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shelbystales · 3 months

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Ceramic Lessons - Part Eight

Cillian Murphy X Reader - Masterlist

Summary: after much insistence from his sister, Cillian attends a ceramics class with her. To his surprise, he feels a connection to the teacher, you. Will this connection go any further or will it be smashed like a bad ceramic project?

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Warning: swearing, fluff and mention of drugs

A/n: hey guys! please don’t forget to let me know what you think! Hope you like it.

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The next day you woke up with no news from Cillian. But still, the day was sunny and warm, a good day to be alive, to stand up from the bed and go live another day, you thought as you stretched watching the view from your bedroom window.

You got ready to go to your morning jog, enjoying your free time from classes. Not that you don’t like being a teacher. But it’s so good to have some time to yourself.

As you ran you made your way to the beach to admire the people around. The beach was noisy and filled with people and their dogs. You smiled admiring the simple things, the kids laughed as the dog fetched the ball inside the ocean, the little girl running after her mom, the young playing volleyball and a couple nested close together. You breathed in the ocean breeze and continued your race.

After quite some time you returned home and took a relaxing shower.

You jumped on the couch with your notebook and began drawing some piece ideas for your next collection until the intercom buzzed. You made your way to it and pressed the button

“Who 's it?” you asked

“Me, mon amour!” a familiar voice answered

“Bela?!” you asked happily

“Yes, now let your sister in!! I’m sweating as a horse out here” she demanded

You quickly allowed her passage inside the building with the click of another button and in a few seconds she was at your door.

You hugged her tightly “I don't want to let go” you said, your words muffled in her hair.

“I’m afraid you have too because I need to pee asap. Unless you like me too pee on your floor” she joked

“No, I'm good,” you said, unhugging her and letting her inside to rush to the bathroom.

Isabela emerged from the bathroom with a dramatic sigh of relief, and you both settled into the familiar comfort of your living room. She looked around, taking in the sketches scattered on the coffee table.

"Still working on your pottery empire, I see," Isabela teased, settling onto the couch.

You chuckled, joining her. "Always. So, what brings you here? Not that I'm complaining. It's a pleasant surprise."

Isabela flashed a mischievous smile. "Well, my dear, I happen to be in town for a few days. Work-related stuff. And I thought, why not drop by and check on my favorite sister?"

You grinned. "Lucky me."

Isabela shared more details about her recent adventures in Paris, the bustling fashion scene, and the eccentric characters she had encountered in the city of love. As she told you her stories, you fetched her some water and some snacks.

As you listened to her animated stories, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for your sister's accomplishments.

Isabela's vibrant energy filled the room, a stark contrast from you.

Isabela, with her flamboyant personality and penchant for drama, was like a burst of color in a room, drawing attention effortlessly. Her stories of high-fashion escapades and eccentric characters filled the air with an infectious enthusiasm. She possessed an outward, effervescent charm that charmed everyone around her.

You, on the other hand, were the quiet force, absorbing the energy around you and channeling it into your art. Your introspective nature allowed you to delve deep into your creative process, finding inspiration in the subtle nuances of everyday life. But you were not entirely introverted, you are not shy or anything like it. On the contraire, you like being around people and socializing, but maybe after many years in therapy you learned to love yourself to a point where you prefer your company over anyone else’s.

While Isabela sparkled like a firework, you were the steady glow of a candle, radiating warmth and depth.

"But how long are you planning to stay?" you asked randomly as Isabela finished a story about peacocks. You loved your sister, but sometimes she was too much for you, so staying too long with her could be a challenge.

"Jesus. Already kicking me out, sis? I can go stay with mom and dad," she said, her mouth full of peanuts.

"I wasn't kicking you out. I just have to plan," you shrugged.

"Right, I don't know. I think I’ll leave Thursday, so... four days," she counted on her fingers. "Can you house me for four days?"

"Of course," you smiled.

"And how is life here? How are your classes going?" she asked with a gentle glare.

"All good. All are filled. I don't have any more free spots," you shared, your gaze drifting to the sketches scattered on the table. "I've been caught up with my pottery classes, and I must admit I love it. But I’ve been taking some projects aside. I am currently making some pieces for a new hotel."

“Uh, that's fancy! And oh my god, it's incredible to not have any empty spots! I’m so proud,” she declared, making you smile genuinely.Isabela leaned in, genuine curiosity in her eyes. "Tell me more about your life here. Any exciting developments, intriguing characters, or perhaps a dirty romance?"

You chuckled at her dramatic flair. "No dirty romance, Bela.It's not as exciting as your Parisian escapades. Just the usual pottery classes and some interesting students."

She raised an eyebrow. "Interesting students, you say? Anyone caught your eye? A man perhaps?"

“How do you do that?” you asked.

“Do what?” she asked, confused.

“Read between the lines,” you asked curiously. She shrugged and drank her water. “Oooh,” your mouthed, connecting the dots. “Mom told you.”

“She did. Now tell me, how is he? Is he really that nice? Can a Hollywood star be nice?” she shifted on her spot.

“Cillian is great, he’s nice,” you smiled.

“Oh, come on, give me more! Do I have to beg?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Fine, fine.. He's down-to-earth, genuine, and surprisingly humble. Fame hasn't gone to his head, as far as i’ve seen. He's been through a lot, dealing with his ex-wife and son, but he's handling it with grace. And he seems like a great dad."

Isabela leaned back, processing the information. "Well, color me impressed, sis. You've managed to snag yourself a celebrity. I can't wait to meet him. But spill the details, sis! What's he like when the cameras are off? How’ve met?"

You leaned in conspiratorially. "He's just like anyone else. We met in class, his sister is my student. she constantly spoke about him, until one day she brought him in. He has gorgeous eyes and smells great. We've had dinner dates, beach dates.. three dates at total. No drama aside from his ex."

“That she is a crazy one, right?” Isabela interrupted with a smirk as you looked at her puzzled. “Oh come on, when mom told me who you were dating, I had to google!”

You frowned at her. “Really, what did you find?”

“Oh god, you never googled him?” she asked, shocked.

“Didn't want to invade his privacy, or know more than I should. I'd rather learn about him from himself.”

She rolled her eyes. “For fuck's sake, that's so you... well, for your knowledge, I didn't find much. He has done an incredible job at keeping his life to himself. BUT, I can't say the same about her. Do you wanna see her Instagram? It's a crazy person’s Instagram,” she said, already picking up her phone and showing it to you.

You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, curiosity getting the better of you. Isabela handed you her phone, displaying a colorful and chaotic Instagram profile.

"There she is," Isabela pointed at a picture of Cillian's ex-wife, her feed filled with flashy and attention-grabbing posts. You scrolled through, feeling a mix of surprise and unease.

"Wow, she really puts everything out there, doesn't she?" you commented, slightly taken aback by a seminude picture with ‘DREAM OF ME’ written on her chest.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort seeing such a public display of someone who played a significant role in Cillian's past. You handed Isabela's phone back.

Isabela laughed, "Oh, you have no idea. She's like a whole reality show in one person. her Storys are unique and the captions! ‘you know you want me’ or ‘anybody ready for a good time?’ “ she mocked as she read, making you feel embarrassed for her. “You'd think she's a problematic influencer, not someone's ex-wife… not someone’s mom. I bet in a few months she will create an OnlyFans account"

“For real?”

“Yes, look at her” she showed you the phone again

"Well, she certainly knows how to make a statement," you said, still processing what you had just seen.

Isabela shrugged, her eyes fixed on the screen "Cillian made a wise choice moving on,” she remarked casually, her tone carrying a hint of nonchalance.

You silently agreed, wondering if she was always the same character she seemed to be today.

The conversation sort of ended, and you helped your sister settle into your guest bedroom, all while continuing your discussion.

She had some work to do on her computer, and later that day, you both found yourselves sitting together on the couch, debating over what to eat and what to watch. The various food options displayed on the screen made the decision a tough one.

Just as you were about to settle on a choice, your phone buzzed, and Cillian's name lit up the screen. Isabela's eyes widened with excitement. "Oh, look who it is!” she almost screamed.

A warm smile spread across your face, and you accepted the call. "Hey, you," you greeted.

"Hey there," Cillian's voice echoed through the phone.

"Hi! Perfect timing. We were just trying to decide on dinner," Isabela yelled to your ear, making you quickly stand from the couch and walk inside your bedroom for some privacy.

“Who was that?” Cillian asked after giving a prolonged laugh.

“My sister,” you answered, closing the door and jumping onto your bed.

“Oh, I can call you another time,” he suggested.

“No, it 's ok. How are you?”

“Good, relaxed. Had a good day. You?” he sighed as if he was sitting down.

“Me too. Normal day. My sister surprised me with her visit.”

“You don't sound so happy about that,” he chuckled.

“No, don't get me wrong. I love her so much... but she is too much for my ears to handle all day long. And she is staying until Thursday,” you explained.

“Is she the one that lives in Paris?”

“The one and only.”

“Ah, there is an example of an overrated city,” he teased, his voice carrying a playful tone as he chuckled on the other end of the line. "I'd love to hear more about her. I know from experience that sisters can be quite entertaining"

You chuckled, realizing that your sister's vibrant personality was indeed something to behold. "Oh, she's entertaining, alright. We are about to order in, you can join if you want”

“Oh, y/n. You have no idea how much I would love to, but I have Lukas and we already ate some spaghetti” he said, sounding a bit frustrated.

Cillian's mention of Lukas brought a smile to your face. "Spaghetti sounds good. How is he doing by the way?"

"He 's doing great. Today we went to my brother’s house. He played with his cousins all day, just put him to bed” Cillian replied, the fondness for his son evident in his voice.

“Good. I was worried”

“I can imagine” he sighed and after a few seconds in silence he finally let it out “His mom is using again”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to hear what he just said “I’m so sorry”

“Yeah. Me too. I’ll have to go to court this week” he inhaled and exhaled “I wish i could hold you right now”

“Me too” you smiled “I could make you some hot chocolate, because it warms the heart” you said and he chuckled

“I would love some hot chocolate”

“You could live closer, not almost half an hour” you complained

“I’ll be calling a real estate agent tomorrow to fix that” he said, making you giggle “we should have dinner here. you can meet Lukas”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want him to meet you”

“And I him”

“Just gotta give him some time. He’s a little upset about not being allowed to see his mom for a while. How about saturday?”

“Saturday is great, but in the meantime you could pass by…”

“We can have lunch anytime you want, Lukas eats at school”

“Tuesday?”

“It’s a date”

“No, my sister will join us, so... not a date…” You chuckled

“Okay, I can't wait to meet her”

Taglist: @allie131313 @sherbitdibdab @sinceviennas @stilestotherescue @astheni-a @kitkatkaitin @amanda08319 @trixie23 @nancystrange @daisythekitty @cillianbabe @sinceviennas @si1ver06 @kitkatkait @isabbellagonzalezz18 @babypink224221 @1nterstellarcha0s @thenattitude

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uwurakax · 7 months

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thank you tiktok for this thought, you are very much appreciated 💕

(obviously had to stick w my man bc like who else am i gonna be down bad for as much as him ykyk?)

but thinking about villain!oikawa and hero!reader:

you and oikawa at always at each others throats, basically the physical embodiment of "fighting like cats and dogs". he alludes you at every turn, laughing at your incompetence.

"is this who they send? how pitiful, don't make me laugh!"

yet despite how at odds you are with him, and regardless of how injured or hurt you get due to his antics, you're never really in any life threatening danger - at least not when he knows you can save yourself.

you hadn't fully recovered the last time you fought, body aching and still a bit sluggish, no where near how you would normally be on your rendezvous with him.

it doesn't take long for you to, in layman's terms, get your ass kicked. hauled through concrete walls of a decaying building, you find yourself trapped under the rubble. too exhausted and drained to move. in your peak physicality, you would've been able to. it doesn't take long for the already broken building to start crumbling down, and no matter how much you want to live, you've known your entire life this was a possibility.

dying a heroic death, fighting against evil seemed honourable.

so you close your eyes and resign yourself to fate...

until he shows up and in a blink of an eye, saves you.

you didn't know what to do after that, constantly thinking about why oikawa decided to save you from impending doom. the opportunity to dispose of his arch-nemesis and get away with, well anything he wanted, and yet...

you decide to lay low for a while, not only needing to start recovery, once again, but to take a break from.. well.. everything.

'it'll be nice to be normal for once, in forever' you think to yourself.

so after resting for a week, you head off for some much needed retail therapy. clothes, shoes, bags, jewellery. you hadn't treated yourself in such a long time, and being a hero sure had its perks; i.e the massive paycheck you receive.

you've already shopped for a little over an hour before a certain store catches your eye. mainly the mannequin wearing a beautiful satin blue, drawstring dress. you head inside, eager to at least try it on. it looked so beautiful in the window display after all!

you found the dress in your size on the rack rather quickly, practically skipping to the change rooms.

who knows, maybe you'd get lucky; your friends always did try to hassle you into going out with them, so who knows?

it didn't take long before the dress sat on your figure, hugging your curves in all the right places. but then the issues arose.

'it's way too short!' you tried pushing the dress down to no avail.

'it's too tight up on the chest' you tried adjusting and pulling on the straps, but it didn't make a difference.

you were grumbling to yourself, upset that you got excited over a dud.

taking one last look in the mirror, you turned around and you knew you definitely couldn't wear this out in public at all. the backside was shorter than the front which was awful, and you didn't realise how much of your back was exposed.

at least you tried it on, but this outfit was much too sexy for your taste.

you were about to take off the dress, hand on one of the sleeves before you heard the speaker in the store go off,

"go outside, now. or i'll blow up this entire street kay?~"

you could recognise his voice anywhere. what the hell was he doing here?! how did he even-?!

you were on autopilot, grabbing a hold of your oversized jumper to cover yourself. you had to hurry before he hurt anyone!

you were running out of the dressing room, attempting to put the jumper on before you heard the speaker go off again

"nuh uh, don't you dare put that on~"

#IM DOWN BAD YA'LL #HELP #IVE BEEN DOWN BAD BUT NEVER THIS DOWN BAD ON MAIN BEFORE AJSKKSKSKSKSK #BONKED? 💀😭#BUT FOR MY FELLOW OIKA GIRLIES #YOURE WELCOME ?? MAYBE IDK #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa hcs #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you

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horseshoegirl · 9 months

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Damn Those Dog Tags - Part 16: In the Blood

📖I'm amused you guys voted on this one as the one that inspired DTDT. I wouldn't say this one was one of the big three, but it ended up becoming my inspiration for Jake's backstory.

Also, this was me after that last part: 🏃‍♀️<-🔱🔥

I'm so sorry I broke all of your hearts with part 15! They have a happy ending, I swear! We just have to get through the angst first... And Sadie... Oh dear... I cried writing this... so it's safe to say maybe bring tissues?

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child character, Shitty family dynamics, Angst, talk about break ups, talk about therapy, probably inaccurate dogfight descriptions (I tried my best!), Jake is going through it, Emotional & Protective Sadie (She needs her own warning), & Protective Bradley.

#6K words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 17

It had to be the shock.

The reason why there were gaps in your memory. You don’t remember climbing into the front seat of Rooster's Bronco. Or even putting on your seat belt or him pulling out of the parking lot.

He probably had to do it for you.

You had to remind yourself he was driving you home. That you just very publically broke up with Jake in the Hard Deck. Spit-roasted George with very colourful vernacular.

You'd have to explain to Penny why you were swearing in her bar again. But you had a more pressing predicament than wondering what might happen in the aftermath of that experience, which would presumptively have Hangman's callsign back on the sign in the bathroom.

Even with a broken heart, you felt like you were a child being allowed to sit in the front seat of a car. Under the scrutiny of an "I'm not mad, just disappointed" parent driving you home from school. White hot anxiety coursed through your veins with the assumption you did something so incredibly wrong; you just didn't know what.

Rooster was eerily silent. Next to the roar of his engine and AC fan, the silence was constructing. Suffocating. He should be gloating, listing off all the ways you ignored him, ignored the team that day on the soccer field. All the ways he was going to hurt Hangman the next time he saw him.

It was driving you insane.

"Are you going to gloat? Say, I told you so?" you finally huffed through your tears when it became too much. "Hangman did what he does best?"

"Not today, Liz."

Out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them. It almost made it worse. Like you were genuinely expecting a verbal argument, and the fact you weren't getting one was making you pout like an actual child.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he offered eventually, after a pregnant pause. A horrible scraggly sound accompanied your hiccup.

"I should never have let Sadie invite him to Saturday nights."

"No, I'm sorry for what I said in your hallway," he countered. "For the way I acted."

Ironic, isn't it? The person you knew to be the most childish when expressing his emotions was sobering your petulant thoughts and behaviour. Even when your mind and obsessive internal dialogue went, why the fuck did he think now was a good time as any to apologize?!

You dropped your chin to your chest. "But you did," you huffed, hugging yourself against the sudden chill. “In front of Sadie, no less.”

Had you turned your head, you would have seen Bradley nodding absentmindedly, his eyes staring blankly at the road.

“It was uncalled for, Liz. The fact you felt you needed to hide it from me….” he trailed off. You sniffed, wiping at your cheeks, letting him gather his words. "I get it. Why you didn't. I wouldn't have taken the news differently even if you had told me. It might have been worse."

“Still, I should have told you,” you offered, shaking your head before staring out the window, watching the trees blur by. “Not that it matters now.”

Bradley gritted his teeth, hands flexing on the steering wheel. He wanted to mouth off. Not about you ignoring his warnings but all the ways Hangman was a complete and utter cock.

He couldn't. You didn't deserve that in the fragile state you were in. Fragile wouldn't even be in the vocabulary of words Bradley would ever use to describe you. Hangman had made you like this, played you and your feelings.

It was never going to be your fault. He had realized that after the fight. When he promised he'd be there for you and Sadie, he didn't know what that meant or what it looked like.

A punch to Jake's face? Hearing it after the fact? Not actually being there to witness it? Him rambling off all the things he hated about Hangman? Ultimately, Bradley could only offer a measly retort of, "He's an asshole."

You swallowed hard. You couldn't deny Bradley's remark.

Jake being an asshole at that moment was him being Hangman, a side you thought you'd never have to see. For him to so readily agree with George, there was no other way you couldn’t interpret those words as anything but him playing you, using you.

Had he not given you that condensing grin and spoken those words, you might have believed he was merely being triggered by the presence of his brother.

You should have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. You felt foolish, naive, and utterly lost. The grief of losing Ridley was and had always been a constant companion, but this felt different. It was the realization that you had let him in and allowed him to become a part of Sadie's life and yours. You had trusted him, and he had betrayed that trust in the cruellest way possible.

You just wanted to know why? Why he lashed out at you? Why did he act like he cared when he didn’t?

Why? Why? Why?

You’d never get an answer from him now. You wanted to stay away from him, ignore him, avoid every mention or instance of him and his fucking callsign. The wall was back up, and it would never come back down. Instead, fixing your eyes on his dashboard, with no judgment in your voice, you asked Bradley, “Why Roo? Why did you lash out like that?”

Bradley sighed once, tapping his thumb against his steering wheel.

“Loving any of us is a death sentence, Liz. One day you might wake up and find one of us is gone. Just like that.” He shuttered in a breath. “I think, in some twisted way, I wanted to spare you the pain of losing someone you were in love with that way.”

He tried to find the words to explain his next point delicately, but there was no other way he could say it to you without not getting his point across. “You don’t handle grief well, Liz. You barely found the strength to carry on had it not been for Sadie.”

You huffed, knowing deep down he was right but doing absolutely everything in your power to keep denying it. You weren’t doing this today. If not, ever.

Bradley heard you but continued anyway, leaving your reaction tucked away for later. “I didn’t want you to end up like my mom. Sadie to end up like me. Cause him? He always flew like he had nothing to lose; he would do something foolish sooner than later. You would be left to mourn him. For Sadie to mourn him. I didn’t want that for you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. Yet, you blurted out suddenly, "You need to go to therapy, Roo."

Bradley laughed softly. You looked over at him, slightly worried he might be having a fit. But it was a genuine reaction. And despite everything, you caught a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You shouldn't be laughing. Not with the heavyweight still pressing down on your chest. Yet, sitting next to Rooster as he drove you home, his laughter was the only thing that seemed to be cutting through the heavy fog weighing over you.

Nothing could be done to suppress the laugh that bubbled up inside your chest. Bradley's grin widened, his laughter louder when he realized you were fighting your own. You couldn't help but join him. Whether the pain in your chest was from the laughter or the heartache, you couldn’t tell.

When the two of you finally managed to stop laughing, Bradley admitted with laboured breath. "I am, actually."

You turned to face him, utterly shocked. "Since when?!"

"Two days after." He doesn't need to be explicit. You know what he's referring to. "There's someone on base. I've only had one session so far, but it's making me realize I should have gone sooner."

You stared at him in disbelief.

If he had told you that, come to you while you were still working, or if he had called or even texted, you would have forgiven him instantly. You couldn't hold what he did to you against him after an admission like that.

"I'm proud of you, Bradley," you said, wiping your nose. "I really am."

He glanced over at you, a level of warmth in his eyes. “I needed to hit rock bottom and get a push by a few people. People who cared.”

His response was cryptic. It couldn't have been just you and Sadie, not after how you screamed at him or after Sadie kicked him out. Or even anyone on the Squad. It made you wonder who was his catalyst for the sudden change of thought. For now, you were just glad he was getting help.

You gave him a small smile, making Bradley reach over and grab your hand, squeezing it tightly. You gripped it back, but when he went to let go, you tightened your hand in panic.

"Just... Don't let go. Not yet."

Bradley didn't let go, driving one-handed the remainder of the journey back to your house. The two of you didn't say anything else. You sat silently even when he pulled into your driveway and turned off the ignition.

You didn't want to get out of his Bronco. You didn't want to walk into your house and see all the traces of Jake. You didn't want to gather his things in his bag. Leave them on the front porch, or change the spot for the emergency key.

But that was what happened when you went through a breakup, right? These were the things that needed to be done.

Bradley broke the extended silence, his voice deep and gentle when he asked, "What will you tell Sadie?"

Sadie.

You paused. You didn't really need to think about your answer. Just the weight of what it truly meant to say it out loud.

"The truth. As I've always done."

This was your worst fear about dating. The one that arose when you became Sadie's guardian. The one that so precariously dangled over your head when you told Jake you were a package deal. It wasn't the threat of betrayal, wasted time, or memories turning bittersweet.

As bad as that was at the Hard Deck, as broken and in pieces as your heart was, telling Sadie would be worse.

Jake broke your heart.

Now you had to break Sadie's too.

You glanced at Bradley, searching his eyes before asking him quietly, "Wanna come with me to pick her up from Penny's?"

Bradley smiled, nodding softly.

---

It was the eighth time the F-18s had flown this exercise this week. Coyote, Rooster, Hangman, and even Maverick, all had taken turns flying it with each other, in pairs, to navigate an imaginary narrow terrain.

Had Hangman been paying more attention, he would have questioned the sudden need to practice this particular exercise repeatedly and why it was just them, not Phoniex, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy. The first few times had been a simple flight test, learning the route, the twists, and the turns.

He was never more ruthless than in the cockpit, especially now. All that was child's play compared to some of the stuff he had done throughout his Naval carrier.

But today's addition? They wanted to see how they handled the pattern while dog fighting.

Rooster had decided to make it personal.

"Come on, Hangman!" Rooster taunted through the comms. "Is that all you've got?"

Hangman gritted his teeth, his hands gripping the controls, knuckles white. He was pushing his jet to the limit, narrowly avoiding Rooster's ‘fire’ as the alarm from the targeting system filled his cockpit.

The turn in the valley afforded Hangman the opportunity for some leeway to move out of the way. Barely.

"Come on! You're flying like a rookie today!" Rooster taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thinking about what you did to Liz?"

Hangman's jaw tightened, and he forced himself to focus on the controls. "This isn't the time, Rooster," he snapped, but the cocky twang had lost its touch.

Rooster just laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Oh, I think it's the perfect time. You need a reminder of what a colossal fuck-up you were."

"I know what I did," Hangman growled, banking hard to the right to avoid Rooster's aggressive maneuvers. The asshole was gaining on him, even with how carefree he seemed to be with his taunts.

"Still thinking about Liz?" Rooster's voice was a sneer, crackling through his headset, and Hangman could hear the satisfaction. "Maybe that's why you're losing."

"Focus on the fight," Hangman snapped, anger boiling in his chest.

"Oh, I am," Rooster replied, his voice crackling through the headset and dripping with contempt.

The mountainsides and the green of the trees were a blur as Hangman and Rooster approached the end of the valley. Hangman could hear his heartbeat against the sound of his own breath in his oxygen mask.

Rooster didn't need to say the obvious aloud. Hangman was thinking about you. He couldn't shake the image of your face from that night.

Broken. Sad. Devastated.

He wanted to close his eyes, get lost in the moments when he would awake in your bed, finding you next to him. In your touch. In your voice.

When he hadn't fucked it up.

But he couldn't.

He rolled the F-18 over once he was clear of the mountains and the flight pattern, finally able to use open space to retaliate and flip around. There was only a few seconds left in their time limit.

If Rooster wanted a dogfight, he'd given him a dogfight while he still could.

"Where are you? Where are you?" he drawled aloud. He kept his eyes on the sky, searching for any indication Rooster was nearby as the seconds ticked away. But he was nowhere to be found.

"Time!"

Hangman didn't trust Rooster would listen to Maverick's call. He'd even go as far as to admit the man was almost like him, dead set on proving a point when it mattered. At least Hangman could demonstrate some restraint.

Sure enough, Rooster's voice echoed as his plane came into view. Swinging up and hanging upset down from directly under him.

Inverted.

"Forget to look below?"

Hangman finally had enough.

"Want me to take one out of your book?!" he yelled, staring up through the glass, never once taking his eyes off Rooster as he jolted the stick to the side, rotating the plane over in time with Roosters.

Into a damn spiral dive. A fucking corkscrew.

Rooster grunted with the effort of withstanding the Gs on his body. Hangman was no different, bracing hard as he fought against the controls. Neither one listened to Mav shouting over the airway or the different tone alerts signalling information.

"You think this proves something?" Hangman's voice was cold and ruthless even though he gritted his teeth. "Break off now, and maybe you won't embarrass yourself."

"Embarrass myself?" Rooster spat back. "Like you did with Liz?"

His response was automatic, like reading a script he had long since memorized. "Life is hard, Rooster. It's cruel and unforgiving. You can either whine about it, or you can face it head-on. You think you're going to prove something, kid, by keeping me here?!"

"Watch me!"

The world faded out. Nothing mattered but the two pilots, locking in that spin, seemingly staring each other down.

Yet, Hangman was completely unaware he was running out of space. The Terrain! Terrain! Pull Up! Pull Up! was background noise on muffled ears, as were Maverick's increasing shouts for the pair to stop and break away.

He was too caught up in everything to care. Rooster would have to break away first. He wouldn't give out.

He wouldn't let him win.

But then a voice, soft and delicate despite the alarms, shouts and struggles of the Jet's engine broke through the haze.

Jake.

It was a blast of bright light like the sun suddenly blinded the corner of his eyes. For whatever spoke to him, it had been as close as he had ever been to hitting beyond the hard deck. He finally pulled up on the control stick, saving himself just in time and avoiding hitting Rooster.

His breath was harsh, anger on the edge of boiling over as he levelled the jet. And when he finally returned to the correct altitude, Hangman ripped the oxygen mask from his face, fighting the urge to hit something, as Rooster's chuckles filled the air.

"Hangman! Rooster! Get back to base. Now!"

---

"Do the two of you want to get kicked out?! How could you be so stupid!?"

Nat's question was rhetorical. Hangman and Rooster were stupid. It was so deeply entrenched into their entire being she knew she was wasting her breath by even pointing it out.

A reminder didn't hurt, though.

She had her eyes set on Hangman, but Rooster wasn't very off, sliding his way over to the blonde pilot who had only just started his post-flight checks after getting his jet back into the hanger.

He was deadset on ignoring her, not once glancing her way as she stomped toward him.

“What will Liz say when she finds out how reckless the two of you were?!”

His reaction made her pause; his hands froze from where they were adjusting a valve. Had she turned away, she wouldn't have caught the grimace on his face - however slight or brief it made have been.

“Oh, you didn’t hear what he did?” Rooster called out, smirking from his perch, leaning against a nearby table and crossing his elbows. He may have promised not to gloat around you, but the squad was fair game.

"Liz even slapped him for it too."

Confusion, shock, and pure anger crossed her face in the three seconds she took to glare at Jake. Heat laced her voice as she asked, "What the fuck did you do?"

Liz would never, she thought, only if she had to.

Jake bowed his head, slamming the panel of the jet closed with a hard bang. He turned, gritting his jaw and standing straight, ignoring Nat’s heated question. Rooster chuckled from the side, uncrossing his arms to stride forward.

“Oh, he did exactly what we expected him to,” he filled the silence. “He hurt Liz and left her out to dry, saying she and Sadie were nothing but a bit of fun to pass the time. And when she confronted him about it, he went right for the kill, not concerned about who he would hurt in the process.”

The rest of the Squad was nearby when they heard Rooster’s words, awaiting the fall out of that aerial display. They gathered around the pair, faces twisting with disdain as a dangerous silence befell the room, each looking from Rooster to Jake, reflecting varying degrees of disbelief, shock and, more predominantly, anger.

Jake's eyes were dark, his face tight with suppressed emotion. For a moment, it looked like he might lash out, defend himself, try to explain. But he didn’t. No one would believe him anyway.

"Damn you, Hangman," Phoenix whispered, her voice breaking. "We trusted you."

The room seemed to deflate as the truth sank in. Bob, who had been silent until now, let out a long breath, his face pale. He couldn’t help but think of Sadie. She would be devastated.

“So did Liz,” Rooster smirked, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing Jake.

Jake's eyes narrowed, his voice cold and defensive. "You think you know everything, don't you, Rooster? You abandoned her when she needed you most. For what? To prove a point? Now you’re acting all righteous?”

Something hard flashed in Rooster’s eyes. “At least I owned up to my mistake and apologized. I never pretended to be something I wasn’t! I never fucked around with her heart!”

Jake let out a condescending laugh. “You think she came running to you because she trusts you? She couldn’t even tell you she was seeing me. What does that say about you? She doesn't trust you as much as you think.”

Rooster grinned. “If that were true, she wouldn’t have come to me in that aftermath. After all, she asked me to drive her home,” he said mockingly. “We even went together to break the news to Sadie.”

Jake clenched his fist at the mention of Sadie, charging forward to ready a punch to Bradley’s smug ass face. But Bradley didn’t move, still smiling as Jake stared him down last minute as the Dagger’s jumped to Bradley’s defence.

Jake’s guilt over you and Sadie wouldn’t let him follow through on that punch. Bradley was sure of it. Even with the rest of the daggers looming around, he knew Jake would still be seeking your approval, even if you would never give it to him again.

How disturbing would it be for him to know little less than three weeks ago, Bradley had been at the end of the team's disapproval as they backed Jake.

The tables had turned. Nobody would stand behind him after what he did to Liz now.

The two were locked in an intense stare-down, Jake more rattled than he let on and Bradley unnerving calm. It wasn’t until there was a slamming of a door echoing from somewhere in the hangar did the Squad suddenly walk away from the feuding pair, not wanting to be caught in the crosshairs, already on their phones to message Liz. the only one who had stayed was Nat, wondering how she could have ever thought Hangman was capable of change.

“Rooster! Hangman! My office!” Maverick's voice boomed from somewhere within the empty hanger.

When neither moved or peeled their eyes away from the other, Mav’s voice rang out again, this time enough to rattle off the hollow steel walls, making Nat jolt from the force of it.

“Now!”

---

As a team, the Daggers celebrated everything. Maverick labelled it moral support and team-building. Jake realized long ago it was just his way of getting all the pilots out of the hangers to experience life. Not that he ever complained.

After the lashing he got earlier, it was surprising that he and Rooster were still invited. It was clear as day nobody wanted him here.

It was the second anniversary of the Urianum mission. The official anniversary of the creation of the squad. Jake missed the last one, so he wasn't sure what to expect. A beach party. A game of dogfight football. A bonfire.

Jake couldn’t care less what was going on. You and Sadie would have been here with him had he not snapped.

Somewhere down the line, everything had become blurred. The day he had been dubbed “Hangman” - they said he was surgical, precise, unfeeling - the perfect pilot.

It gave him purpose and confirmation. He’d even make the stretch to say acceptance. He embedded it. Cause nothing else mattered. It worked the facade. It kept people at a distance and shielded him from judgment and expectations.

But now? Things were different. You, Sadie… the two of you got under his skin.

Would you, would have anyone, listened to the truth after the fact? That he only agreed with George to throw it back in his face? To cockily stand up and remark that he was better off than he had been in years?

Then you heard him. Heard him agree with George and assume so readily it had all been a game. You had never believed he was everything his callsign represented.

You were hurt. Angry. And those words he uttered proved every word you had probably been told about him, words you had ignored. It stung, the words you had yelled back at him. You had given him a chance before, so why didn’t you have faith in him then?

The facade returned. He opened his mouth, and his father and George came out instead. Hangman came out instead.

He had sworn so long ago he would never become like them. Yet here he was, inflicting the same trauma and patterns onto you. He had proved he was just as capable of the same cruelty and manipulation his father was.

You would never forgive him after that. It’s what he did best.

The only person who seemed to stand being around him right now was Javy, but he had left to get another drink, leaving Jake alone next to their bonfire, missing you.

You would have been in his arms, lying up against his chest. The pair of you staring out to the water, watching Sadie hunt for sea shells like she hunted for bugs. He would have stolen a kiss or two, unashamed of the PDA, maybe even purposely putting on a show to intentionally piss off the squad and make you blush.

The two of you would have laughed at Sadie. Maybe he would have been tempted to get up, grab her, and topple the both of them into the water. Rooster didn't need to remind him of what he lost when the absence of both of you was staring him in the face.

"You hurt my aunt."

Well... he was half right.

"You're going to get the both of us in trouble," Jake called out, not bothering to look up from the sand. He knew she'd come for him sooner than later, no matter your wishes. With all your threats to Bradley about revoking his Sadie privileges, Jake never would have thought he’d be receiving those threats too.

Sadie stepped onto the tree log behind him, spreading her arms wide to balance herself before jumping, landing softly on the ground.

"Since when have I done anything I'm supposed to," she argued heatedly.

It took her every ounce of strength not to lay into him like she wanted. She was desperately holding herself back. Because this was extremely different than Uncle Roo hurting her Aunt's feelings.

Hangman messed with her Aunt's heart.

This one was on her.

"Who did you escape to get over here?” Jake still couldn’t bring himself to look at her, reaching over to grab a stick in the sand.

“Aunt Nat. She thinks I’m with Uncle Bob.”

You picked up a shift today where Aunt Penny was working with you. So when the offer to stay with Amelia or sit around at the Hard Deck for most of the afternoon, Sadie opted to join you.

Little did you know she had other ideas. When Aunt Nat came by to steal her away, to join the others with the promise she'd keep her away from Hangman, Sadie saw the perfect opportunity.

Aunt Nat didn't know her tricks as well as she thought. A mad and angry Sadie was a conniving Sadie.

Jake said nothing, choosing to poke the sand with the stick in his hand before adding to the fire.

Sadie knew he was stalling, making small talk to avoid talking about what he did. She had played that card enough to know when it was being thrown back at her.

But he was the grown-up. He shouldn't be pulling childish tricks. He should be the one who should be telling her all the grown-up excuses for why things just sometimes don't work out or, worst case, it was for the better.

Nothing was ever for the better.

She sat down on the opposite end of the log, reasonably close to Jake. She dug her nails into the bare skin of her thigh. She wasn't going to speak first. She had promised him so long along she'd come for him. He should know better than to expect she was here for anything else.

Yet, the words he finally uttered had her reeling.

"I don't know what the right thing is to say, Bug."

The thin sheet of ice Sadie holding her back cracked at the mention of her beloved nickname. He shouldn't be calling her that; he didn't deserve to call her that. Not after what he did. Not after what he said.

For one of the first times in her life, Sadie saw red.

She quickly reached down to grab a handful of sand, only to toss the tiny grains in his direction. Jake ducked, shielding his face with his arms. Sadie leaped up and tackled his exposed side, hands balling into fists. She didn't know what she was thinking or her ultimate goal by coming here and seeking him out. It was such a good idea at the time.

When it came down to being face-to-face with him, she was at a loss for words. Her obvious hurt overshadowed any sassy remark or comeback she could gather.

"Sadie! Hey, stop!" Jake's shouts of her name did nothing to stop her from pounding her tiny fists on his back. “Stop!”

"You don't get to call me Bug!" she hollered through her sobs, still trying to leave a mark, thumps on his back accompanying her cries. "You lost that right!"

She knew you wouldn't want her doing this. Her mom wouldn't want her to do this either. But sometimes, it was just too much for her to handle.

She didn't know how to react to something like this. The world was making her grow up faster than she wanted to. Now, she couldn't help but think about what it would throw at her next.

Jake slid off the log, twisting to kneel in front of Sadie while holding out his arms to protect his face. He was at eye level with her, finally seeing the damage he had wrought on the ten-year-old girl.

Sea blue-green eyes framed by shimmering tears, pooling at the edge, until Jake watched one linger down her cheek. It’s your favourite colour staring back at him, making everything worse.

"Why did you do it?!" she cried, still trying to hit him, arms loosening their strength by the second. "Why did you say it?"

"Sadie, stop!" his voice was starkly quiet compared to the sobs, both fragile and profound, catching in her throat. Still, Sadie wailed, "I trusted you! You were supposed to be her person! You made her happy! You reminded her she was worth it!"

With each remark Sadie threw at him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her tiny punches. Or say anything this time that could calm her cries. It was so starkly different from the night he found her hiding in her bed because of that thunderstorm. She had been the one to jump into his arms, to seek comfort from him.

This time, he was the reason she was crying. Like that night, he wanted to tell her it would be alright.

He couldn't. In losing you, he had lost Sadie too.

Utterly weak, Sadie's final thump on his shoulder resulted in her gripping onto his shirt as she fell to her knees on the sand, face blotchy and patch-stained red.

"Why Uncle Jake?" her voice was small. Devastated. "Why did you have to hurt her like that?"

He tried not to look shocked. Sadie's voice was sudden, so unsteady and innocent-like, it was hard not to hide any reaction. She caught on instantly.

"Don't act so surprised," she snapped at him through her misery. "You know she tells me everything."

Jake felt the sharp glare of Sadie’s eyes on him, her small face always displaying a type of sternness that was way beyond her years. She was demanding answers, as horrible as they were.

He couldn’t avoid this conversation. You were… you had taught Sadie to be honest and, in her doing so, to expect honesty in return. He didn’t know how to be. How could he explain this?

He didn’t know where to start.

He wasn't going to say anything. Sadie knew that. Adults would rather hide their emotions and not speak about things. She pushed herself away from him, the little force she exerted rocking Jake’s body back, readying herself to get up and leave.

This had been a bad decision, after all.

“Did anyone tell you why they call me Hangman?”

Jake’s words made her stop, making her fall back into the sand, kneeling before him.

“It’s your call sign,” she said innocently. Jake frowned, biting his lip. “Did they tell you the story?”

Sadie copied the look on his face, thinking about it before admitting, “A little. I know you left someone behind.”

It sounded worse coming from the mouth of a child.

Jake sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yes… but there’s a little more to it than just that.” He couldn’t look her in the eye as he managed to form the words, “My father… he was a tough man. A lot behind the meaning of that call sign has to do with him. He left … scars. Sometimes, they make me act in ways I don’t mean to.”

Sadie’s eyes softened a little, but she still looked confused. “So that’s why you said those things? Hurt her?”

Jake looked down to the sand in shame, nodding once. “When I’m stressed, the anger… the frustration... It brings back memories. It’s easier to put a mask up… lash out. Even when it’s the wrong thing to do.”

"So apologize," she sniffed, shrugging. "Uncle Roo did."

"It's not that simple, Sadie."

She eyed him hard. "Yes, it is."

Her tone left no room for a reply. Who was he to refute the honesty of a ten-year-old who had seen more shit than anyone her age?

"I know you're hurting too," she said, her voice small and trembling. "But hurting others won't help, Uncle Jake.”

A sad smile crossed his lips. "I don't know what the right answer is, Sadie."

Sadie looked at the fire, watching the flames dance. She didn’t know the correct answer either. Adults would rather hide their emotions and not speak about things than admit they were wrong. But he had to try, right? Cause if he didn’t at all, it would only make it worse.

Maybe she could nudge him one last time.

"Do you still have the note I gave you when you helped me with my math homework last year?"

Jake stared at her momentarily before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, and opening it to find the ripped piece of paper. He had kept it tucked away in the back pouch, even after all this time. Her writing was slightly smudged on account of her using a pencil, but he could still make out her words along the top.

I believe in you.

"I didn't randomly invite you to that Saturday Night," she started to say, watching him stare down at the piece of paper. "I invited you because you looked sad when you thought nobody could see you."

Sadie paused her words, searching his face for any hint of emotion, before she continued. "Because you needed to know people care."

"Your Aunt said something similar to my brother," he said, not looking up from the piece of paper. "That the only reason she allowed me to come that night was because you reminded her of something your mom believed in."

"Of course she did," she said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She loves you."

Jake's hand clenched on his thigh involuntarily, his eyes turning away from the fire to the water. Growing up without love, without hearing those words, Jake was left wondering if he was deserving of such a remark.

How could he be anything else when all he ever did was self-impose an executioner’s noose around his neck, hanging himself with his own fear and self-doubt, always cutting himself off from what he craved most.

Hangman, indeed.

But Sadie wasn’t done - not by a longshot. Even with her tears, perhaps a touch quieter now, she managed a soft smile, telling him, “You taught me it’s okay to mess up, you know.”

Jake looked at her, puzzled. “I did?”

Sadie nodded, taking in a deep breath. “When you helped me with my math homework. I was struggling, messing up horribly. I wanted to quit. And nobody seemed to listen to me trying to understand till you came along.”

Jake was trying to see where she was going with this. Math and messing up a relationship were two entirely different things.

“But I was messing up because I was trying. And trying means the possibility of someday getting it right. I was so scared to mess up, but then you sat with me, listened, and made me realize it was even scarier not to try at all.”

“What does this have to do with …?” he trailed off, Sadie glaring at him as his voice died down. “You messed up, Uncle Jake. Bad. But that wasn’t the worst thing you could do to hurt her,” she stated, taking another deep breath. “It would be if you stopped trying to be better. Stopped trying altogether.”

Sadie thought about what Jake just told her about his family. Then she thought about everything that had happened over the last few weeks, the question she had once asked you about, the one that had plagued her until you made her recognize the truth.

"You're not your father, Uncle Jake. You're you.”

Jake couldn’t help the tears, as treacherous as they were, from pooling in his eyes as he lowered his head. He felt a tightness in his chest, a mixture of gratitude and pain, before he grimaced stiffly, huffing out, "It's a pretty messed up world we live in.”

Sadie didn't hesitate when she replied, "I'm almost eleven, Uncle Jake. I don't understand the world at all." Her bottom lip started to tremble, her eyes watering as she let out a sniffle. "But I know you never know when you'll say I love you for the last time."

Jake knew she was referring to her mom, her sudden death that night. But her words hit Jake differently. He recalled the moment he stood on Penny's porch and decided he'd try to take his chance with you.

You were still his possibility of someday. That had never changed. Like he thought then, time was something he was never promised. It was time spent well in the weeks he lived with you and Sadie. Small moments meaning the world, whether it was staying up to play a game with Sadie or waking up to see you sprawled out across his chest.

They were moments he thought he'd never have. Now that he had them, he was left wondering if he should spare you the heartbreak that came with loving someone like him.

Sadie's admission, and words of advice, were more damning than she knew.

He looked up from the sand to peer hesitantly at her face, not surprised to find another remark about to pass her lips.

"If you can't say you're sorry, my Aunt and I don't need to add somebody else to the list of people who've hurt us. So if you want to leave, go ahead but stay away," Sadie remarked, hiccuping as fresh tears streaming down her face.

Every word Sadie uttered hit deeper than any shitty remark his father or brother could throw back in his face. The façade he built, in the face of every slight to his character, was no match for a ten-year-old who had the ability to see through everyone's bullshit, including his.

He couldn't manage a reply. She had given him blows no physical assault could ever imagine reaching.

Sadie saw Jake's silence as a chance to leave. Aunt Nat wouldn't be gone for much longer, and she knew if she weren't with Uncle Bob soon, she'd cause a panic. She got up, rubbing the dirt from her hands, standing over the conflicted aviator with a face marred by sand dust and tears.

Sadie stepped forward to leave. But at the last second, she whipped around in a move that reminded him so much of you. Her voice was firm, scathing even, adding with a note of finality, “I won't be the one to stop you from leaving. And I won’t be the one to welcome you back either if you change your mind. If you're gone, stay gone. We can survive without you."

After shooting him a hateful glare, Sadie left Jake sitting in the sand, staring after her. She wiped her eyes as she ran, finding Bob sitting at the nearby bonfire with the rest of the team. He pulled her into his arms with a laugh, instantly handing over his marshmallow-topped stick with a smile as Sadie giggled, her sadness disappearing as she roasted Bob on the quality of his marshmallow.

Jake threw his head back to the sky, still kneeling in the sand, fighting the knot in his throat.

Damn, George.

Damn, his father.

Damn, Bradley.

Damn, you.

And in some ways, despite not wanting to admit it…

Damn, Sadie.

He didn't know how to make this right. But he wanted to. He had to.

That had to be enough.

Right?

.... Ouch, Jake... And OUCH, SADIE!

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 17 - Come a little bit Closer coming soon.

142 notes · View notes

coallise · 26 days

Text

Happy life in heaven

This is part of one au that @seramilla /@contrivedchaos birthed from the ask box. Carmilla and her daughters are happy winners in heaven. Vaggie got hurt bad and needs physical therapy and maybe a mother and sisters.

Emily focused in on Carmilla and rushed over, a bounce in her step.

“‘Milla!” Emily cheered before hugging the angel's side.

Carmilla stood tall amongst the other winners, black and white hair pulled into a bun wearing a black off the shoulder top and white leggings and black pointe shoes. She gave Emily a one armed hug and kissed her head.

“Hola, nina, what do you need,” Carmilla asked. With her were her two daughters Odette and Clara. Odette wore a white button up over her leggings and long sleeved top. Clara had a red crop top and cargo pants over her leggings.

“Ok, so one of heaven defenders got really hurt. She needs physical therapy and I was hoping you could teach her how to dance. She's getting so depressed doing the normal physical therapy exercises and,” Emily started to ramble.

“Have her met us at the dance studio at three. We're there every weekday. Do you know what she should wear or?” Carmilla asked, already pulling out the list for the required clothes.

“I got it! Thank you so much! I'll let her know,” Emily gave her one more squeeze before flying off.

At 2:30 Vaggie was looking at the door of the dance studio. She didn't know why she agreed to take the dance lessons, she could barely walk without a cane, therapy has gotten her nowhere but Emily's puppy dog eyes made her melt.

She took a deep breath and hobbled in on her cane. The inside was warm, old worn wood floors, walls with dents from various posters and decorations being posted and taken off.

“Oh hey! You must be Vaggie,” Clara bounced up to her, “I'm Clara, come on, I'll show you the studio.”

Clara took her hand and brought her to the elevator. It was worn down and had a gate as a door.

“I never seen a place this worn down in heaven before,” Vaggie mentioned as the elevator went up and she saw the old bricks of the shaft.

“Well, it's designed after the studio we started dancing at when we were alive. When mama mentioned wanting to give lessons, the studio took to the appearance of our memories of this studio,” Clara explained. The elevator shifted before stopping. Clara dragged her again to the studio room.

It was well kept and clean but worn down like the rest. The shine had been buffed off the bars that lined the room and some mirrors had been discolored. Off to the side was Odette and Carmilla stretching.

“Mama! Vaggie's here!” Clara called.

“Can you bring her to the benches, mija, I'm going grab her shoes,” Carmilla went to the far end and pick up a box while Clara sat Vaggie down on the work bench. She traced the grain and words that had been carved in it.

“Ok, chiquita, this is how you tie ballet flats, you cross them here,” Carmilla started as she started to tie the shoes.

“Si habla Espanol, “ Vaggie pointed out.

“¿Quieres que hablemos español durante la lección?” Carmilla asked as she helped Vaggie to her feet and led her to the bar where her daughters were stretching.

“No, we can continue in English,” Vaggie didn't want to mention her Spanish had gotten rusty over the years.

“Fair, now let's start with stretching, try and touch your toes,” Carmilla instructed. She led Vaggie threw the stretches and the basics before it was time for dinner and the end of the lesson.

“Adios, Vaggie,” Carmilla said. Her heart tugged in the direction Vaggie was walking, an unspoken invite to dinner on her lips.

Each day for a week went similar, Vaggie could walk by herself for a good hour now, which made her happy.

“Chiquita,” Carmilla said as she held the sleeve of the tshirt Vaggie was wearing. It had bad sweat stains on it.

“It's hard doing laundry by myself. I'll wash it soon, I promise,” Vaggie blushed and turned away.

“Shouldn't you have someone helping you?” Carmilla's grip tightened. Clara and Odette started to pack their stuff despite being the beginning of practice.

“Well, a guy comes every day but, I can do fine on my own,” Vaggie tried. She stumbled when Carmilla yanked the shirt and started to drag her to the elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Your place,” Carmilla's clipped her words. Vaggie understood that there was no room for argument with that tone. Vaggie hung her head in shame when they arrived. Trash bags were full of takeout containers too heavy for her to put in the trashcan, clothes in a pile by her bed, some lightbulbs had burned out.

Carmilla twitched.

“Mama, we got the kitchen,” Clara supplied.

“It's -” Vaggie was about to protest but the look Carmilla sent her made her shut up. The three started to work on cleaning the small apartment, Carmilla had the clothes in a bag over her shoulder.

“We can wash these at our house, someone needs a shower,” Carmilla ordered. Vaggie opened her mouth to protest but ended up nodding.

“Do you have a shower seat?” She ended up asking.

“Of course, mij- chiquita,” Carmilla coughed at her slipup. No one mentioned it.

Carmilla's house was bright and airy with a large outdoor garden in the middle. Vaggie had to admit the shower felt amazing and being in clean pajamas was so nice.

When she was done, Vaggie went to the kitchen where Carmilla and Clara were starting dinner.

“Chiquita, think you can set the table?” Carmilla asked.

“Plates and silverware are in the cabinet,” Clara pointed to an antique cabinet where plates were on display. Vaggie easily set the table and Odette came in to say the clothes were in the wash.

“You stained some stuff bad, I used half the bottle of pretreat and I'm not sure if it got it all out,” Odette said.

“Oh well, we'll just get her new clothes to replace them,” Carmilla put a large bowl of chili on the table as Clara put some arepas down. They waited till everything was set and Carmilla took her first plate before they got there's. Every time Vaggie turned away, her plate was refilled. She knew better to leave any on her plate and tried fighting off the three sets of hands determined to put more on her plate.

“I'm full, para! I'm full!” Vaggie yelled, turning her plate over.

“Too full for churros?” Carmilla asked. Vaggie paused, it was a trap and she knew it. They weren't done, desert wouldn't be brought out yet, but if she said yes then she wouldn't get churros, if she said no then they'll put more food on her plate.

“The food needs to settle,” Vaggie tried. It seemed like the right answer as they backed off. After awhile, the churros were brought out and they ate them while watching the TV. Vaggie didn't know when she fell asleep but when she woke up, she was in a bed with a quilt, the morning sun shining threw the window and the smell of pancakes in the air.

“Mijas! Breakfast!” Carmilla's voice rang threw the house. Vaggie groaned as she got up and put on a random outfit. It was a red blouse with a knee length skirt she didn't remember owning.

“Can chiquitas have breakfast too or is it only for mijas?” Vaggie joked when she came in, neither daughter was there yet.

“I think I have enough pancakes for a chiquita,” Carmilla rubbed Vaggie's head. She hesitated a moment before kissing it, “thou you might be able to take their portions soon.”

Carmilla waited a moment before sighing, “Clara! Odette! Breakfast!”

Vaggie flinched and she heard two sets of feet run over.

“We're here, mama!” Clara said, she was putting on her shirt, hair undone. Odette held up her pants with one hand, toothbrush in her mouth.

“Finally, and here I was starting to think we were going to have to eat this ourselves,” Carmilla smiled as they all sat down.

Vaggie tried to go home but each day for months she found herself eating at their table, sleeping in their bed and battling the two for their shower.

“Mama! Look! I finally did it!” Vaggie called over. She could finally do a standing split.

Clara and Odette had their jaws on the floor as Carmilla got tears in her eyes.

“Perfecto, eso es Perfecto,” Carmilla paused before smiling, “mija.”

Vaggie suddenly realized she called Carmilla mama and tried to take it back but that was hard when she was pulled into a backbreaking hug.

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #clara carmine #hazbin carmilla #hazbin clara #hazbin vaggie #hazbin odette #odette carmine #vaggie carmine

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ghoststyles · 10 months

Text

Fairway to Heaven - Part 6

WC: 8.8K

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

_________________________________________________________________

Instead of hurt, betrayal or disgust, Briar feels heartbroken. Heartbroken Harry had to endure that. She moves closer, embracing him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he violently cries into her shoulder. She rubs circles on his back, letting him get out his upset and frustration.

“You didn’t deserve that. At all,” Briar says softly. Harry nods, just thankful she’s not upset at him. It took him years of therapy to be able to openly speak about his situation.

“Do you know his name?”

“Oliver,” Harry rasps.

“That’s beautiful. I bet he looks so much like you. I bet he has your kind eyes. Your charm. Your ability to make anyone feel special. I bet he’s clumsy like you. And I bet he’d like to meet you, too,” Briar says slowly.

Harry cries harder, the sobs wracking his body.

They sit there for over an hour before Harry finally calms down. He musters up the courage to look at her. His eyes are so puffy and red, and snot is dripping from his nose.

“I understand if you’re upset with me, and if you never want to see me again,” he sighs in defeat.

“Harry, look at me,” Briar grabs his face and runs her thumb along his cheek. “I’m absolutely not mad. I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. I want to help you deal with this, whatever way you need to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I think I want to sleep for a while.”

“Of course, let’s go up.”

“Harry, baby. Wake up,” Briar whispers, gently waking Harry from his sleep. It’s well past 11AM. She called Niall to let him know Harry isn’t feeling well.

Harry stirs, the memories of last night flooding his mind. He’s not even sure if he slept. Briar runs her finger nails along his back, gently soothing him.

“I called us both out of work today, so we’re going to spend it how you want to.”

Harry exhales. He can’t even think of the last time he took a day off. Or the last time he had a panic attack. The two probably coincide.

When Camille left him, he buried himself in work. He quickly rose to the top as an associate, eventually becoming a manager. Now that his predecessors are retiring, Harry sometimes works from 6AM until 8PM. Even on Christmas Day.

He takes some labored deep breaths.

“Can we go get breakfast?”

Briar scrunches her eyebrows, not expecting his answer.

“Of course. Take your time getting dressed.”

Briar leaves the room, already having been up and dressed for hours. She tossed and turned wondering how anyone could treat him that way. Harry loves so strongly and so deeply. She already knows he’d be an incredible father, based on his love for Gus. But, she didn’t know him in his 20’s and 30’s. Maybe he wasn’t as mature as he his now.

Her heart broke again watching him sleep. He looked sad, even when unconscious.

Harry eventually comes downstairs, slowly and solemnly. He pets Gus, reveling in his fluff. He is truly their emotional support dog.

“C-can we go to this place to get a full English? You’ve had it before, right?”

“Yes, when I went to London in high school. Will you eat my beans?”

Harry laughs softly, “Yes, I’ll eat your beans.”

She guides him out to her car, knowing he’s probably not in a state to drive. She’s too nervous to drive his nice car. It’s a beautiful day, so she took the top of her jeep off. She can’t wait to see his hair flying in the wind.

They pull up to his requested breakfast spot. The parking lot is a little deserted. She is relieved, because if he needs to cry a little he can do so without judgement.

The waitress greets them with a chipper tone, but quickly adjusts based on their sad demeanor. Briar orders them both a coffee and full English breakfasts.

They sit in silence for a while.

“I know I don’t know her, but, should you call your mom? Is this something you’d talk to her about?”

“I did in the beginning; my sister, too. But then it just became a cycle of discussing the same thing over and over. So I just stopped bringing it up.”

Briar nods, knowing the feeling. After her dad died, she was enrolled in therapy. As a 6 year old, she didn’t have much else to talk about.

“I saw a therapist for a while. I was a little unwilling to talk about any of my other issues, so after a while they just gave me a prescription and sent me on my way. I felt like I got kicked out.”

Briar grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it. “That’s the tough part of it; they give you the tools and you’re supposed to just figure out how to use them. There were so many times I just wished my therapist had told me what to do and what to say.”

Harry hums. The food arrives a few minutes later. He gently breaks his egg yolk, “I’d really like you to meet my mum and sister.”

She smiles, “Aw, yes, I’d love to. It didn’t even cross my mind since you met mine so early on. Well, not my mom, I guess.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks, happy to move onto a different topic.

Briar blows air out of her mouth as she tries to recall the last time she saw her mother.

“Christmas, I guess.”

“Can I meet her? Or do you just want to wait until it happens organically?”

“No, no. I should call her soon, anyway. I’ll try and set something up,” Briar says, pushing her food around. She supposes they're both facing their demons head-on today. “Do you mind if my brothers come? They usually need to be coerced into seeing her.”

“Of course not. Whatever is most comfortable for you guys.”

They eat in silence, only speaking up when the waitress returns to the table every so often.

“I send him birthday cards,” Harry says, staring at his hands.

Briar lifts her head, giving him a look to continue his thought.

“Every year around Christmas time. I’m not even really sure when his birthday is. I’ve never written a note, or anything. I just sign my name ‘Harry’. For all I know, she’s never even told him about me. Or even given him the cards.”

Briar’s sadness returns, evident in her facial expression.

“H-have you tried contacting your mutual friend? The one that introduced you?”

“I did, years ago. Everything was kind of fresh at that point, and I definitely think he took sides. I’m pretty sure they’re together now. His parents own an art gallery and are involved in high-society over there,” he coughs. “I just look like a schmuck in comparison. The craziest part of it all, I don’t know what I did to deserve no contact. I’m scared I’ll die never knowing.”

Briar closes her eyes, willing herself not to cry, “Did you ever fly to France to try and find her? Or her family?”

“I did. Once. I’d say about 6 months later. I drank whiskey the entire flight to Paris. I didn’t even have any luggage with me. I just marched off the plane and went to where I last knew she lived. I should’ve known her keeping her Paris apartment meant something.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Briar says softly.

“I knocked on the door. She opened it so quickly. I think she was expecting someone else. Her jaw dropped, and she tried to close the door on me. I was able to get inside, but she started throwing bottles at me. Then she threatened to get a restraining order against me. She was really showing at that point, so I didn’t want it the police to get involved.”

Briar is horrified the more he tells her.

“I went home to my mum’s for a while. Then flew back to the US and just went back to work. I can’t say I’ve done anything substantial since then.”

“Oh, stop. You renovated a gorgeous house. You started going back to Wynnewood. You’ve become your own boss,” Briar rattles off his accomplishments.

“I just thought I’d be married by now,” Harry chokes up a bit. She moves to his side of the table, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I know this is ironic coming from a 23 year old; but, there’s no timeline on life, baby. You faced adversity and are moving on from it. That takes a lot of courage.”

Harry chuckles, wiping away a stray tear. Briar is so emotionally intelligent for a 23 year old.

They leave the café, opting to go back to Harry’s house. They grab books from his shelf and read them outside on his comfy lounge chair under the cabana, hoping the sunshine heals them both. Harry eventually dozes off, finally achieving deep sleep after a rocky 24 hours.

Briar massages his head, twirling his curls in between her fingers. As much as she wants to comfort him, she can’t help her tendencies to meddle.

She visits Niall’s Instagram, immediately checking his following list. She scrolls, closely examining every profile to find even a tiny breadcrumb that could lead her to Camille. Harry never said her last name, so she’ll have to pull out the big guns of internet stalking.

Nothing stands out tremendously; He doesn’t follow many people. Just a few OnlyFans models, golf companies and Barstool Sports. She spots a familiar name, Lydia…Where does she know that name from?

Briar’s thumb gives one last ditch effort scroll, when she lands on an account: @Fingermonkey

She clicks on it, and her heart immediately stops. Camille. The woman who made her boyfriend lose sight of who he was. The account is public, so she cautiously proceeds.

She’s a striking woman; she can see why Harry fell for her. She exudes beauty and class. It’s almost palpable.

Briar shudders, unsure if she should continue. She’s on her page for selfish reasons; to see Harry’s son. Her curiosity gets the best of her. She scrolls some more, before stopping at a photo of a tiny hand. Briar bites her lip, staring back down at Harry.

“No going back,” she whispers to herself.

After another few scrolls, she finds what she’s looking for. It’s from around 5 years ago. Camille is holding a tiny boy with dark brown curls and green eyes, bright as day. They’re on the swings, bright smiles adorning their faces.

Briar feels like she’s been sucker punched in the stomach. He’s a beautiful little boy. A boy Harry never even got the chance to love and help raise. She takes several deep breaths and scrolls back even further to 8 years prior.

Another blow. The engagement photos.

Briar winces, zooming in. They seem to be taken in California, just as the sun is setting. Camille is holding Harry’s face as she kisses him, the ring being the main focal point. She reads the caption:

J'ai trouvé mon éternité.

I found my forever.

She clicks off Camille’s page, rolling her eyes. She clears the search history, knowing she’s been caught stalking in the past.

Briar has so many questions.

Does she want Harry to find her? Why is Niall still following her?

Briar is physically at Wynnewood, but mentally elsewhere. After her stalking session, Harry woke up feeling better, so they decided she should go home. As much as he loves her company, he always needs alone time to process things. She was happy to oblige, needing her own time to breathe.

Briar is taking inventory after her shift when she spots Niall on the practice green. A lump forms in her throat, but she knows she needs to confide in him. He smiles, waving her over.

“Hey, Briar. I heard about the other day. I was up in the clubhouse already when everything went down. How’re you doing?” He asks, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Everything was taken care of, so I just needed some time to shake it off.”

He nods, fiddling with his putter. Niall looks around, not really sure what else to say.

“Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?”

His eyes go wide, clearing his throat, “Listen, if it’s about Lydia and I…”

Finally, it clicks. Lydia from the party. Lydia who told her she’s also dating someone from the club. Briar gasps, “I, uh, what?”

“Fuck.”

Briar crosses her arms in front of herself, “Um, I was just going to tell you that Harry told me about Camille, and about the baby.”

“Fuuuuck,” Niall scratches the back of his head. “Can you ignore what I said before?”

Briar laughs, “For now. We can talk about that later. I just wanted to see if you had other insight. It was obviously a very emotionally charged conversation.”

“Yeah. Are you off now? Do you want to go inside for a drink?”

She nods and waits for him to clean up his stuff. They walk back to the clubhouse in silence, so Briar grabs a table outside while Niall changes in the locker room. The club is empty enough, so she’s not worried about members seeing them together.

He sits down, sighing, “I-I don’t really know how to proceed. Do you just want to tell me what he’s told you?”

“Sure,” she says quietly. Briar begins filling him in about their dinner at Ashmont and Jonathan revealing more than Harry was willing to share. Her heart races as she shares more details.

“That’s tough, darling. I know he was going to tell you eventually. The situation absolutely wrecked him. It took years to feel like I had my friend back.”

She nods, biting her lip, staring down at her shoes. Harry bought her a pair of lavender and white New Balances; her initials stitched in the tongue.

“You’re a very rational person, even at your age,” he smiles, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “So, I know you’ll both work through it. But, what are your feelings?”

Briar sucks in a breath. “I’m not angry, and I want to support him, of course. But, I can’t help but have this sinking feeling in my stomach. I did some Instagram stalking.”

“You found Camille on there?”

“Yeah, through your account,” she waits for Niall to look back up at her.

He meets her eyes, “I keep a distance. I don’t speak to her or our mutual friends from study abroad. But I like to keep tabs. He’s my mate and I want to protect him.”

Briar nods, picking the skin at her cuticles.

“He’s a cute kid, isn’t he?” Niall smiles.

“Yeah, he is. Harry didn’t deserve that. At all,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Should I meddle? Or just stay out of it?”

“I would hate to see this kid get any older without meeting his father. And, if you think you’ll be,” he trails off, smiling to himself. “Sticking around for a while, I think you have the influence on him to face it head on.”

“I hope I’ll be sticking around for a while,” she smiles.

Briar feels slightly better after talking to Niall. She has to remember to ask Harry if he knew about Lydia.

Briar was in need of some cathartic release. If Harry was willing to face this obstacle, she’s willing to face hers. She sits in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and scrolls her list of contacts before landing on Catherine Barlowe.

She dials, going through several cycles before finally being answered on the final ring.

“Hi, Bri. How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m so good, honey. I’m so happy to hear from you. Dean and I are actually getting ready to move in a few weeks.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” Briar scrunches her eyebrows. That means her mom is selling the house she bought with her dad. The house she lived her first 9 years in before her mother’s addiction led to the 5 of them being placed with her aunt and uncle.

“I thought your brother may have told you. We’re going to California, honey.”

“Who? I thought the last time we all saw you was at Christmas time? And why California?”

“Jasper. He comes to see me. A lot more recently. The other boys only contact me when you do. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from Welles on his own,” Catherine sighs. “Dean is from California. He has young daughters, so we’re moving there to be closer to them. You remember? I told you about them.”

Tears begin welling in Briar’s eyes. Her mother, now 4 years sober and remarried gets to go play house with Dean’s young children. Instead of tending to her own.

“Yeah, I remember. There’s three of them, right? But they weren’t at the wedding,” Briar says quietly, remembering the rushed ceremony that took place the week after they finished their program together. Welles was furious, Jasper and Callum didn’t say a word, and Cormac cried the entire time. Patrick couldn’t bear to go. Meredith went in support of the siblings.

“Yes, he didn’t have custody rights at the time. But, that’s all settled now. We’re so happy, Bri.”

“I’m glad, Mom. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out to lunch soon. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” she rasps out.

“That sounds great, honey. Just text me the details. Talk soon.”

“Bye,” Briar chokes, throwing her phone into the passenger seat. She takes a few deep breaths to regulate her breathing. The tears continue to fall as she pulls out of the parking lot of Wynnewood.

Her phone begins to buzz, seeing Harry’s contact photo pop up.

“Hi,” she says solemnly before placing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Hi, Birdie. Are you okay?” He asks, sensing her tone.

“Yeah, yep, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I figured you’re leaving Wynnewood. Was gonna see if you want to grab Gus and come over. I can make us dinner.”

“Um, I’m kind of tired. Think I’m just gonna go home, if that’s alright.”

“No, yeah, of course, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Bye.”

She hangs up, not even bothering to say bye. Briar knows she shouldn’t take it out on Harry, but she’s struggling to hold herself together. She hears a crack of thunder before feeling thick rain drops hit her face.

“Fuck!”

Briar never put her Wrangler’s roof back on the other day. The droplets get more intense as she nears her apartment. Pulling into her spot, she frantically runs to her storage area to grab her roof parts.

It’s down pouring now, but she charges forward with her parts, lining them against the car. Her biceps are burning trying to lift the piece on top of the car. Tears are starting to roll down her face, her hair beginning to stick to her neck.

Briar squeezes her eyes closed, defeated as she feels two arms wrap around her. She whips her head around, startled by her boyfriend.

“What’s going on, love? Let me help,” Harry says, pulling her down from the step of her Jeep. She steps to the side under her apartment’s overhang, watching him effortlessly put the roof of her Jeep back together. He’s absolutely soaked, his gray sweatpants now a charcoal color. She watches the way his back muscles move under his white t-shirt.

He fastens the parts from the inside of the car before grabbing her backpack in one hand, and her hand in the other. He guides her to her apartment while fumbling with her keys. Gus greets them at the door, unsure who to go to first.

Harry sits Briar down on her ottoman before grabbing the fuzzy blanket from her sofa.

“What’s going on? I’m a little scared,” Harry says, his eyes full of concern.

She takes a shaky breath before sobs take over her whole body. She folds in on herself, burrowing into the blanket.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she wails. Harry is stunned, unsure what she’s apologizing for.

“I should be supporting you and here I am getting so overwhelmed and then trying to deal with my own bullshit,” Briar cries. He places his hand gently on her back.

“Baby, I’m lost. Did something happen today?”

“I called my mom. She’s moving to California to raise her new husband’s kids,” Briar cries, snot pouring from her nose. “I should’ve fucking known. I don’t even know why I called.”

Harry can’t help but feel a little guilty. He mentioned it at their breakfast to get himself out of the hot seat. She took his bait.

“And because I can’t stop meddling, I looked up Camille online,” she confesses. “I even talked to Niall about it all.”

Harry freezes. He figured she would confide in Niall. But he didn’t think she’d look Camille up. He’s too afraid to ask what she found.

Harry guides her to sit up. He grabs her cheeks with one hand and makes her face him, “Hey. Hey. I need you to breathe, Briar.”

Briar cries harder at his use of her name. She can feel herself start to hyperventilate. He wraps himself around her tight. He holds her until she stops shaking. Gus has brought them 5 of his toys to try and lighten the mood.

“Gus, go to your bed,” Harry commands, voice deep. Briar flinches.

She lifts her head, taking in a deep breath.

“I hurt my own feelings today. I went looking for information I shouldn’t’ve,” she admits quietly.

“I think we all do that sometimes. Which part do you want to talk about first?”

Briar loves how diplomatic Harry is. Even when they have their spats, he always makes her feel like an equal partner. She also loves when he completely dominates her in the bed right after.

“W-we can talk about my mom,” she says, assuming that’s the easier of the two. “Her husband has 3 young daughters. So, now my mom gets a do-over. Poof. Our family is just out of the picture.”

Harry sighs. His father did something similar after his parents divorced. It stung for years, and took time to mend. Now they’re very close.

“That’s awful, Birdie. I’m so sorry. Are you going to see her before she leaves?”

She nods, wiping her nose on his chest, “Yeah, told her about you. Apparently my brother has been visiting her in secret. I’m so angry.”

He smiles lightly, “I’m happy to come along. Or not. Whichever makes you more comfortable. Don’t hold it against him. You all have to deal with things differently.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course, baby. Now, do you want to tell me about the other situation?”

“Only if you want to. I crossed a line,” she starts to cry again.

She wraps her hand within his, squeezing tightly. Comfortable silence is usually never an issue for them, but the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Well, social media is public information, baby. I could’ve done it years ago, but never did.”

“I saw him,” Briar blurts out. It was now or never.

Harry closes his eyes, feeling nauseous. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gorgeous, Harry. Really,” she sniffles. “You shouldn’t give up. She’s wrong for what she did. And I want to help you fight for this.”

He can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. His tough girl is ready to sit in the trenches with him. To fight the biggest demon holding him back from his happiness.

“I wrote a letter years ago,” Harry starts. “Let’s send it.”

Briar gasps, sitting up to face him, “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me.”

“I’m not. I’m not sure if this is too soon, but I already know I want to keep you around for a long, long time. This will help me get over my last hurdle.”

Briar cradles his face, kissing him gently.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

They huddle together.

Briar starts to snicker, “Did you have any idea that Niall and Lydia, the server from the club, are dating?”

Harry’s head shoots up, “Huh?”

“Okay, good. I would’ve been pissed if you hid that from me."

“How’d you find out?”

Briar laughs, “I said, ‘Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?’ And he confessed immediately.”

Harry throws his head back laughing.

Harry is in his study, silently reading his letter from years ago. His tears are falling onto the paper, dotting and blurring the ink. He was 32 when he wrote this. It sounds old, but he was a kid. It was hard to keep him at home. He had access to disposable income, so he used it to its fullest.

Camille lived a simple life, finding pleasure in gardening, reading and going to cafés. Her job always came first, which kept her busy traveling around the world. Harry was restless; always chasing the next big thing, and partying until his body physically shut down.

It didn’t help that he was a touchy person. Even though Camille had his whole heart, he shamelessly flirted with other women. He let them hang on him at bars, on yachts, and anywhere he could get attention. People in their circle talk; leaving Harry in the hot seat more than once.

He’d be naïve to blame it on Camille’s attachment style. She was generally cold, not showing him much affection. But, nonetheless he pursued her, absolutely enamored by her beauty and grace.

He was dumb enough to suggest an open relationship one time; about 6 years into the relationship. His needs in bed became too much for Camille. She didn’t understand his need to get off and dominate her. He slept at a hotel every night that week. She gave him an out, but he couldn’t take it.

When Camille left, he started hooking up with women more regularly. His heart hurt so bad, but he was finally getting his physical needs met. None of them lasted, until Briar.

Over the course of 8 years, his heart slowly healed. It’s not ideal that Briar is so much younger, and an employee of his country club. There’s a strange power dynamic there. He loved how flustered she got when he looked at her; she still does sometimes, but he can feel the difference.

They bring encourage each other’s confidence. They drive each other to be a better version of themselves. They feed each other’s deepest desires; scratching every itch that had been culminating over several years.

Harry begins rewriting the letter; changing the tone from blinding rage, to one of neutrality. He wishes her well. He hopes she’s healed.

From what? He’s not sure. He hopes she understands his point of view, and will consider letting Harry meet his child. He’d do anything at this point.

He seals up the letter, addressing it to Camille. Not even sure she still lives at this address, he walks it out to his mailbox anyway, lifting the red flag to signal the post man.

He feels weight lift from his chest that had been there since the day he met Camille.

Briar and Harry are sitting at a nice restaurant on the water. She sips gingerly at her mojito while they wait for her mother to arrive. Briar extended the invite to her brothers, but received radio silence from them all.

She’s anxiously bouncing her leg, to which Harry firmly grasps her thigh as he locks his jaw. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. After the emotional turmoil they’ve experienced over the last few weeks, their sex life has toned down immensely. She misses his hand around her neck and his dirty whispers.

“Relax. I’m right here,” Harry whispers in her ear lowly.

Briar gasps when three of her brothers appear from the restaurant’s entryway. Jasper must’ve picked up Callum and Cormac from Patrick’s.

Briar stands to hug her older brothers, while Harry pulls Cormac in for a hug.

“Where’s Welles?”

“Not sure. I haven’t heard from him,” Callum says simply.

She rolls her eyes. He’s 28, but he is the most immature out of all of them.

They sit, easing into a conversation with Harry. She’s grateful she can entertain them while she’s somewhere else in her head. He reaches over to lock pinkies.

Her mother walks in, looking stunning. That’s one thing that Briar has always been jealous of. It’s why her addiction flew under the radar for so long. She was always put together and exuding happiness. But in secret, she was struggling.

Her strawberry blonde hair is longer than when she saw her last, loose waves falling over her shoulders. She’s in a floor length floral gown, a sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill of the restaurant.

She spots them after speaking with the hostess, her smile lighting up the room.

“Hi, my babies!”

Jasper stands to greet her, while her other brothers hold in a groan. She walks around the circular table to press a kiss to Briar’s head, before turning her attention to Harry.

“And who’s this? Don’t think I popped him out,” she laughs, waiting for Harry to stand up.

“Mom, seriously?” Briar grimaces.

“Hi, I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry says smiling, pulling out the chair for her.

“Pleasure is all mine, Harry. I’m Catherine. Isn’t my daughter incredible?”

Harry smiles, nodding. He can sense Briar’s discomfort. He assumes this praise is just for show.

Her mother brings up every topic under the sun, effectively avoiding topics regarding Briar’s father, the move, and her new husband.

They eat, letting Cormac talk about school, Callum talk about grad school and his new girlfriend, and Jasper about his new job. Briar realizes she’s done a shit job at talking to her brothers lately. She doesn’t know any of this.

“Where’s Wellie, Briar? Didn’t you invite him?”

“I did. Didn’t hear from him.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to follow up with him,” Catherine snipes. “It’s not everyday I get to see all five of you.”

“Really? How about you? When was the last time you talked to him?” Briar crosses her arms at her mother.

“It doesn’t matter. This is family time,” Catherine raises her eyebrows, waiting for Briar to snap.

“You know all about that, don’t you mom? Just counting down the minutes until you can go play house with Dean’s kids in California.”

Callum and Cormac look between the two women, stunned. Jasper’s eyes widen.

“California?” Callum questions. “Mom, what is she talking about?”

Catherine looks around, “I thought Jasper would’ve filled you all in. I’m moving to California with Dean to be closer to his kids. They’re younger.”

Jasper looks down, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. Callum shakes his head, throwing his napkin on the table before storming off. Cormac starts to cry, to which Harry puts a hand on his back.

“Mom, how can you leave?” Cormac asks, his lip quivering.

“Baby, you’re all adults. You don’t need me anymore.”

“I’m only 17, Mom,” Cormac chokes.

Briar has tears streaking down her face. Briar hasn’t needed her mother since she was 12 years old, hoping and praying for her to come back. Cormac barely knew her; only fantasizing what their relationship could’ve been.

Harry pays the bill before suggesting Catherine leaves. She nods, standing to grab her purse. She silently looks each of her children in the eye before walking out of the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, Bri. I thought she changed,” Jasper says solemnly.

“It’s okay. You deserve to handle your relationship with her however you want.”

Harry and Briar walk out hand in hand after spending 20 minutes consoling her brothers.

They climb into Harry’s car, silently staring ahead. Harry grabs her hand again.

“That was rough, pup. I’m sorry,” Harry says softly.

“Can we just go home? I miss you, Daddy.”

Harry clears his throat as his cock twitches.

“You have me, Birdie. Let’s go home.”

“Be rough with me,” Briar pleads from the bed. “I want it so bad.”

Harry chuckles as he pulls his belt from the loops on his pants. She’s completely bare, her wrists fastened to each corner of the bed. He opts to leave her feet out of the restraints, hoping he can toss her around a bit.

“Daddy’s been taking it easy on his Birdie for the last couple weeks,” Harry says, trailing his knuckle along her rib cage. She keens, shivering from the light touch. “But don’t think I forgot about your stunt at Ashmont.”

Briar freezes, remembering their escapades. She taunted him, removing her panties in the stall, waiting for him to come after her. It’s a shame the night turned into a disaster soon after. She whines, not sure what else to do.

“Hm? Remember that, Birdie? Words,” he stares straight into her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. I was naughty,” she bites her lip.

He doesn’t like that. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into her mouth, choking her a little. “Leave that lip alone. I bite that.”

She purrs around his digits, goosebumps rising on her skin. He removes them from her mouth before sticking them at her core. He barely grazes her folds, seeing how she’ll react. She jerks around, slightly moving her pelvis to meet his hand.

“Ah, ah. No. You’ll be taken care of how I decide.”

She nods, swallowing thickly. She’s eating up everything he throws at her.

“Think I’m gonna take my time tonight,” Harry let’s out an exaggerated sigh. Briar whines, pushing her face into her shoulder. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

Harry pushes Briar’s legs in the air, holding her ankles together, so the lips of her vagina are peaking out between her thighs. He growls at the sight.

“This little pussy is so used to getting what she wants. What does she want tonight, Birdie?”

“Your mouth, Daddy! Please!” Briar balls her fists, wiggling slightly.

Harry spits, watching the liquid drip down her thighs and cunt, “Nah, I’m good.”

Briar’s jaw locks in frustration. She watches as he walks to his closet grabbing her plug and vibrator. He generously applies lube to the plug, gently circling her ass. Briar closes her eyes, laying her head back.

He gently pushes the plug in past the tight muscle, moving it in and out a little.

“Oh my godddd,” Briar exhales. Her chest is rising and dropping fast.

“I think tonight’s the night, baby.”

Briar whines, half out of horniness and the other out of nervousness. He flicks the vibrator on, pressing it firmly on her clit. She throws her head to the side.

“Look at me. Don’t look over there,” Harry threatens, increasing the speed.

She wills her eyes open, staring into his, her mouth opening slightly. The tension is building in her pelvis. She’s sure to come once he starts circling the vibrator on her clit; his signature move. Within seconds of him doing that, she’s crumbling.

Harry shuts off the vibrator and adjusts her leg position so her legs are open wide, one resting on his shoulder.

“Wanna see your pretty face when I fuck your ass,” He says, peppering kisses on her face and neck.

“Please,” Briar whispers.

Harry reaches between them and pulls the plug out and tosses it on the floor. He’ll clean it later. He extends his hand to rest in front of her face.

“Spit.”

She spits on his fingertips, a line of spit connecting them to her lips. He lowers his hand to lightly touch her hole before inserting his middle finger. Briar groans, pulling on her restraints. He quickly inserts another, rocking them in and out of her gently.

Harry’s cock is neglected, standing tall and proud, nearly touching the tip to his torso. Briar begins to panic, unsure if his girth will fit in there.

“Relax, baby. I got you. Do you remember your word?” He says, petting her cheek.

“Bogey,” she says softly.

“Good girl,” he kisses her again. Harry has never withheld kisses, even in her worst punishments. “One more and then we’ll go for it, okay?”

“Mhm,” she nods, a single tear escaping her eye. She trusts her boyfriend with her entire being, but her heart rate is skyrocketing.

The third digit enters her, eliciting a whine. Harry flexes his fingers, giving her a delicious stretch. A thick layer of sweat has formed behind her knees and on her forehead.

Harry kisses her forehead, licking the saltiness from his lips, “All good, Birdie. Doing so well for me.”

After a few more minutes of stretching her out, Harry pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to be eye level with her ass. He licks a long stripe over the now open hole. Briar shivers, pulling on the restraints.

Harry rises from his spot on the bed to pull his underwear all the way off, his cock bobbing as he moves. He grips his length firmly, giving himself a few generous pumps. He kneels over her, undoing her right hand’s restraint. She looks at him curiously, but understands when he entwines their hands.

He uses his right hand to line himself up at her delicate center. Briar sucks in a breath in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head of his dick in, groaning as he moves. His pace is painstaking, taking in every facial expression from the angel below him.

“Such a good girl. Letting Daddy be the only one to fuck this little hole,” he pants, nostrils flaring. His forehead is starting to drip with sweat.

“Only you,” she whines as he pushes in little by little.

“Let me know if you need me to stop and take a break, lovie.”

She furiously shakes her head, still holding in a breath. Harry is finally working his way up to full thrusts.

“Breathe with me,” Harry pleads. “1,2,3, exhale.”

Briar feels high. That breath sent her senses all the way to her pussy.

“Daddy,” Briar breathes heavily.

“What do you need, baby?”

“Fingers. I-In my pussy,” she cries. “Please.”

“Okay, baby. I know y’empty in there,” he smiles down at her lovingly as he untangles their fingers so he can stick them inside. “So wet f’me.”

The sensations are too much once he starts petting her g-spot with his fingers.

“Coming, Daddy,” she babbles.

“Go ahead, Birdie. So fucking proud of you.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, letting out a cry of relief as she hits her wall.

Harry chuckles at her babbling. She is fucked out to high heaven. He wants one more out of her before he comes. He alternates thrusting into her ass and fingering her pussy. He releases her other hand from the restraint. She’s too distracted, so her hand remains in the same spot.

“Rub your little clit, baby. One more f’me.”

“Ugggghnnnn,” Briar whines, drool coming out of her mouth. She circles her clit three more times before she’s clenching hard on his fingers and cock.

The squeeze of her ass pushes Harry into his own orgasm, a ringing forming in his ear. He gives two last lazy thrusts, emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and hangs his head low before slowly pulling out.

Briar squawks, so he shushes her gently. Harry could come again at the sight in front of him. His come is leaking out of her ass hole, dripping onto the sheets below. He picks some up with his finger, smearing it on her pussy. She mewls, her head lolling to the side.

“So fucking good for me. Gorgeous, baby.”

Harry takes a mental image before hustling to the bathroom. He starts the bath, making sure to throw some epsom salt and lavender oil in there. He wets a towel with warm water for Briar, and throws two towels into his towel warmer.

He reenters the bedroom to find his girl curled up, her back to him. He runs his knuckles down her protruding spine. Harry gently dabs the towel along her labias and ass to clean up.

“Birdie, I ran us a bath. Gonna lift you,” Harry coos. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at him with moony eyes.

Harry lifts her from her armpits and knees, and swiftly carries her to the tub. Her eyes are shut, but she rests her head on his chest. He’s become a pro at maneuvering themselves into the tub.

Harry positions Briar at the front of the tub, before finding his seat at the back. He leans forward to pull her body to his chest. Harry closes his eyes and rolls his neck along the edge of the porcelain tub, listening to their uneven breaths.

He plays with Briar’s hair; twirling the long pieces between his fingers. She hasn’t said a word, but he knows she’s elsewhere right now. He moves his fingertips to her scalp, gently scratching around the nape of her neck, hoping she’ll come back to him soon.

“Mmmmm,” Briar hums, smiling to herself.

Harry smiles, increasing the pressure and speed like he’s petting Gus.

“Stop,” Briar whines, her hair now in her face.

“Sorry, Birdie. How do you feel?”

“Good. Sleepy,” Briar yawns.

“Hungry? I can order us something,” Harry taps her sides.

“Can we have Caesar salads and Diet Cokes?” She cranes her neck to look back at him.

Harry laughs, “Sure, baby.”

“And french fries.”

“You got it,” Harry leans down and kisses her.

Briar is staying at Harry’s while he’s in the city for a few in-person meetings. It’s been nice; she does yoga outside in the mornings, takes Gus for walks around the picturesque neighborhood, and cooks using his expensive appliances.

🦊: Hi, Birdie.

🐥: Hi Daddy

🦊: Miss me yet?

🐥: I like being able to lay sideways in your bed

🦊: You can do that when I’m there.

🐥: You’re too hard

🦊: How’d you know? Send me a picture.

🐥: It’s 10AM. Pay attention to your meeting

🦊: I’m not asking.

Though Harry isn’t home, Briar still walks around his house scantily clad. An idea to terrorize her boyfriend pops into her head. Bolting up the stairs, Briar grabs her plug from Harry’s special area in his closet. She smirks to herself, feeling the cool metal in her hand. She walks outside, peering over Maureen’s fence to ensure no one will witness what she’s about to do.

She gathers spit in her mouth before lubricating the plug. She places one foot on the lounge chair for leverage, before nudging the plug past her entrance. Waddling around, she moves two lounge chairs to face one another. Propping her phone up on one, she shuffles to the other to get into position. She removes her sleep tank top and silk shorts, staring up into the sky to get some sun on her face.

She kneels, making sure to pop her ass out more. The phone is set to video so she can take screen shots of the poses she likes best. Or just send the whole damn video to him.

She makes sure to twist her body to fake some curves, looking over her shoulder and touching her hair. She fiddles with the plug, making her whine.

Yup, she’s sending the video.

After a few minutes, she gets up from the lounge chair, being sure to flash the camera. She grabs the phone, scanning it over her body before blowing a kiss.

Delivered

Looking around again, she quickly throws her clothes back on, opting to leave the plug in for the day. Gus joins her outside, laying on the chair opposite hers. She has an urge to shut her phone off completely, just to push Harry’s buttons a little more.

Her quiet morning is interrupted by her ringtone blaring. She picks up without saying anything.

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“Who is this?” Briar is holding back laughter.

“I am in a meeting, little girl. You sent that video when all I told you to send was a photo.”

“So are you jerking yourself in the bathroom?”

“What a fucking mouth on you, huh? And yeah, your little video is causing a problem,” Harry grits.

Briar whines, “Don’t you wish it was my little hand, Daddy? Or my mouth?”

Harry slams his fist against the bathroom stall. His neck vein is protruding as he growls.

Briar is full on smiling to herself. She’s not particularly horny right now, but she’s happy to aid Harry with his issue. She can hear his panting increase before a clattering of the phone.

“Harry?”

“Fuck, I dropped my phone,” he laughs incredulously.

“Oh my, well, maybe I should let you go,” Briar trails off.

“No, baby. Almost done. Just tell Daddy how much you love,” he groans. “Love him.”

“I love you, Daddy. So much. Come for me,” Briar says, leaning into her chair.

Harry releases into the toilet with a strangled moan. He prays to God the conference room walls are thick. He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe down his misfires before flushing.

“Thanks, Birdie. You’re in so much trouble when I’m home. Love you.”

“Okay, bye.”

She hangs up, shaking her head. She looks over her shoulder to see Maureen standing at the fence, watering her plants. Briar gives her a tight smile and wave, to which Maureen grimaces in response.

Briar lounges for a few hours before feeling intense boredom. She cleans a little bit, making sure to dust Harry’s various trinkets from his travels. She lightly wipes a ceramic elephant he got in Thailand, a Russian nesting doll from his time in St. Petersburg, and a clay shark from South Africa. While Harry has been all over the globe, the two share a desire to one day back back in South America. She hopes a llama trinket will one day sit on this shelf.

It’s been a few weeks since the lunch with Briar’s mom and since Harry sent the letter to Camille. While she’s happy Harry is attempting to get to know his son, Briar can’t help but feel extreme anxiety. Why hasn’t Camille responded?

The shrill sound of the doorbell and Gus’s subsequent bark breaks Briar’s train of thought. She can see a figure through the frosted glass of Harry’s front door, lingering at the table of snacks designated for delivery drivers.

Briar can see the UPS logo on the man’s shirt, so she lets him pick his goodies before opening the door. She waved to him as he drives away, looking down at the package at her feet. She wonders if Harry sent her something for when he returns.

Bending over, she’s surprised at the package’s weight. If it were new lingerie, it’d be light. She bends at the knees, inhaling when she lifts the package. Shooing Gus away, she manages to get the package to Harry’s long kitchen table.

She’s wracking her brain what it could be. The entire package is wrapped in brown paper. She flips it over to see the label. Harry’s name written in cursive letters using a Sharpie. Her eyes are drawn to the left hand side; the sender.

C. Rowe 4 Rue Dupetit-Thouars Paris, France 75003

A lump forms in Briar’s throat. It’s been a few hours since she talked to Harry this morning. Her fingers start to dial his number.

“If you’re calling for a follow-up to this morning, I have to let you know that Niall is right next to me.”

She hears Niall groan in the background. When she doesn’t laugh or respond, Harry tries again. “Birdie?”

“Hi, I-I wanted to tell you that a package came f-for you,” Briar chokes out.

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, “Okay, just leave it with the others. Anything else?”

He wants to be sweet with her, but she knows not to call about random things while he’s in meetings.

“I-it’s from Camille.”

Silence. Briar closes her eyes.

Harry sighs, “I see. Okay, thanks for letting me know, pup. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to be okay until then?”

“Y-yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s okay. This whole thing is a little odd. Just try to take your mind off it. Throw it in my office if you don’t feel like seeing it.”

“Okay, I will. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Harry sighs. Niall looks over at him empathetically.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating one of the servers?”

Niall’s eyes go wide before rubbing his temples, “She told you?”

“What? Why wouldn’t she? She’s my girlfriend.”

“We’re not dating. We hooked up once...twice.”

“Mhm,” Harry laughs. “Better nip that in the bud, then.”

Niall groans again just as their next meeting begins.

The anticipation is killing Briar. Harry is due home any minute, so she’s pacing between his kitchen and living room. Sitting on the sofa, sitting on the stool, sitting on the chair, standing by the window. She can’t keep still.

She joins Gus in his outburst of barking and running from window to window when they hear Harry’s car pull into the garage. She pokes her head into the garage to see Harry unloading his bags from the back.

She walks over to him, pressing her hands into his chest.

“Hi, Birdie. Missed you,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“Welcome home,” she smiles back at him.

She grabs the wheeled suitcase, lifting it over the threshold of the door.

“Let me change and we can open it,” Harry says simply. Briar’s stomach drops.

“Okay.”

Briar corrals Gus to the sofa, the two of them perching in the corner seat. Harry changed into colorful sweatpants and a t-shirt that says ‘vote vote vote’. He grabbed the package from his office on his way back into the main living room.

He places the package on the coffee table. The two of them stare at it silently.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this alone?”

“Mm, no, it’s okay. If there’s a letter, then I’ll read that on my own.”

Briar nods, waiting for him to open the box.

Harry peels the brown paper from the edges, tearing straight through his and Camille’s names.

He removes the paper in its entirety, examining the oversized shoe box before pulling the lid off. He places it off to the side while peering at the contents. From first glance, it looks like junk.

He scrunches his eyebrows when he spots one of his old shirts. Did Camille really use this as an opportunity to send his shit back?

He moves the shirt to reveal a few envelopes, a baby rattle, a small pair of vans, a stuffed dog, and drawings.

Harry opens one of the envelopes to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. He can feel his eyes start to sting. They’re in chronological order, showing his son grow from a tiny baby to an excited 7 year old. Briar has her head on his shoulder, silently viewing the photos. The birth photo has words scribbled in Sharpie at the bottom.

Oliver Styles Rowe 18-11-2016 3.3kgs | 53 cm

Harry is crying now. Briar rubs his back, trying to encourage him to keep going.

He flips through the photo, feeling vomit bubble up his throat. This kid looks like a lot of fun. Fun that’s killing him to not have been a part of. Camille keeps him well travelled; there are photos from Tokyo, Australia and Mexico.

Unlike most babies, Harry’s had his signature curls from the start. Briar gasps at the photos as they get closer to present day. Oliver is Harry’s twin.

Oliver receives great marks in school; he’s pictured with several certificates and trophies. He even seems to be a footballer.

Harry puts the stack on the coffee table, turning to face Briar.

“Wow,” Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“What’re you thinking?”

“Just heartbroken all over again.”

Harry went into his office to read the letter. He stops at his bar cart to pour himself some tequila.

It’s short, but gives Harry some closure. Over the last 8 years, Camille embraced motherhood by focusing less on work. She meditates, volunteers regularly, and is extremely involved at school activities.

She and Theo, their mutual friend from study abroad, have been together since she moved back. That sends a pang to Harry’s heart. They got married about 5 years ago, and have a little girl named Amélie. She only talks a little about Oliver, saying how much he reminds her of Harry.

Camille apologizes, which Harry didn’t expect. She recognizes cutting him off from his son was wrong. She also left her contact information, followed by the last line.

He would love to meet you. I think it’s time.

Tears are fully falling on Harry’s cheeks as the heaviness of the last 8 years hits him. His son has Styles in his name. He smiles to himself, feeling the butterflies in his stomach.

He shoves the letter in his desk drawer before wiping his eyes. He joins Briar and Gus back in the living room cozied up by the fire.

____________________________________________________________________

OHM YGOD. SOMEONE PLZ TALK TO ME AB BIRDIE AND HARRY I AM LIVINGGGGG

Taglist:

@daphnesutton @pandeebearstyles @anxiouswaterss @gem1712 @stylesfever @awesomenavy @crazygirlinthisworld @butdaddyilovehim-hs @luxiorchive @alchemxx @narry-heart

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #Harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #fairway to heaven #dom!harry #dom!h #daddy!harry #daddy!h

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talesfrommedinastation · 2 months

Text

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Return'

Doug and I have made up for our disagreement regarding Montana. I did not, in fact, go to his St Patrick's Day party (due to the fact I was busy with my daughter's Scout pack being in the parade), but we bonded over the insane weather in our region recently.

He had a lot of strong opinions on this, and it was a little scattered. Kind of like most TV shows, I guess.

CW: Doug Doug's on and continues to have Feelings about Certain Geographic Locations. Enjoy!

---------------------------------

Episode 4: “Redneck Family Bonding”

You know how I know them clone boys is from Florida?

Because the show opens to Little Orphan Blonde sleeping in their busted work van wearing a puka shell necklace while her brother Daddy Warcrimes is shooting fruit on the beach all while their adopted mutant dog chases critters away from the trash can.

Yup. Average day in Florida.

Of course Daddy Rambo is sitting on the ledge, watching Daddy Warcrimes and mumbling to himself. Do you think he peeps on the neighbors in the other part of Space Daytona? He totally does. Daddy Rambo, you need a girlfriend, make that fruity robot wear a skirt and take it out on a date or something.

Hell YEAH, my boy Toaster Strudel is BACK! Look at him hugging everyone. Good man. Love him. Why is Daddy Warcrimes still wearing that fisherman sweater, is it St. Patrick’s Day still? Where’s Rex? Oh well.

And they’re chilling out on Hoops’s porch, chugging the man’s liquor and eating his sushi. I would, too. Oh man, they’re referencing Ryan-from-Accounting. I’m sad now. Where’s Church Lady? Probably realized she was too good for Ryan-from-Accounting, or maybe she found his bitch wife Laura and now they wine buddies. I guess.

Aw, Mutant Jimmers is friends with the monkeys. God damn, I love Mutant Jimmers.

No one can hack into the iPad Little Orphan Blondie took from her internship at the Museum of Science and Industry. Little Orphan Blondie’s a kid, make the kid do it! All kids know how iPads work!

They still kept Daddy Warcrimes’s armor with the Georgia colors and the skulls! And that’s why Daddy Rambo won’t look at him–look at Daddy Rambo’s colors, man’s a Gator fan and the SEC decides everything now don’t it.

So…they’re going back to Space Wyoming? Oh man, I remember this dump. I hope they threw THAT BLOND JACKASS’S body in a dumpster and let the bears eat it.

Back to the walk-in refrigerator where Daddy Warcrimes hung out with….oh. Oh. Sassy Park Ranger. Oh. But hey they found an ATM! How else are they gonna buy weed out here?

You know it’s a redneck family vacation because someone’s gotta get out of the trailer and turn on the circuit breaker cause there’s no power and they gotta watch the Saints play. At least they ain’t hot wiring the HMS Search Warrant to power shit up. Actually, it would be great if they did–that’s some redneck engineering right there and it’s good bonding for those angry boys.

Oh the daddy fight! Daddy Warcrimes and Daddy Rambo need the therapy and they ain’t gonna get it so they gonna do what rednecks do when they upset and need to talk…go outside the trailer and scream and shove each other while the dog barks at everything. Someone needs to trip on a rusty rake now. I feel like I’m watching my own family on Christmas.

Of course, turning off the power means the critters are coming! Is it gonna be a snow gator? No? Oh man it’s one of them worms from that sand movie that Bobbie Lee keeps talking about!

Go go Daddy Warcrimes go! Save Daddy Rambo!

Once again, they rednecks, because nothing solves a problem like shooting a gun repeatedly into the ground. Don’t none of these folks have a taser? Some bear mace? Come on, there’s a Wal Mart on Space Daytona I know there is.

Mutant Jimmers is helping everyone out! Go Mutant Jimmers go! When does Mutant Jimmers get her own show?

Toaster Strudel bitching at everyone as he gonna do. I agree Toaster Strudel, I agree.

Man look at Little Orphan Blondie go and there’s Julio doing all the work while being chased by the snow critter. Why does every animal on earth wanna mate with Julio I swear to God.

And they turned the power back on and boom no more critter chasing. This is the most redneck show I swear I’m watching a show about my idiot brother in law and his friends in Wyoming.

Nothing brings the family together like going out to an abandoned trailer, searching for the power, shooting guns, getting chased by critters and a screaming shove-fight outside while the dog chases a big-assed animal away from the garbage. Yup. Space rednecks. They all need NASCAR shirts.

Well, they got the iPad working again….back to Space Florida! And they all getting along.

Meat Muffin, why did this episode make me so happy?

Tagging Doug's fans because yes: @skellymom @cdblake1565 @megmca @sued134 @eyecandyeoz @amalthiaph @yeehawgeek @eelfuneral @thecoffeelorian @lightwise @archivistofnerddom @askyourfox @heavenseed76 @totallyunidentified

#tbb #cloneforce99 #thebadbatch #the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #redneck doug #doug watches star wars #clone force 99 #doug why #cajun doug #doug the neighbor #space rednecks

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sugar-omi · 10 months

Note

Hi Naeomi!

I have a Baxter ask, but it might be a bit angst? It's all good if you are not comfortable doing it 🤗🤗

I was wondering how Baxter would react to an MC who is kind, goofy, and easygoing with her friends but not to everyone. When Baxter goes to say, "You dont have to go out with me just to be polite--" MC scoffs, "Please, I would never date a boy I didn't like just to be polite." Seeing Baxter's surprised expression, my nervous MC laughs and goes on. "But I like you, so..." Or Baxter would tell her she's too kind or nice after giving him a compliment or treating well on a date, and she would chuckle, "No, no I'm not."

MC had a hard time in school during puberty (as in mean gossip, boys brazenly checking her out and making comments, and small instances of bullying for being 'different'). That is the MC's history, and she has learned from Liz how to stand up for herself and not let anyone disrespect her--she has instilled a mean girl essence in herself with the most cutthroat comeback that has Cove recoil at her side (she has him cover his ears for this reason).

MC finishes high school with a jaded view of boys (except for Cove and Derek, her standards are high because of how kind and sweet these two are) and developed a bit of a sharp tongue when angry, something she is not proud of. And when MC meets Baxter, her crush from 5 years old, she is nervous and blushy and treats him with the utmost consideration. She worries that Baxter would see her spitting vemon one day and not like her anymore.

crying...... your mc reminds me of myself as well bc I'm also jaded n mean sometimes 😬 I will see your mc's in therapy LOL

anyway here you go anon<333 also I had fem reader in mind but I realize it's not very implied either so I hope that's OK

n i will edit the format a bit later bc I'm on my phone again 👍👍 ALSO NEW HEADER WHAT DO WE THINK it's suppose to be coves tattoo but I shrieked it bc I didn't like how bulky it was but now I feel like u can't tell it's the ocean so.... I try I try

tags: hurt/comfort, ok for fem/masc/nb readers, shy/nervous reader, mentions of bullying/harassment, headcanons at the bottom ft step 4, perhaps I'm using this to tell everyone that I think baxter finds assertiveness/"mean"!mc attractive but we won't talk abt that <3333

the first time baxter hears about the issues you had in the past, it was when your cousin laughed about how you look like a cinnamon roll but you slapped a guy hard enough his nose bled.

baxter took note of how your face scrunched up, and you looked at him to scout out how baxter reacted to the comment.

you mutter something quickly, "he deserved it. anyway..."

the mood was a little damp for a moment after that, the joke not well received because of the new addition and baxter felt bad that you had worries about how he'd take what Lee said.

after your group parted ways, and before you could retreat to your bedroom, baxter stopped you.

"forgive me if my words are unwanted, but... if you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here." his voice was soothing, but his pitiful gaze was off putting...

you did appreciate the gesture, baxter is always so considerate but you didn't want him to feel bad for you. you didn't want him to know how vulnerable you were.

when you were still in school, all the bullying had you feeling like a stray ally cat in front of a pack of dogs.

you didn't want baxter to know about the rougher side of you...

after that, baxter starts to notice your mannerisms even more.

you just nod and thank him, hugging him goodnight.

one morning, you brought him a breakfast sandwich and coffee.

"you spoil me y/n. who knew sunset bird was hiding such lovely people."

you just laugh humorlessly, no shyness or humility in it just a pained expression. "I try, glad to know I'm doing good..."

baxter smiles, trying to bring back your good mood. "you are. that must be why cove gravitates to you so much."

you laugh a bit, thinking about your clingy neighbor. "maybe, but he's the sweetest between the two of us. cove always takes care of me, more than I do him in fact.."

when he's in your living room and you're fluttering around the house with haste and fretting over every detail...

baxter doubts that, thinking about how the stories of your childhood he heard from your family and cove when you graciously invited him on the boat trip.

"no need to be humble. now, shall we eat together?"

when he first showed up, you were in a tank top and leggings, but after seating baxter and leaving him with a bottle of water you ran upstairs to get ready and came back in shorts and flowy top in your favorite color.

not that baxter minded, you were beautiful. but you were comfortable before, and it was the middle of the day, so why the sudden change of clothes?

then it was how jittery you were while making some tea, hovering over the pot and fixing baxter's cup diligently.

"y/n..." baxter decides to approach this lightly.

"yes?" you smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. you look so worried, like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"can we talk about what's going on? I don't mean to intrude, I know I'm only here for the summer.."

the reminder stings you but you listen on.

"but you're still someone dear to me, so if it's something you don't mind sharing, I'd like to know what'd bothering you. I want to help, y/n..." baxter places his hand on top of yours.

you swallow but inhale and prepare to tell him enough to paint the picture, at least.

"i.. don't want you to hate me." you hang your head. "i like you so much, baxter. I'm worried that my jaded view will make you run away..."

baxter nods, choosing his next words carefully.

he brings you into his side, holding your hand and the pressure is grounding.

"nothing like that can make me dislike you y/n. of anything, I like you even more." baxter grins at your surprised expression.

"there's nothing wrong with you for being assertive when defending yourself." baxter smiles soothingly and he decides to bring up a moment of weakness he had early in the summer.

"remember when I was a half asleep mess when we went to get drinks that day?"

you nod.

"its like that, I'm not always so prim and proper." baxter laughs, ignoring the flush of his face as he recounts the blunder. "just like I'm a mess in the mornings, you can be a bit snappy but it's all about the situation."

you grin and let out a watery laugh. "are you seriously comparing your inability to be a functioning human in the morning to me being mean when someone pisses me off?"

he grins shamelessly. although with the blush on his face, perhaps bacter feels a bit more humble than usual. "perhaps."

you laugh loudly, "you are!"

baxter grins. "it worked didn't it?"

you nod, wrapping your arms around him, allowing yourself to melt into his body as he hugs you back. "yeah.. yeah it did. thanks baxter..."

baxter loves when you stand up for yourself

seeing you snap at some douchebag hitting on you at the bar even though you said you have a boyfriend and he's right here?!

finds it hot when you're angry

always reassures you that you don't need to bring him breakfast in bed every day for the rest of his life just bc he saw you snap at some nosy Karen after she made a nasty comment about your outfit

it's a beach, what does she expect people to wear???

don't verbally or physically beat someone in front of him bc he Will kiss you

"fuck off! I'm not interested asshole!!"

baxter, heart eyes: "please kiss me, do u wanna get married?????"

#our life: beginnings & always #olba #our life baxter #baxter ward #baxter ward x reader #baxter x reader #baxter dlc #baxter ward x mc #olba baxter #baxter our life

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mazyb0i · 2 months

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Someone on Reddit tried to say that Rick only truly loves Beth, and to prove them wrong, so here I am!

tldr:

Character analysis of Rick Sanchez from an autistic fans point of view, understanding his attachment styles.

He'll do anything for BP, if season 6 proves anything, it's that he'll die for BP. He literally admitted to loving him, which I have not heard him tell or say about anyone before in the show. When

he does say stuff like that it is significant. Bird person is the only character on the show he has been openly genuine with.

If season 7 proves anything, Pers is the only one that can sneak up behind him and grab him out of nowhere without getting some snarky comment, mean look, or a left hook. They both care about each other deeply, that is clear. Rick was extremely

upset by the wedding with Tammy. Rick told the bird person how much he respected him more than anyone, even when he contradicted himself by saying nothing matters, he wanted to be with Percy. He wanted to travel with him and spent every moment with him.

"Then why did you help me?"

"I respect you, and I wanted you to know that you could respect me too."

" But if nothing matters...?"

"You matter! You matter to me."

"Uhhh- Rick... the relationship we have-"

"I never used that word!" - Rick (denialism)

It's funny how after this he calls him a judgmental dork, and not something much harsher.

"Why the fuck are you risking your life for that asshole!?" - Memory rick

"Because, you love him."

"You do maybe, but I don't."

"Yeah, yeah, you're real cool. Now, come help me save his life or fuck off, because I don't need you.

(Very much so loves BP.)

"I'm sorry Rick, but we cannot choose the ones we love" - Pers

"You got that right! Why do you think I'm still fucking down here!?"

Birdperson mentions that he would be dead if it wasn't for Rick, this also accounts for multiple times now since he brought BP back to life recently. Rick has stuck his neck out for the man so many times contradicting his "nothing matters" front, because that's what it is, it is a horrible coping mechanism to ignore your problems and pretend they don't exist because 'nothing matters'.

Its a problem that I have and I'm working through in therapy myself, it's called Denialism. Because 'if you shut yourself out from the world and your problems, then nothing can hurt you, and they don't exist'. You convince yourself you're in control when you're not, you have the least control, and it fucks you up. Rick isn't truly and fully nihilistic, or else literally nothing would matter to him. He makes sure to keep his Morty alive, he constantly brags on about how he can just get a new family, but he has the same Morty that he's had since the beginning and sticks his neck out for him as well.

"No, Morty. Because you were too afraid to tell me. What we had was abusive, don't you see? I'm a bad partner, because I never made you a true partner."

"I was afraid if I jumped in a hole you would just stand there and watch me, you wouldn't even jump in after me!" -Morty

But then Rick in season 1 literally jumped in after Morty when he fell through the garage floor into the Schrodinger's cat void.

"Be good, Morty, be better than me."

And when Rick starts crying at his memories of Morty in season One, but he refrains from expressing it so that Morty does not become, as he puts it, "cocky" (denialism)

I would also like to point out I feel like in the later seasons he starts calling Morty 'buddy' more?? he's a lot nicer to him than he used to be, and just recently allowed Morty to hug him without pushing him away, actually hugging back. He's also stated that he respects summer very deeply, which if he says that about someone, it really means that he does. He sees his Diane in Summer, and he also implies that summer is like a cat, her affection and respect needs to be earned; unlike Morty's dog like affection that is just given away. But we also hear Rick say that Morty reminds him a lot of himself when he was younger, this implies a lot of parallels.

Memory Rick brought out a lot of Rick that we didn't see previously, a person who wasn't fully tainted by the lack of treating mental Health issues, coping issues, unhealthy attachments, and all the other things that led up to Rick being the way he is. he said his heart broken so many times, he's been backstabbed, he is very hurt person. This doesn't excuse all of his actions but is a very good explanation and reason for why he is the way he is and the way the human psyche copes with it's environment to protect itself. it's like walking up to a caged animal with a taser, these are his defense mechanisms, it makes him look like a dick on the outside but currently it is the only thing that he knows how to do on instinct for protection, and that's why he's in therapy. This is why I believe he's genuinely trying to get better, he can get along with his therapist more than ever, even if he has sly remarks he genuinely listens to Mrs. Wong.

"I don't like being told where to go or what to do. I consider it a violation."

"There's a lesson here, and I won't be the one to figure it out"

"I don't discuss problems, I incinerate them"

"It was charmingly analog. For a sec, you kind of made me like myself." - Mem Rick

"You'll grow out of it." - Rick

He resents his younger self for helping him and makes sure to mention that he "grew out" of his ability to like himself, Rick has some extreme self-hatred. it's hard to fully love someone or Express a healthy relationship when you can't even have a healthy relationship with yourself.

"You act like you're the one that got stabbed in the back!" -Morty

"Because I AM THE ONE, Morty. You wanna know why I replaced myself in the beginning of that stupid knights of the morning sun thing!? I SAID don't take the fucking sword! And you were like "Whatever", like I'm our neighbor Jean or David Arquette or something!! You called me boring! I've become dog shit to you! That's what happens when you let people in and they stop respecting you! They touch your shit, they screw things up, they KILL your fuckin family! Go ahead and trust them, you're gonna learn the same fuckin thing." -Rick

#character analysis #rick and morty #rick sanchez #birdrick #rick n morty #birdperson #morty c137 #rick c137 #summer smith #dr wong #therapy #mental health discussion #analysis #character development

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sirmidezz · 5 months

Text

Rambo head canons

Except it's just me projecting

-had a hippie faze himself up until he got drafted. After that his entire perspective changed on them.

-calling him a sad shelter dog is a understatement. He is a soggy wet rez dog that trautman found on the side of the road and gave a hot dog to.

-John's sad puppy dog eyes are not only used for looking at things, but also to secretly hypnotize any waiter lady to get free appetizers.

-he can sing he just doesn't want to. (Let this man sing a Johnny Cash song and be prepared to fall in love.)

-knows so many insults but doesn't use them mostly because he is genuinely a nice guy and doesn't like hurting peoples feelings unless the other person deserves a good word with him.

-he can be mean and not think twice about it, but he chooses not to.

-want to watch a movie with him? He will fall asleep as soon as he sits down on the couch.

-hides candy in his sock drawer to feel in control of himself. (Same)

-he buys candy he doesn't even like just to hide it. (Same)

-don't ever ask John for money. He doesn't have anything to provide and will only give you his thoughts n prayers.

-"ur transgener?" John will understand, he doesn't judge anyone. He grew up around 2 spirited people.

-John will never understand a "deez nuts" joke so please dont make them around him he will only look at you confused and stare at you after you make the joke.

-he has a pair of dad glasses he uses to read any letter sent to him. You want to show him a meme? Watch him pull out a pair of glasses and not laugh at the meme.

-he doesn't want a pet but if you get him a pet he will treat the pet like his own baby.

-when he was younger he learned how to hoop dance. He doesn't know how to dance now which is honestly very disappointing. (Same but with another dance😭)

-unironically goes "hehehe" when he gets what he wants like extra jam on his toast.

-has that generational trauma on BOTH sides. (Got hit with a double whammy)

-looks Lana Del Rey, but is actually mitski.

-almost never cries, but when he does someone probably died. Like nothing else but loss (and his talking about his past) can make this man break down nowadays.

-if he were a line in a song it would be, "cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me," (family line by Conan grey)

-if someone sat john down looked him in the eyes, held his hands and said, "your soul needs peace, you need to releive your anger not with violence, but with a gentle breath, allow yourself to feel for one last time." Then he will cry. Like full on ugly cry into your shoulder and let out pained groans and whimpers typa shit.

-he has big parental issues only he distances himself away from everybody he ever gets attached to in fear of being hurt again.

-he craves physical touch, only he gets so uncomfortable when someone hugs him.

-this man can deadlift 300. maybe even more, he can go walking miles without stopping once. hell he is a whole unit, but he will not go to the kitchen to get you a cup of water no matter how much you ask him.

-hates mushrooms.

-had a pet crawdad he accidentally lost. (It's still alive somehow, he just doesn't know it.)

-thugs it out on a daily. 💯💯 (I will pay for his therapy)

#john rambo #rambo #sly stallone #sylvester stallone #digital art #im so tired #i wanna kms #headcanon #bro i love him #native american #goofy ahh

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pandalexoxo · 3 months

Text

i can’t stop imaging myself being transported into tokyo revengers. though, personally, i believe it would be bitter sweet.

TOKYO REVENGERS X MALE READER

i’d love to imagine meeting takemichi, and confiding in him that i know about his power, that, i too, have a secret. i would tell him that i’m not even from this universe. he thinks time leaping 12 years is weird? try telling him you’re from another reality (basically) where he’s an anime.

to sum up my thoughts (i wrote 13 paragraphs before deleting it bc this is suppose to just be a ramble lmfao, maybe i’m uploading it later and get your guys inputs) i just feel like i would try to be the sunshine guard dog protector, y’know? not necessarily swoop in to save takemichi (tho, i’d definitely swoop in to beat some characters asses just bc i have a personal vendetta) because damn! look at how badass and hot takemichi is, whenever he fights?! (that ass. thiccimichi 😩😼)

now, here’s where my heart aches and my brain fries from overthinking. do i tell takemichi that i watched the anime (read the manga too) and know who will die in the end? do i tell him that i know of the anime but haven’t seen it or read the manga?

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TOKYO REVENGERS ANIME AND MANGA!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

so, we know that in chapter 275 of the manga (probably season 5 in the anime if we’re lucky) takemichi ends up dying by mikey’s hand, a blade through his chest (heart? stomach? idk i haven’t read the manga in a few months. i sobbed hysterically over his death and refused to open the manga back up. that was until chapter 276 came out, how foolish of me to believe takemichi wouldn’t stand back up like he always does. what a true mc)

funny enough, by using mikey’s hand, he’s able to time travel him and mikey, not just 12 years, but back to when they were kids (i think they were 8 or somewhere around there). thus they are able to help each other create their perfect ending.

though… this “perfect ending” can’t happen unless the characters who died stay dead. shinichiro, baji, emma, izana, draken. with these deaths, mikey indulges in his “dark impulses” and thus the kanto manji gang and toman gen 2 end up fighting to lead to takemichi’s death and end with the perfect book closing page.

it’s unfortunate. it makes me tear up, sob, want to throw up (maybe throw myself out the window) but everything needs to happen. not only the deaths but takemichi’s mental health diminishing needs to happen to. this (others teaching him how to fight and his visions) helps takemichi in the last battle to dodge, punch and get close to mikey.

though, how easily takemichi forgives?! boy just smiles off his pain and forgives others, especially in the final chapter??? he just has his beautiful dopey smile on his face when mikey recognized him and then they ride off into the sunset to save their future??? hell. no. i need everyone to put their fists up, stand in a line, and eat my fucking fist.

i need a takemichi villain arc series. would someone be willing to make that for me? what do you want? a cookie? therapy? a hug? emotional and mental stability? no mommy and daddy issues? (i can’t provide the last two unfortunately, still trying to figure that shit out myself lmfaooo. though, my dms are always open. i love chatting with people and sharing dark humor. muah!)

then again, this is why i whole heartedly admire takemichi. he may not be physically strong like the others but as mikey says, he’s incredibly mentally strong. he gets back up. he stays standing. he’s determined and won’t fall until he wins. he’s too kind. i love him so much guys you don’t understandddd. hina, please share, fuck i am on my knees, foaming at the mouth and barking.

ugh :( it’s okay michi. you get your perfect future, though, are you truly happy and at peace? just keep smiling, okay? anywhooo, you know, i could treat you better anyway! xoxo 😼🕺😽

#rambles #blurb #takemichi #hanagaki takemichi #tokyo revengers #takemichi x reader #takemichi x male reader #takemichi x gn reader #takemichi x hinata #mikey. when i catch you mikey.#ken wakui #ken wakui i love you #ken wakui why do you hate me?#ken wakui why do you hate us?#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader

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thatanimewriter · 10 months

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FUCK THIS SHIT, I'M OUT.

➳ request: Hi can i have ruby, and weiss accidentally finding a stoic gn!s/o who breaks down in private after being strong for so long? Btw thanks for your hard work your blog has been really helping me whenever i feel down

➳ character/s: ruby rose, weiss schnee

➳ warnings: swearing, spoilers for volume 9 (and probably all of rwby), violence, more focused on how they react and what they do to make you feel better than them finding you

➳ notes: omg it's meeeee, except i don't remember when i last cried because i'm so used to not ._. anyone who also feels like this knows what's up

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄.

if we're talking volume 9 ruby, she's probably gonna blow up as well

for sure less likely to hear you out

and big argument time

but if she's worked through all that shit, she'll just give you a massive hug and let you swear, scream, shout and cry it out

probably would say she understands your state of mind, but not because she knows what you're going through

but because she knows what it feels like to keep it all in until it overflows

will offer to spar with you as well if you wanna beat the shit out of something

but maybe you'll have to not kill her, idk

would take you out for food or a drink if that's what you want to do

get your mind off of things

no clue if rage rooms are a thing in the rwby universe, but if there are, she'd also offer to take you there

maybe you need to go to a random field and scream

she doesn't know if you're crying because of sadness or anger

but as long as you're getting it out and no longer suppressing

she doesn't mind :))

── 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐄.

early weiss would be hearing none of it

but weiss later on would be there to listen to you

she also figured you'd have a breaking point soon because you'd been trying to be tough for ages

a little bit surprised, but would sit with you anyhow and be a lil therapist for a bit

will make you a hot chocolate or something after you've let it all out

anything to ease the pain

doesn't want to chip in with similar experiences she may or may not have

because she doesn't want to make it seem like she's making it about her

would do some summoning if you want to physically take out some feelings

some awkward hugs, but you appreciate the gesture

will frequently check in on you from then on

just to make sure you don't get to that point again

gotta periodically empty the jar before it gets too full

maybe would summon something that you can use as a therapy dog (therapy manticore)

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #rwby x reader #ruby rose x reader #weiss schnee x reader #rwby imagines #ruby rose imagines #weiss schnee imagines

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madsnowstorm · 1 year

Text

take me home for christmas | j. seresin | part three

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas - noah cyrus

summary : jake wants to take you home to texas for christmas to meet his family.

warnings — series, 18+, fem!reader, established relationship, some angst, family dynamics (both healthy and not), mentions of therapy, no religious aspect to the holiday, dogs named after famous texans, anxiety

notes — should we start playing a guessing game for the dogs? figuring out which native texan they're named after? i think i got a little carried away with trying to paint the scene in this part. lots of description of the seresin house. oops. sorry not sorry.

series masterlist

The moment you opened the door of Jake’s first love you thought you’d died and gone to heaven. Two dogs, Border Collies, were right there happy and eager to greet you. They were a little bit dirty and a whole lot of adorable. You immediately got out of the truck and dropped into a squat. The dogs attacked you with licks and nuzzles. There were barks and tail wags a plenty.

“Ike! Strait!” Jake called out, every inch the commanding officer the Navy made him. It almost had you wanting to stand at attention. “Come on bozos, give ‘er some room!” And as though the dogs understood Jake word for word, they backed off. You instantly popped up from your crouch, dusting the pawprints off your pants. You looked back at Jake, who was letting down the tailgate, smiling at him.

You walked over to him to help get the luggage out of the truck bed. You turned to place the last bit of luggage on the ground, when Jake grabbed you around the waist, picked you up, and placed you on the tailgate. The smirk on his face was playful and then before you could say anything, his mouth was on yours. There was the faint taste of artificial peach still lingering on his tongue. “I’m so glad you came with me, babe.” He whispered before kissing you again. The warm pads of his fingers startled you as his hand slipped under your shirt.

“My baby boy!” Had you both springing apart. You looked to the right and saw an older woman, whose graying, blonde hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid. As she smiled you knew that it was not Dr. Hernandez who was responsible for Jake’s bright, large smile, but Mrs. Vicki Seresin. It was easy to see a few of the features he’d inherited from his mother.

“Momma!” Jake gently pulled you off the tailgate and rushed to his mother, enveloping her in a large hug. Mrs. Seresin seemed to be hugging her youngest child just as tightly. You could hear him say something to her, but his words were muffled by her hair. Just as you were starting to feel awkward, watching them, Jake pulled away and moved closer to you. He held his hand out, motioning you forward. For a second you considered running away. The nerves that you tried all day to ignore were making you slightly nauseous. Running away was not going to do you any good though, especially when you were so far from anything…especially when you loved Jake so much.

When you walked closer, he placed both hands on your shoulders and squeezed gently. You could feel both of his thumbs swipe over your skin. You instantly knew it was meant to be a calming act and it was even further cemented when he brushed his lips over your temple. Jake knew you so well and it gave you the encouragement you needed to face his mother.

“This is the love of my life!” Jake introduced you to the woman that birthed him. You looked back at him, over your shoulder.

“Not even an hour ago you called your truck the love of your life!”

“Jacob!” Mrs. Seresin cried out. “What is your obsession with that truck?” Clearly, he’d had this obsession for a long time.

“I said that it was my first love!” He corrected you, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. “First loves don’t hold a candle to the love of my life.” Maybe if the Navy stopped being a viable option one day, he could write country songs for a living. Both you and his mother laughed. You turned your attention to her fully.

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Seresin.” The older woman smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Please! No one calls me that! You can call me Vicki or Mom or Momma. Hell, you can even call me Nana like the kids do if you want!” Her laugh was full and filled the open air around you. It was lively and drew you in. “Now, we are huggers in this family!” You braced yourself as she wrapped her arms around you. She smelt like clean laundry and earth and lemons. It was refreshing and comforting and you instantly melted into the hug. When she pulled back, she kept her hands on your elbows. “Now why don’t y’all grab your stuff and come on in?” She looked at Jake. “I know Jules will be excited to see you.” Jake had been right about his sister being here.

While Vicki helped Jake with one of the suitcases, you went back to the cab of the truck to grab your backpack. Once you had it, you grabbed your other carryon and walked up the steps to the home Jake grew up in. He was patiently waiting for you by the open door. His demeanor was calm and casual. He looked completely at ease. It was a true homecoming for him and you knew by the look on his face that even though he loved the Navy and loved flying, there would never be a place like Hidden Oak Ranch to him.

As you entered the house you were caught off guard by just how homey it was. Jake was an extremely neat and tidy person. Before you were seriously dating, his house was as bland as a hospital waiting room. It’s not like he lacked furniture or that it was mismatched like a college frat house. No, he had extremely good taste, but just lacked personal touches. You helped him in that department with fuzzy blankets and pillows galore. You got pictures of his plane and squadrons from over the years printed out and hung on one of the walls. He preferred to keep his home plain and simple.

His parents' home stood in stark contrast. Once you walked in the house you took note of the two rooms to your left and right. On your right was a small sitting room with tall wooden bookshelves, an upright piano, and a few guitars. The bookshelves were full and the walls covered in hanging knick-knacks. To your left was a large living room with furniture to scale. A long sectional and two matching recliners framed an oversized brick fireplace. There was a dark wooden mantle over the fireplace that matched the beams that crossed the slightly vaulted ceiling. Garland, with baubles and trinkets of red, green, and gold, adorned the shelf along with so many picture frames. A tall Christmas tree stood in the corner, by a large window that overlooked their land. The tree was lit with warm white lights and looked to be decorated with glass, plastic, and homemade ornaments that had been collected over the years. There were several other decorations around the room that made you feel like you’d been transported to some rom-com movie on cable television.

You turned back towards Jake, a tightness growing in your chest that you ignored. There was no time to linger on worries. He was bouncing on his toes as he watched you. “I’ll show you around after we get settled.” The man led you towards the stairs, but before you started climbing you were interrupted.

“Jakey!” A squeal came from the room with the instruments. A woman about your height with a baby strapped to her chest in a billowing sling, came walking towards Jake. The baby at her chest seemed to sleep through her mothers excitement as though this was an everyday occurrence.

“Julie!” He swept her up in a hug, lifting her feet off the ground. You worried about baby Lily, but seemed to be the only one. “Motherhood suits ya’, sis.” Julie rolled her eyes and playfully punched her younger brother.

“You’ve always been full of shit Jake.” Before saying anything to you, she wrapped you in a hug tighter than even a boa constrictor could give. She paid no mind to the backpack you still had on. You were able to get an up close and personal look at Lily as Julie hugged you. The strawberry colored fuzz on her head made you smile. “It is so nice to finally meet you!” The way she greeted you and even the way she called you by your name made you feel as though you’d always known her.

“It’s nice to meet you too Julie.”

“Let me see my newest niece!” Jake was holding his hand out, making grabbing motions as though he were a toddler reaching for its bear. You said this thought out loud which got a pout out of him, but a snort out of his sister. Lily was handed over to her uncle and as Jake held her to his chest the tiny girl snuggled closer to warmth. You could see on his face how much this man adored his role as uncle. He was always talking about his siblings' children so you knew he loved them, but you’d not witnessed this. This trip was bringing all new sides of him to light and you weren’t mad about it.

“How was the flight?” The baby’s mother asked.

“It was fine.” You answered, certain Jake was not paying attention. “Landing could have been a bit better, but-”

“That landing was worse than a calf trying to walk for the first time.” You’d never seen a calf try to walk after birth, but Julie seemed to understand what Jake was getting at. “It shouldn’t be that difficult. It’s not like he was landing on a moving aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean. That right there is difficult.”

“What?!” You exclaimed sarcastically. “The great Hangman admitting that something is difficult?” Jake playfully rolled his eyes while Julie laughed.

“I like you! You’ll fit in well here.” In some ways that was a relief to hear and in others it caused a weight to settle itself across your shoulders. “Here, give her back so you guys can go put your things away. Maybe even rest.” Jake was hesitant to hand Lily back to her mother. “Oh come on. You can hold her for as long as you want tomorrow at family dinner.” This was news to you. Julie took hold of Lily, tucking her back in the sling she was still wearing. They exchanged see you later’s and then Julie walked about of the room.

Jake tucked his arm around you, placing his hand on your waist, and turning you back towards the stairs where your belongings were. After picking up his backpack and two of the other bags he started to make his way up the stairs. You grab your bag, the only one left, and followed. The stairs partially overlooked the living room. Garland was wrapped around the handle. It matched that which was on the fireplace mantle. Jake looked over your shoulder to make sure you were behind him, then finished his climb to the second floor, taking a left once he reached the top.

He entered a room, his room, though it had clearly moved on from his high school days. On the hardwood floors sat a round rug and on top of that was a wood, antique bed. Each of the four posts came up to about your hip and each one was topped with a wooden knob. A gray comforter and a patterned quilt lay on the mattress. The walls had white paneling halfway up, and then the plaster above was painted a navy color. A rocking chair sat in the corner with a crocheted blanket hanging off the back and a large dresser next to it, a mirror attached. There were pictures on top of the dresser and a set of Christmas village houses.

“Man, I was looking forward to seeing all your posters of half naked women,” You joked as you placed your backpack in the rocker. You could hear Jake snicker behind you. You walked towards the closet. “Maybe you have an old diary hidden in here that I can read through!” You opened the closet door, but the only things in there were heavy winter coats hanging up, and wrapping paper for different occasions.

“Sorry to disappoint, darlin’.” Jake's voice came from right behind you. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you flush against the front of his body. The man nuzzled your neck, brushing his nose across your skin. Each time his lips touched the spot under your ear, your body grew warmer and warmer. “You just wanted to read my lurid teenage fantasies.” He turned you around, holding you tight in his arms. You could feel his fingers grab the hem of your shirt. “Guess we’ll just have to make some of our own.” You laughed as he pulled the shirt over your head, throwing it across the room.

“Jacob!”

“What?!” He responded in the same tone.

“Your mother and sister and niece are downstairs!” Jake’s lips were now on your shoulder and you were having trouble focusing.

“We’ll need to be extra quiet then, won’t we?”

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