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tinydeskwriter · 1 year

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Actress!Y/n Talking About Harry in Interviews Over the Years(2018-2022) Part II

A/n:so, this is the second part, and I really hope you guys like it .

PART I | MASTERLIST

Jimmy Kimmel Live!, September, 2018

“I am so happy to have you here again.” Kimmel said, as they sat down. “You’re no longer my neighbor.”

“Unfortunately.” The woman agreed. “I miss you, Molly and the kids, we don’t have neighbors anymore.”

“You mean the house next door isn’t ready or…”

“We literally have no neighbors, we bought fourteen acres ‘next door’ to a preserve, so it’s amazing views and a huge amount of privacy.” She explained. “Which when you have a job in the industry, and two young children is amazing.”

“That’s right, you had another baby!”Jimmy said as if he didn’t already now. “How far apart are they?”

“So, we had Atticus in January last year, and eleven months later we had Talulah,” She paused giving the audience time o cheer, “we wanted them to be close in age, which is a decision a lot of parents make, we didn’t know it would happen so fast, but apparently we are very fertile people,” She paused again, letting the people go crazy, “Yeah, so of course, we didn’t factor in our decision Harry’s tour, my album release, all my projects, and a very cranky baby, Atticus is physically all H, but he’s bad temper is all mine.”

“You went on tour pregnant and with a baby?” The host asked. “That must have been a crazy experience.”

“It was something.” She agreed. “But I was the boss’s wife, so everyone took good care of me, made sure I was comfortable, helped around with the baby, and H created an amazing environment with his whole team, it was lovely to witness.”

Met Gala 2019 With Liza Koshy| Vogue

“You co-chaired the Met Gala back in 2016, how is like to be back, and this year your gorgeous husband is co-chairing the event.” Liza asked Y/n as soon as they finished greeting each other.

The camera was zooming on the naked Gucci gown made of black lace, sequins and feathers the superstar was wearing, totally complementing her husband look.

“It is amazing, I am so proud of H, this is such an amazing honor, and is his first year, so I am happy we get to share this with each other.” Y/n said in a soft voice.

“What is ‘camp’ to you?”The you tuber asked.

“Just be yourself, whatever you want no matter what, be bold, be crazy, it’s camp.” The actress said moving her colorful feather boa/cape situation. “I think there is no limits.” She had almost Rapunzel long hair extensions and a spectacular floral and feathers arrangement on top of her head.

“What was your inspiration for tonight’s spectacular look?”

“I just wanted to match H, tonight is all about him, and have fun, so I let Alessandro do as he pleased, and Ale being Ale didn’t hold back.” she shared. “My youngest didn’t even recognized me.”

“You look one hot mama, it’s hard to imagine you have two babies, does Atticus and Talulah know they have the coolest mother?”Liza asked.

“H is the cool parent,” Y/n admitted with a found smile, “Atticus has some idea that his daddy is a rockstar, so Harry’s definitely the coolest in his eyes.”

The Late Late Show | Team USA v. Team UK- Dodgeball w/Michelle Obama

“I am here to support Harry,”Y/n said to he camera as the teams stretched in the background, “he’s not a very gracious loser, and I mean, he’s in James’s Team against Michelle Obama, there is just no way that they are going to win this game.”

“Babe, “ Y/n called from the sidelines after watching Harry be hit in the ‘1D’ “Are you okay, honey?”

“I want more kids… in the future,” the actress blushed slightly looking to the camera.

The Kelly Clarkson Show, Jan, 2020

“How old are your kids know?”Kelly asked.

“Atticus is three years old, and Lulah just turned two, the terrible twos, funny enough, Lulah doesn’t suffer from it, but Atticus haven’t got over it yet…”Y/n said with a smile as pictures showed up on the screen, her children faces always blurred or hidden.

“People say terrible two, but threenager is a real thing,”Kelly said seriously.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard,”The actress said. “But Lulah just turned two, and I think it might not have fully catch up with her yet, because as I was leaving the house today, she threw her first temper tantrum.” Y/n commented. “She was just, on the floor, crying her little heart out, and of course, Atticus didn’t like to be outdone, so he threw himself at the rug screaming bloody murder, and I just left them there for Harry to deal,” The young woman told Kelly. “I sounded so bad right now, but really, I am that mom that keeps trying to calm them down, and things just get worst because it becomes a competition between the two toddlers, while Harry is just chill, he sit on the couch and just watches them unamused until they organically stop.”

“They lay it on sometimes, like ‘why are you leaving me’”

“I thing is worst with Harry,”Y/n confessed, “I have no problem in admitting H is the favorite parent, like, they come to me for comfort and all the ‘mommy’ things, but Harry is their favorite.” She said with a smile.

“And you don’t feel jealous or anything…”

“No, because, to me, it just shows how much of na amazing daddy he is, and I just feel like: damn! I made a really good choice.”The crowd cheer. “It’s really validating and I am just proud of myself for my choice in partner and baby daddy.”

Hailey Bieber | Who’s in my Bathroom? April, 2021

“Do you get uncomfortable by the amount of female attention your husband’s get?” Hailey asked as they sipped their margaritas.

“So, I have two answers for those questions: I don’t get uncomfortable with his fans showing their love for him, it’s lovely to see the amount of love and devotion he inspires, and they have always been so welcoming to me.” She said looking at possible the only other woman in the planet that understood the level of craziness it was. “But I do get uncomfortable with women in the industry hitting on him, I am not even talking women our age, it’s like: cougar level, and very recently we had a very awful situation, where it was in a working environment with a power imbalance, and it just got too much, more people got involved, media attention happened, and at the same time we had to deal with this as a couple and as a family.”

“Does you ever wish you guys just had normal jobs and careers?”Hailey supports her face in her hand.

“Never, no matter what, I can’t imagine Harry not doing what he does, and I would never no make the career choices I did, I love acting, I love singing and songwriting, and I love directing.” She says with conviction. “For me it was life changing, I came from nothing, my mom was a single mother waitress, raising three kids on a small wage salary and tips, Disney changed my life, it paid for our first house, for the seed money in my mother’s organic company, it paid my sister college.”

“Is it surreal that your children have a childhood so different from yours?”The blonde asks with a smile.

“They’re extremely privileged, my four years old the other day was like: mummy, why do we have so many houses? And Lulah was complaining the size of the Jet, because she wanted the ‘big plane’, and H was like: sugarcube, you don’t know what your are asking for.” Y/n said with a soft smile. “My children…they have a lot of rich people problems.”

The Drew Barrymore Show, Aug, 2022

“Oh My God, you look even more gorgeous in person.” Drew said as they created each other.

“Thank you, thank you, have you look at yourself? I was obsessed with you growing up, it’s so amazing to be here.” Y/n said with a big smile, arranging the skirt of her dress as she sat down.

“You’re the face of a Dior perfume, a brand ambassador for Gucci, multi- award winning actress and musician, your under thirty with two Academy Awards, which is historical, you have two successful companies, you just came back a few months ago from a very glorious passage through Cannes where you debuted Top Gun: Maverick, your own movie and you own Camera d’Ore for your debut feature, also: 14 minutes standing ovation, for a movie produced, directed, written and starred by women,” she stopped for a moment to allow the crowd to applauded the guest, “and then, your also a mom, to three children, and you’re married to Harry freaking Styles, the world’s biggest rockstar, and most wanted man according to Rolling Stones.”

“You just made me sound so cool.”The younger woman said with a small smile and flushed cheeks.

“You are cool.”Drew affirmed. “How do you balance it all?”

“I have a great team working with me, and I have just the greatest partner, and this is really important.”Y/n said crossing her legs. “We plan things in a way that the children will always have one of us 24/7 and in a way that we can always be together, his career is never more important than mine and vice-versa, we’re on tour now, Harry’s Love on Tour, I am a non-touring artist, but H really loves touring, is his thing, and it was important for him to have me and the kids together with him on the road as his support system, and the children just love going to all the different museums, and seeing new things, and eating different stuff, but, during his tour break we’re moving to Australia because I have a movie that is going to be shoot there.”

“What is like going on tour with three young children under five?”

“It’s chaos, Atticus and Lulah have some understanding that this is daddy’s job, this is Atticus second tour, but for them is just fun, Riley is just a baby, she’s with me 24/7, shes our calmest child,” Y/n said. “She’s actually the same age that Atticus was during Live on Tour.”

“Riley is your quarantine baby…”

“I found out I was pregnant in February last year during Where the Crawdads Sing pre-production, so yeah, she’s kinda of my Covid baby.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines

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outpastthemoat · 2 years

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one of the MOST zuko faces IMO is the little disgruntled face he makes whenever iroh makes him do something he doesn’t want to do

“what do you MEAN i’m not invited??“

just LOOK at that face. he’s like a cat who decided he didn’t want to go outside after all when you’ve been standing there holding the door open for five minutes, but the moment the option of going outside is taken away from him he acts like he’s been personally insulted.

”you shut the door in zuko’s face?? you exclude him from a very secret and private meeting of boring old people that he didn’t want to attend anyway?? uncle how COULD you!!!”

and then again when jin comes to collect him for their date he has to turn around and glare back inside pao’s tea shop where presumably iroh is lurking, no doubt to make sure zuko doesn’t try to slip away asdfsdjjf

that lower lip sticking out is clearly intended to communicate something along the lines of “i can’t BELIEVE you’re making ME, your only beloved nephew, suffer through something so horrible. a DATE?? with a GIRL??? betrayal!!! treason!! you might as well have signed my execution orders. have you no mercy???” BUT!!!! he does whatever uncle wants anyway because zuko’s a terminal people-pleaser at heart.

but he’s gonna pout for a while just to make sure uncle gets the message that he’s NOT happy about it AT ALL. what an absolute threenager.

#zuko #iroh #atla #my meta

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albaskies · 23 days

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And if I didn't know better

Or: One evening, Ginny reflects on her choice to step up for Teddy, while trying to navigate her grief for the loss of those who never could. Read here or on AO3:

She isn’t quite so sure what made her decide to step up for a child when she was hardly an adult herself. Not that she’d done much at first - she’d barely ever been there during the first year of his life, and she’d only gathered the courage to rock him to sleep a few months after she’d moved back home. It was more of a feeling, as if she’d accepted the responsibility deep in her heart before she could even trust her own limbs to hold him properly.

It feels like a lifetime away, now, as his little body is curled up against hers and his turquoise hair shines in the dim candlelight. They lay on several cushions and blankets scattered on the floor; an old white sheet stuck on four chairs hanging on top of their heads, covering the ceiling. They’ve built a fort, you know. Right after playing dragons and running around on invisible broomsticks (‘Feet on the ground, Teddy, please’). All in their living room, all after having dinner.

Harry’s sent word that he’ll be home late - problems at the office. He sounded very disappointed to miss out on having Teddy over for the night, one of his favourite weekly activities. He usually sleeps over on Fridays, but they might have to switch it to Saturdays if Harry keeps on getting held back at work.

Ginny is seriously doubting that her strategy to try and wear Teddy out before bedtime has been effective, as Teddy’s eyes are still wide open and shimmering with energy. The cup of warm milk she’s offered him hasn’t quite done the trick, now left unfinished and forgotten on the floor right next to him. But then again, Teddy’s undergoing that toddler phase where nothing in the world can get him to wind down unless he decides to, thank you very much. How did Hermione call him? A threenager? Where did she even hear such a ridiculous thing?

She looks down at him again, as he has started to move his tiny hands and notice the corresponding shadow movements reflected on the sheet. His expression is full of wonder, not a care in the world, and she’s so grateful for the look in his eyes (and, yes, for the rare moment of quiet as well) that she feels her heart could explode.

‘Look, Teddy,’ she says, joining her thumbs and wiggling the rest of her fingers. ‘Isn’t that an eagle? Oh my, how did it get here?’.

Teddy squeals with laughter, unable to contain his excitement - the sweetest sound in the world.

‘Again, Ginny, again!’.

She regrets it, to have hesitated back then. It’s not that she didn’t care for him when he was a baby - quite the contrary, actually. She’d known she loved him so much since before he was even born; that one Christmas morning when Tonks had grabbed her hand and had gently placed her on her pregnant tummy. But she was scared, terrified of messing it all up, of not being good enough. She still is sometimes - she’s just learned to cope with it better, or maybe to hide it better. She reckons that nobody really knows how to deal with a child from the beginning, especially when it’s not their own; and they are all a bit broken now anyway. But it doesn’t really matter, does it, as long as they’re there for each other, as long as Friday nights are still about dragons, invisible broomsticks and animal shadows on a fort sheet ceiling.

Harry had dived into the role with all his seriousness and solemnity because, well, what else do you expect. He’d tried so hard to get Teddy to like him from the start, as if there could ever be the risk that he wouldn’t. He’d show up to Andromeda’s house bearing so many gifts that she’d had to beg him to stop once and for all, for the love of Merlin.

‘I just want to do something nice for him, you know,’ he’d told Ginny later, his brows furrowed and his glare focused on his tea mug.

‘But you already do,’ she’d said, her hand gently squeezing his thigh. ‘You’re there for him. That’s as nice as it gets.’

She could tell she hadn’t fully convinced him, just as she knew that he hadn’t been exactly truthful either. He wanted to do something nice for Teddy, sure, stepping in those daunting godfather shoes as smoothly as possible. But he wanted to do something nice for himself too, for his much younger self, trying to give away all the love and attention he’d been missing all his life. And she couldn’t really blame him for that, now, could she.

‘Gin,’ he’d murmured, his whisper almost pleading. ‘I don’t think I know what I’m doing.’

She’d moved her hand from his leg to his jaw, resisting the urge to cut him off with sarcasm, ‘Have you ever, though.’

‘Nobody asks that of you right now, Harry. You’ll figure it out.’

He looks at her, still unconvinced. ‘But Tonks and Lupin -’

‘No,’ she’d shushed him, gently pressing a finger on his lips. ‘Not even them.’

That’s the thing - nobody had asked her to, either. And it’s not that she’d felt compelled to act as an unofficial godmother only because of her relationship with Harry. He’d certainly never expected that of her.

She’d felt hurt when her mum had implied that once. As if that ring that Harry had placed on her finger dictated all of her choices, as if she had to have a reason to desire to care for Teddy. As if she hadn’t known Tonks and Lupin, too.

No, Teddy's become part of her life because of a very careful and important choice she’s made. It has been so incredibly natural, and it has required quite some effort, both at the same time. But it’s always been there, no matter what.

There hasn’t been a single Quidditch match she’s played without looking for him and Harry in the stands; there hasn’t been a single house she and Harry have looked at without thinking about what room could become his for when he stays over. There hasn’t been a single time she hasn’t thought of him when looking at the clear blue sky.

‘And what about this?’, she asks him, still twisting her hands to give life to dark shapes on the sheet.

Teddy lets out a sweet chuckle. ‘A rabbit!’.

‘Good job, Teddy!’’

He claps his hands in excitement and his hair seems to have become an even brighter shade of blue.

‘More, more!’

‘Let’s see. What about…’ Ginny says, continuing to move her fingers. ‘This?’

He seems to think about it for a second, squeezing his eyes, wrinkling his nose. Then he beams.

‘A wolf!’

A beat.

‘Er - no, it’s a dog -’

‘No, it’s a wolf!’

‘Teddy -’

And before she knows it, he starts howling.

‘Wolves aren’t scary, Ginny! You shouldn’t be scared!’

She looks at him in horror. Total panic. Her mind blacked out. That’s the one thing she hasn’t brought herself to do with Teddy yet - talking about his parents. Or even mentioning them, to be frank. She’s quite selfishly left that to Harry, because what does she know about this stuff, he’s a child, she doesn’t want to mess it up for him. She’s quite sure that she would, if she tried. She can’t even think straight after he’s seen the shadow of a wolf rather than a dog, after all. What a stupid way to react to a child acting his age, playing and having fun. Stop this. Don’t be a git, please stop this.

It’s almost as if Lupin and Tonks never enter the bubble that she creates when she’s with Teddy - which is absurd, nonsensical, completely idiotic. But, well - her insides knotting in guilt at the mere thought - it’s easier this way. She feels ashamed of herself, absolutely fucking revolted. Now that he’s inadvertently brought it up though, a three-year-old braver than she’ll ever be, and he’s opened Pandora’s box (some famous Greek witch, she reckons), she's at a loss for words. It’s so subtle that she should just let it slide - she must, actually. He hasn’t even asked her anything, he hasn’t even made the connection. He doesn’t even know.

Her mind is racing out of control and he hasn’t even done it on purpose. She’s the one who’s acting like a lunatic. She doesn’t know why she feels like she should say something, doesn’t even know what, because it would all sound wrong anyway.

You know, Teddy, she almost hears herself saying, but you know, Teddy, what exactly? Why can’t she get this thought out of her head? He’s blissfully unaware, and he’s just a child that is playfully pretending to be a wolf, what the hell wrong with you, Ginny, pull yourself together.

She continues spiralling as she notices that he’s stopped howling, and is now observing her with curiosity.

Fuck, you’re going to traumatise him, aren’t you.

As she looks at him more closely, she notices that his eyes, that have been blue like his hair for months now, have now turned darker - a warm, chocolaty brown. And instead of feeling even more horrified, she simply calms down, her panic gone.

Funny how Lupin can offer her comfort even in death.

She is staring at the empty desk in front of her. The bell has rung and all her classmates have left already, but somehow she can’t bring herself to get out of the classroom and head to lunch. Not yet, because she is staring at the empty desk in front of her so intensely, almost as if she could get it to talk to her. She remembers sitting there, less than a year ago, just before her memory had gone blank into one of her many blackouts. She remembers opening her diary on her lap, bored to death at the sound of Professor Lockhart’s pompous voice, she remembers jotting down a few thoughts pretending to be taking notes. Then she remembers a voice, his voice, and nothing more. Maybe if she stares at the desks hard enough, it will come back to her, maybe she will remember how she got from the classroom to Hagrid’s shed and then back to the castle again…

‘What are you still doing here, Ginny?’.

She blinks once, and then once again, trying to bring Professor Lupin’s greyish frame into focus. She isn’t sure since when he’s been sitting on the chair in front of her.

‘Are you looking for something?’, he asks, watching her carefully. She must look rather lost, because he quickly adds: ‘You did well in class, today.’

‘I - er, no - I mean, thanks,’ she blurts out. His dark brown eyes are still focused on her, studying her in detail.

She clears her throat, as if to gather her courage. There is something she’s been wanting to ask him, actually, but she isn’t even sure that she should bring it up. Percy has made it clear that she shouldn’t talk about it with anybody, but Percy doesn’t really understand what it feels like, doesn’t it? To lose control, to not know.

‘I suppose you were wondering what happened on the train a few days ago?’, says Professor Lupin bluntly, as if it’s the most obvious thing on the planet.

‘How do you -?’

‘You wouldn’t be the first to ask.’

As she observes him a little more closely than ever before, she realises he must be much younger than he looks. He has a few grey locks of hair here and there, his face is tired and emaciated, but he doesn’t have wrinkles around his eyes and mouth like her dad.

He smiles, encouragingly. She clears her throat again.

‘My brother Percy’s told me about the Dementors,’ she mutters, her glare back on the desk. ‘I know they make people feel bad. It’s just -’.

She suddenly hears it again, that low, yet so familiar voice, telling her she should not be frightened. Then flashes of light, blood, screams, and her clothes are unexplainably damp.

She shivers, subtly patting her robes. She’s fine. She’s fine.

‘I did some things last year,’ she hears herself say. She doesn’t even know how she’s managed to gather enough strength to.

‘I just fear - well, I guess I worry that the Dementors will make me do them again.’

Professor Lupin falls silent for a few seconds. He continues to watch her, but has now stopped smiling.

‘From what I’ve heard, you haven’t chosen to do any of those things.’

He’s heard, then. She doesn’t wonder why - she reckons stories must travel fast among Hogwarts staff, too.

She would normally be ashamed, but now she can’t help but feel a hint of relief, stemming from Merlin knows where. After all, yes, he’s heard, but he’s still talking to her like she isn’t any different; he’s heard, and he’s still offered her chocolate.

‘Don’t worry, Ginny, Dementors can’t make you reenact your bad memories. They surely make you relive them, though,’ he furrows his brows, as if an unexpected thought has suddenly crossed his mind. ‘Do you - er - have enough support here?’

She’s taken aback by this question, shame creeping on her cheeks. ‘I’ve got four brothers here,’ she quickly responds, but she knows that this isn’t what he means. She sighs. He seems to understand.

‘I’m working on it,’ she sputters, defensively. ‘It’s not exactly easy to make friends when all the girls in your dormitory think you’re a freak.’

It comes out spontaneously, but she immediately regrets using that tone with a professor. However, to her great surprise, he bursts into laughter.

‘I guess you’re right,’ he says, throwing her an enigmatic look. ‘But believe me when I say that friends are the most precious gift that Hogwarts can give you. Real friends will help you overcome all the hard times; and if they think you’re a freak, well, they’ll choose to be freaky with you.’

He stops smiling, suddenly looking rather thoughtful, but then quickly shakes his head. Somehow, she ends up with the strange feeling that he’s no longer having this conversation only with her.

‘Might I suggest,’ he adds, now back to his reassuring tone. ‘That you perhaps try to talk to other students that might have had - how to put this - a similar experience to yours? Harry’s a good friend of your brother’s, isn’t he?’

She feels it coming - the blush. One of the big ones. One of the bad ones.

‘No! I don’t think -’, she hisses, suddenly horrified, redder than she’s ever been in her life. ‘I don’t think that would work.’

He raises his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth slightly twitching.

‘Well, you never know,’ he states matter-of-factly. He then stands up, patting his hands on his legs. ‘But now I must really let you go. I wouldn’t want you to feel unwell during your next class because you haven’t had any lunch.’

She nods, grabs her things, mutters an awkward ‘Thanks’. Just when she’s about to leave, she hears him speak again.

‘It may be hard to understand now, but what happened to you doesn’t define you. Please, don’t ever forget that.’

It’s true, she doesn’t understand that quite just yet, but she will remember those words for the rest of her life.

For now, she’s busy spending the next few days ridiculously terrified by the thought of Professor Lupin telling Harry about their conversation. She imagines Harry looking at her with pity, disgust even, as a stupid little girl who can’t bring herself to make some friends. But this doesn’t happen - Harry barely ever looks at her, and when he does he seems, well, normal. She’s quite glad of that, for one. She’s also so incredibly glad that Professor Lupin respected her enough to keep her secret, that he could be trusted.

Years later, she’ll regret never having told him that she and Harry had fallen in love. She’ll reckon he would’ve liked to know that, he might have even been delighted. She’ll figure, as a punch in her stomach, that she’d assumed they’d have more time.

‘You know what, Teddy, you’re right,’ she finally says, gently stroking his hair. ‘Wolves aren’t scary.’

He beams, looking rather satisfied with her answer, and pulls up his back to sit against a big pillow.

‘Let’s play another game!’

Ginny sighs at his never ending source of energy; her hopes that relaxing under the fort would somehow make him drowsy are completely shattered. She quickly glances at the clock on the wall - if Andromeda finds out that Teddy's been up so late, she’ll never hear the end of it.

‘Time out, Teddy,’ she says, faking a yawn. ‘We should really go to bed now.’

Teddy frowns, pouting his lips and wrinkling his little nose.

‘What if we read the story of Babbity Rabbity?’, she then intervenes tentatively, hoping to jump in just in time to prevent a tantrum. ‘Come on, you love Babbity Rabbity…’

But Teddy isn’t having it. He shakes his head fervently, now crossing his arms.

Ginny wonders if this is the time to be a bit more assertive with him, if she could dare, even. Sometimes she feels like she’s still tiptoeing around him - she’s the one giving him all the fun and games, but when it comes to discipline, she finds that she’s quite rattled. He’s not her child, after all; she fears it’s not her place. Most of the time, she finds herself wondering how Lupin would deal with his son’s tantrums; she would love to see what Tonks would do. She reckons she would do anything to learn a bit more about parenthood from them both, even though (and to only remotely fathom this, her heart sinks) they haven’t had the chance to be parents for long. They would’ve been brilliant at it, though - this is merely her fantasy, sure, as she actually doesn’t know. Tonks and Lupin will remain fundamentally pure in her memory, because she doesn’t like to remember their flaws, especially not in relation to Teddy, and it won’t do any good to anyone, anyway.

‘Why don’t finish up your milk first?’, she tries again, pointing at the abandoned mug on the floor. With a flick of her wand, she mildly warms it up again.

He nods enthusiastically, but something goes wrong when he grabs the mug and he spills all the remaining milk all over himself and the blanket. He immediately looks up at her, his eyes filled with remorse and anticipation, almost as if he’s realised he’s gone a step too far. Ginny is aware that Teddy’s clumsy to the point of exasperating his grandmother, and that he might even expect a scolding for his little distraction, but she feels a sudden rush of affection towards him instead.

‘All right,’ she says, standing up and taking him in her arms. ‘Time for another bath.’

She could easily scurgify and dry up his pyjamas, but she remembers how good it would feel when her mum would bathe her and then wrap her in a warm towel, always offering her snuggles and kisses along the process. She repeats the same ritual with Teddy, even playing with some dragon and quaffle toys in the water with him, just as her mum used to - only that the toys, at the time, were old and faded, sometimes missing a paw or an eye.

She wraps him in the softest towel she can find, swings him in her arms while dancing across the hallway to reach her bedroom, and pretends to drop him on her bed. He laughs so hysterically and uncontrollably that his hair becomes curly. Her heart couldn’t be any more full.

She retrieves his pyjamas bottoms with a quick ‘Accio’ and helps him wear them, but decides to leave his milk-stained t-shirt on the bathroom floor. She ransacks first Harry’s, and then her own clothes drawer in search of something clean for Teddy to wear that isn’t the top of Harry’s Auror uniform, a pair of mismatched socks, a bra or some old Christmas jumpers.

That’s when she sees it, stuck in the back of the drawer - a hint of green. She touches the cotton fabric and seizes it. It still feels soft, despite having been left unworn and forgotten in a drawer for years.

She realises her hands are shaking. She’d never thought she could’ve forgotten.

Ginny had never assumed she could smell dust before, but now she’s quite positive she’s been in the wrong all her life. As she sits in the dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place, taking a break from the massive amount of cleaning her mother has decided to subject her to since they’ve moved here (no exceptions, not even today), she feels like every inch of her body is covered with dust. Her hair, her fingers, her nose - to the extent that she thinks she can actually smell it. And it’s not great, considering that the more extensive the efforts they make to clean up the house, the more the house seems to turn out filthier than before.

Today it’s only her and her mother on cleaning duty, though. Everyone else is too preoccupied with what’s going to happen tomorrow - the tense whispering and nervous pacing are becoming almost unbearable. Her mum is worried too, of course, but she reckons that trying to tidy up this wreck of a place is the only way she knows to distract herself at the moment. Ginny is, for one, happy to oblige. She’d never thought she’d say this, but she’d rather dust every single one of those house-elf heads hanging on top of the stairs with a toothbrush rather than giving in to everyone’s anxiety.

Amused by the thought, she gets up to go and do just that, but someone barges loudly in the room from the door behind her back.

‘Wotcher, Ginny,’ says a ringing voice. ‘So, where's the party?’

Ginny smiles at Tonks, who has styled her hair in a bright purple ponytail today. Before she can say anything, Tonks hands her a little parcel, wrapped in crumpled paper that must have once belonged to an issue of the Daily Prophet. She recognises some of the scattered, black-inked words - ‘The Boy Who Lies?’, or: ‘Let’s hope he hasn’t got a scar on his forehead or we’ll be asked to worship him next’, and: ‘Delusional teenager’, ‘Better skilled at seeking attention than golden snitches’, ‘Expert Circe Bryce confirms that orphaned children often employ cunning strategies to cope with their abandonment complex (more on page 8).’

‘Sorry,’ utters Tonks with an apologetic half-smile. ‘That’s all I could find.’

Ginny shrugs and lets out an unlikely high-pitched cackle. Laughs at the irony of it all. Everything seems to be overflowing with Harry these days, even her birthday presents.

She rips out the paper, unsure whether she’s more eager to see what’s inside or to get those stupid printed words out of her sight. The first thing that she finds is soft and bright green, an unmistakable green, and she already knows what it is.

‘You didn’t!’, she cries out in complete disbelief. ‘No way!’

‘Heard you’re a big fan.’

Ginny wields a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt in her hands as if it’s a trophy, her most prized possession, and her eyes are sparkling.

‘The design is from 1981, the year you were born, I s’pose,’ continues Tonks with a satisfied look on her face, pointing at the golden print on the front of the t-shirt. It reads Holyhead Harpies in a curly font, never seen before. ‘I thrifted it from a small shop in Diagon Alley. I should take you there some time.’

Ginny nods with excitement, although she’s only listened to half of what Tonks’s said, too busy marvelling at her new t-shirt.

‘Come on now,’ adds Tonks, sounding very amused, pointing at the half-opened parcel. ‘There’s something else in there.’

Ginny opens her eyes wide and immediately dives her hands into the wrapping paper. She finds something thin and folded - when she opens it, it reveals a moving picture of Gwenog Jones darting through the air on her broomstick.

‘She’s a badass, isn’t she,’ comments Tonks. Ginny doesn’t respond right away, too busy mentally scanning the walls of her bedroom back at the Burrow to decide where to hang the picture.

‘Blimey, you’re spoiling me, Tonks,’ she manages to let out after a bit, still holding the t-shirt with one hand and her new poster with the other. She then throws her arms around Tonks’s neck, squeezing her tight. ‘Thank you, so much.’

She doesn’t quite know what she’s done to deserve Tonks’s affection after knowing her for barely over a month. It’s true, they spend most of their days together under the same roof, but they seem to have just instantly connected regardless. Tonks embodies everything that she aspires to be one day, plus she’s bold, unbelievably funny, and doesn’t coddle her. It feels good to be surrounded by women that aren’t her mother for a change - soothing, even. For what may be the first time in her life, this summer she’s truly felt the urge and longing for female companionship - maybe because she’s finally started getting used to it, back at school and here at Grimmauld Place. And now that Hermione’s back to fussing over Harry with her brother, and her mother is too busy running around yelling at people, she’s really only got Tonks to rely on. What amazes her is that Tonks doesn’t seem to mind - on the contrary, she appears to be rather thrilled to spend time with her when she can, unbothered by their age gap, almost taking her under her wing. In a time of her life in which she feels left out, a spare, Tonks has chosen to give her some purpose, to make her feel necessary. She doesn’t know why she does it, only that she’ll be eternally grateful for it.

‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ smiles Tonks, gently pulling away from her to give her a pointed look. ‘I’m sorry that we didn’t celebrate you more, though.’

She doesn’t need to add more about lingering wars, resistance movements and impending Ministry hearings.

‘What are you talking about,’ says Ginny, brushing those thoughts off quickly. ‘This birthday’s been dashing. Even your cousin’s made me a card.’

That’s quite true, actually. Her mum's baked a cake and everybody (well, except some angsty black-haired teenager, know anyone?) gathered around the table to sing her ‘Happy birthday’ first thing in the morning. Then she's opened her gifts - a jumper from her parents, quite a few boxes of Honeydukes from all her brothers, and the unexpected birthday card from Sirius, with the handmade drawing of a flying hippogriff that waves hello and smirks at her. Hermione's got her a book, unsurprisingly - but that’s frustrated her a little, because she knows she won’t be able to reciprocate on her own birthday, except with a stupid singing card and (if she’s lucky) with a box of chocolates stolen from one of her brothers.

Tonks chuckles lightly. ‘Has that special boy wished you a happy birthday?’

Ginny shrugs, and just as she’s about to mutter a resentful ‘Barely’, she realises with a pinch of guilt that Tonks is talking about - well, another boy.

‘Michael’s sent me an owl,’ she says, blushing softly. ‘Said he misses me.’

‘Bet he does,’ remarks Tonks, observing her very carefully all of a sudden, as if she wants to read her mind. She waits a few seconds and then, rather out of the blue, she simply adds: ‘Don’t ever settle, all right?’

Ginny frowns, puzzled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Tonks doesn’t answer, but winks at her, laughing. ‘You’ll understand with time, you’ll see.’

And indeed, she will.

Ginny wonders if the small shop in Diagon Alley is still there after the war. She’d like to find it now, pay it a visit, maybe purchase something in Tonks’s honour. They’d never managed to go together, in the end.

She exhales heavily and taps the vintage Holyhead Harpies t-shirt with her wand, shrinking it just enough to fit Teddy perfectly. She reckons he should keep it; she doesn’t seem to have it in her to wear it, anyway.

Teddy falls asleep peacefully wearing that t-shirt and maybe it’s pathetic, maybe it’s irrational, but she can’t help hoping that his mother’s touch will comfort him in his dreams tonight.

She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice that Harry’s arrived home until he plants a gentle kiss on the back of her head.

‘Tough evening?’, he asks softly, gesturing towards Teddy.

Ginny sighs, leaning her head on his chest. ‘It was fine.’

He seems to understand, though, and decides not to push further. They hold each other in silence for a while, their eyes captured by the little boy snuggled under the blanket and asleep in their bed. Staring at the past and the future, all at once.

#ginny weasley #teddy lupin #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #hinny #Harry x Ginny #flashbacks #no plot just feels

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ohtobeleah · 10 months

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Sticks & Stones // A ToE Blurb

Summary: The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment. And the one you find out you weren’t the only one who kept parenting secrets.

Warnings: Angst. Teenage hellion Odette Bradshaw. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Platonic Rhett Abbott x F!reader.

Word Count: 4k

-> Fade away from reality with the Terms of Endearment series here

I think throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. That had already been handled appropriately and most likely to a parenting degree that would be deemed acceptable by the other party.

“I remember this one time mum tore shreds off me after I got an after school detention.” This one can be titled: “The one where Rooster finds out about the time you absolutely let loose on your daughter during her teenage hellion years while he was on an eight week deployment.”

Odette Fitch knew it wasn’t just because of the after school detention. She was big enough and grown enough to understand her wrongs as a teenager—but that didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

“I've never seen her like that before nor do I ever want to see her like that again.” Odette explained all the while she sat by the fire— burning bright orange and red embers in the fire pit Chase had built, explaining how Harrison, her threenager, got in trouble for kicking dirt in some poor kid’s eyes during free play at daycare. “I didnt understand why she was so mad, why she was so emotional but fuck dad–I get it now.”

“I don't think I know about this one?” Bradley shook his head softly as he took a sip from his beer bottle. “When did you get an after school detention?” Odette can't help but to chuckle, of course you hadn’t told him. You went off like no tomorrow which wasn't like you at all. Your tolerance for bullshit was usually pretty high–but that particular day Odette and her teenage antics had pushed you to a limit that even scared you. It was no wonder you never mentioned it to Bradley.

So, Dot spills the beans, she finishes her beer and settles a little further into the back of her camp chair and lulled her head to the side to tell her dear old dad about the time she saw you burn in.

Fourteen Years Earlier:

“When your father hears about this Odette you better count your lucky stars that he doesn't ship you out to Wabang or better yet, Australia!”

“It's not that big of a deal mum–” Dot trailed in behind you with her school bag slumped over her shoulder. She was too cool for school nowadays. “Everyone does it!” She’d been busted by a teacher, skipping P:E in favour of an excursion to the lake that bordered the school grounds. There was an old cabin out there one of the groundskeepers used to live in way back in the 70’s. Apparently it was haunted. Dot didn't think so. But she wanted to check it out nevertheless.

“You are not everyone, Odette, you are your own person with bodily autonomy and critical thinking skills and you should know better!” The consequences to Odette's actions had been a call from the principal's office in the middle of the day. You were beyond furious about being pulled away from work, work you were inundated with. What followed was a lengthy discussion with the schools guidance counsellor about your daughter's declining behaviour during class and her grade averages. Odette was smart; she just didn't apply herself–or just didn't see the point in doing so.

“Uncle Jake said you hated school! Said you hardly ever showed up and that when you did it was to work on stuff in the metal room.” Odette thought she had you backed into a corner as you stopped and turned on your heels. “Yeah, I know things.” It was then you pressed your lips together in a fine line and wished Jake was currently in the US to feel your wrath. But he wasn't. No, He was in Townsville Queensland. In fucking Australia. It said so on the google calendar that sat on your kitchen countertop. The one everyone used.

“Your uncle is a liar.” He wasn't. You hated school, it was hard being the smartest person in the room and feeling like you knew nothing all at the same time. You were a delinquent at best during your teenage years so the fact you had a teenage dirtbag yourself shouldn't have shocked you all that much. It didn't shock Jake that was for sure. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree he’d tell you when you'd call him just to rant about Odettes’ latest attempt at sending you to an early grave. “And we aren't talking about me, we’re talking about you and your grades and the fact you have an after school detention on Wednesday that I now have to leave work early to come and get your from when you know I work late Wednesdays!”

There was a small pause in the argument that had begun to bubble over and before you knew what was happening—Odette was challenging you without hesitation.

“Oh i’m so sorry you have to leave work, not like you spend enough time there anyway!” Dot hissed.

“Enough young lady, your father and I work hard to give you a good life.” That much was true—you never wanted your kids to grow up like you did. You’d do anything to keep a roof over their head and food in their mouths and keep clothes on their backs.

“Maybe if Mr Carson wasn't such a tight ass–” Dot mumbled under her breath as she sighed and rolled her eyes. This sucked. Everything sucked.

“Don't you blame anyone but yourself for this situation, Odette.” You pointed a stern finger at your daughter. “And be thankful it's me you're dealing with now and not your father, he’d be livid if he knew.” And then, Odette Bradshaw said it. For the first time ever she said something that tore your heart from your chest, rung it out like a wet sponge before discarding it in the trash.

“How can dad know about it!” She shouted. “He's in prison, remember?” Silence, Odette heard nothing but silence. No “Go to your room young lady.” or “You’re grounded.” Silence was all she heard as you stood there speechless trying to process what your daughter had just said to you. Odette took your silence as a leverage point, she thought she’d won the battle but decided to twist the knife a little deeper just to see how far she could push this new rhetoric. “Rooster isn't my real dad, so he doesn’t get to have a say in what I do and don't do.” Again you were speechless as you stood there with wide eyes trying to regulate the way your heart thumped against your chest. “And he's not even here mum! He's in the middle of the damn ocean somewhere so empty threats aside, I think I'll take my chances when he does come back.”

Odette really did think she had you beat when you didn't say a word. She smirked, reached for her school bag that she'd dumped by the leg of the table and slung it over her shoulder before turning on her heels. It was then through a haze of rage and repressed emotions that you let your daughter, your first born, the first love you had ever known, have it.

“Oh–fuck you kid!” You snapped through gritted teeth. Odette had never heard you swear before, let alone heard you swear at one of your three kids. “Fuck you!” When you said it again Odette just scoffed in shock. She was in utter disbelief.

“Did you really just say that?” She asked softly, confused.

“Yeah–yeah I really just said fuck you, and I mean how fucking dare you.” There was a rage behind your eyes Dot had never seen before. A sadness. “ After all I have done, after all that I have given to you, my life, my love, my body!” You paused as you stepped a little close to your daughter. “I broke my fucking vagina for that big fucking head of yours!” You spat, it was too much for Odette to compute as you spoke with venom lacing your tone. “And I had to be surgically sewn back together, I bet you didn't know that, did you? Well guess who does know? Your uncle because he was there! Not your fucking father!”

Odette didn't know that, She always just assumed that her dad had been there when you gave birth to her. Why wasn't he there she wondered? Why wasn’t he there to watch her be born?

“Oh and you calling him your dad, that's rich considering you have never known the man! So rich when the man who is your father, who is your dad in all the ways that matter most loves you so unconditionally that he adopted you as his own!” You were on a warpath and Odette was your target. “After all those years of your ‘father’ driving me insane with his abuse and his condescending ‘my loves’” You paused to hold back tears as flashes from your past played out like a rolodex behind your eyes. “He talked to me like I was worthless, treated me like trash until I got sick of it!”

“Mum?” Odette tried to interrupt as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“I wanted happiness Odette–” Was all you sobbed. “I deserve happiness! I’m a fucking human being Dot!” You tried to pull yourself together because this wasn't about you or what you wanted. You were a selfless mother who gave everything you had to your children and this was the most vulnerable any of them had ever seen you.

“Don't you dare bitch to me about my career, little miss ‘I’m so progressive!’ Yes! I worked my ass off to get where I am and I wanted it.” Flashbacks from the time Jake and your own guidance counsellor helped you graduate flashed before your eyes. They believed in you when most people didn't. When you didn't even believe in yourself.

“I wanted to mean something in this world! I didn’t know that was a fucking crime!?”

“Mum–” Odette was at a loss for words but nevertheless she still tried. You didn't let her speak. You weren’t done yet.

“Life isn't perfect, oaky baby? We don't get everything we want. But you’re young, you know, so go on, go make the perfect little life that you want and you see how fucking easy it is and stop bitching and complaining and blaiming me! after all I have ever done and all I will ever do has been in your best goddamn interest.”

It was Odette's turn to stand in silence, unsure of what to say back to you after your rant. It was clear she broke your heart—that much was evident, but Odette was too hot headed and knew what she thought was everything she ever needed to know. After all, she was fifteen.

“I’m—“ As Dot when to speak, you held your hand up in order to silence your daughter. She hated the tears that streamed down your face as you refused to look at her. “Mum?”

“Go to your room, I’ve got to go get your brother and sister from school.” Without another world, it was just Odette left in the big house that usually houses five souls at any given time. She felt sick to her stomach for upsetting you so much.

But as she heard the car start in the driveway she knew she wouldn’t apologise for it. You’d be fine. You were her mother—you had no choice but to love her even when you wanted to kill her.

Present Day:

“Now before you whoop my twenty nine year old ass, I did end up apologising and I did go to that detention and I’ve since learnt my lesson.” Dot scrambled to get all that out before Rooster had a chance to lean over and wrap his hands around his daughter’s throat.

You’d never told him about that, Rooster never would have known if his daughter didn’t spill the test fourteen years later. And even if fourteen years had past Bradley knew that you probably thought about that fight a lot.

“Your mother was right kid, I would have throttled you.” Bradley shook his head in disbelief, it was fourteen years ago but he was only finding out about it now. He felt like he was the last to know. He should have known, right?

Later that same evening when Bradley made his way home, he opened the front door to the smell of something homely simmering away on the stovetop. Homemade chicken and feta pesto pasta. One of his favourites.

The portion size had dwindled from five to four to three to two back to three over the years, with kids grown and flying in and out of the house without a second's notice. But the one thing that always remained the same was the love cooked into the food you prepared for your family. No matter how little or how much.

“Hey Roo.” You beamed as you took a sip from the glass of wine in your hand. You’d just finished cleaning up the kitchen after having used every possible surface available. “How’s Dot doing?”

“She’s good, Harrison’s giving her a little trouble but she’s good.” Bradley explained as he made his way over to you. “But—she actually told me a little story about a fight the two of you had?” It was the taunting tone your husband used that made you immediately feeling hot in the cheeks. Bradley wasted no time in trapping you between the countertop and his torso, with strong arms encompassing you. “The one where you—“

“No she didn’t!” You cupped a single hand over your mouth with wide eyes when the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. “That little shit head I swore her to secrecy!” Bradley reached for your glass of wine, he took a sip before he pressed his lips together and leaned in to kiss your cheek softly from behind.”

“You never told me—“

“I didn’t want you knowing I swore at her.” You admitted. “You were deployed and I didn’t want you worrying about us at home and—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Rooster spun you around in his hood and had his lips on yours as he pressed you up against the kitchen counter top. His hands were firmly on your hips, holding you close to him lovingly.

“Before anything, I am a husband and a father first baby.” He reminded you as he let his forehead rest against yours. “I know why you didn’t tell me, and I’m not mad you didn’t because you handled it better than I probably would have—“ Bradley explained as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “But I wish you didn’t have to deal with those very real and very valid emotions by yourself.”

You paused for a brief moment, smiling up at your loving husband and the aroma of his favourite meal consumed the two of you.

“Well if it makes you feel any better baby I wasn’t entirely alone.” You explained as you got to work plating up a bowl of pesto pasta for your husband.

Fourteen Years Earlier:

What Dot didn’t see was the panic attack that overcame you to the point you had to pull over on the side of the road to let it take its course. Memories of that fateful night and that bloodied devil-like smirk flashed before your eyes. Even after all these years the mere mention of your ex brought you to your damn knees in a crumpled heap. He was a monster.

With Bradley deployed and Jake overseas a world away in the land down under, you reached for your phone and called the only person you knew would answer your call the first time round.

“Boys!” Rhett’s loud and boisterous voice travelled down the hall. He was standing in the kitchen making his seven year old boys lunch. Turkey and cheese on wholemeal bread. “Quit fuck assing around, come get your lunch!” As Rhett flung the tea towel over his shoulder and started to pack up the mess he’d made making lunch for his boys—he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. A loud thud came from the living room just around the corner—then? Complete and utter silence. If Rhett knew anything about his kids it’s that when a thud is followed by silence it’s usually not a good thing. “BOYS! you better both be alive when I round that corner!”

Rhett threw the butter and the block of cheese he’d mangled with a less than sharp butter knife into the fridge haphazardly before he kicked the fridge door shut with his boot. He wasted not a second of time, he needed to investigate the silence now shrouding the farmhouse. As he walked he fished his phone from his back pocket to see your name lighting up his caller ID. ‘Ace.’

“Hol’ on—m’ parentin’.” Rhett mumbled as he swiped the pad of his thumb across his screen and held his phone to his ear. Keep it there with his shoulder as he rounded the corner to see one of his twins, Liam, laying on the ground with his eyes closed. “LUKE!” Rhett bellowed into the phone, for a second it made you laugh because Rhett and parenting in the same sentence still made you smile. “What did you do to your brother huh?”

“He fell!” Luke ran out from behind the lounge and down the hall. “I didn’t touch him!” Rhett groaned in defeat as he scooped his son off the ground to make sure he was still alive. Yep. There was a heartbeat and breathe inside his lungs.

“I’m fine, I just need a minute—“ Liam mumbled. “And to not fix fences this afternoon.”

“You ain’t dead, dying or debilitated.” Rhett chuckled as he watched Liam side on the couch with deflated shoulders. “Go eat your lunch and find your brother before I do.” How the fuck was Rhett Abbott a dad? “We’re heading out at two.”

Liam groaned as he flung himself off the lounge and headed on into the kitchen. It was then Rhett exhaled a sigh and turned all his attention back to you—still waiting patiently on the other end of the line. “How much do you think I could get for two feral seven year olds?”

“Probably a little more than a fifteen year old delinquent.” You replied softly as you sat pulled over on the side of the road with your hazards on and your forehead pressed against the steering wheel. “I’m sending her to live with you.” Rhett chuckled as he sat on the lounge and held his phone up to his ear.

“What she do this time?” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for you and Rhett to call each other to discuss your children’s antics. Being separated and a co-parenting dad with two twin boys that hardly knew what he was doing, more often than not it was Rhett calling you. But on the odd occasion you called him? It made him feel validated in a sense that it was okay to not have everything under control all the time. “Y/n? What she do this time?”

“We were arguing about how she got an after school detention—“ You explained only a few details. “And then she hit me with the Bradley’s not her real dad argument when I said she was lucky he wasn’t here to reprimand her.” It knocked the wind right out of Rhett’s lungs. “She’s fifteen! I’m not ready to talk about this yet! She can’t know Rhett—she can’t—she—“ Rhett could tell by the rapid breathing and the panicked tone coming through the phone that you weren’t okay. He looked over to the little digital calendar in the corner of the living room that you all had and saw that Bradley was still on deployment for another two weeks.

“Ace, listen to me?” Rhett tried his best to console you as he rubbed a hand across his tired face. “You don’t have to tell her, no one will ever force you to tell her anything you don’t want her to know, but she’s a smart kid man—she’s gonna figure it out eventually.”

“Fuck you Rhett—“ That wasn’t the reaction Rhett was expecting but nevertheless it forced a chuckled from his chest. “You didn’t see the way she dug that knife in, she knew what she said and she meant it too.”

“Kids are brutal, teenagers are the worst.” Rhett replied. “It’s sticks and stones Ace, be the bigger person and just let her have this one.” You knew Rhett wasn’t invalidating your feelings, he was just giving you level headed advice.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nah—“ Rhett smiled with half his mouth as he watched his boys come back into the living room with their sandwiches. Both sitting in front of the TV to watch something Rhett could only assume was mind numbing. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV as a kid, but he wasn’t about to be like his father. “I’m serious, I think she won this round, but just because she KO’d you doesn’t mean you won’t get back up.”

“I hate you, you know that right?” You groaned into the phone. “Jake would have told me to take the door handle off her door and leave her in there for a week.” You knew that Jake would have been serious too. “I should have called him for moral support, not you and your rational responses.”

You needed level headedness though, you needed someone to pull you back from the edge of a full blown parenting breakdown and of all people it was Rhett Abbott who did so. He smiled to himself because he knew you’d be okay, he knew the tears had slowly begun to fade and he knew that when you got home? You’d still love your shit head of a daughter.

“That’s exactly why Hangman doesn’t have kids.”

Present Day:

There’s a barely twenty one year old emerging from his room right about the time Bradley has you sitting on the countertop while he stands between your legs. If anything the Bradshaw kids were exposed to public displays of affection more often than most kids were but that was because they had parents who were oh so in love.

For Nicky Bradshaws who’s home on a rare visit between trips overseas and dedicating his entire life to the sport he loved so much, the fact he watched his parents suck faces often throughout his childhood never made the sight any less gross.

Nick stood dead in his tracks as he watched his father stand between his mothers legs with his tongue in her mouth like he was starved of oxygen. He let his presence be known by clearing his throat.

“I still technically live here, you know.” Nick side eyed the two of you as Rooster stepped away to let you down from where he had you perched. It wasn’t a kiss laced with lust—but it had been a kiss filled with love for the woman who had built her own version of a perfect life. “I think I deserve to be able to use the common areas of the house without needing lasik after losing my vision after having walked in on you two getting in on.” Your youngest pointed between you and Bradley. “Y’all have a bedroom—use it.”

“It wasn’t like that honey.” You tapped your son on the chest. “Here, have some dinner before your father eats it all.”

“I heard Harry kicked dirt in some poor kid's eyes today.” Nick chuckled at the way his oldest sister had rung him up in the car. “Can’t say he isn’t hers now—“ Bradley laughed along with his son as you deadpanned the both of them. The look you sent them shut their laughter up real quick. “Oh come on ma! Admit it, she was a handful teen and you know it.”

“You weren’t perfect either Bud.” Rooster had your back before you even needed to defend Odette. “I still remember the time I caught that girl sneaking out of your room when you were fifteen—“ Immediately, before the sentence was even finished, Bradley knew he’d fucked up.

“What girl?” Your eyes went wide. “Nick? When did you have a girl in your room when you were fifteen?” Throughout your parenting life together you and Rooster keep certain things from each other. Not out of spite or with malice intentions. It would be to simply keep the other from spiralling or needing to worry about a situation that had already been dealt with. “Bradley? What girl!?” You hissed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“It’s a long story Ma.” Nick replied with a mouthful of pasta.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not busy.” You turned to your husband who looked like a kicked puppy. He kept things from you too. And he kept this one from you for a good fucking reason—Nick had begged him to for his own safety.

Nick knew you’d throw sticks and stones at him if you found out he lost his virginity when he was just fifteen.

“Spill the beans boys.” You willed the pair of them to sit at the table. Nick shook his head in defiance with a mouthful of pasta.

“No thanks, I chose life.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw series #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradleybradshaw #rhett abbott x reader

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years

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The Relationship Experience - four

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

three.

It was Friday.

Babies had been born, threenagers refused to sleep, and the world kept spinning but it was finally D-Day. Your first date with Rooster was approaching and you had no idea what was coming. Hard to say his last text didn’t exactly expel any confusion.

Rooster 🐓: This is super late notice, but I need you to wear something comfy tonight. I can’t wait to see you. I’ll be there at 7 x

Looking at the dress freshly steamed in the bathroom, you panicked. It certainly didn’t look like it fit the comfy bill, but it filled the ‘wine me, dine me, fuck me’ bill…

It had been a day: the majority of it spent primping and priming yourself, and fuck,you were exhausted. But you were brought to a halt, thinking you were prepared until Rooster’s text told you not to go too OTT. Your new shoes - you know, the ones that might not see the electric bill be paid this month - laughed raucously at you. Heading back to your cupboard, you considered how to casual down the drape dress you were certain of only moments earlier.

Really, the heels were the star and Rooster could fucking piggyback you if it didn’t suit his first date aesthetic, you deliberated indignantly.

“It’s not like he’s going to take you to a hoedown,” you reasoned to yourself, knowing that the outfit and shoes were going to happen regardless of his requests. Rooster would tell you if it was completely inappropriate. But right now, all you wanted to do was make his head explode. He wasn’t going to be far away, and you needed to knock his socks off when you answered the door. Procrastinating and talking yourself out of an amazing outfit wasn’t going to help you –

Hearing the faint knock at the front door, you paused. There was no way he was this early… it was a few minutes to 7pm and you were needing every single moment he had promised you, and maybe a few more. Still half-dressed and shoeless, you weren’t going to take the air out of his sails in your flannelette dressing gown. “Fuckkk,” you whined, hearing him knock again.

You breathed, needing to center yourself.

“Okay, he will just have to wait,” you acknowledged as you walked to the door, giddy to see him for the first time in days. You opened it with a smile, hiding behind the protection of the dense wood. “Hi,” you said as he bit back a grin. He looked so fucking delicious. Linen navy blue dress shirt rolled to his tanned forearms, camel khakis, brown boots, freshly shaved, smelling incredible. “You look fetching,” you teased.

“Thank you,” the tips of his ears flushed. “Are you dressed back there?” he tried to take a cheeky peek. Pushing back the door, you presented yourself as he chuckled quietly. “I’m either early or you took my ‘wearing something comfy’ literally…” his voice laced deeply with mirth.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re early,” you confirmed. “Sorry, I just have to change. Come in?”

“Sure,” he gave you a gentle kiss on your cheek as he passed. “Cute,” he mocked your get-up as you rolled your eyes; you weren’t supposed to be cute. “Just give me a few minutes. Go make yourself comfy,” you said, ducking back to your bedroom and inhaling sharply. You put the dressing gown back on the hook behind the door and gave yourself a once over in the mirror of the lingerie you’d picked for the night. Not your usual style, but it cost a pretty penny and if he didn’t cum in his pants the moment he saw it, that was on him because it felt incredible against your skin. And not one to toot your own horn, but you could admit this worked for you.

Running through some scenarios in your head, you went for your heels first, not knowing how simple it would be to put them on after the dress. Sandals buckled,you slipped the dress over your shoulders, finding the hidden buttons. “Okay. End him,” you hyped yourself barely above a whisper, pointing at yourself in the mirror. “Wait, no - don’t endhim. Make him really happy to see you,” you corrected yourself.

Grabbing your clutch, you cautiously entered the living room. He’d poured himself a glass of scotch (okay. So, you’d thought ahead and brought him a bottle. Clearly, he found it), sipping it as you came into his eye line.

“Made yourself comfortable now, hmmm -”

He looked up. “Oh, shit,” he stammered and you were before him. “You look incredible.”

Giving him a tense shrug, you replied, “Am I overdressed? Your text kind of…” you dreaded the answer because there was no backup.

“Well,” he considered it for a moment before a strict, “No,” escaped his lips. “You’re…”

“I hope this sentence ends well,” you bit back your smile.

“You’re everything.”

And again, with just a couple of words from Bradley, your heart raced.He stepped towards you and gave you his hand to twirl under, his gaze not missing an inch of your body.

“Fuck,” he guided you into his arms and kissed you gently, not wanting to wear your lipstick. “I can’t formulate the words.”

“That must be difficult for you,” you said smartly, taking his glass and a sip (it was still hard to take, but he seemed to appreciate the effort you made to enjoy what he did) as he smiled wide. The tension was fever pitch and if he touched you just right, there wouldn’t be a date at all. Whatever he demanded, you’d deliver dutifully. “I thought you were taking me on a date?” you gently reminded him.

Blinking back to you, Rooster nodded. “I’m just trying to not ruin everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“By ditching our plans and just taking you right here.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I feel exactly the same,” you confided, heat creeping to your face.

“Well, we got the sexual tension down,” he joked, and you smiled. “For what it’s worth, you do look beautiful. I’m finding it a little hard to concentrate,” his eyes boldly took in every curve, while his hand gripped your hip in urgency.

You laughed soundlessly as the hand that still held yours drew around you, his palm flat against your lower back. “You look handsome yourself, Bradley.”

He hummed, staring at your lips and licked his own in anticipation. “If we don’t leave now, we never will,” he reminded himself more than you.

“Okay,” you took another sip before he finished the glass in a single gulp and placed the tumbler on the coffee table, guiding you by hand to the door. You loved being led by him, watching his shoulders and back move fluidly, he let you lock up and directed you to his pride and joy, his Bronco. It didn’t impress you much, but it seemed to make him happy. He opened the passenger door and helped you step in, a strong hand firmly on your hip. You didn’t need the assistance; you were perfectly capable of getting in yourself, but you figured he was looking for an excuse to touch you. While you buckled up, he scooted to the driver’s side and hopped in.

“All good?” he asked.

“Not my first time buckling up,” you retorted gently.

“I can see that,” he huffed a laugh. “Just making sure, it’s a bit glitchy.”

“Worked fine for me,” you shrugged, giving it a secure wiggle. “Hey, Bradley?”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow, and starting the engine. “Yep?”

“If I forget to tell you later… I had a wonderful time tonight,” you gently grasped his thigh, his eyes watching the movement closely.

He smiled and leaned across to kiss you, your lipstick marking him, and you smoothed it away with your thumb. “It’s only getting started.”

And you didn’t know if he meant tonight, or forever, but it sure as hell felt like good things were coming. Very good things.

Parking at the beach, Rooster gave you a friendly smile as the sun was starting to set. You both unbuckled and he jogged around to the passenger side while you grabbed your purse, a little shocked to see him opening the door for you.

Oh, shit. He really was holding on to this gentleman's schtick, which you weren’t prepared for. “Thank you,” you said as he offered his hand. Looking towards the restaurant across the road, he shook his head, steering your gaze towards the sand. Oh, no.

“Down there,” he said. Spotting nothing in particular, even if he promised the unexpected, getting drunk on the beach with him would still be all kinds of incredible. “As sexy as those heels are, do you want to wear them in the sand?” he interrupted your thoughts.

Ducking your eyes to the heels that were already giving you hell and you’d only been in them an hour, you smiled, uncertainly. “Let me take them off.”

“I’ll help you,” he offered, walking you to a nearby bench and helping you sit. He knelt to unstrap them, his palms pressing into your ankles, finding a pressure point and you were a puddle. Once both were done, he smiled, taking them in his hands so you could hold your clutch. “Can I ask what these shoes cost?”

You shook your head, meekly. “If I said a month of rent, would you believe me and not tell Grandpa?”

Rooster laughed. “Well, they’re worth every penny. They are very sexy.”

“I think you have a heel thing, Bradshaw,” you taunted. He laughed, standing back to his full height (so tall and handsome as hell) and took your hand. You loved how he laced your fingers between his, it felt so intimate the way his thumb tickled your palm.

“Nah, I just have a thing for you in heels.”

Not other women, you. He liked you in heels. “Where are we going?” you asked, noticing he hadn’t grabbed anything from the car, so he was either taking SD’s public booze warnings to heart, or you were going empty-handed.

The breeze off the water surprised you and you wrapped your arms around Rooster’s torso, which flooded your senses with his cologne. He took the hint and wrapped you under his arm, his hand resting comfortably on your hip, keeping your body close to his. You wandered on the warm sand a few hundred meters between families enjoying the last half an hour of the sun until it finally set. A glow flickered near a rock break to reveal a small professionally kitted fire pit with blankets and cushions laid out with a cute charcuterie board and champagne on ice. Extra blankets were to the side in case it got chilly, and some music player was hidden somewhere, playing something Motown-inspired but with the waves crashing and your senses overloaded, the music seemed irrelevant.

“Oh,” you said, slightly taken back. So, he was unapologetically romantic, and this was just out of this world. The sun was setting over the water in contrasts of purple, orange and pink and Jesus… it was perfect but there was no way he did this himself. You knew he was at work today. “You did good,” you whispered before you could stop it. He grinned, with a pleased nod. “Don’t think badly of me but I phoned it in,” he admitted. “Do you really like it?”

“This is beautiful,” you said, kissing him gently, catching him off guard but he smiled. “It’s a lovely thought. I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me before,” you kissed him again and he flushed slightly this time.

“Good, now you won’t forget it,” he rasped softly. “Champagne?” he asked, pulling the bottle out of the ice, and bringing the glasses closer. You nodded, spying on the familiar yellow label of your favourite. “Only the finest of plastic,” he muttered as you snorted.

“How’d you know about the champagne?”

“This wasn’t on me,” he laughed quietly, carefully popping the cork into his palm. “This is what came with the package.”

“Lucky you,” you said with a smile, as he poured and handed you a glass. “Thank you.”

Pouring his, he jammed the bottle back into the ice chest. “Cheers, sweet girl.”

You took an eager sip, the cool liquid welcome on your tongue. “So, what gave you this idea?” you asked as he kind of shrugged, moving to his knees and taking a seat facing the ocean, stretching his lean legs out before him. He offered you his calloused palm to sit with him, close to the food, and grabbed a grape in earnest. “Thank you,” you took back your hand to smooth the skirt of the dress from creeping any further upwards than what was considered proper.

“Well, you love the beach, the water. Tell me what’s better than the beach at sunset?”

“Being on the beach at sunset with you,” you told him earnestly.

“Oh,” he said. Sometimes your confidence overwhelmed him in the best possible ways, and he lived for it.

“This is special.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you like it,” he offered you his hand which you gladly gave him, and he kissed the back of it tenderly.

“How’s the champagne?” you nudged him as he took a wary sip. He’d told you he wasn’t a champagne guy but he raised a piqued eyebrow and nodded.

“This is actually not so bad.”

“Real champagne. I think the wedding the other night was trying to convince us they weren’t serving sparkling wine,” you scoffed.

“You know your stuff.”

“I know this,” your toes pointed to the bottle in question. Rooster laughed.

“God, I feel like I dodged a bullet,” he pretended to loosen his collar.

“You did good,” you promised him. He put his glass on the small stool and used the same hand to cup your cheek, adjusting his posture to look at you. He melted your soul with those eyes, and it pained you how he made it all seem so easy.

“I want to make you really happy, sweet girl,” he breathed and kissed you, softly. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better this week. Thought I knew all I needed to know and now I kind of feel like I don’t know anything.”

“Isn’t that what the getting-to-know-you part is?” you teased gently.

“I was pretty arrogant to not think about that,” he admitted as you grinned.

“You’ve probably learned a lot more about me that you didn't want to know.”

“I want to know everything, baby,” he said firmly. “I need to know everything. What makes you smile, what’s your favourite smell, what turns you on? All of it.”

You wanted to joke the answer to all those questions would probably be him, Bradley. You hummed, preferring to keep your trap shut. “I didn’t take you for a romantic, Rooster,” you declared.

“I don’t think I am a huge romantic,” he conceded. “I did want to put on a bit of a show for you, though. I want to impress you, make you feel special.”

“Well, consider me impressed,” you confided. But as gorgeous as the beach was in front of you, with the waves crashing violently on the shore, the sun disappearing behind the clouds and the colours of the sky gradually fading to black, thanks to the low light of the fire pit dancing across his features, all you could see was him.

And tonight, you knew, you were falling in love with Bradley Bradshaw.

He made you feel alive. You didn’t realise you were just bumbling along until he figuratively swept in and changed it all for the better. It was fast, it was sudden, and something that couldn’t be explained. You weren’t one to fall quickly, but he caught you each time you tripped.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked lowly.

“Anything,” he said, easing back on his forearms and watching you.

“I had a bit of a crush on you when we were kids.”

He grinned widely, his eyes lighting up. “Can I tell you something?” You nodded. “I knew,” he told you modestly.

“What?” you exclaimed as he chuckled quietly. You were mortified.

“You weren’t exactly subtle about it. You kind of gave me these puppy dog eyes every time I was around. You were a bit young for me though,” he reminded you. “What were you, 13, 14?”

“You were 17!” You wanted the ocean to drag you out and never be seen again. “I’m so embarrassed,” you laughed weakly.

“Don’t be. Feel vindicated!” He winked. “You’ve got me falling over myself for you now. You got what you wanted.”

You laughed a little louder. “You know, I had no idea about how you ever felt.”

“You forced yourself to deny it,” he corrected you, nudging you with his knee, and you looked at him with a slight frown. “You knew,” he continued.

You stayed silent for a moment, and there was no refuting it. Maybe you did know. You always acknowledged his sweetness, but never allowed yourself to think any more of it in case it led down a path that would ruin everything. “I guess I did.”

“Why didn’t you reciprocate?”

“Because I liked our friendship and keeping you at arm’s length when you do what you do seemed like a safer option. I know what’s at stake. What if I was wrong about you?” you asked softly. “Putting myself out there and having my suspicions confirmed? It would have crushed me.”

“So, you choose to close yourself off?”

“You did,” you reminded him.

“Um,” he raised a finger to correct you. “I shipped out.”

“How convenient,” you teased.

He nodded, licking his lip. “I suppose.”

“Was it just Nat asking you about the wedding?”

“I knew I was ready to do something to get your attention. It was good timing, I guess? But I just didn’t think… you were into me the way I was into you? And I’m still not sure you are… but I think you’re starting to believe that whatever this is between us is real.”

It was so sincere, and so right, that you kissed him again.

“This isn’t all too much for you, is it?” he asked slowly.

You shook your head. “No.”

“What’s changed?”

“You showed me what it could be like for us and I started to imagine it was possible.”

“It’s only getting started, baby,” he told you confidently, invading your space and he eased his body over yours, his palm under your head gently protecting you from getting too sandy. “I’m never gonna let anything happen to you, okay? Even if this nosedives, I’ll always be there for you.”

He watched you settle on his words and palmed your cheek before kissed you deeply.

“I’m so crazy about you,” he confided, your name falling like a mantra on his full lips.

There was no way he was ready to say the words that lingered on his tongue. Not yet, not tonight. He wasn’t that guy that tossed those words out freely. But he was certain of how he felt and when the moment was right, he’d let you know. And he was sure you’d return it with every fibre of his being.

It turned out to be a beautiful night. You had a few drinks, ate way too much delicious food, and shared a few cute stories with Rooster.

It wasn’t too deep, but the tone changed when he told you about his papers being pulled for the Academy, how after all these years he was still speechless as to why Maverick, the man he’d looked upon as a father figure after his own father’s death, who had steered him into adulthood, could betray him so deeply.

New ground was being covered.

You told him you remembered the night he came to Grandpa’s house and demanded if he knew why Mav had done him so dirty. You told him you remembered Grandpa holding him, restraining him as he wept openly, angrily, frustrated, devastated that the only thing Bradley wanted in his life was to fly, but now he’d have to go about it another way. A series of devastating blows in such a short amount of time. Losing Carole, flying… Maverick.

It was hard to watch him so deeply betrayed, and even now, so long after, you could feel the sting in his words, “If I never see Mav again, it’ll be too fuckin’ soon,” he muttered as you leaned into him.

“I’m sorry, Rooster.”

“Like, adding to the sting, Mom never wanted me to be a pilot either,” he confessed. “But it’s the only thing that ever felt right, you know?”

“She would be so proud of you, and what you’ve achieved,” you said simply.

He sighed, his fingers squeezing yours. “Ya think?”

“I know.”

He shrugged. “Guess we will never know though, huh?”

“Bradley… you had to do what made you happy,” you continued. “Yeah, it’s taken you a bit longer to get there. But you’re one of the best and there is no denying it.”

He nodded, solemnly. “Mom assumed the same thing would happen to me - that I’d share my dad’s fate.”

To yourself, you knew the risks. You remembered Grandpa, and to an extent, your old man. You forgot how it felt to hold your breath that long until they came home. Now you’d have to add Rooster to that special list. The risks of your friends were always there, but Rooster was in another category: The ones you couldn’t lose at any cost, and you kissed his cheekbone. You could feel his smile under your touch.

“I guess,” he shrugged. “I mean, I got over having to get through it all the long way. College was great, but maybe I wasn’t ready for it? Mom had just died, I was about to roam free, you know?”

“I imagine you were pretty good at it. Breaking hearts left, right and center.”

He giggled quietly. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I call bullshit,” you sang as he grinned at you, relieved for the turn in the conversation. “There was no way you weren’t whoring yourself out all over UVA. God, there must have just been mass destruction and panty-dropping.”

He laughed again. “You think this is what I was like at 18? My nerves were shot. I was an orphan. I went to a school where I didn’t know anyone to try and get my opportunity. I was probably a bit of a nerd as a freshman. I got over that quick though,” he smiled.

“There ya go,” you laughed.

“Tell me something,” he said softly. You gazed up at him, the champagne just giving you the right kind of buzz and his cologne adding to it. “The night of the bonfire...”

Blinking, but not quite catching his drift, you shrugged. Always an innocuous night for you.

“You don’t remember much, huh?”

“I remember being hungover the next day. Like, one of the worst of my life. But it seemed like a fun night. Why? Did I embarrass myself?” you ask, paranoia etched all over your face.

He shook his head with a fond grin. “Can I tell you something that happened that night? Since you’ve clearly blocked it out. It’s kind of instrumental to everything in my life right now.”

It seemed so deep, you feared his words. “I don’t think I want to know.”

He laughed. “I told you that your smile was what won me over. But it’s always won me over. I’ve always loved your smile,” he said as you dreaded his words. “You were in a bit of a state, so I took you for a walk to try and sober you up. You were rambling about wanting to travel again, that there was nothing here in town for you. You had work and you were grateful, but nothing else was trapping you to stay.”

“Sounds like me,” you conceded. Not much had really changed.

“I said that night that I was considering a transfer to be stationed here.”

“You guys move a lot. It sucks. I hate missing you all.”

“You said exactly that.”

You giggled quietly. “I still don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“You told me that if I came back, you’d stay so I’d have someone to take care of me - all in your drunken ramble,” he laughed quietly.

“I did?” you giggled quietly. That didn’t sound like you.

“And then!” he said, chuckling. “You told me that this was my home. That it was where I belonged, where the people who loved me were and that I’d always have a home with you, your family…”

“Well, that’s true,” you acknowledged as he smiled.

“I got my transfer the week before the wedding. There’s been some political bullshit surrounding it all, but it seems to be sorted. I’m moving home.”

Wide-eyed, you couldn’t find the words.

He nudged you. “So, it looks like you’ll just have to put up with me now. Permanently.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly. “Bradley! That’s amazing. I didn’t even know this was a possibility.” You kissed him fondly and he nodded, adjusting his posture to hold you.

“That okay?”

You nodded, cupping his handsome face in your gentle hands. “This is the best news.”

He grinned. “You’re stuck with me. So, this kinda has to work, this being a small town and all,” he joked. You tenderly held his face and kissed him lightly and a slight chill ran down your spine, the wind changing and getting a bit cool. “Blanket?” he asked, reaching for it but you stopped him.

“No,” you told him, bringing him back to you, kissing him again, a little force behind it and you gently caressed his face. “Bradley… take me home.”

Rooster let you take his hand as you got back to your apartment. You knew there was no stopping tonight. No detours for a polite glass of water to settle nerves bubbling under the surface. No need to tease each other unmercifully on the couch. Just a direct line to your bedroom.

You’d left the warm light of the bedside table lamp on to greet you when you returned, making it easy on your eyes. Thankfully, the condoms Rooster had left behind earlier in the week were left undisturbed in your nightstand, leaving everything you needed together for easy access.

“I like your room. Feels like home,” he admitted quietly, stepping behind you and his fingertips grazing as he moved your hair to kiss the base of your neck. Not prepared, your knees gave out a little as you reached up to knot your fingers into his soft curls.

“Don’t stop,” you said, and he smiled into your skin. He’d made no secret that he would be a devoted student to learn everything about what made your body weak for him. “That’s so good.”

He hummed, acknowledging it and banking it for next time. “Where else do you want me to kiss you?”

You turned to face him as you clutched his shirt, bringing him down to you. “I don’t care, just don’t stop.”

“Thatta girl, exactly what I needed you to say,” he tenderly held your hips as he sat down on the edge of your bed. His thighs were wide and he ushered you between them.

“This dress is not conducive to this position,” you confided, and Rooster nodded, knowingly.

“Then ditch it,” he said simply, his voice so low you almost didn't catch it.

“Can you help me?” you asked softly.

“Just tell me how,” he told you, fingers roaming the material for a zip.

“Buttons. Here and here,” you hinted, moving your arms from his search, while he found the dastardly fasteners, slowly opening the front. One by one, his eyes only on yours, he brushed the dress back off your torso, only to be greeted with lace and soft skin. Getting a peak at what was underneath, Rooster swallowed hard.

“Can I take it off?” he begged quietly. You nodded as he stood up to brush the shoulders of the dress away, the material slipping to the floor. “Jesus Christ,” Rooster’s mouth went dry as the dress you wore now pooled around your feet. Bathed in the lingerie, that frankly left absolutely nothing to the imagination, Rooster chewed his tongue, almost tasting blood. “I am so scared I’ll cum before I’m even in you,” he confessed, his hands pushing back your mussed hair and dragging you to him, fingers digging into your hips, the pressure of your body against his firm cock giving him a momentary respite.

“That’s exactly what I hoped for,” you said, staring at the buttons of his shirt as he pulled it over his head when it was loosened enough and he gladly tossed it away. Your fingers drifted across his soft, golden skin and down his toned abdominals, nails scratching lightly against the firm muscles as he flinched.

“Ticklish.”

You’d forgotten, but it was too fucking late now. “Gee,” you said wistfully. “I know you have to stay in shape for work and stuff, but your body is crazy.”

He laughed quietly. “Thank you, I think?” He took your face in his hands as you found the button and fly of his pants, widening the waist to push them down. “Go ahead,” he instructed gently and watching your hands lower the slacks to his ankles and he kicked them off.

Remembering your derailed plans from earlier in the week, you knew that if anyone tried to disrupt this revelry, you would just have to kill them. Simple as that.

“Come here,” he said, sighing deeply before he kissed you again.

His kisses were different now. No demand, no urgency, just slow. Exploring the taste of your tongue, his hands drifted down your back, massaging your hips and he moved you towards the bed. He guided you to the mattress first, laying you down and he hovered over you, his thigh nudging yours apart. He carefully lay his weight on you, and fuck, you’d forgotten how much you craved it.

His lips left yours, trailing a mess of wet kisses down your chin, your throat and splayed across your clavicle. “I need this. I need to taste you, baby,” he told you, holding your ribs and lightly pinning you down. His usually warm eyes watched you, hauntingly dark in his longing. Reaching for the cup of your bra, he drew it down, and his skilled mouth caressed your nipple, which you’d freely admit was desperate for some attention. He huffed a small laugh, picking up on the hint as you pushed your chest into it. “Good girl, tell me what you like,” he whispered into your skin, moving to give the other side the devoutness it deserved, using his palms to massage the soft skin, his fingers pinching, his tongue circling and your eyes drifted closed.

He sat you up for a moment, and bringing your attention back to him, his hands drifted around your back and unclipped your bra (in only a few seconds, good for him), dragging it down your arms and letting you fall back against the mattress. “Just beautiful,” he breathed deeply, face hovering over yours again. “Hi,” he smiled.

“Hello,” you traced his lower lip.

“You good?” he asked softly, licking his top lip and caging you in his strong embrace. He knew you didn’t need to be asked.

“If you keep doing what you’re doing, I think I’ll forget my name.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge? Because I’m willing to make that bet.”

You laughed with a languid shrug. “You promised me a 12, Bradshaw...”

He hummed, amused. “You’ll get your fuckin’ 12...” He kissed you, his tongue warm and wet against yours, his weight relaxing on you, and you wrapped him up tightly, never wanting to let him go but he had other thoughts, leaving your lips again, working quickly down to your ribs.

Your toes were curling.

It was hard not to keen into his ministrations with how desperate you were to watch him discover your body. You dug your nails into his scalp as he looked up with a lazy grin, letting you know he appreciated that too. You softly massaged and tugged at his unruly curls as he breathed deeply against your tummy, continuing south on his trek. He released your ribs and moved his body towards the end of the bed, your legs still splayed wide as he licked his lips.

His fingers traced the seams of your underwear, tickling the soft skin on your belly before they looped under. He stripped the flimsy material down your legs, unconsciously tossing them over his brawny shoulder.

He licked his lips and exhaled sharply. “Beautiful.”

Getting to his knees, he planted single kisses from your belly button to the neat patch of hair at your mound and his long fingers opened you to him. It was bold. He didn’t want to make you tense; he wanted you proudly on display as you lost all control for him. He didn’t want you to hide, be shy, just fucking let loose and leave the rest up to him.

Unless you wanted that control, because fuck. Take it.

Knowing how well he kissed would be a problem if he went down on you the same way. He swirled his tongue around your clit, going hard early as you almost jolted off the bed, a quiet squeal of surprise escaping your lips. His large palms pushed you back down as he huffed a quiet laugh at your expense, but you gave in and tried to relax for him. You were so pent-up and overwhelmed, everything already felt so good, and you were so sensitive, you knew if he kept doing exactly what he was, his pretty face would be a goddamn mess.

“Jesus,” you cried, your nails ripping into the tanned skin of his shoulders, and he grunted in reply. He released your hip and trailed his hands across your skin, the pads of his fingers dancing across your inner thigh as he focused his lips on your clit, giving himself the room to fill you with his fingers. One, two - you could hardly be sure, but Rooster was so fucking good at this and fuck.

“How’s my girl?” he rasped, voice deeper than you imagined you’d heard, fingers not ceasing, looking up to view you writhe under his touch.

“Good God, Rooster,” you manage as his fingers scissor inside you.

“How hard are you gonna cum?” he hummed thoughtfully. “You taste so good; I could stay down here for hours.”

“Oh, my God,” you managed, his words swirling around in your head, you were so dizzy, you almost felt you could pass out as his lips left their workspace, kissing between your thighs, his teeth gently leaving their mark as he bit you gently and goose pimples exploded over your skin. He wanted to own you and have his mark on you, and you were in no predicament to argue. “Bradley?”

He gazed up at you, eyes lidded. He rutted against your mattress, seeking his pleasure as his lips enclosed you again. Fuck - he was a sight for fucking sore eyes. He would never be as sexy to you as he was now (lie, lie, bald-faced LIE). It was for you; it was all for you and your body just couldn’t resist.

You had to come, as much as you could have watched him like this forever. The dam burst, coils snapped, and tears sprang from your eyes as you came. And came and came. It was shameful, but he didn’t give you a reprieve. He was going to drag every ounce of pleasure from you and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You tried pushing him away and you could hear his laughter amid the blood pumping in your ears. He let you go, his body skimming up yours, jolts of electricity catching you on more sensitive body parts as he met your lips.

He kissed you wildly as you flung your arms around him, tasting yourself on his tongue. You felt mostly like a bag of bones, but you couldn’t let go of him. “Bradley.”

“That was beautiful. I could watch you come undone like that every day, sweet girl,” his tongue traced yours and he peppered your face and decolletage with sweet kisses, although the abundance of warmth careening through you was still so strong.

“Holy shit,” you pressed him to you, breathless.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“If only you could get a commendation for that…” you managed. He laughed quietly.

“Fuck, you did so well. Do you need a minute?” he asked, resting his cheek on your breast. Your breath was still labouring as you traced his spine and he curved into you. You shook your head as he smiled up at you and you stroked his face. He pressed the side of his face into your palm, and you asked him what he wanted. “I’m in no rush. You decide what’s next.”

You gently moved him off of you and rolled him to his back. Arms splayed above him, he watched you and your next move. He was so hard and hefty, and you were desperate to take him in your mouth. Return the favour, taste every inch of skin, grasp every muscle and ridge, he was there, and he was willing. This man, who you never knew needed you so carnally, was just as desperate for you, too.

“Lift your hips,” you said quietly and pulled down his boxer briefs.

Not a real surprise, Rooster was big, heavy and thick. He wrapped his muscular arms behind his head and watched you debate your next move. There was nothing left for you to hide, it was time to put up or shut up. And Rooster deserved the best.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna,” he reminded you.

“But I do want to - I want you,” you reassured him and he held back his smile. “Is our friendship over?” you asked suddenly.

“Well, yeah,” he laughed quietly. “I just ate you out and made you cum pretty hard, so there’s really no going back from here.”

You covered your mouth with a laugh. “Shut up, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

“This is entirely the time for jokes,” he corrected, his smile a little bit wild. “Don’t take this so seriously. We’re here for fun. A lot of fun,” he corrected himself. “Just relax,” he moved to sit up and sat on his knees before you. He gently took your face in his palms. “We got through the hardest part. From here on in, it’s all about us and how we enjoy ourselves, okay?” he kissed you. “You want to stop?”

You shook your head.

“Words?”

“No. Definitely don’t wanna stop.”

“That’s what I thought,” he kissed you again, resting his forehead against yours, his fingers skimming through your hair. “Get outta your head.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you massaged his traps and kissed him again. “You always say the right thing. It’s incredible.”

He pulled you to him tightly, kissing you furiously, his hands pressing into your ass and he sat you on his lap. He adjusted his long legs out in front of him and you were straddling him. “Just kiss me. That’s all,” he encouraged as you took his words and put all the passion he deserved into your kiss.

You adjusted your posture and reached between your bodies. Rooster jerked lightly as you gently took his length into your palm, slowly dragging your palm up and down, thumb swirling around the wet tip. He sighed against your mouth, his kiss falling from your lips as he breathed deep, your touch enough for now for him.

But not for you. You needed him, his words of encouragement spurring you on and you crept to your knees. “Condom?” he asked quietly. “I’m clean,” he raised his hands in gentle protest.

“I’m on the pill,” you replied as he watched your hands keenly and strangled a breath as you sheathed yourself on him, filling yourself with him to the hilt. His breathing was shallow as he muttered how warm and wet you were, how he longed for this, how he needed to see your body move. He let go of you and carefully relaxed into the mattress, not wanting to break your momentum.

Rooster grasped your hips as you found the rhythm you desired and he watched your body, the way your hips circled and drove him into fucking oblivion. “You were made for this,” he encouraged. “I wish you could see what I see.”

You felt like you were levitating. You knew it’d be good, but Rooster Bradshaw’s body was made for you. His strength, his masculinity, his unwavering self-assurance that he wanted your first time together to be something you’d never dream of forgetting.

“Holy fuck,” you managed, as he pressed deep into your belly, his strong hands keeping you sturdy as you rode him. It was supposed to be good, but everything was so much more than you could have ever expected. Bradley Bradshaw had figuratively ruined you for others, after him, there would be naught. Nada.

So, stop thinking about it like there could ever be anyone else, your brain ordered. It’s only getting started, wasn’t that what Bradley has said earlier?

“I don’t know how much more I got left in me, sweet girl. I need to cum,” he told you, his fingers stinging you. It was only fair, you’d cum. If you were lucky, you would again…but he was due to explode. “Do I pull out or…” he asked you, eyes searching yours.

“Cum, baby. Cum,” you told him.

“Okay… but not yet,” he said, his fingers creeping to open you up to him again, you knew the friction was enough to get you off, but he needed this. “Wanna feel you cum on me. Need to…” he hissed, the pad of his thumb writing his name on you as he tried to restrain himself, chewing his lower lip and hissing in desperation. You banked the pleasure on his face, he’d never been sexier to you.

“Jesus,” you kicked your feet, knowing that you were close again. It didn’t take a mathematician to know there were certain factors to get you over the line. Rooster filled you, he knew exactly where to touch and taste you as he raised his hips deep into you, meeting your rolls. “I don’t think I can…” you shrieked. It was all too much. You were too sensitive, too turned on.

“You can,” he told you sternly and you believed him instantly. “Let go, baby. I gotta feel you.”

You leaned towards him in your exhaustion, and he reached for your nipple, sucking, biting, swirling along with his skilled touch, groping roughly and that was it. You were coming, you were coming hard, just like he wanted.

He groaned, eyes drifting closed as he tried to hold on, ride out your orgasm that threatened to tear him in two. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, yes,” Rooster breathed as you tried to keep fucking him through your second orgasm, sloppy and unable to control your movements. Rooster’s hips were like pistons, screaming into you, wanting to steal every piece of you for himself. His strong hands gripped your hips, forcing you on him harshly as he fucked hard into you, coming white hot, groaning into your mouth as he pulled you against him.

A mess of limbs, sweat and bedsheets, he kissed you deeply, your body’s soothing with the others. Rooster dragged his hands down your back soothingly, smoothing your hair.

“Baby, you did so good,” he promised. “So fucking sexy.”

You kissed him quickly, and he gave you a gentle smack on the ass, forcing you to swallow the kiss in surprise. You sighed, absolutely spent and he chuckled lowly. “You good?” you asked him.

He sighed deeply, a dreamy smile on his wet lips. “That was fuckin’ fantastic. Jesus Christ, you can move,” he settled you against his chest, his heart thundering in your ear.

“12.”

He smirked, crudely. “Don’t act so fuckin’ surprised.”

You gently dozed on Rooster’s chest as he tenderly stroked your hair, the other tucked around you firmly, the pads of his fingers drawing small circles on your hip. So worth the wait, having you here like this in his arms. He gently kissed your forehead.

While he was exhausted, he was still wide awake. Buzzing still, flashes of earlier in the night swirled through his mind. Finally witnessing you lose all resolve with him, the sounds you made, your touch on his skin. It was still all very real and incredibly vibrant.

“Why are you still awake?” you mumbled against his chest, adjusting your posture to roll to the pillow. Rooster hummed, following your lead and rolling to press up behind you, his intentions bold. He wrapped his arms around you and left a trail of wet kisses between your shoulder blades. You whimpered lowly and couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at your lips. You were completely at his mercy.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” you replied, biting back a yawn against his chest. “Dozing.” He smiled against your skin, hard and harsh against your ass. “The one per cent,” you muttered, giggling quietly.

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t have a high sex drive,” he admitted, kissing across your shoulders. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

Looking back at him over your shoulder, you told him, “That will never be a problem for me.”

Pouting, Bradley hitched his body over yours, his hips rolling into yours, delicious friction found, and he kissed you deeply. “Good - because it’s only getting started.”

five.

masterlist.

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