter said, leaning in. His breath misted unpleasantly over Sixsmith’s ear, “Not many of ‘em owe us. And –“ his tone suddenly became upbeat – “have an opportunity to pay us back.”

His lungs were glass. Breathing would shatter him.

“What…?”

“A hundred pounds,” Carter murmured, “That’s your debt repaid thrice. With interest.”

Stout grabbed his hands, wrapping twine around his wrists. The rasp shocked him back to life. Sixsmith went to yank his hands back, only for the pressure to increase around his throat.

It’d been a bloody gamble and he’d lost.

Wait.  

An idea struck him. Not a good idea, but it was better than another head injury. Carefully, Sixsmith let his body fold inwards and tried to look like he’d given up.

Carter was looking at him suspiciously, but he let go. Sixsmith inhaled deeply, wincing at the dizziness which came with air. Bound hands weren’t ideal, but he’d worked with worse odds before. Admittedly, that’d been ten years and several injuries ago, but the principle of the thing wasn’t hugely different.

At least, Sixsmith hoped it wasn’t.

As the two brawlers each gripped an arm and began to march him towards the street, he managed, “Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, wait!”

“What?” Carter growled.

“Listen, listen. You like bets, right? ‘Course you do.” Digging his heels into the ground and fumbling in his pocket – hard to do with one half-working hand and another one quickly going numb – Sixsmith mined a penny from his pocket.

Stout laughed. “A penny won’t cut it, doc.”

Sixsmith shook his head and – somehow – rolled the penny across his knuckles. “C’mon. Just a wager. Indulge me.”

“You’re stalling,” Carter sneered.

“Aye, well, obviously, but c’mon.” He proffered the coin and hurried on, “I flip this coin. Heads, I go with you – no fuss or nuthin’. Tails –“

“We let you go?” Stout smirked, “Not for a hundred pounds.”

“No, no, tails – same story, right?” He tried not to look over at the door, kept his gaze focused on the smaller man. “But if it lands on its edge… I get a ten-minute head start.”

It didn’t appear to be landing, but they’d stopped. Surely, Emmett or someone would be coming to investigate his disappearance…

“On its edge?” Stout broke first. He was scowling in concentration, glaring at Sixsmith’s hands.

He grinned. “On its edge. Ten minutes. C’mon, what d’ya lose?”

Carter appeared to be thinking deeply; Sixsmith could almost see the wheels turning.  Maybe he should’ve bargained for more time – made it less obviously appealingly one-sided. Stout seemed invested enough, quick glances flickering between his compatriot and prisoner.

He held his breath.

Finally, Carter shrugged. “Five.”

Spreading his hands as far as they’d go – not far at all, Shades besides, the twine was tight – Sixsmith repeated, “Five. Five is fine.”

“And if you make a peep on the way, I’ll break your jaw.”

He accepted this with a quick shake of the shoulders and tried to keep his adrenaline tamped down. Far more smoothly than he thought possible, he worked the coin into position, inhaled, and then flipped it into the air.

It spun, a silver glint caught by the solitary lantern, glittering as it reached the pinnacle of its arc and…

Sixsmith smashed his foot into the side of Carter’s knee, shoved him off-balance into Stout, and bolted.

He hit the door, seized the handle in both hands and yanked it open. Light blinded him as he stumbled over the threshold. A hand brushed his shirt as he turned to grab the inner doorknob, fingers snagging in the front of his collar. Gasping, Sixsmith slammed the door closed – earning a shrill “Fuck-bitch!” – and then leapt back as it was ripped from his hands. He backpedalled desperately, dodged a swing from Carter, tripped over an uneven floorboard, and went down hard on his side, winded. Carter grasped his trouser leg, tearing the fabric, and Sixsmith twisted, lashing out. His foot struck bone – Carter’s cheek – and he was released.

Scrambling to his feet, still scrabbling towards the bar, he forced his lungs to fill, and yelled, “Emmett! Help!”

⸹

Emmett’s head snapped up at the cry. Instinctively, he snatched the poker from the stand and vaulted over the fireside chairs towards the sound.

He had enough time to land as Sixsmith fell through the saloon-doors, followed by a furious giant with a gun and the beginnings of a shiner. A second later, a second man waving a cutlass barged into the room.

His gaze immediately fell on Emmett. “You! Thief!”

A heartbeat of confusion thudded through his veins before hard-hammered lessons took over. He was in a tolerable Vinettae as the first strike came.

The poker was heavy, but he hadn’t used a real sword in so long that his clumsiness was neither hindered nor helped by it. Emmett danced back, parrying a wild stab towards his guts. The sword slid along the metal, screeching horribly. The stink of coal filled his nose.

Eyes watering, he blocked another swing and nearly fell over an armchair. Emmett stumbled, barely ducking in time as the blade passed over his head close enough to shave the tips of his hair and jabbed upwards.

His attacker fell back with a screech, holding his ribs. Spittle formed at the corner of his mouth, wet panting escaping between rubbery lips.

It was going to be a wild swing; this man had no finesse with the blade –

A glass smashed near the man’s head, forcing him to jump aside, attention snapping to a new threat.

Emmett glanced too, seeing Kizzy frozen in the aftermath of a throw, but recovered quicker. Swiftly, he brought his poker down on the man’s right wrist.

Yowling in pain, the stout man dropped his cutlass and fell back as Emmett stabbed into his guts.  

A gunshot rang out.

“Nobody move or I blow his head off!”

Sucking in a lungful of air, ears ringing, head pounding, Emmett halted. His heart constricted.

The giant – the brawler who had chased them last night – was by the saloon doors, an arm locked about Sixsmith’s neck and a gun jammed against his temple. Hastily, Emmett scanned the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Talas was barely out of his chair, fingers denting the cushioned arms. Kizzy was still on top of the table, Scarlett by the bar. Maia was lying on the floor, arms covering her head.

A still-smoking hole was drilled in the floorboard scant inches from her left hip.

“Nobody move,” he repeated, “Or this shit gets it.” For emphasis, he pressed his weapon harder against his hostage’s head, forcing Sixsmith to have to crane his neck to compensate.  Nodding over at Emmett, he added, “So drop the poker.”

Emmett hesitated.

“Bluff –“ Sixsmith choked the brawler clamped a hand over his mouth, trapping his throat in the crook of his captor’s elbow. He was on his toes, scratching futilely at the man’s sleeves.

“Shuddup!”  

Stout feinted towards his dropped cutlass, dodging back as Emmett pointed the poker.

“If you put him down,” he heard Maia say from the floor, “We can talk about this.”

“Talk?” the giant was backing away, dragging his hostage with him. “Hundred pounds talks. Not you. Owen! C’mon.”

Stout – Owen – sneered at Emmett as he retreated. “Don’t even think of coming after us. Or we’ll – we’ll slaughter all of youse.”

Emmett’s heartbeat was a thrum. Not moving his head, he scanned the room – glasses, cutlery, a few plates.

“Look, put him down,” Maia called, “For fuck’s sake, he’s going blue!”

“Well, if you’d all stop moving -” the giant hefted Sixsmith higher, ignoring the strangled gasp – “then this’ll be much quicker.”

Owen reached the giant’s side, fingers curling and uncurling like he was still trying to reach the sabre abandoned at Emmett’s feet. “Alive, Carter,” he said lowly. “Can’t get the money if ‘e’s dead.”

“Fine.” Carter theatrically loosened his grip and gestured grandiosely with the gun. “If I see any of you following us –“

Sixsmith bit him.

The bar plummeted into darkness, the aftermath of the muzzle-flash blinding Emmett as he leapt forwards. Someone screamed. A body hit the floor followed by something metallic striking wood.

Emmett’s foot hit something soft and he staggered, landing painfully on his hands, shouting rising around him.

Then the saloon doors squeaked to a stop.

“Shades beside us, Emmett. You got me in the ribs!”

“Six!” Emmett scrambled up. “Are you alright?”

A match flared nearby, illuminating Maia’s shocked face. The flame wobbled in her shaking hands.

Sixsmith looked up at them both and grinned, eyes gleaming with a mischievous devilment. “That were an adventure, weren’t it?”

“What happened?”

“Miss Scarlett –“ Sixsmith gestured with bound hands – “has one hell of a throwin’ arm.” He looked down and laughed suddenly. “Holy shit, you sliced his fuckin’ ear off!”

#writeblr #arcane skies #deaf #queer #writing #action

[kabie-whump]

CYOA Whump Part 14

First | Previous

You chose: Raiding a merchant ship that's too fast for other ships to catch.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You sleep well that night. Really well. And you only spend a little while silently debating if it would be worth it to strangle Onthyes with the chain that binds the two of you together.

You wouldn't be able to carry his weight, you decide. You'd have to find something to cut off his hand with, and he purposefully left his weapons elsewhere before he laid down next to you. You'd have to drag him out into the belly of the ship searching for a sharp object, and considering how slow you would be moving someone would surely catch you.

Magic is out of the picture too. Your muzzle had been removed so you could eat but after that it was locked around your head again. You can still use your wind magic muzzled, but you don't think it can do much to help you here.

So you sleep next to Onthyes, both of you careful not to roll around too much and risk getting tangled in the chain. It's a cold night and he's really warm, and in the morning neither of you mention how you'd woken up curled into his chest.

The two of you have breakfast together, and this time Onthyes pockets your muzzle instead of putting it back on you.

"Don't make me use it again," he pleads, reaching out to wipe away some dirt that had gathered under the muzzle with his thumb.

You stretch your jaw. Your throat is still sore from yesterday, when an entire lightning bolt had rebounded back into your lungs.

"Let me see your ribs," Onthyes says then.

Sighing, you lift your shirt, trying not to be too aware of the other pirates milling around the deck. There's a myriad of boot shaped bruises spanning across your ribs and stomach. They'd been red when Onthyes looked at them last night, but now they're a deep, ugly purple.

He winces. "Ouch."

"That about sums it up," you say, pulling your shirt back down.

There's a whistle from above you. You and Onthyes look up towards the wheel, where Tinny is waving you over. You and Onthyes climb the ladder to the upper level.

"We're puttin ya to work today, kid," Tinny says, leading you over to where the captain stands at the wheel.

Erxik points at a tiny speck on the horizon. "That there's the merchant ship Elesyia. One of the fastest there is. You're going to help us catch her."

You squint against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the sea. "Easy enough."

You take a step back, putting some space between you and the others. You hold your bound hands out and the winds rush through you, bringing with them a rush of adrenaline. It's so much easier this time, now that you're fed and well rested. The ship lurches forward, the sails filling with a fwomp sound.

You're concentrating hard on keeping control over the winds, but you can hear Erxik talking to Onthyes. "As soon as we catch her you take him below and keep him there, got it?"

"You don't want me fighting, captain?"

"He's too valuable of an asset. We can't risk anything happening to him. Keep him below."

"Understood."

You keep your eyes closed, swaying slightly with the wind currents as you conduct them like a natural orchestra. It's easy to fall into a sort of trance doing this, until you can almost feel your body dissolving into the air around you. You feel insubstantial, but not weak. More cloud than flesh.

Then your concentration is shattered by the boom of cannons. Your eyes fly open as Onthyes grabs you by your shoulders and starts dragging you away. Your thoughts feel cloudy and scattered, your feet struggling to find solid purchase on the deck. You stumble and Onthyes catches you.

He grabs your face, trying to get you to look at him. You can't force your eyes to focus.

"Ventis, snap out of it! We gotta move!" His voice almost doesnt carry over all the yelling and clashing of swords and booming of cannons.

"I..." You shake your head, starting to come back to yourself. "What?"

"Come on!"

He manages to get you to the lower deck. The other pirates are busy firing arrows or leaping to the deck of the Elesyia or manning cannons. It's chaos.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Next

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#cyoa game #cyoa whump #pirate whump #nonhuman whumpee #magical whump #whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #oc #original character #oc whump #ventisposting #ventis

[jennay]

HoneyBee

Master list

You were the only one who could do it. Did you want to? No, of course not. Did you beg Noah to come with you? Yes, but Noah was adamant that if he was there, you wouldn't confess your feelings to Jolly, not that you had the courage to do that with or without him by your side.

You would wait until the next time you saw Jolly; this wasn't a permanent goodbye.

This was just a temporary separation, and you could tell him how you felt when you met again.

Nobody could blame you for being highly emotional; you dropped off one of your closest friends at an airport without knowing when they would return.

You park the car in the airport parking lot and turn off the engine. You look at Jolly in the passenger seat, struggling to hold back your emotions as you say farewell. "I hate this." You tell him. "I hate this so much." You try to blink back the tears; you didn't want to be this emotional. You tried to act like it was just another tour, but this time, you'd have Noah to keep you company.

"Aw, it's going to be okay, kitten." His hand cups your cheek as you let out a small whimper. You feel his thumb wipe away the tear, and instead of feeling comforted, it makes you want to cry more. "Come on," He says, getting out of the car, "Walk with me."

You nod, leave the car, and take a deep breath. You feel the cold air hit your face, making your tear-stained cheeks sting instantly. You walk over to his side of the car, avoiding his gaze. He hoists his bag over his shoulder, and with his free arm, he wraps it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as the two of you walk towards the terminal.

"What's got you so upset? You know this isn't forever. It never is." You shake your head, wondering if you should spill the beans now.

"It doesn't make it any easier. We don't know when you'll come back… it's always like this." You stop before the security gate, knowing it's time to part ways with one of your dearest friends.

Jolly gently drops his bag to the floor, enveloping you in a hug, almost lifting your feet. "C'mon honey bee. I'll be back soon enough." He softly kisses your temple and gently sets you down, "Plus, you have Noah." He smiles like he knows something, but he doesn't know anything at all. "Maybe with me out of the picture, the two of you can see where things go, and when I get back, you'll be living happily ever after."

You roll your eyes. "It's not like that with Noah. I've told you that so many times." You remind him.

"Denial." He says, hugging you one last time. You wrap your arms around his waist tightly, not wanting him to leave.

"Stop it." You say, pressing your face closer to his chest. "It's Noah, he's gross… I've known him half my life, and I'm not into him. I don't know how he's ever gotten a girlfriend, honestly." You tease, knowing that you are exaggerating. Noah wasn't gross, but he was like a brother to you.

Joakim pulls away, looking down at you with a smirk, "Alskling…" He trails off, "You'll see."

You sigh, pulling out of his embrace, "You should get going, or I'll keep you here, and we'll both be in trouble." You smile, but you want to cry. "Call me when you get home?" You sadly speak.

He smiles, "You'll be the first to know I'm safe and sound."

Knocking on your front door snaps you from your thoughts. You look up, wondering who it could be. You didn't have any missed calls or text messages.

The knocking persists, growing more impatient by the second. You hear Noah's voice through the door. "Come on, open up! I have something important to tell you!"

You sigh and roll your eyes at Noah's urgency. He always acts like everything is a matter of life and death, which drives you insane.

You get up from the couch, close your laptop, and walk to the door. "Hold on, I'm coming!" You shout while unlocking the door and swinging it open. "What the hell, do you know what time it is?"

You step aside as Noah barges in, looking excited and restless. He walks over to the couch and sits on the armrest, his smile wide and mischievous. He has a secret that he wants to share. You recognize that face from many times before.

He looks like he hasn't slept, wearing the same sweats and sweater as yesterday. His hair is messy and falls over his forehead. His stubble is growing longer and darker. His eyes dart around you, eager for you to join him on the couch.

"Are you okay?" You ask, furrowing your brows. "What's up?"

He grabs an envelope from his pocket and flings it on your lap. "Open it."

You tear into the envelope, grabbing the paper inside. "Is this!?" You squeal reading it. "When did you? How did? How do you have all my info?" You say, reading your name on the ticket that Noah got you. You stand up, wrapping your arms tightly around Noah's shoulders. "You know what? I don't even care. Thank you!"

He laughs, trying to regain his balance. "You're welcome." He pauses as he adjusts himself from falling off the armrest. "It's really for me. I'm getting tired of you moping around."

You shrug, "Sorry, I miss my friend."

"Boyfriend." He laughs. "He's my friend, and you don't see me acting this way." He stands up, walking to the door, "I just wanted to give that to you. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday for the year." He opens the door and pauses before leaving, looking over his shoulder at you before exiting. "He thinks it's me visiting; figured you'd want it to be a surprise."

You smile while clasping your hands together. "You're amazing, Noah."

Sarcastically, he says, "Until your next mood swing!" and closes the door behind him, exiting before you can say anything back.

"Fuck you!" You scream at him, laughing like a bit of a psychopath.

You walk across the room and snatch your cell phone from the coffee table. You glance at the clock and see that it's midnight. You smile, knowing that Jolly would be awake now in his time zone.

You flop down on your bed, fluffing your pillows and pulling the covers over you. You dial his number and wait eagerly for his voice to fill your ears.

"Hello, Sweet Pea." you hear his voice speak. "What are you doing up still?"

You giggle, "I was working on some new designs, and Noah rudely showed up at my house to brag about how he gets to see you!"

"Ah, yes. Two days till the dummy is here." He teases. "You should hop in his backpack and come with him."

"What will I do with my two favorite people out of the country?" You lightly laugh, wishing you could tell him the truth. You knew he would be happy to see you, but it didn't stop you from overthinking every situation. Would you finally confess your feelings? Would he reciprocate the feelings? Would he still try to convince you it was supposed to be you and Noah? Maybe he would deny having any form of attraction due to him still thinking you secretly had feelings for Noah.

"I'm telling you…get in his suitcase." He laughs, but inside, he somewhat wants you to do just that.

"I wish I could, but you know… work, my life, everything. I wish he would have told me sooner. I could've made the time." You try your best to sound upset. "I really do miss you."

"I miss you too, honey bee." You hear a tinge of sadness in his voice, and the line goes quiet before he adds. "I don't want to cut this short, but I know if I don't, you'll stay up all night. You need to get some sleep, and work unfortunately awaits you."

You lightly frown. "But I work from a computer… it's not that big of a deal."

"In an office." He reminds you, "Where your bosses bother you at any moment they desire."

You turn off your side lamp, making it dark in your room, and you snuggle close to your pillows and try to hide the yawn that escapes your lips. "I guess you're right." You didn't mean to sound upset, but you were tired, and being away from someone who had your heart completely without even knowing it was enough to make you feel miserable. You knew you were able to take the trip. You had so much PTO saved, and honestly, at this point, you were willing to lose the job if it meant taking this trip. It wasn't the most responsible thought, but you knew you were good enough at your job to find another one.

"I'll try to come soon." You quietly say.

"I know. Get some sleep. You can text me when you get to the office. I'm going to a parade this afternoon with my mum. I'll send you pictures." You can hear the smile in his voice. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Jolly."

You were feeling uneasy being in such a vast airport all by yourself, waiting for someone unaware of your arrival.

As you were heading down the stairs, you caught sight of Jolly walking through the door. You smiled widely as he sat down on one of the chairs.

You received a text from Noah, and your heart skipped a beat as you read it. Jolly had arrived. You smiled like an idiot as you texted, "I see him." You shoved your phone into your pocket and tried to act casual as you quickly walked over to him. He didn't even look up from his phone. It wasn't until you were standing right in front of him that he realized what was going on. He looked stunned as his brown eyes wandered your face, and finally, he smiled, quickly standing up and wrapping you in his arms. "What's this?" He rocked you side to side, squeezing you. "Where's Noah?" He asked, not letting go of you.

"It's just me. Are you disappointed?" You said with a laugh.

"No, never." He gently pulled away from you, looking you in the eyes, pure joy showing through as he smiled. "If I let go, will you still be here?" He pulled you back to his body, nearly knocking your beanie off in the process.

"Yes, unless you squeeze me to death."

He loosens his arms from around you but doesn't completely let go as you make your way to the baggage claim.

"I can't believe you kept this a secret…" He nearly giggles, still amazed you're there with him.

"It was so hard. You have no idea." You walk up to the conveyor belt, grab your bag, and Jolly instantly grabs it from your hands. "Got it." He says, heaving it over his shoulder.

"Such a gentleman." You say, smiling.

You follow Jolly out of the airport, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He smirks at you and opens the trunk of his car. He tosses your luggage inside and slams it shut. You shiver as the cold air hits you, making you regret not wearing a jacket. You hurry to the passenger side and get in, hoping to warm up soon. "Why is it so fucking cold here?" You ask him as he joins you in the driver's seat. "This is awful."

He laughs and starts the car. He turns on the heater and drives away from the airport. "It will heat up in a moment. I'm happy you're here." He says, looking at you with a big grin.

You smile back and say, "Me too. Sorry, Noah picked such a late flight. I didn't have any say in that. He just handed me the tickets and told me to go."

He reaches for your hand and squeezes it gently. "I bet you're sleepy," he says, still smiling. "I'll get you nice and tucked in on the couch." He chuckles, "It was made pretty carelessly. But I'll find something better for you."

You chat with him as he drives, trying to stay awake. You're curious about his life here, but you also feel tired from the long flight. You wonder how long it will take to get to his place.

After a while, he pulls into the driveway of a small house. You sigh in relief, glad to be finally there. He turns off the car and gets out. He opens the trunk and takes out your bags. He tells you to follow him inside.

You walk through the door and see a cozy living room with a couch, a TV, and some books on a shelf. On the sofa, there is a bed made with pillows and blankets. You smile, appreciating his effort. You look around the rest of the house, noticing how neat it is.

"You can get comfortable." He politely says

You take off your shoes and lie down on the couch. You pull the blanket over yourself and close your eyes. You feel exhausted but also happy to be with him.

He returns from his bedroom after changing and sees you on the couch. He smiles softly, knowing how tired you must be. He kneels next to you. He gently cups your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. You open your eyes slightly and see him looking at you with affection.

"I'm so tired," you whisper.

"I know," he whispers back. "Get some sleep. I wanted to tell you if you needed me for anything, you can come wake me up."

You nod your head and close your eyes again.

"Goodnight, Alskling." He says, using his nickname for you.

"Goodnight, Jolly."

He stands up and walks to his bedroom. He closes the door behind him and lies down on his bed. He thinks about you and smiles, happy and content you're there with him, and he'd wake up to your presence in the morning.

But unfortunately you wake up in the middle of the night, feeling fear in your stomach. You had a nightmare, probably because you were too exhausted. You wish you could fall asleep again, but you keep tossing and turning on the couch.

You cover your head with a pillow, hoping to calm your nerves, but the more you think about your dream, the more anxious you become.

You decide to change into something more comfortable, hoping that would help you relax. You throw off the blankets and reach for your bag. You find your pajamas and put them on, remembering how you fell asleep in your jeans.

You curl up on the couch again, holding your phone. You start watching funny videos, trying to distract yourself from your fear. You feel your eyelids getting heavy, but as soon as you drift off, you jerk awake.

You try again, but the nightmare comes back. "Great." You groan and get up.

You don't want to disturb Jolly, but you are too scared to stay alone in a strange place. You don't know what else to do.

You push away the blankets and put your feet on the cold wooden floor. You stand up and use your phone as a flashlight. You walk down the hall, looking for Jolly's room.

You slowly walk in and stop at his bed, attempting to be quiet.

You see him lying on his side, turned toward you. You gently place your hand on his shoulder, "Jolly…" you quietly say, but he hardly moves. You say his name once again, "Jolly."

His eyes flutter open, and through the light on your phone, you see his tired eyes observe you.

You apologize, telling him that you had a nightmare and you can't sleep.

He nods, understanding, and reaches out to you with his warm hands. "C'mere honeybee." He says softly, opening his arms, inviting you to lay in his cozy bed. You're eyes wander over his bare chest, admiring his tattooed body. His muscles in his arms flex as he holds his arms out to you, and butterflies float in your stomach.

You feel hesitation, knowing that this could be crossing a friendship boundary that you've never crossed before. You wonder what would happen if things didn't play out how you wanted them to. Would you be able to handle the pain of having been in his arms and knowing what it felt like, only to lose it all?

Jolly peeks his eye again, noticing your reluctance, and waves you in with a gentle smile. "It's cold, hurry up." He says in a sleepy voice, making you chuckle.

You decide to take the risk and join him on the bed, sitting down on the side and turning on your side to face him.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you loosely, making you feel safe and warm. "Don't be scared. It's just me." He whispers in your ear, snuggling you closer to his chest. "I've got you." He assures you.

And that was the moment you realized you were absolutely fucked by your feelings.

Part Two

#jolly karlsson x you #jolly karlsson one shot #jolly karlsson fanfiction #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly karlsson fic #jolly Karlsson x y/n #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #jolly karlsson

[espressorry]

somebody else

our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else

................................................................................................................................

The pictures had destroyed you.

The breakup had been messy. Tears streaming down both of your faces as you had screamed at each other until throats turned raw, all emotion sucked out of you. Between the touring, the rumor mill, the hateful comments on the internet, and his unwillingness to be fully vulnerable with you, it had all grown to be too much. You loved him so much, more than the whole world, and all you ever asked for was him - but that was too much to ask sometimes. 

So to see him out with a beautiful blonde girl on his arm, leaving the yoga studio you two frequented - and you now avoided for fear of running into him - it destroyed you. A mutual friend gave you the heads up to avoid social media, but you, of course, had to seek it out to cause even more pain to your already shredded heart. 

You hated to think about him with somebody else - anybody else. Even if your relationship had gone cold towards the end - the spark and ultimately lively flame that fueled your relationship had gone out - you couldn’t bear to think that  he had found somebody else already. 

Your shaking hands closed out of Instagram before you could do any more damage to your already bruised ego, and before you could think better of it, you were opening your messages to your text thread with him. Tears were coming out of your eyes before you could control it as you read through his last message to you, telling you he still loved you and that he wanted to make this work.  His promises meant nothing after the past several months of them ultimately being empty. 

Before you could stop yourself, you were typing out a message to him.

So, is that it then? You’ve moved on? 

Send. You threw your phone across the bed and slammed your face into the pillow. Fuck breakups. Fuck him for making you feel like this. The more time went on, the more you began to feel regret creeping into your mind for sending it. He’s moving on, you should be too. 

Your phone buzzes to indicate an incoming call, and low and behold, it’s him. You debate declining the call. You should decline the call. It would be easier if you didn’t hear his voice. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Harry.”

“So you saw the pictures, then?”

“Of course I saw them. They’re all over the internet. Not like you were trying to be subtle.”

“Would you believe me if I said that we were friends?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt tears welling up in your eyes again. You wanted to believe what he was saying but you didn’t know how anymore. “I don’t know, Harry.”

He sighed into the other end of the phone, and you hear a sniffle echo through the receiver. “I didn’t think so. I deserve that,” he says with a wet chuckle. 

You stay silent, knowing that he doesn’t need to hear your confirmation of his thoughts. 

“Listen. I know this was my fault. You think I don’t know that? God, Y/N, you were everything good that ever happened to me and I don’t know how I fucked it up. I swear to you, if you just give me one more chance, you won’t regret it.”

You sigh up at the ceiling, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “You say that, but I just don’t know how to believe you anymore. I trusted you so much. I loved you so much. Do you know how it feels to have the one person you love more than anything else let you down over and over again?”

You can hear as he chokes out a sob and tries, fails, to contain it. “I know. I know that and I am - fuck, I am so sorry. Please. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry fic #harry styles angst

[averysmolbear]

Picture Perfect

CW: This is just fluff. It has an established relationship in it though but the reader is gender neutral. It's a modern AU setting. Oh, and it hasn't been proofread!

A/N: This doesn't really have a plot. It's just a cute day date kind of a piece with Reiner taking his s/o to a botanical garden. Is it slightly self ship coded? Maybe. Just a kind of slice of life, fluffy, cute moment. If you like it, please reblog and/or comment but likes are always appreciated too.

Reiner watched as you walked a few steps ahead of him. You looked so excited to be at the botanical gardens today. The sun was shining and it was just warm enough that neither of you needed a jacket. Still you had “borrowed” one of Reiner’s hoodies because you knew that you got cold – and mostly because it smelled like him and even with your boyfriend right there, it was a comforting thing to have his hoodie on. It was several sizes too big so you had the sleeves rolled up but it was so long that it almost reached your knees. Reiner couldn’t decide if your excitement right now was cuter than seeing you in some of his clothes though. But it was probably a combination of the two things, plus your smile was infectious. He couldn’t help grinning back when you looked over your shoulder at him with a wide smile of your own.

“You gonna slow down there?” Reiner asked, laughter in his voice as you looked back again. He wasn’t more than a couple of steps behind you but you turned around, starting to walk backwards. A few steps later and you started to stumble over your own two feet. Reiner, of course, was there to grab you by the waist to stop you from falling over. “See? You should’ve slowed down.”

You wrinkled your nose at your tall boyfriend, shaking your head as you looked up at him. You tried not to laugh as Reiner pulled you closer but somehow your smile seemed to grow even wider. “No, I’m just a klutz,” you countered as you got up on your tiptoes to try to steal a kiss.

He lifted you off of your feet just slightly to make it easier for you to reach, even as he bent down, pressing his lips softly to yours. It was an unnecessary gesture but Reiner loved the way you would make a soft squeaking sound whenever he picked you up. “Then you should stay close,” he said as he set you back on your feet after the brief kiss. “I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop smiling today if you tried. When Reiner had suggested that the two of you take a trip to the botanical gardens today, you had been so excited, probably more so than your boyfriend had expected, and you hadn’t stopped smiling since the two of you had arrived. It was still fairly early spring but all of the flowers were blooming and the trees were full of green leaves. It was perfect and you had been excited to get there to take pictures and to walk around together.

Just ahead you spotted an apple blossom tree that was nearly in full bloom. The fragrant white flowers drew your attention as you slipped your hand into Reiner’s. You started to pull him toward the tree, almost tripping over your own feet again. His hand was immediately at your waist to steady you as you looked up at him with a light blush starting to paint your cheeks.

“We don’t need to rush,” he reminded you and you nodded in return. He let go of your hand and slipped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in at his side. Reiner kept his pace slow for two reasons. First he didn’t want you to fall over in your haste to reach whatever it was that had caught your eye. And second, he cherished the idea of taking his time with you right now.

You started to slow the pace even more as you reached the tree. You spotted a bench near it that would put the tree in the perfect spot for a picture so you gave Reiner a gentle bump with your hip and nodded your head toward the bench.

“Can we sit for a couple of minutes?” you asked, looking up at him with big doe eyes since you knew he had a harder time saying no to you when you did that.

Reiner nodded and shifted your course just slightly, sitting down and pulling you down with him. “Getting tired already?” he said, his head tilted slightly as he looked down at you. He still had you firmly tucked in at his side and he had felt you snuggle a little closer once the two of you were sitting down. “Are you getting cold?”

You shook your head before resting it on Reiner. You glanced around a bit before you pulled out your phone. After snapping a few pictures of the gardens that were all around the two of you, you handed your phone to Reiner with a soft smile.

“Take a picture with me!”

The excited tone of your voice made Reiner laugh but he nodded as he took the phone and held it out at arm’s length. He was shaking his head in amusement as you reached out as best as you could to adjust where he was holding the phone. Still he let you move his arm around until you had decided that it was right where you wanted it, quickly snapping several pictures of the two of you cuddling on the bench.

Then Reiner turned his head and kissed your cheek, getting a picture of it. He started to hand the phone back until he heard you loudly protesting. He laughed as he quickly moved his arm and the phone back into position, waiting as you returned the favor. For good measure, however, Reiner made sure to kiss you before you could turn your head away and while he wasn’t sure how well the pictures he had taken of that were, he still tried his best to snap several before lowering his arm to try to pull you closer.

When you pulled away slightly after Reiner moved you so you were sitting on his lap, he frowned slightly. You rested your forehead against his and very softly giggled at the pout that you could just make out at the moment.

“What if someone sees us?” you whispered against his lips, feeling his arms tighten around you.

Reiner had slipped your phone into the pocket that was at the front of his hoodie and now held you close, shaking his head. “Don’t care,” he quickly said before he leaned in, not giving you any chance to move away. He pressed his lips firmly against yours, holding you tight against his chest. If someone saw the two of you, Reiner really didn’t care. Not while he had your soft, sweet lips pressed against his like this.

The moment was too perfect for him to want to rush it, relishing the taste of you on his tongue as he slowly eased it into your mouth. The kiss was soft and slow; his hands had slipped just under the hoodie you wore but not under the t-shirt you had on. Reiner was deliberately taking his time with it before slowly pulling away with a soft sigh, his fingers lightly brushing along a bit of your back before both of his hands came to rest on your ass.

You slowly opened your eyes, blushing. “We should keep going,” you softly said, although you sounded a little dazed. “There’s still a lot left to see.”

Reiner laughed as he let go of you, letting you slip from his lap and his grasp so he could stand up. The moment he was on his feet, however, his arm was back around you once again. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Let me know if you get tired of walking and I’ll give you a piggy-back ride the rest of the way, okay?” he said, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He could see the way you grinned at the suggestion.

“Okay,” was all you said as the two of you continued strolling down the winding path together.

#tessie writes #modern au #reiner x y/n #reiner x reader #reiner fluff #reiner braun x y/n #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun fluff #aot fanfiction #aot x reader

[szallejhscorner]

Easier

“What are you talking about?” you shout in an almost hysteric voice, and Chishiya leans back against the sofa and exhales a deep breath. He didn’t want this discussion, especially not on his only day off since two weeks. And even though he tried anything to avoid this certain topic, here you are – arguing about the exact thing.

“It’s not even much I’m asking you for”, you continue since he remains silent. “One family meeting. Those are like once or twice a year? That’s really not too much to ask, is it?”

Chishiya just watches you, face reddened with anger and breath quickening while you try to convince him. You have told him everything he needs to know already. The wedding of a cousin, one that you really like but that lives quite far away, so you want to spend the whole weekend there. Maybe even do some sightseeing on the day after the wedding.

It wouldn’t be too much to ask for, of course. Family meetings aren’t that bad when it’s your family, and Chishiya never attends the ones on his side anyway. No, he’d have agreed to it without discussion if it wasn’t for one single detail.

“You know it’s the weekend of the Surgeon ESC.” That one world congress for surgeons that will exhibit really interesting innovations, products and services about anything a surgeon could dream about. This year, the congress will be in Switzerland and Chishiya has already been given a ticket both for flight and accommodation as well as the congress entry.

It is an important event to him, much more important than a wedding of someone he has only seen once in his life. And he doesn’t even prohibit you to go. You’re free to visit your family for the entire weekend, but he can’t accompany you this time. There will be plenty more weddings, funerals and birthdays where you can brag with your fantastic surgeon boyfriend.

“That’s…” ruffling your hair with one hand, you pace the living room the way you always do when you’re upset. Chishiya has watched it so many times now, but rarely has he been the reason to upset you. “Why do you want to go there, anyway? You already know everything they will tell you!”

Chishiya huffs. “Probably. But one doesn’t always get a ticket to Zurich to meet the world’s best surgeons.”

“And my cousin doesn’t marry like five times a month. This is a once-in-a-lifetime-event, Shuntarou! And that stupid congress is every year. You can go next year. Or follow it through an online stream or something.”

Follow a congress via stream while he sits in a hall filled with people too loud and too drunk to lead proper conversations with? Where all he will do is avoid questions why you two haven’t married yet, why there are no children, and more pathetic stuff that most people expect from others? “You can send me pictures”, he suggests in a last attempt to soothe the situation. While he doesn’t care about fancy wedding dresses, flowers or decoration, he’d allow you to spam him with images so you’d be happy. But apparently, it is not enough for you.

You have come to a stand, hands now crossed across your chest and eyes as cold as ice. “You’re so much like your father.”

That’s all you say, in a low and bitter voice, and yet those few words have more impact on Chishiya than the rest of this conversation. He clearly is not like his father, and you are perfectly aware that what you said affects him deeply.

He stiffens and holds your gaze with the same fierceness. “Am I, now? I recall you saying that you really hated my father.”Which is fine, for the record. He despises that man, too, for more reasons than he ever told you.

“He’s not really a likeable man”, you admit with a tremble, probably realizing that you have gone too far.

Breathing out audibly, Chishiya gets up from the couch and reaches for his jacket. This is not the place he wants to be in right now – he needs space to clear his mind. “If you despise him so much and we’re the same, I don’t understand why you’re still here.”

“Wha-“ you snort, shaking your head in disbelief, “don’t twist the facts now, Shuntarou! What’s the point, now?”

“Well, you’re obviously unhappy with how this is going. I won’t cancel the congress, and you won’t let me go. If this doesn’t work out for you, you better pack up and leave.”

Chishiya slips into his jacket and puts on his shoes, fully aware that you’re still staring at him, fiddling with your hands while you search for the right words. “We’re not done here”, you shout, “where do you think you’re going? Let’s sort this out like adults and don’t run away like a child!”

Chh. As if he’s the childish one here. Knowing that there’s no point in arguing any further, he opens the door and leaves.

“Maybe I’ll just do that – pack and leave”, you threaten, but Chishiya doesn’t look back. He needs fresh air, and you definitely need some time to calm down and clear your mind.

The weather outside is cold, with a harsh wind blowing through his hair, so he pulls up the hood of his jacket to stay warm. Chishiya doesn’t pay any attention to where he’s walking – he has seen these streets hundreds of times already and there is nothing interesting to notice. All he passes are windows with half-rotten flowers, candles gathering tons of dust and the mandatory old cat that belongs to an even older lady.

He acknowledges the people passing him as little as they acknowledge him. Most of them are lost souls with dreams they will never fulfill, drowning in self-doubts, debts and misery. And here he thought you were different from them.

Chishiya has been naïve to think you’d know him well enough by now to let him go. It’s human of you to wish that you’d do everything together, that a family gathering means you both will be there, but Chishiya isn’t like normal people. He has made it clear right from the start that his priorities differ from the pathetic standard – brand-name clothes, huge follower counts on social media, the love for small-talk that most seem to have. He doesn’t approve of public cuddles and kisses, he won’t gift you chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day and he’d never propose to you on one knee with a cheesy quote on his lips.

You had been fine with all that, and yet you have forgotten about who he really is today. It has happened before, but never did it end in such a discussion. Chishiya has told you to leave, and while saying it had been hard, he means it. If you’re unhappy with who he is, because he won’t change into a completely new person just for you, this might not be the right relationship for you. What a miracle it has been anyway for Chishiya to bond with you in the first place. Maybe it’s better to return to who he was before, expelling anything that has to do with love from his core.

Yes, he wouldn’t be surprised to see you gone, leaving for good to search for another relationship that suits you better. It isn’t what he wants, but it’s the most logic consequence.

The wind gets colder and a drizzle begins, cloaking Chishiya with a heavy blanket that fits the mood, and yet Chishiya doesn’t turn around. The cold causes his limbs to go numb, and the sound of water dripping faster and faster onto the earth is almost hypnotizing. Most people flee into the dry buildings now, and Chishiya almost feels like the last person on this planet.

If every other human would disappear at a moment’s notice, if the rain would swallow every living soul, leaving only one hollow person, he could forget about the argument. Nothing would matter anymore – no corruption, no violence, no stupidity would be left. Just him in an environment that would immediately forget about humanity and take everything back that had once been claimed as human.

Chishiya would like that, somehow. Returning to his apartment will probably feel the same in case you’ve stuck to your threat and left. Not only will it feel empty, but it will be empty since most of the interior belongs to you. The images on the wall, small trinkets from other cities and other countries that you visited, nothing belongs to him.

You’re the one to bring color into his life, but at the same time, you make it so much more complicated. He has long accepted that he cannot have one without the other, but if it always leads to arguments like the one you’ve just had, he doesn’t know if bringing color into his life is actually worth it.

Thunder growls in the distance, and when Chishiya looks up, blinking through the heavy raindrops that now are falling, he soon sees the next flash tearing through the dark clouds. His hands have begun to tremble, and it is about time he returns to his apartment before the storm comes too close.

It is a long way back, and despite the weather and the fact he’s soaking wet from head to toe, the walk has been more than refreshing. The silence and the cold air have chased away the heat from the argument, and his body will be numb enough to muffle the pain when the apartment will actually be empty.

As soon as he can see the building, his eyes are glued to the windows that belong to the place you two used to live in for quite a while now. All the windows are dark, there’s not even a hint of light in one of them.

The water soaking his clothes and body slow him down noticeably, or maybe Chishiya hesitates to enter too fast. But he eventually reaches the door and pulls out the key while water drips down, creating huge puddles beneath his feet.

Inside it is silent and dark, without music or light. Nothing is running on the television and nothing is simmering on the stove. Have you left after all?

Chishiya gets rid of his wet shoes and throws the jacket onto the ground as well. There’s no need to cover the entire floor of this apartment with water, since the housekeeper will only come in two days.

It is redundant to turn on the lights – he knows where to go, and he doesn’t need to see things already missing. It would be impossible to take everything you own with you at once, so you’ll have to come back again to get the rest, but some of the most important things you’d never leave behind, and Chishiya knows exactly what it is.

He heads for the bathroom to change into dry clothes, but something strikes his view as he passes the sideboard. That certain photo… it’s still there.

And as he pauses, a feint noise reaches his ear. Slow and rhythmic breaths, coming from the sofa, where you have fallen asleep under a heavy blanket. Your face is wet from tears since you’ve been crying, but…

You’re still here.

Chishiya breathes out, only now realizing that he has held his breath. You didn’t leave, which also means that the discussion about that certain weekend will continue. Chishiya won’t change his mind about the congress, but since you’re still here next to him, there’s a change you have finally understood that. This congress is much more important to him than a wedding of some cousin, although it doesn’t affect the way he feels about you. That’s something you really have to understand: the future will bring even more arguments like this one, where Chishiya will prefer something over what you think is more important. It doesn’t mean though that Chishiya doesn’t respect you. The fact that he feels relief upon seeing you is more than enough evidence to prove that.

He continues to watch you for a few heartbeats longer, until most of the tears on your face have dried up.

It’d be better if you had left, leaving Chishiya alone so he could lead an easy life. But he is glad to see you here, covered in your favorite blanket as if nothing had ever happened. You make things complicated, and yet…

Chishiya likes the complicated and deviating, doesn’t he?

#chishiya x reader #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #aib #alice in borderland #oneshot

[greazyfloz]

Lovers & Strangers - Chapter 30

Previous

~2 Months Later~

[Ethan POV]

It’s been 2 months since I stupidly brought Sophie to y/n’s room. At the time I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted to hurt her, as crazy as that sounds. After hurting her I realized exactly why we shouldn’t be together. I’m now in a relationship with Sophie with the fear that I will be stuck with this permanent feeling that I’ll never get over Y/n. 

Y/n has avoided me since that night, won't text me, won't look at me, she barely even goes to games. I heard that her and Mark’s relationship ended up taking a bad turn from a couple of the guys on the team. Mark and I are good and are actually becoming as close as we were before this whole mess, but he knows his limits when it comes to talking about our relationships. 

It was the last game before I headed back home to Alberta for a week for Christmas, and I was laying in bed having my pre-game nap when I hear a knock on the door, “Yup” I yell out stretching as I wake from my sleep. Mark walks in and sits at my desk.

“I can’t do this with y/n anymore” Mark says and I sit up.

“You’re going to break up with her?” I ask him

“I don’t know- yeah” Mark says rubbing his face in his hands, “she doesn’t love me like she loves you. She hasn’t talked to you in two months and she still somehow manages to bring you up. She is forcing herself to stop loving you and she shouldn’t have to”

“I told you not to break her heart” I say as I feel the blood inside of me boil

“There is no love anymore, it was all fascination. I’m telling you because you need to be there for her, she's going to need you”

“I- um-” 

“She is stupidly stubborn, you should know that. She will let you back in. You are the only person she will always let back in” Mark says standing up and then leaving. 

I slap my cheeks wondering if I am still dreaming or not after Mark leaves before I get up and get ready for the game. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be there for her when she won’t even look at me or talk to me. I continue thinking about y/n until I realize that can’t happen anymore. Not with Sophie in the picture.

[Y/N POV]

The game ends, and I made my way down to the tunnel to see Mark. It was the last game before Christmas break so of course there was going to be a party. Mark came out of the dressing room and smiled at me, but it wasn’t the same familiar warm smile, it seemed less genuine.He gives me a side hug and Truss comes out next. We follow Truss to his car. We get home and go up to Mark’s room.

“what’s wrong?“ I ask him, but he refuses to look at me.

“it’s over, I’m breaking up with you”

“W-why?” I said, ask my voice breaks

“you aren’t happy, we aren’t happy. I’m not mad I just think it’s better this way for all of us” mark says watching as tears form in my eyes, and he shakes his head and turn away again, not being able to look at me

“so what, you want to go back to hating each other? was that easier? You’re gonna leave me all alone now?” I say, sitting on his bed and hiding my face into my hands, “Mark I said yes to marrying you”

“ and you shouldn’t have”

“ you’re right looks like it’s one of the million of mistakes that I’ve made in the past year” I say, standing back up from his bed, “obviously you’re the one that’s unhappy in this relationship, and I’m not gonna stand in your way. I guess you’re right we’re over.”

I stand and look at him, waiting for him to say anything, but he doesn’t so I collect some of my things and leave, letting the tears roll off my face. As I open the front door, I see Sophie and Ethan walking up the front steps into the house.

“Y/n, w-“ Ethan says, but I cut them off, brushing, passed him

“don’t fucking talk to me” 

I end up walking all the way home not caring about how dark it was or cold it was. I was on a mission so I knew exactly what I wanted to take and I wanted them all.

I make it back to my house, thinking my friends would probably be at the party already, but to my surprise they were in the kitchen still pregaming. They saw me upset, and immediately stopped to come and comfort me. I told them about what happened and that I wasn’t really down for a party tonight and they all decided to just stay home and watch movies with me.

A week later, I’m now home in Alberta. My first night home was relaxing so far, but I’ve never in my life Wanted to drink more than right now. I heard Denise’s voice come from the kitchen, so I made my way down. She saw my upset face and opened her arms wide, and I didn’t say anything as I walked up and wrapped my arms around her and cried on her shoulder.

“ your parents told me about the break up“ she says, rubbing my back “his loss“ . I pull away and notice her whole family in the kitchen and I look back at her confused, “the whole gang is coming over“

“even the Edwards’?” I ask her and she nods, “ I didn’t know we were having a party“

“ Boxing Day party was moved today, because Terri Lynn, he’s going on a cruise” Denise tells me rolling her eyes

“ well, I better go get ready“ I say, making my way back to my room. I open my closet and grab a green suede dress, then walk over to my vanity and fix my hair and make up before walking back down into the kitchen.

Ethan and his family had arrived while I was getting ready. I stand in the kitchen with the adults before Ethan’s mother says that everyone’s in my living room.

I walk into my living room, and so far it’s only Ethan, Brett and the two girls as the rest of the families haven’t shown yet. I sit on the couch across from Ethan and look at his feet, unable to look up at him. I watch him nudge his brother before his brother speaks up.

“okay girls, let’s go get a head start on that gingerbread house making contest” he says, making the two girls squeal, following him to the dining room, and leaving Ethan and I alone.

 I stand and leave walking back to my bedroom, and I hear Ethan follow me. I don’t bother shutting the door as I knew he was just gonna come in anyway. I sit on the bed, and he said beside me.

“ hey, I um-“ he starts, and I look up at him, “Mark told me what happened”. I laughed dryly before speaking up.

“yeah, right. He told you that he broke up with me because I love you?” I say, standing up and making my way to the door.

“yeah“ Ethan says, making me stop before reaching my door knob. I turn and look at him as he makes his way over and wraps his arms around me. I let him as a nuzzle my face and his shoulder, “ please tell me you still love me“ 

“ Ethan“ I say pulling away from him. I’m looking up into his eyes, “ we can’t be together“ 

“ why? There’s no one on this earth that will ever love you as much as I do. I still love you and I always will.” ethan tells me and I begin to cry thinking of all the times that Mark has said that to me.

“ I don’t wanna ruin our friendship-“ I start but sniffle, looking away from him

“ it’s already ruined. I can never go back to being just your friend. I can act like it, but it will never ever ever be real. not as real as my feelings for you. I love you.”

“ you sound like Mark. He told me he would never leave me now look where I am.” 

“ I’m not Mark, far from it” he says lifting my chin, so I look in his eyes, “ give me one chance, we can test it out. We will have to be honest with each other if we do fall out of love, so we don’t ruin anything more. but I can promise you right now, I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

Ethan leans down, and presses his lips on mine. I let the kiss deepen as we make our way back to my bed without breaking the kiss. “ I love you.“ he says, as he sits on my bed, and I straddle his lap. “ I fucking love you” he says again into the kiss. 

I feel him play with the bottom of my dress before lifting it over my head. He looks down, taking in the visual of my body before I press my lips back on to his. We begin making out as I feel his hands, reach up my body and massaging my tits through my bra. 

I stand and looked down at him, watching his expression change from lust to sadness. I turn to the door and locked it before, turning back and watching the smile reappear on his face as he stands up, and our lips make connection again. 

He reaches around me and unclasped my bra. I let it fall to the floor as I continued making out with Ethan. He starts to unbutton shirt until he takes it off, throwing it on my bed, then quickly reaches down to take his pants off next. I slide my panties off and make my way over to the bed and Ethan climbs on top. “ I need to hear that you love me.“ he says looking deep into my eyes

“ you already know“ I say, and bring my face up to rest on his Cheek, “ I love you Ethan”. I say, then he slides himself inside of me. He thrusts hard inside of me, but somehow it’s romantic. our eye contact, made it sensual, and felt like something you read out of a romance book.

We continued having sex in my childhood room, and I let him finish inside of me. After he finishes, he lays beside me on the bed and wraps me into his arms. He kisses the side of my face before I look over at him. 

“ what’s wrong?“ he says, as he watches a wave of sadness rush across my face

“ Sophie“ 

“she means nothing to me, it’s over between us. And it has been for months.”

“ but you guys are together” 

“no, we broke up before I go to the airport yesterday” he told me and I furrow my eyebrows at him, “ I told her that she was right back in September to break up with me, because she wasn’t you”

“you’re an asshole“ I told him

“Yep I know. Don’t worry, her left hand sure let me know how she felt“ he tells me, making me laugh. 

I suddenly stop laughing and look at him in the eyes, “please don’t break my heart“

I watch him as he licks his lips, leaning in closer to mine and pressing a kiss before pulling away and looking at me, “I think we’ve broken each other’s hearts enough“

I smile and look over at my alarm clock seeing that it’s almost time for dinner, and stand from the bed, “ we should head down now” I smile at him and he smiles back. He gets up and we both get dressed, then head down.

We sit back on the couch, and still no one is in the room. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, bringing me close to him, and I look up at him with wide eyes.

“what?” He Questions with a smile, knowing what I’m thinking as I look around. His hand comes up, grabs my chin, facing him to plant another kiss. “Brett, taking the girls into the other room was just plan 1 of 5 that I came up with to get you to speak to me. Everyone here knows”

“I love you“ I say to him smiling

“I love you more“

. 

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards blurb #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards smut #ethan edwards imagine #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa #umich hockey imagine #umich imagine #umich blurbs #umich hockey

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

New World (5)

Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fluff

Summary: The world War has met its end and Itachi has returned to his village. He questions whether he should set down his roots here when he meets a stranger. Or rather, a stranger is forced upon him by fate.

Warnings: attempted murder, attempted flirtation, attempted insults, attempted threats of murder, attempted stealing of HEARTS

Word Count: Can someone send me pictures of their cats? I want to feel a little better before going back to work after the holidays

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Oof, Y/N! You look like you got smushed by one of the Oxen!" I wish I got smushed by one of the oxen. That would have been much easier to bear, you internally groan at yourself. Nami tries her best to comb the tangled mess that is your hair while forcing you to drink as much water as possible. She is visibly worried about the drowsiness still in your eyes as your steps wobble when you walk towards the courtyard to meet everyone else. The Bamboo villagers have already gathered there for the day. So has Naruto. Kakashi and Itachi are nowhere to be seen and Nami does not want to go look out for them while leaving you with people she does not trust much. "Where were you all night?" your friend whispers close to you, trying to comb out the stubborn knots before tying your hair in a braid. The pounding sensation in your brain has mercy on your sensory organs for a moment and lets Nami's worry slip in to let you form a sentence for a reply.

"I was-" you rub your eyes and crinkle your brows to think hard about last night- "I think I was behind the cottages somewhere." Your voice still croaks even after drinking all that water. There are nothing but judgmental glares coming from the Bamboo villagers; even Toge. "People should drink only till the point they can handle well," Izo announces to the group before helping the Chief get up on the ox. It takes you a minute to realise that comment is aimed at you. You want to hide behind Nami. The embarrassment is too much. "You are right, Izo-sama," Kakashi acknowledges the man, entering from the front gate of the rest house with a bag. Itachi follows him in, carrying a similar bag to Kakashi's. "People should only do so much as their capacity allows," former Anbu continues, "or they might find themselves drowning in embarrassment for being defeated by some small no-name...sake?" Izo averts his gaze and gets up on the ox. So does Fukaboshi. The rest of the caravan stares blankly at Kakashi. You want to feel offended but the heaviness in your head does not allow you to hold your frown for long. "Sumimasen," Kakashi chuckles, raising one hand in defeat and smiling at you till his eyes close, "would you like to rest a bit more?" You sigh and shake your head. "I'm fine. Let's go. Let me just go fill my bottle with more water." You do not wait for an answer and walk towards the corner that has a little earthen tank for drinking water. Everyone walks out of the front gate, save for Kakashi and Itachi. Kakashi nods at Itachi before following the rest of the group.  You notice him standing there alone, your pace slowing down as you remember waking up alone on the wooden settee, curled up under Itachi's cloak. Ah, the cloak. You take the cloak out from your backpack and bring it forward to hand it over to its owner. "Arigato, Itachi-san," you bow a little, "I hope I did not cause trouble last night." Itachi takes the cloak and hands you a bottle of a tea-like liquid. "Must have been hard," Itachi speculates, opening his cloak and wearing it right there, "having a nightmare like that." You find it hard to look away from his eyes. They seem sincere with the question. You bring the cold bottle to your cheeks to let the heat seep out from them faster. "Have it now." Itachi nods at the bottle, sending a little warm stir in your stomach, "It will help with the...hangover." You look at the bottle, then back at Itachi. A part of you swirls on the inside on seeing him patiently waiting there for you. Without another thought, you open the lid and chug the sweet, cold liquid down your throat, letting it absorb the heaviness and heat from your body. The relieved sigh after the last gulp brings a hint of smirk to Itachi's lips. Your head does tiny repeated nods, looking at the empty bottle before you smack your lips. "Good," you admit, looking up at Itachi, "does this come in orange flavour?" .

Today's journey goes the same way; through the forests and rocky lands. The adults are unbothered on their oxen. Kakashi and Itachi have taken their place as usual. Naruto is ahead of the caravan today, and so is Toge. Kozuki is right next to Kakashi, trying to start a conversation. And Kakashi indulges in it. Around noon the caravan passes through another forest with a low-hanging fog. You and Itachi are walking at the back of the caravan. You are glad not to be bothered by Toge today, but him not running up to you with a new piece of conversation seems to bother you a little. Something seems off. That little unsettling thought also melts away. Could also be your company. The thought makes you smile and steal a glance at the man next to you. And while doing so you do not realise Itachi has raised his hand to signal you to stop; running right into his arm. Kakashi has also signalled the caravan to stop. Naruto and Toge stand frozen in their paths on Kakashi's signal, looking for any signs out of the ordinary. Everyone can sense it. The silence of this forest is defeaning. A little too deafening. The birds that were chirping, the animals that were skittering along the forest floor, all have gone silent. Kozuki has already drawn her twin daggers. You have taken out a kunai but are not sure if you still remember how to use it. The elders are also on their guard, waiting for a movement in the silence. There is a snap of a twig somewhere in the forest. And before anyone can make sense of it, a shadow flies right past the Chief, leaving a scratch on his cheek. "Chief," Izo shouts, grabbing everyone's attention, except for Itachi's. Everyone rushes towards the Chief. Kakashi is slow, still overlooking his surroundings. Itachi on the other hand is grabbing your hand to stop you from running in the same direction as others. "Itachi wha-" You never get to finish your words. The hand that is grabbing yours, pulls you to him quicker than you can fathom, making you collide with his chest. What you do not see is the movement Itachi has already sensed from his left, right where you stood a second ago; and sensing the danger, he draws you closer to him with his hand on the small of your back, before summoning his crows. Six crows. Six assassins. Six daggers flying in the air with you as their mark. Itachi does not move. His eyes, on the other hand, are already swirling in that direction. "Mangekyo Sharingan." You hear the words reverberate through his chest for one second. And the next, all six assassins drop to the ground. .

"Chief, are you okay?" Fukaboshi shouts as he descends from the small hill he goes up to look for any other assassins. "I'm fine." "He's fine." The chief and Kakashi declare in unison. Izo comes down from his ox and glares at Kakashi. "Hatake Kakashi, you are lucky our Chief was not hurt or I would have personally slit your throat right here." Kakashi folds his arms over his chest. "What is stopping you from doing it right now, Izo-san?" You, Kozuki, Naruto and Toge turn to look at Kakashi, a little taken aback by the direction this is going in. You take a step to walk in Kakashi's direction but are stopped by Itachi once again. He shakes his head and slowly pulls you back to him. "Mind your tongue, Hatake," Fukaboshi growls at the White Fang. "I have been minding my tongue till now, Fukaboshi-sama. Because if I didn't, these comatose assassins would be dead by now and you would be taking home the bodies of six young kids who don't even know why they were trying to attack us." Silence. Kozuki looks at Izo before dashing towards the comatose assassins lying on the ground to remove their masks and gasp in disbelief. Toge follows. Both of them look back at Izo. "Izo-sensei, did you know about this?" Toge is the first to ask. You want to take a look at the assassins as well but do not move; partially because a voice inside you is gathering all the anxiety in your chest and telling you it has something to do with you. Partially because Itachi still holds your hand- loose enough to not hurt, tight enough to give you a sense of reassurance. And it hurts your heart to admit that his presence feels safe. The reason for that feeling is never discussed internally at that moment. Kozuki and Toge are now standing opposite Izo, even looking at Fukaboshi with questioning eyes. "This is not the time and place to argue amongst yourselves in front of other villages, Kozuki. Toge!" Chief orders. Toge relaxes his stance. Kozuki does not. "This is the only time and place to ask why the other 'villager' knows the identity of these assassins and why did our people attack our caravan?" Kozuki growls back. "KOZUKI!!!" Izo thunders, summoning fire in both hands. The sudden emergence of fireballs gives you a jumpscare, your instinct making you grab Itachi's arm with your free hand and wanting to hide behind him in his cloak. The Chief sends his favourite stick flying towards Izo to create a gust of wind so strong that the fire fizzles out before it returns to him like a boomerang. No one dares say a word. Kakashi does it out of respect. Naruto does it out of sheer surprise. Bamboo villagers do it out of fear of seeing their Chief in action. You and Itachi do not speak because both of you are busy gathering the thoughts suddenly scattered; due to your brains registering the warmth under each other's skin. "Answer the girl, Izo." Chief demands, "I do not like being kept in the shadows by my loyal hands." .

Naruto is rubbing his forehead a little too furiously. "So-" he pauses the rubbing to spread his fingers to signal a pause in the air- "to summarise, the bamboo village senseis raided our village's graveyard to find the legendary Whisperer or any clue that led to that legend but could not find any. So, they had intended on sending assassins to the village while taking away two of the strongest shinobis of Konoha, thinking that the assassins might have some luck getting it out of the Hokage. But then they found out the Whisperer was with us, they sent a message to the assassins to attack us and take the Whisperer. The plan failed because Kakashi-sensei and Itachi-aniki were too strong. And now Chief-sama is mad at Izo-sama and Fukaboshi-sama because he was kept in the dark." The caravan- which has now scattered in a five-meter radius- sits in silence. Izo and Fukaboshi sit together, at a respectable distance from their Chief. Kozuki stands over the six 'assassins' that have now woken up but dare not look at the woman for fear of being burned under her glare. Nami sits next to Naruto and Toge sulks while sitting and ripping the grass off the small hill Kakashi stands on. You and Itachi sit opposite Kakashi, the latter never letting go of his stoic manners while you are suddenly shuddering on the inside. Kakashi raises his shoulders and nods in affirmation, proud of his pupil for retaining so much of that heavy information. "So, the Whisperer is somewhere safe, Kakashi sensei? Or do we need to protect it still?" Naruto turns his head in question. Nami, who has been sitting next to Naruto, rolls her eyes and facepalms hard. Kakashi smiles. Naruto feels a smack land on the back of his head. "Ow! What?" He asks Nami, offended.

"The Whisperer is safe," Kakashi assures Naruto before he sends daggers in Izo's direction from the corner of his eyes, "but we plan to protect to the point of killing." "We never meant any harm to the chosen one, Chief," Izo finally speaks, never looking up towards the crowd, "we only wanted to do it right by the village." "The chosen one?" Naruto whispers the question in Nami's direction. Nami simply puts her index finger on her lips, quieting down the young ninja. "You could have simply asked for their help," the Chief grumbles, not wanting to look at his men. "Come on, Chief. No village will let an outsider know about their Whisperer, let alone let them help them out," Izo protests before he feels Fukaboshi's hand land on his arm to quiet him down. "Is that so, Kakashi?" the Chief is curious to know. Kakashi sighs. "I think that is up to the Whisperer to decide, right?" You are intently listening to Kakashi when you feel his gaze land on you. Basic instinct makes you avert your gaze, letting it land on Nami, who has the same question in her eyes as Kakashi. So do Izo, Fukaboshi and Toge. Even Kozuki. The cold that has seeped into your bones has suddenly grown intense. Your heartbeat is playing at a wild tempo. Your head turns to look at Itachi, craving for some kind of guidance. "Should we visit their village and see what the trouble is?" The birds seem to have started have started chirping again.

For you.

You want to melt into his affectionate voice and disappear from this place. Maybe into his equally considerate eyes? You nod at him before looking at the rest of the caravan. "Okay," you declare weakly. Fifteen minutes later, the caravan is back on track; this time a bit colder than before. The assassins have been sent home. Fukaboshi and Izo have been ordered to walk the rest of the way while Naruto, Nami and Kozuki have taken their places on the oxen. You and Itachi are still walking at the back. Itachi can sense a dark cloud surrounding you. It doesn't help when he sees you walk with furrowed brows and a heart rate akin to that of a rat. "Are you okay, Y/N-san?" Itachi asks in a whisper, bringing you out of your anxious thoughts. "Hmm? Yes....no. I don't know what to feel." "Y/N-san..." You look up at Itachi. "I know-" you are already interrupting him before he can speak- "you will keep me safe. So will everyone else. So will Konoha." Does not stop this dreadful feeling of being in the dark and having a target on your back. "Please know I will protect you. No matter what." His dark eyes seem to carry a resolve that stirs you to your core. And then his smile makes you forget what you were anxious about in the beginning. You smile back and nod. Itachi tries to rationalise why his chest suddenly feels lighter. Nami, on the other hand, wonders what all she would do to Itachi Uchiha if he ever dared to be anything but the reason for that smile on your face.

#itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi x y/n #itachi x you #itachi fluff #itachi smut #itachi fanfic #itachi uchiha fanfic #maladaptive ninja returns

[fiction-is-life]

If You Love Someone...

Summary: If you love someone, let them go.  If they return, it was meant to be.

Warnings: Angst, emotionally abusive/toxic mother, mention of divorce, breakups, classism, self-doubt

~

(Y/N) moved quickly between her tables and the kitchen, easily keeping up with the dinner rush at The Wreck.  She saw movement at the door and turned in time to see a familiar blonde head with sunglasses walk in and talk to the hostess.  The hostess pointed the newcomer towards (Y/N)’s section.  (Y/N)’s heart dropped into her stomach, but she dutifully moved towards the booth in the corner.

“Hi, how are you today?” (Y/N) asked in a falsely saccharine voice, a smile plastered on her face.

The woman at the table lowered her sunglasses slowly, her every move fluid and graceful.  It made (Y/N) think of a panther, and her gut clenched even further.

“I am not well at all, Miss (Y/L/N),” the woman spoke in a tone so low that (Y/N) had to lean in to hear her.  “I have received news of a most disturbing nature.”

(Y/N) could feel herself start to sweat, but she attempted to act as nonchalant as possible.  “Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that, Dr. Thornton.  Mr. Carrerra’s cooking will surely make you feel better, however, so what can I get started for you?”

Dr. Thornton looked (Y/N) in the eye with cold, calculated calm.  “You may break up with my son.  That will most definitely make me feel better,” she said.

(Y/N) was finally able to push down her anxiety, aided by the fury that was quickly overtaking her body.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  (Y/N) matched the older lady’s tone and posture, letting her know that she was not one to be steamrolled.

Dr. Thornton delicately sighed, shaking her head as if (Y/N) was a child that had done something naughty but mildly amusing.  Dr. Thornton smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  “Don’t be coy with me, (Y/N).  We both know that you have been sneaking around with my son for the past year.  I let it go for a while, but now that Topper has been accepted into some of the top schools in the country, I can’t let him have some nobody from the Cut holding him back.”

Dr. Thornton’s face crumpled into something that resembled compassion after this, but it was forced, an act.  (Y/N)’s anger built with every word the spiteful woman spoke.  

“Be honest with yourself, (Y/N),” Dr. Thornton continued while (Y/N) was still stunned into silence.  “You don’t fit into his world anymore than he fits into yours.  Isn’t that why you haven’t told your friends about him?  Do you really want to be the reason he doesn’t live up to all of his potential?  If you truly loved him, you would let him go.  Let him marry a girl that was raised in his sphere.  One he wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally embarrassing him because they don’t know how our world operates.”

(Y/N)’s fury was on a thin leash that was liable to snap at any second.  Dr. Thornton’s words - spoken so calmly - had cut to the very heart of (Y/N)’s insecurities about her relationship with Topper, but she wouldn’t let the woman have the pleasure of seeing her lose control.

“Don’t you think that decision should be up to Topper?  It is his life, after all, that you seem so adamant that I will ruin.”  (Y/N) was proud that her voice didn’t quiver when she spoke.

Dr. Thornton only rolled her eyes.  “Topper doesn’t know what he really wants.  Sure, you may fulfill his youthful desires and lusts, but that will fade.  He will figure out what is truly important one day, and it will be much easier on him if you are already out of the picture.  

“Easier on you as well, dear.  You don’t want to find yourself married, with a couple of kids and a husband that resents you more and more each day,” the spiteful woman finished.

(Y/N) vehemently shook her head, unwanted tears forming in her eyes, but (Y/N) stopped them before they could slide down her cheeks.  “That wouldn’t happen.”  This time her voice did shake, and she hated herself for it.  “Topper loves me.”

An eye roll followed this statement.  “He loves the idea of you.”  It was really becoming infuriating how calm Dr. Thornton was staying.  “Once my monetary support is withdrawn, he will quickly realize that he cannot survive on love.”

(Y/N) inhaled sharply.  “You’re going to cut him off if he stays with me?  Your own son?”

Dr. Thornton sighed.  “What choice do I have?  I cannot have a son that is such a disgrace.  He’ll never learn otherwise.”  She leaned forward, folding her hands on the table.  “So, you have a choice Miss (Y/L/N).  Either you break up with my son within the next month - without him knowing that it was my doing, of course, and get a handsome monetary reward to boot - or you become the reason Topper is cut off from everything he knows.”

Dr. Thornton stood, completely at ease, plotting the ruin of her only son.  “The choice is yours, Miss (Y/L/N).”

~

“Topper, I had to pick up a shift.  I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to miss our date tonight,” (Y/N) spoke on the phone with Topper a few days after her tête-à-tête with Dr. Thornton.  

“Really, (Y/N)?  I’ve been planning this date for a month!”  Topper sounded so hurt, and (Y/N) almost broke.

She had been icing him out all week.  If he sent a text, she would reply with one word.  If he snapped her, she would leave him on open, losing their streak.  She knew he would see right through her if she broke up with him out of the blue.

So, she bit her lip to keep herself from letting out a whimper.  “I know but half the staff that was scheduled is sick, so I have to go in.  I also just really need the money right now.”

(Y/N) could hear Topper sigh over the phone.  “Why can’t Kie just go in?  It’s her family’s restaurant.  Also, if you need money, you know you can ask me, baby.”

(Y/N) felt her resolve slipping once again, but she found it in herself to act exactly contrary to what she felt.  “Kie is already going to be there, Topper,” she huffed.  “And I don’t want to take your money.  Do you know how that makes me feel?”

A pause followed this outburst, then Topper’s voice could be heard once again.  “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.  I’m just saying if you need help with bills or anything, I can lend you some.”

(Y/N) couldn’t take it anymore.  “I need to go, Top; I’m going to be late.  Bye.”  She hung up before he could say “I love you” - and before she burst into tears.

~

(Y/N) once again moved between her tables fluidly, busy but not overwhelmed.  She welcomed the rush of work, however, as it took her mind off of how she had spoken to Topper.  

That was, until he came through the door and immediately sat in her section.

(Y/N) made her way over to the blond boy, inwardly giddy that he had shown up but not allowing her face to show it.  In fact, she schooled her features into a frown as she made her way over to where he sat.

“Topper, what are you doing here,” she whispered.  Their relationship wasn’t public, and Topper had never set foot in The Wreck before, so this would definitely cause people to talk.  

Topper smiled, his face lighting up as it only did around her.  “Hey, baby, just because you have to work doesn’t mean we can’t be together.  I’m sorry about earlier; I know you’ve been stressed out lately.”  His eyes were so soft and the cool blue of his irises somehow warm.  She didn’t deserve him being this nice to her.  “I figured after you are done, I could drive you home, maybe stargaze at the lookout for a bit.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, ever so tempted.  “It will probably be pretty late when I get done -”

“That’s okay, (Y/N/N), I’m in no rush to get back home.  You know that,” he cut her off. 

(Y/N) couldn’t think of any more excuses, so she just nodded with a small smile and took out her notepad.  “Okay, so - umm -  what can I get you to eat?”

This was going to be so much harder than she thought.

~

Topper stopped his truck at the base of the lookout and hopped out to open (Y/N)’s door for her.  She should have insisted that he take her directly home, but she just couldn’t help herself.  

She missed him.  

And she hadn’t even let him go yet. 

She let him take her hand and lead her up to the top of the tower where he spread a blanket and tugged her down to sit beside him.  She melted into his embrace, his warmth enveloping her despite the slight chill to the air.

After a few peaceful minutes, Topper turned his head minutely, pressing his lips to her temple gently.  “Do you want a massage, baby?  I know you’ve had a tough week,” he murmured.  His lips tickled her ear slightly as he spoke.  

Her eyes filled with tears for what felt like the millionth time this week.  She shook her head, and started to sob softly.  “You’re too good for me, Top,” she cried.

Topper started at her unexpected reaction.  He grasped her arms, rubbing them up and down in a soothing pattern.  “Hey, hey, hey, you know that’s not true, baby.  I’m the lucky one; you are the best thing to ever happen to me,” he said in soothing tones.

(Y/N) shook her head once again, swallowing her urge to keep crying.  “I’m not,” she rasped.  She knew in that moment she couldn’t go on like this.  She took a deep, rattling breath.

“I have to break up with you, Topper.”

She forced the words out, wishing at once that she could take them back at the look of agony on his now pallid face.  

“What do you mean?  (Y/N), what did I do?  I’ll fix it.  I’ll do better.  Just tell me what I did,” he spoke, each word becoming more desperate as he noted the look of resolve on her face.  

His face crumpled.  “I need you, (Y/N),” he whispered.

She stood and backed up several paces, towards the stairs.  “I’m sorry, Top; I really didn’t want it to end like this.”

She fled the scene, running as fast as her feet could carry her away from his frantic voice shouting for her to come back.  Away from the love of her life.

She blindly made it to the Chateau before she let herself sob once more.

~

(Y/N) woke up, bleary eyed and still exhausted.  She had immediately crashed on John B’s couch the night before, her friends having asked no questions at her visible distress.  They simply gave her the peace and quiet she needed.

Even now, she could hear them in the kitchen and smell the beginnings of breakfast emerging from the old stove.  (Y/N) slowly made her way to the kitchen, too tired to be anxious about what they may ask or say in the light of day.

Instead of pestering her with questions, however, they simply handed her a plate and sat down to eat.  (Y/N)’s heart swelled.

(Y/N) swallowed the last bite of her food and pushed her plate away.  “I had to break up with Topper,” she blurted.

“Well, I mean, he is a -” Pope elbowed JJ in the ribs to shut him up, but (Y/N) wasn’t paying attention, instead studying her hands on the table.

Kie also shot a look at JJ to make sure he stayed quiet before she took (Y/N)’s hands, squeezing them lightly.  “Tell us everything, (Y/N/N),” she said.

(Y/N) took a deep, shuddering breath.  “Topper and I have been seeing each other for over a year.  We started talking at a party where we were both the DDs for our friends.  We started talking about our dreams and poetry and movies and...” she trailed off, thinking how that moment was the first time she had ever truly been seen - and understood.

(Y/N) smiled a watery smile at this, letting out a wry chuckle.  “He may not look it, but he is a huge fan of cheesy rom coms and Adam Sandler movies, especially when they are Adam Sandler rom coms...”  (Y/N) sniffled, wiping her nose on the back of her arm before continuing.  “I really thought he was the one, but then -” (Y/N) broke down, and Kie enveloped her in her arms, shushing her until she had calmed enough to continue.

Still hiccupping slightly, (Y/N) went on with her story.  “About a week ago, Topper’s mom came into The Wreck and she, she -”  Another deep breath.  “She said she would completely cut off Topper if I didn’t break up with him, and I - I couldn’t do that to him.  He shouldn’t have to choose between everything he knows and me.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you must be devastated!” exclaimed Kie, hugging her even tighter.  “Is that why he came to the restaurant last night?”

(Y/N) nodded, sniffling once more.  “Yeah, I had been icing him out all week, and last night I cancelled on him for a date he had been planning for a month.  I thought if I made him angry with me or tired with our relationship, it would be easier, but instead he was as sweet as ever!  He could tell I had been off all week, so he wanted to still get dinner with me, even if I was the one serving it.  Then we went to the lookout to stargaze, and I couldn’t do it anymore.  I just had to rip off the bandaid. I broke up with him and ran all the way here before he could convince me to stay.”

Kie tutted, rubbing her back.  “You must really love him, (Y/N/N).”  (Y/N) nodded, further soaking Kie’s shirt with her renewed tears.  After a minute, Kie leaned back, making (Y/N) look at her with red eyes.  “Hey, let’s go watch some trashy TV and just have a girls’ day.  No phones or boys allowed.”  Kie smiled, and (Y/N) appreciated her effort.  

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, putting on a brave smile and setting her phone on the counter so she wasn’t tempted to call Topper and beg him to take her back.

~

(Y/N)’s phone buzzed where she had left it on the counter, garnering JJ’s attention, so he picked it up and accepted the call without looking who it was.

“(Y/N)!  Thank god, you answered!  I’ve been worried sick after you ran off last night,” Topper’s voice immediately bombarded JJ’s eardrums.  JJ internally cringed.

He cleared his throat.  “Um, hey, Topper, this is actually JJ,” he said, moderating his tone so that (Y/N) couldn’t hear him over the sound of she and Kie’s movie.  

“God, JJ, is she with you?  Is she okay?” Topper’s voice was frantic, and JJ actually felt bad for the Kook, finally seeing how (Y/N) could fall for him.  “She ran off last night after acting really weird all week, and I’m super worried, man,” Topper continued. 

JJ scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Yeah, Topper, I think she just needs to be alone right now; she’s pretty upset and -”

“Upset?” Topper interrupted JJ.  “I’m coming over right now.”

JJ couldn’t get another word in before Topper ended the call.  JJ ran his hand through his hair.  Shit.

~

(Y/N) was pulled out of her impromptu nap (she hadn’t been sleeping well the past week) by thunderous knocking on John B’s front door.  A pit fell into her stomach.  That could only be one person.

“(Y/N)!” The voice of the person shouting confirmed what (Y/N) dreaded, but she couldn’t help the flip her stomach did at the sound of his rich baritone voice.  “(Y/N), please come to the door; I just want to talk to you!”

Kie tried to convince (Y/N) to stay in the living room as the boys ran to the door, practically tripping over themselves.  Even as Kie stood in front of her, (Y/N) still caught a glimpse of Topper’s frosted tips as the door opened, and she knew what she had to do. 

With a shuddering breath, (Y/N) willed her feet to move forward.  She pushed through the boys gently until she stood right in front of Topper.  His face relaxed as he saw her.  

“(Y/N),” he breathed, and she melted.  However, (Y/N) steeled herself to avoid crying.

“Can we talk outside, Topper?” she said, taking him by the arm.  He nodded and followed her to the hammock.

She sat there and used her feet to make the hammock swing, the rhythmic motion soothing her nerves slightly.  Topper sat beside her, but she could tell he was trying to give her space, resisting the urge to take her in his arms.  It was a full minute before she found what she needed to say.  

“Topper, I know I’ve been acting weird lately, and you deserve an explanation.”  She took another deep breath.  

“You and I come from different worlds.  Don’t try to deny it,” she cut him off before he could interject.  “We both know this island is divided.  And people who have different upbringings just can’t last as couples.  It may be fun and freeing for a bit - perhaps go on for years - but the fact of the matter is that at least one of them is going to regret committing themselves to the relationship,” she spoke, realizing the unpleasant truth as she went along.

“I could never regret being with you, (Y/N/N),” Topper interrupted, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“It feels like that now, but think years down the road.”  She stood up and paced in front of him as she continued to speak.  “We get married.  Maybe have a couple of kids.  Then what?  You take over your dad’s business, and you need someone who can host dinners for business partners.”  Her voice started to raise in volume as she grew more agitated.  “ I would inevitably make a mess of things.  I would serve the wrong wine or not remember who someone was or try to talk business and make a fool of both of us.  Then the business would fail, and your parents would be disappointed.  And it would be my fault, and you would want a divorce.  Then we would both be lonely and sad - not to mention put our kids through the awfulness of a divorce -  but we can avoid all that by just never tempting fate in the first place,” she finished.

Topper had listened in silence as she ranted.  His face was downcast and his posture slumped.  “Is that really how you feel?”

She nodded her head slowly.  She took his hands in both of hers.  “You deserve the best in the world, Topper, and I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get that.  And quite frankly, it isn’t fair to me to put myself in a situation where I am guaranteed failure; I have too much self-respect for that.”

A tear fell from Topper’s ocean blue eyes.  “It doesn’t have to be like that.  I don’t need to take over the business -”

“Topper.  You don’t fit into my world just as much as I don’t fit into yours.  I can’t let you throw away your future for me.  You’ll meet a lovely woman who will make you so happy, and you will build a life with her that will be perfect, trust me.”

Topper shook his head, his tears falling in earnest now.  “I will never find anyone as perfect as you, (Y/N/N).”

She leaned up to brush a kiss over his lips, selfishly stealing one more moment with him to cherish.  “Yes, you will, trust me,” she whispered.

“You’re wrong.  I just know it,” Topper sobbed, but he turned away, stomping through the overgrown grass to his Jeep.  She thought he may run back to her, but all he did was give her one last, long glance before he drove off.

She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or hurt that he didn’t.

~

Ten years later…

“Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing all the way out here?  Are you lost?” (Y/N) asked the small blond child that was walking on the beach by himself.  The little boy’s eyes filled with tears as he nodded.  Her heart ached at the sight.

She gave him a comforting smile and held out her hand.  “Let’s find your parents together.  Does that sound good?”  The little boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and nodded, holding out his other chubby hand to grab hers.

The pair headed back where the little boy had come from.  After a short time, a beautiful woman came running towards them.  “Caleb!  Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I was so worried!” she cried, hugging the boy close to her chest.

She looked up to (Y/N), her face shining in gratitude.  "Thank you so much for helping get him back to me!  We just moved here - well, my husband grew up here - and I haven't quite got my bearings," Caleb's mother explained. 

Her eyes flickered to a place over (Y/N)'s shoulder.  "There's my husband now," she said, then, "Honey, I have him!" she called to the man jogging up to their little group.  

(Y/N) turned to see who it was, her eyes squinting in the sunlight.  When he finally came into focus, she wished she had escaped while she still had a chance.

"(Y/N)!"  He stopped short, and (Y/N) was taken back to that party at the Boneyard all those years ago.

"Topper," she answered, forcing a smile after a moment.  There was a pregnant pause.  "You have a lovely family."

"Thank you," he replied, his eyes saying so much more than his words could.  He fidgeted nervously.  "Hey, why don't you join us for a -"

"I'd love to, but I actually have to get going," she cut him him off.  She looked back at his wife and child, finding it in herself to genuinely smile.  At least one of them had gotten their fairytale ending.  "It was so nice meeting you both."

And then she was walking away.  Away from the life she still desperately wished was hers.  Away from the man she wished she still had the right to love.

~

My Masterlist

Taglist:@adventuresinobx @bradleybeachbabe​ @starkeyobx @penny4yourthoughts @topperscumslut @drewbooooo @honeybear-yammy @gillybear17 @hoebx @darksideofmyshallow​ @fangirlfree @get0ut0fmyr00m @poppet05 @graywrites20 @yellowbitchs-blog @laneyy003 @hydraironcaptian @honeybuzzzzzz​​ @powellssugarbaby​​ @ietts @art3mas​

#topper thornton x reader #topper thornton angst #topper thornton fluff #topper thornton obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fics #topper #topper+thornton+x+reader #Topper Thornton x y/n #topper thornton x you #outer banks angst

[justafandomgvrl]

The Park

Santiago Garcia x Reader

Word count - 450ish

Fluffy fluff (CW- implications of depression symptoms but nothing intense, just issues going outside)

You think you picked a bad day to go to the park from the second you arrive. There are families everywhere, despite the cold weather. You sigh, clinging to Santiago’s hand in an attempt to keep at least your hand warm. He chuckles and takes his scarf, wrapping it around your neck and you breathe a little easier. He leads you to a quieter spot, sitting down on a bench with you and pulling your thermos’ out of his bag. You sigh, leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you for getting me out of the house,” you mumble, guilt tinging your voice. He wraps his arm around you, his fingers squeezing your arm gently.

“You don’t have to thank me, hermosa. I’d do anything for you, you know that. And everyone struggles now and then.” You huff and he chuckles. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to be cliche.” You shake your head, leaning closer to him as you sip the cinnamon hot chocolate in your thermos. “I still don’t know how you drink that stuff.”

“I converted the Millers and Frankie, I’ll convert you too.” You grumble and he laughs. You both sit bolt upright as you hear a cry and you turn your head to see a small girl, probably four or five years old. “Hey honey, are you okay?” You ask, instantly jumping up and she runs to you and wraps herself around your legs. “You lost your parents?” She nods shyly and you smile sympathetically. You hoist her up onto your hip to carry her as you walk in the direction she had come from. Santiago can’t stop staring, thoughts of you as a parent filling his head again as he catches up to you. You wander through the park, holding the child close to your body and your thermos in your other hand. Santiago keeps an eye out for any parents who look frantic and eventually the little girl points to a pair of women who are looking around.

“Mama! Mama!” She cries and you walk towards the women. They both seem to crumple in relief and the taller one takes the girl from you.

“Thank you so much for finding her! We were so worried, she’s never disappeared before.”

“It’s no problem. She seems very sweet.” You smile at the mothers as they fuss over the little girl and Santiago takes your hand, leading you away. “Are you okay?”

“I want to have a baby with you.” He says and your jaw drops.

“Are you sure?” You whisper and he nods, leaning in to kiss you.

“I never thought I would get to have kids and I can’t picture raising them with anyone but you.” You smile at him and nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay! Let’s do it!”

#mj’s christmas list #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia x you #santiago garcia x you #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #drabble #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[calzone-d]

Could you write a Ted Lasso story about the reader not feeling good enough and anxious? I love your writing!

of course, anon! i made this into a little blurb for ya. i’ve been feeling pretty anxious lately myself, and opening up about it to my partner has been scary, but i’m glad i did! find a good partner who listens to you and validates your feelings!! ❤️

warnings: anxiety, reader feeling a teensy bit depressed maybe

masterlist

A pang hit your chest as soon as you saw the picture. They all looked so happy. Ted, with his arm around Michelle, who had a beaming Henry in her lap. The sounds of the world went quiet as your thoughts took over.

It’s not like this was a normal occurrence. Lately, the weather had just been so cold and gloomy. Getting out of bed the past few days just seemed harder. Deep down, you knew it would pass, just as it always did. That didn’t make it any easier right now, though.

“Y’ready, sweetheart?”, Ted’s soft voice broke you out of your trance.

The two of you flew to Kansas to bring Henry back to Richmond for the next two weeks. He had a break from school and always loved coming to visit when he could. Every single time, he pulled out all the stops to try and stay later than originally planned.

“Yeah I’m.. I’m good, Ted.”, you knew you didn’t sound convincing.

Ted’s mouth opened, and you knew he wasn’t sold on your response. Before he could speak Henry’s excited voice echoed through the hall.

“I’m ready! Can we go now, please?”, he bounced on the balls of his feet as you and Ted each grabbed one of his bags.

“Yeah, Henry Bug. Let’s go get you in the car. I’ll uh.. You can say your goodbyes and then come join us, Ted.”

You knew if you gave him time he’d tell you once more that he felt nothing for her anymore. Nothing that went past respecting her as a co-parent, and sometimes that took everything in him.

Henry talked your ear off as you helped him get settled in your rental car, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. He had become like your own son, coming to you with his feelings and problems, calling when something new happened. The boy had stolen your heart just as quickly as his father did.

Ted took more time lingering in the house than you loved to think about. You didn’t say anything as he got in the drivers seat.

It wasn’t until you were in the airport until he mentioned it, which you were thankful for. You didn’t want him bringing it up in front of Henry, as Michelle was a topic you three generally avoided talking about.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Your words seemed stuck in your throat as you tried to speak. You knew there was no point in lying to him.

With a shaky voice you replied, “Do you ever want your old family dynamic back? O-or wish that we had something more similar?”.

“Sweetheart, where on earth is that com in’ from? Did I say somethin’?”, his eyebrows furrowed. His bags dropped to his sides as he stepped forward to bring you into his arms.

“No I just.. I was looking at the picture of you guys in the hallway..”, you noticed the way your hands began to shake and your throat grew tight. “And then when it took you a second to come to the car I just- I don’t know.”

Your eyes began to grow misty as he pulled your head to his chest. “I’ve just been feeling anxious lately. I know it’s stupid for me to even ask you that, I just-“

“It’s not stupid, not one bit. Look, hun. That picture was a very, very long time ago, you know that. So much has changed, and shoot, I’m glad it has. Things are completely different now and that’s somethin’ I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.”

You nodded as you quickly dabbed at your eyes, hoping you could look somewhat decent before Henry came back.

“And I stayed in so long to ask Michelle about lettin’ Henry stay an extra weekend. I know y’all wanted to go to that Lego store you told him about.”, his eyes were full of love as he looked down at you. While you took a few deep breaths, he softly smoothed a hand over the back of your head. A breathy chuckle left your lips at the thought of taking Henry to the lego store.

“Y/n, M’all yours. Every bit of me, darlin’. There’s not one person or thing on this earth that’s gon’ change that, you hear me?”

Ted’s eyes were locked on yours the whole time. You nodded at him with rosy cheeks. After a second, you saw Henry make his way back to you, and pulled Ted in for a brief hug.

“I love you, Ted. Thank you.”, you whispered in his ear. Before he pulled away you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The smile it brought to your face was enough to melt your heart.

“What about me?”, Henry’s voice came from behind you.

“What about you, hun?”, you turned to look at him.

“Well I want a hug too, please.”, this time you laughed louder as you crouched down to bring him in for a big hug. His small arms wrapped around your neck as you squeezed him tight.

Behind his back you locked eyes with Ted as he stared down at you two.

“Come on you two, let’s get on that plane and finally go home, how ‘bout that?”

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#ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso henry #dad!ted #dad!ted superiority #michelle slander not sorry #come on henry i’ll be ur mom