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tremendum · 1 year

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Mr. Miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 6.8k requested: yes. here and here :)

summary: “six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.”

warnings: Jackson era, mentions of marijuana use, age gap (unspecified), sliiightly dub!con, smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, choking, spit kink, slight knife kink (do not look at me), dom!Joel (brat tamer!Joel if you squint), slight sir kink, so much dirty talk, lots of begging, degradation kink, dacryphilia, mean!Joel, this is just shameless smut i am horrible notes: okay i kind of modified these asks but I thought it’d be fun to write it like this!!! as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because i am INSANE! xoxo

( read the sequel other Joel fics: fever landmines )

★

to be completely honest, you never would’ve guessed you’d move to Wyoming.

of course, in this world you didn't really have much of a choice of where you end up; it was hard to travel, yes, but there was some guiding hand that invisibly pushed you upon Jackson in the middle of a really rough winter.

a girl, lost and on her own through the dangerous sprawls of what's left of the United States - of course Tommy and Maria had accepted you into the community; you were resourceful, willing, and strong-headed.

most of Jackson was nice.

the people were good, the community functioned, and you were finally safe - you found a job working partly as a patrolman if an extra hand was needed, but mostly as a gardener.

it was a beautiful basin valley with sprawling mountains that glittered in the snow even during summer.

you'd only been there for - what, maybe half a year? six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone.

Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.

you didn't particularly get off on the correct foot with Joel Miller. when he showed up in town, people were thrown off. you surely understood that - but it was Tommy's brother, and Tommy insisted he would be fine; he and the girl with him had already been 'round Jackson before, leaving just a week or so before you showed up, apparently.

you'd definitely heard about him.

coincidentally, you'd actually moved into the house that Tommy had wanted Joel to have; the house that had the spare girl's bedroom which Ellie came through to ravage once they came back into town. (apparently the towels at Joel's were too rough no matter how many times they were washed, and Ellie really liked that Tamagotchi you'd found in the bedroom she once slept in.)

maybe that'd already put him off, the short time in which Ellie had found company in you. who knows.

but unfortunately, your first impression of him was muddled by a very real lens of beer-goggles and a long week's aching exhaustion in your brain. he was large, a tall man whose disposition dripped of domineering power; he didn't trust anybody here and by the looks of it, they didn't particularly adore him. he kept to himself besides Tommy - who unfortunately along with his wife were really your closest comrades in the community.

you almost felt bad for him, because that's how many people saw you at first. but on that night, you were just drunk enough, as you greeted Maria and Tommy at the bar with smiles and a joke about your libido, that you didn't quite realize that Tommy's big brother Joel was sat there, eyes watching you with a glimmer of something lurking behind the rim of the beer bottle.

to be fair: everybody in this life is unkind in their first impressions. that's just how the world is now - 'every man for himself' is an unfortunately ugly reality and those who are too soft to see that are rarely spared the gore.

but when Tommy introduces you to Joel with a huff of a laugh and a friendly slap on your shoulder, Joel's eyes are distrusting, judging. he doesn’t say anything to you.

you try not to be offended.

"pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller." you nod with a grin, your cheeks hot with slight intoxication as his large, calloused palm slips into yours. his grip is tight - your wince is covered with your words as you momentarily shoot Maria a look, turning back to the man in front of you.

"I met your girl earlier. stormed into my house like she owned the damn thing. was lookin' for some stuff she'd found last time, I guess. I'm just glad she didn't find my collection of big-girl toys."

okay. okay, yeah, maybe you are too drunk. Maria laughs, at least, and Tommy lets out a chuckle, eyes flickering to Joel. but he just hums, eyes glancing over you once more before returning to nurse his dark beer with a furrow of his brows. “right.”

and pathetic as it is, he was too damn irresistible; you’d imagined that stare -that brooding scowl- one too many times in the dead of night, hands down your pants or in a stranger’s bed.

and it hadn't gotten better in the months following.

it was of circumstances most unfortunate for you that Joel and Ellie moved into a house just a few down from you - as much as you wished to just never see the man and his censorious stare, it was unavoidable. especially when Ellie showed up nearly day-to-day with questions, excuses, or even just complaints of boredom to coax you into letting her inside your house.

a week or so ago, you’d overheard Tommy in a hushed voice down at the dining hall trying to convince Joel it was a good thing, that Ellie was learning to garden, learning about woman stuff (yes, he actually fucking said that), and - god forbid- make friends.

but you love Ellie.

she in't like Joel. she’s funny, and lively, and easy-going once you warmed up to her. in fact, you actually started to collect things from around town to show her on her ceremonious visits; books, tattered board games, once you even found a trumpet in the crawlspace of your old house. it was rusty and honestly probably still had dried saliva from whichever fifth-grader played it way back before the outbreak, but it was enough to entertain you and the fifteen-year-old girl for hours even if neither of you knew how to play it.

and maybe it was after Ellie mentioned to you with a giggle that Joel complains about you calling him ‘Mr. Miller,’ or maybe it was when she said he’d always ask about you and what you’re like whenever she returned from your days together.

no matter what the catalyst really was, you just know you have it bad for that man, in the worst way - because he is a fucking asshole.

but the worst of it was when Joel and you get paired up to patrol together on the outskirts. it means hours together of breathing and awkward looks, silence from you because he was silent and clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

you suffered through hours of Joel’s rugged sageness for survival, tugging you effortlessly through boulders, lifting yourselves high through dilapidated structures in the middle of the wilderness. he was strong and capable and fucking sexy, and that made it all the more unbearable when snide comments about your youth or your inexperience or your lack of punctuality would pass his lips. it was annoying how hot it made you.

as the summer rolled around, the horde was growing ever-present at the lips of Jackson county, festering like the moss that spreads along the woodsy forests in the northwest - hence your increased activity with the others who patrol the area and keep the community safe.

he was a many of almost no words, and though you were in no way the same when you were around people you trust, the man just brings out the skeptic in you - so for weeks, it was days of the two of you walking in silence, the only noise being weak impasses and jabs at the other’s self-esteem all veiled by a smirk or an eye-roll.

and still, each day out passed with your untrustworthy gazes pinned on the horizon just as much on each other's trigger fingers.

you're at your wit's end on one Friday evening as you finally return into town from patrol with him.

Joel is a man plagued by too many unnamed illnesses; the likes of which you so fondly call in your head 'can't-accept-help-itis' and 'stubborn-old-asshole-luenza.' part of his symptoms render him unable to say full sentences to you without a judgmental look or a skeptical scoff, and sure you're not always the best judge of character, but you're confident that Joel has his eyes on your backside every single time you bend over to move your marker on the trail. he’s thought about it, too.

but right now, you’re so tense you’re about to snap.

his gaze hasn't left your profile for - you swear to god - almost thirty fucking minutes. like, nearly the whole walk from the first outpost. he’s been staring at you like you’re a ghost, or a second head sprouted from your neck.

the heat of the summer night is unsullied; though you’re high in elevation, the warm wind blows a gust over your bare knees and ruffles your hair, coaxing a damp feeling to settle between your thighs under his gaze.

"if you stare any harder at me, you'll get a fucking nose bleed." you sneer, keeping your eyes ahead as you grit your teeth. his gaze is burning into your side and with your words, they maintain their heat.

whatever he was thinking, he keeps it to himself. you glare at his own profile, thick thighs, sturdy chest, hair that blows gently in the warm air. his jaw, glinting against the lights that guide you back into town. at least he’s looked away from you. good.

your victorious smirk is wiped off of your lips with his next words, the first in several hours from him besides grunts and directives. "d'you have the logs on you?"

you look at him with revelation. "shit." you sigh shaking your head, "they're- they're at home."

his face slides into a look of disdain, deep vexation at the task of now going back with you to your own house to sign the logs and confirm your findings for this patrol. "great." he mutters, feet kicking into gear to hightail it up the street, towards your house.

the heat is swirling around your legs in the darkening evening as you finally enter your house, sighing into the empty air. the lights flicker when you switch them on, and you'd bring yourself to be more embarrassed about the disheveled state of your things if it had been anyone else with you.

it doesn’t even matter, after all; his sights are set one one incriminating little piece of evidence in the corner of the living room.

the small nub that sits on the tray by your windowsill seems to be more salient for Joel than the hurricane that threw your belongings across the space.

your hands fall onto your hips, sighing as he accusingly lifts it from its ashy grave, eyes furrowed in irritation. your flannel sticks to your sleeves in the heat as his eyes meet yours.

"is this- 's this marijuana?" he's incredulous as his fingers pinch the burnt-out roach, and you screw your brows at him; is he serious? you ignore the dwarfed look of the small old joint in his large hand, instead rolling your eyes. "yeah, some folks call it weed. you can smoke it and it makes you feel real good. you ever heard of it, Mr. Miller?" you snark, the sarcasm spilling from your lips deliciously; Joel eats it up like a man starved, his jaw ticking as he tilts his head.

you know he secretly loves when you taunt him with the honorific; yes, it gets on his nerves, but there’s a secret air about him that suggests he likes it that way. it is easier to blur the lines between hate and desire than affection and desire, after all.

"Ellie comes over here every day." he hisses, eyes sharp. you blink slowly at him, trying to fight the laugh that creeps up your throat; his gaze is dark, furious - did he think you were smoking weed with the girl? she's, like, thirteen. (fifteen, she corrects you in your mind. but still.)

"that’s correct." you confirm, turning from him to search the kitchen for the log you'd forgotten in your haste to leave. his footsteps ring angry onto the floorboards. "if you're worried about that, I’d never smoke around her. 'm not that disrespectful." you defend, avoiding eye contact as you shuffle through your drawer of junk.

"doesn’t matter. she won't be coming round much more." he threatens it - tests the waters. as if he has the authority to punish you.

you lift a brow at him, "don’t you think she should be able to make that choice?" you throw back at him, tossing your switchblade onto the table to your right as you sort through the miscellaneous items with both hands.

uh oh, that struck a nerve in the man.

his eyes sharpen as he breathes harsh at your words; "don't talk about things you know nothing about, girl." he snaps, crossing his arms, "now find the fucking log so I can leave."

you glare at him, gesturing in front of you; your eyes scream no shit, Joel, I’m looking.

it's silent as you search through the drawer, gritting your teeth in the tense silence of anger, thicker than molasses.

you click your jaw, refusing to let it go, let him think he won.

"I do have self respect, y'know." you pipe up, lifting a brow as you finally stumble upon the log, pulling a dying pen from the drawer and scribbling notes as you plop down on a wooden chair at your kitchen table.

Joel stays standing; it does not go unnoticed when his eyes take in the contours of your body, the clothes that stick to you in the heat of the summer; a pair of jean shorts, torn from years of use, and a thin tank top, covered with an unbuttoned flannel. his eyes sear into you at your words.

wow. fuck him.

(no, not like fuck him, but- fuck him.)

"never said you didn't, darlin'." he mutters condescendingly, the pet name leaving his mouth bitterly. any form of backlash you were going to unleash on his dies in your throat quickly when he leans over your shoulder to sign his own name next to yours. your eyes widen to search his face as his own skim over your account of the patrol. he's- wow, he's closer to you than you would have expected.

holy shit. smoky swirls of gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey. they fill your nostrils, dizzying your mind as you let out a stuttered breath - it's hot in here... your eyes glance as a small lick of sweat trickles down his neck. your throat is dry, heat swirling in your abdomen as he hums, "jus' think Ellie should start hangin' around with others."

"why's that?" you snap, daring him to say it. fuck, your heart is pounding in your chest. oh, if he just admits it; that he thinks he's better than you, that he thinks you're pathetic - lord, you yearn for it, you’d have a fucking field day. you want an excuse to hit him. or bite him.

fuck Joel Miller, and- okay, fine. fuck him, too.

his brows are furrowed as he glares hawkishly at your stubborn form; his gaze is serrated with disdain, jaw clenching with the words you're just begging him to admit.

"she's been cussin' and speaking...vulgar." he mutters, eyes flickering away from you. your jaw unhinges as you huff in surprise; he has the audacity to accuse you for teaching her to be foul-mouthed? hadn't she traveled with him for, what, a year? she’s a teenager - that’s what they do.

"oh, please." you snap, "that girl was far from a princess when you showed up here, you know." you mutter, tossing a look over your shoulder up at him, the buttons undone at the top of his shirt staring at you, mocking you.

"I know." he dismisses. his hand falls to stable himself on the back of your chair as he leans down towards you, "but you ain't helping. don't need her gettin' into any more trouble."

you narrow your eyes, "trouble?" you parrot, accusing.

the air is warm, thick as you cross your arms, the windows open and flowing the outside summer air into your nostrils. "how could I be trouble? you hardly know me." you snap, offended. you swirl with irritation.

"because I listen. people think you're harsh. untrustworthy." he spits, smirking down at you as if his words are poison that'll dissolve your whole being into a small puddle of regret. but no, it's gasoline; his words are enough to incite your flames, lick you alive with ardor.

he doesn't like you? oh, big fucking deal. you don't like him.

"you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Miller?" you drawl, lifting an accusatory brow. “what if you’re the bad influence? it’s not like you have any more manners than I do.”

his jaw sets and his nostrils flare from his sharp exhale; you let your eyes swipe over the splattering of freckles that peek out from under the scruff beard that grows; a scar jags across his skin, frown lines creasing his scowl in a dark, terribly attractive way. you’re tip-toeing a line here, you can feel it.

he can feel it, too.

his eyes dip down, though you try hard to hold his heated gaze; they trail slowly over your shoulders and down, down to the dip of your collarbones and then over your breasts, heaving slightly with the proximity of the man. his gaze nearly melts the tank top that stretches over your torso and a flood of excitement rushes through you, pooling in the seat of your underwear. a smirk creeps onto your face at his wandering stare - resentful, loathing, heated.

something in you snaps, and you can't deal with it any longer; not with his proximity, leaning over your shoulder and staring you down, with half-rolled sleeves. his forearms, they’re thick- goddamn, he's so-

"-I can't tell if you're looking at me like that because you want to kill me, or you want to fuck me." you snap, breaking his spell as you snap his attention back to your own eyes with your bold choice of words. "either way, it'll have to wait. I got shit to do, Mr. Miller, and for some reason, you're still in my house giving me fuck-me-eyes."

"-you better watch your mouth." he snarls, chest heaving as he leans forward menacingly, his jaw clenched.

you let yourself smile up at him, "or what, Mr. Miller?" you ask kindly, voice dripping with perfidious innocence.

he sneers, eyes raking over your form, jaw ticking. your body flushes with warmth under his scrutinous gaze; one of your bare legs slides up to rest on the chair next to you, on full display snd illuminated in the light of the kitchen as you smirk at him. his dark chocolate gaze slides over the skin revealed; your skin tingles in excitement under his watch. it makes you chuckle.

"what, you don't like the way I speak?" you hiss, glaring at him. "chastising me for shit that you do, too?" you mutter snidely, pulling your leg back down as his eyes glare into yours. "I'm an adult, you can't tell me what to say. fucking hypocrite."

your hand presses into his chest, standing to your full height. his chest is firm, hot, but he lets you do it easily, moving back out of your space; giving you an out, offering you a chance to say this-isn't-what-I-want. but you won't take it. no, instead you slide up closer to him, until you're too close.

"why so quiet now, Mr. Miller?" you almost purr, your hand still toying with your switchblade, the glint of it reflecting in his eyes. slowly, you lift the blade to trace it gently, softly over his jawline, as you’d do with your fingers. he watches you like a damn hawk, breathing heavy.

the scratch of it against the facial hair is enough for him to snap; suddenly snatching the blade from between your fingers in one quick motion.

“you’re testin’ my patience.” he growls, shaking his head as he holds the handle of the knife in an iron-like grip. you shake your head, “yeah, well, you’ve taken all mine.” you counter. “so…” you start, raising a brow at the knife in his hands, the way your legs are turning to putty, “you going to kill me, Mr. Miller? or fuck me?” you whisper it into his ear, up on the tips of your toes as the peppering-gray curls at the base of his ear tickle your lips.

a sharp exhale - almost a surrender. then, a rough hand pushes you down against the table, hard. your body is pliant, willing, excited as his force brings you to thud against the wood, his hand flying down quick just to your right in a loud thud.

your head snaps to your right, eyes wide and jaw open; your switchblade pins your own flannel to the table, stabbed down and holding the material and your arm in place. christ, it barely missed nicking your skin.

“depends on if you can learn some goddamn manners.” he growls, leaning over you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

maybe it’s the look on his face, or just how damn long it’s been since you had someone, or just because it’s Joel – but your facade falls so quick and you’re soon keening up towards him, arching your back so your chest sticks out.

“I’m a fast learner.” you promise; at that, he merely hums, his hips grinding slow over yours. you let your eyes squeeze shut, groaning lightly at the bliss of his rough denim sliding against your shorts-clad cunt, throbbing with desire.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of his hips against yours, licking your lips to wet them; “fuck, Joel-“ your breath is strangled, “please. I can be good for you.” you try to convince him, blinking your eyes up at him. his smirk is downright evil as his hands fall to your top, skating over the tops of your breasts before one hand grips your jaw in his large palm, squeezing hard onto your cheeks and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

his grip is unforgiving. “y’think you can jus’ bat those pretty eyes at me?” he sneers, his breath hot and fanning over your face. you’re overheating- god, it’s so fucking hot in your house; your hand raises to grip his forearm, swallowing your pride for the sake for finally getting to feel him inside you, “’m sorry, Joel.” you mutter, cheeks squished by his hand.

his brow furrows, shaking his head. a chastising tutting noise escapes his throat as he rolls his hips, grinding sloooow and smooth against your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he spits, pushing you harder against the table. your throat is dry, a whimper of desire escaping your throat. his lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans more of his weight on you, your legs wrapping around his hips and your own surging up, up in search for some friction, “say it. say you’re not sorry. you like it, I can tell.”

shivers spill down your spine as you bite back a moan, cheeks alight with heat at his teasing. Your eyes lull over towards the blade that holds down your shoulder, pinning you against the table. a hot rush of arousal floods your underwear as you swallow, eyes rising to meet his in a lidded gaze.

“I like it,” you admit in a shameful gasp, hand sliding up to explore his chest, “I’m- I’m not sorry. I like it, ‘m not sorry.” you mutter, voice desperate, pathetic; you’re swallowing a whimper as he grinds slowly against you again, his hardened cock straining against his jeans.

his hand snaps to pin yours down to the edge of the table; your eyes snap up to his, meeting the swirling lust within his deep eyes, searching your face with a dangerous smirk. “you aren’t sorry?” he asks, voice dripping with condescending cockiness.

you shake your head no desperately, searching his eyes to see if he’s pleased.

he smirks at your desperation. "you will be, darlin’." he mutters, his own eyes exploring your chest as it heaves, breasts barely spilling out the top of your tank top’s hem. you smile up at him despite your desperation; hunger curls in your chest as you move your hips up against him and his face falters, a groan escaping his throat. his eyes swirl with the dark shine of a man who is nothing less than dangerous.

the hand that isn’t pinned by the blade creeps up his arm, brushing the thick cords of muscle that rope his bicep and shoulders; soon, though, one of his hands is gripping your wrist and slamming it down against the edge of the table.

you gasp from the roughness, biting your lip as your fingers curls around the edge and hold tight under his grip.

“don’t move your hands,” he mutters as his lips dip low to trace over the seam of your top, breath brushing over the soft skin of your breasts. “or I’ll leave you here, pinned to this table.”

arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently, swallowing as his teeth bite roughly at your pressure point. “d’you hear me, girl?” he grunts, his hands moving to pull out one of your breasts from your top, your peaked nipple instantly tugged between his prying fingers.

you let out a yelp at the sensation and he huffs against your skin, biting again. “fuck,” you whimper loudly, bucking your hips as your hands grip tight against the edge of the table; one arm is pinned with the knife anyways, but your heart thunders as his tongue peaks out, brushing hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

A hand snakes to your throat and you can’t stop the moan you let out, air sucking through your windpipe at the light grip he keeps; you’re obsessed with how all-consuming he is.

Joel’s everywhere – his smell, his eyes, his hands, tongue – you want him to be inside you, you want him to be in you forever, ever, ever.

fuck Joel Miller. fuck him, and fuck him.

“I asked you something. answer me.” he squeezes your throat as he emphasizes, as he demands you; you buck up against him, convinced you’re soaking through your goddamn shorts, leaving disgusting proof of your sick, twisted arousal as you move against his crotch.

his dominance causes your face to flare with heat; you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission - you love it. “y-yes, yes, sir. I he-heard you.” you gasp, face flushing hot as the words leave you. he smirks darkly as he pulls away from you, danger lurking in his eyes deliciously as he nods, seemingly pleased.

he nods. “good.”

his hips are gone from you in an instant and your gasp is choked – but he wastes no time in popping the button on your jeans, sliding them and your underwear off of you in one long motion.

his pupils somehow blow even wider as he stands in front of you, palming his thick cock through his jeans, watching you pant hard.

you’re exposed in front of him – your pussy is swollen with need, pulsing with desire as one of your breasts rests exposed to the air as the knife pins you down by the arm of your flannel; you’re fucking exposed and you love it. he’s intoxicating.

“you’re soaked.” he says after a moment of silence so long that you barely register his gruff voice. you blink, bringing your eyes back up to his from where he’s begun to undo his belt.

you can’t help the light smirk as you stare up at him, “maybe I happen to like it when you’re vulgar with me.”

he glares at you but there’s a hint of something more that flashes through his eyes; adoration? no, it couldn’t be. Joel Miller can’t adore anything.

but then out of nowhere his fingers delve through your velvet, slippery folds in a fervor; your breath chokes yet again in your lungs as you tense with the sudden stimulation.

a low, guttural moan falls from your lips as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub tight, slow circles on your clit, “bet you taste so good, don’t you?” he murmurs, his teeth finding purchase upon your neck, sucking a mark so hard you’re sure you’ll have it for weeks. christ. “y’want me to taste you, pretty girl?”

fuck. images flash through your mind of him on his knees, tongue unraveling you, drowning in you while your thighs close around those thick greying curls.

your moan falls from you fast, nodding quick, “yes, yes, please, please, use your mouth.“ your whines are downright embarrassing – you’re not a wide-eyed virgin teen, for fuck’s sake – but Joel’s stirring you just right, making you purr with pleasure.

but instead of his tongue, a harsh swat falls onto your aching cunt and your hips jolt at the stimulation, your clit throbbing and the sting making you groan his name. you can’t help the moan of disappointment.

“well, isn’t that too bad?” he snarls, his voice mean. you feel tears of frustration spring in your eyeline as you huff a sigh, his fingers slowly, torturously moving over your clit yet again. “bet you’d love if I ate your cunt. probably dream about it, don’t ya? d’you think about me when you touch yourself?”

Christ, you’d never expected Joel-don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-Miller to be so fucking dirty; but you learned your lesson last time, so you nod quick, eyes lidded through the euphoric, teasing pleasure from the pads of his fingers.

“all-all the time, J-Joel, fuck, think about you all the time.”

and it’s true.

“that’s right. my slut, thinkin’ about me.” he spits, mouth peppering bites over your throat. “gonna have to make y’cum fast, baby. Maria’s probably waiting for us t’turn in the logs.”

the possession in his voice brings you even further towards the edge, catapulting you, sending you frustratingly close as your body tenses, puckering hole clenching around nothing as he slowly works you.

you nod your head, unable to open your eyes as your legs close around Joel’s fingers; in anger, his hand tears your thighs apart, swatting the soft skin of your thighs in punishment. you yelp at the sting, biting your lip as a new gush of arousal leaks from your neglected hole and drips down onto the table.

fueled by frustration and adrenaline and some desperate fire of attraction that’s been burning between you since he first showed up in Jackson, you nearly scream, “please, fuck me now, Joel, please I’ll do anything-“

his hand leaves his ministrations quick, his glare sharp as his fingers glisten with your desperate arousal; they’re soaked. you feel yourself flush in embarrassment until he smirks darkly, tugging himself out of the confines of his jeans. “there, see? learnin’ some manners.”

his cock is heavy and thick as it slides through your wet, slick folds. your breath, panting out and puffing as you watch in awe. his: stuttering as the tip of his dick notches at your clenching hole, teasing.

“Jesus, you’re trying t-to swallow me, darlin’.” His hand reaches out, grabbing a palm full of your tit as he rocks his hips, once again nudging your leaking hole.

your whole body shivers in anticipation; you will your eyes to not reveal how fucking turned on you are about his size - you’re more wet than you’ve ever been in your life and his cock is - well, it’s thick, long, bigger than you’d like to admit.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy.” he grunts to himself as you hold yourself as still as possibly, one tear escaping as you your eyes clench shut in desire.

“’m ready, Joel.” you whimper, eyes opening to find his hot gaze already searing through you; he just smirks, nodding slightly. “yeah, bet you are, pretty girl.”

he can’t thrust all the way into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt slick with arousal but still so goddamn tight. the rumbling moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly.

a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. your fingers twitch at your sides as you yearn to card your fingers through his thick curls; his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “s’tight, baby, fu-fuckin’ tight.”

“so much,” you whimper, fingers tight and shaking as you restrain from grabbing his arms to stabilize himself, “‘s too much.” you mumble, tears stinging. he hums, the ghost of a kiss over your cheek before he’s in your ear, whispering, “am I too big for you, baby? gonna hav’ta work you open on my fingers first next time, yeah?”

his dark grin grows as you nod your head dumbly, “fuck- yeah, yes.” you agree, nodding,

his voice is starting to slur, accent getting thicker as he soon splits you fully, speared and sheathed deep, deep into you. you’re fluttering around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly breaking you open as he starts to shallowly thrust.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he pulls out, thrusting back into you slow, grinding, deep.

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling coiling in your abdomen.

his hands roam.

they explore every part of you they can reach, his teeth marking every inch of your throat and painting you into a beautiful piece of art. for him.

the noise of your pussy swallowing his girth in is downright filthy as it echoes through your kitchen; your head lulls to the side as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel stray tears leak down your cheeks, hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close, already, you know he can feel it.

“y’gonna-“ he grunts, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as yours leak down your cheeks, body shaking with desire, “-gonna take my cock and say thank you, ‘s that right?”

a shaking rush of arousal just slickens you even more; the sounds of his body rocking into yours wet and loud in the room as you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast.

but it seems you weren’t quick enough with your response: Joel’s hips slow, then stop completely.

you’re left gasping, eyes wide as you stare up at him in shock: “wh-why?” you whimper, his pulsing length half out of you, teasing you.

Joel’s eyes meet your own and he sternly swats your tits, eyes watching as the breast exposed to the air moves in recoil.

“do you want to cum?” he asks, as if he’s asking what 2 + 2 is. your face fucking burns as you nod, “yes-“

but he grunts, hips too agonizingly still as he leans forward, “then take my cock, fuck yourself on it. and use your fuckin’ manners.”

you blink at him, spurring into action only after a very brief short-circuited moment. your hips stutter and shake at the angle, unable to move in a way that stimulates yourself enough to bring you back to the edge.

you shutter, muttering, “th-thank- thank you,” but you can’t do it. you glare at him as you move your hips, hands shaking, muscles straining, but you can tell he’s not pleased: brows drawn, a swat to your exposed breast that stings and spurs your hips quicker.

“come on, this is pathetic.” he snarls, fingers gently pinching your clit. the yelp you let out is dry, starved. “why so quiet now, darlin’?” he throws your own words back at you deliciously.

he stands stationary, eyes judging you, focused on where your cunt tries to swallow his cock, your movements choppy and weak. tears spring in your eyes; he feels so good, but you just can’t get it right.

“please.” you nearly whisper it, but it’s exactly what he was looking for. he rocks his hips shallowly, your body rocking gently with the slow, deep force of him splitting you open.

“please, what?” he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping your jaw. resentment and arousal flows through your veins as you let out a strangles, “please, s-sir-“

with the words, Joel’s hips cant up into you, the slight angle making your legs coil and your throat burn.

“please fuck me, y’feel- I can’t do it, need- you feel so good, fuck me hard, please, I want it.” you let go, begging and desperate to give you what you crave.

his hips pick up a brutal pace. your back is pounded into the wood below you, the cool blade of the knife cold against your flannel as one of his large hands moves you until your legs are thrown up, over his shoulders.

the stretch is unimaginable and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust; his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting your juices of arousal spill over the skin of your thighs and onto the table.

“such a foul fuckin’ mouth on you.” he spits, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded with the chase of your highs.

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze. “gonna fuck you stupid, aren’t I? you won’t think about anything but me for weeks.”

he’s right, and he fucking knows it.

you nod at him, unable to form full words as he hits the spongy, delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out. your hands fucking ache from the grip on the table, but you hope he’s pleased that they haven’t moved a damn inch this whole time; even as he splits you wide open and takes you apart.

you’re so close you might actually start to sob as the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking.

he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier.

“whose pussy is this?” Joel grunts, his movements soon desperate and deep; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up the table with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

the pain is fucking euphoric, delicious as you grip the edge of the table so hard you’re unsure they’ll ever relax. his finger pinches your nipple and you yelp, sweat sticking to your forehead, “-y-yours, fuck, Joel- yours, a-always.” you whimper, breathless.

you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest seem out of place with the bruises that will soon blossom on your skin from his teeth, his fingers.

you smile, too.

"god, you're perfect- f-feel fuckin' perfect around me, baby. need you to cum." as his sentence ends, his head jerks up, one hand rising to grip your jaw tight. your eyes snap to his and the anger boils, festering with the desire and lust within his eyes, "know y'can't help it, can you?"

you shake your head fiercely as your orgasm nears. he hums deep, a rumble from his chest, “what do you say if you want me to let you cum?”

fuck. fuckfuckfuck you’re too close- your muddled mind spits a barely cohesive babble of pleads, “please, p-pleaseplease I-I’m sorry I’m sorry-“

“you’re sorry?” he presses, hips not giving up; your whole body burns as you wait for your orgasm, knowing in any second it’ll be ruined. “look at those pretty eyes. did y’learn your manners? y’gonna say thank you?”

you let out a sob of pleasure, his thrusts so deep you can feel them in your throat. “yes, Joel- please- let me cum, please-“

his hand slides to your throat. “cum now.”

you swallow around his grip and let out a near scream of his name as his other hand snakes between you; a finger brushes against your abused clit, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge.

you see colors.

your orgasm explodes as you gush around him, pulsing, begging, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name followed by thank you, thank you drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and he feels you grip him like a vice; he can't help but kiss the tears from your cheeks as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear.

"that's it, baby. there y'go, cum on my dick when i fuckin' tell you to." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl."

you scream at his words and the overstimulation. he shushes you, thrusts slow. "'m gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you.

he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. he moves back, frantic to pull out and ride his high- but you panic.

"w-wait!" you rush, hands springing without thinking to push his hips hard against yours. you can't bear to imagine him pulling out of you so soon - you need to feel him, be full of him. "cum in me, Joel- I need it, j-just- fuck!"

his hand slams over your mouth, effectively silencing you with a loud grunt of his own, "shut the fuck up," he growls, sounding too close. “jesus, girl- gonna wake up the whole n-neighborhood-“ but even his shamefully dirty mouth falters when he chases his orgasm.

soon he thrusts shallowly into your pulsing cunt before he's moaning, spurting his seed into you.

hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as you flutter, whimpering as you breathe heavy, hands skittering up his back despite his earlier orders.

his lips brush over your skin as he lies on you, heavy; "jesus christ." is all he mutters, pulling out of you with a slick sound and tucking himself into his jeans.

you can only stare at the ceiling, the light above the table you’re laid upon swinging with the residual force of your bodies colliding.

a hand falls in a sharp thud to your right, pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the notch it leaves reveals the patrol log; speared in the middle with the evidence of you and Joel's digressions.

oops.

you're wrecked. you're a trembling frame of a structure after the hurricane of Joel Miller took threw you, stripping you to your bare bones. a ghost of lips over the inside skin of your knees as they fall, weak, off of his shoulders. and then he stares at you as you shakily sit up, setting your clothes right, swallowing on a raw throat.

“‘m sorry about the flannel.” he gestures to the rip in your arm where the knife had pinned you down and something about it makes you chuckle, smoothing down your hair. “are you- are you okay?” he asks suddenly, hard eyes looking almost soft under the glow of the lamplight.

he hands you your underwear and jeans and helps you slide back into them in a surprisingly sweet turn of events.

“more than okay, christ. if you make me cum like that again you can do anything you want to my clothes.” you wink with a deep breath, smiling gently at him when he helps you stand back up on shaky legs. he actually sends you a half-smirk at that, and it flutters along your chest.

the nighttime air is not so suffocating as you and Joel make your way towards Maria, his hand grazing over the small of your back as you walk on Jell-o legs, faces flushed and sweat slicking to your skin.

it’s awkward.

“I-” he starts, swallowing air as you stare up at him. sweat trickles from his brow and you itch to trace it with your tongue.

“I actually think you’re not too bad,” he finishes, turning to walk up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s. you blink, heat fluttering in your chest as he admits, but soon whirls around to ensure you hear him, “for Ellie. just- don’t do that shit around her, right?” he clarifies.

you grin at his reddened cheeks as he tucks the log into the box set near the door, filing it under the western outpost for the date.

“yes, Mr. Miller.” you mock-salute him, smirking to yourself as his flush deepens, the scowl ever-present on his face softening slightly at your smile.

“christ.” he shakes his head, “you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” you don’t miss the smile that creeps on his face as he starts to walk you back home.

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callsign-mayhem · 1 month

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heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too.

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him.

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly.

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious.

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification.

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow.

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly.

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then.

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away.

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted. ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’ ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac.

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone.

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’ ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start. Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing.

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs.

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection.

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over.

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that.

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage.

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’ ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either.

Bradley needed another drink.

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you.

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him.

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next.

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed.

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence.

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’ Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’ ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later.

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing.

‘Y/N’s phone.’

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life.

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’ ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse.

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already.

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him.

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape.

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed.

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you.

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad.

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

��Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah.

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time.

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you.

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand.

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken.

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to

convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way.

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach.

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley.

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it.

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders.

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you.

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly.

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point.

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out.

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact.

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love.

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed.

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night.

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it.

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way.

Which was to say, it was a bad morning.

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed.

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now.

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover.

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast.

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door.

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time.

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised.

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again.

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all.

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee, eyeing

you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly.

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly. ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally.

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no.

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy.

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed.

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try.

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah.

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop.

‘Thanks for breakfast.’ You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you.

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home.

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave.

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home.

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said.

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else.

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text.

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise.

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would.

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you? ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions.

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts.

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested.

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever.

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him.

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time.

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it.

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly. He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired. You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much.

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart.

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek.

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything.

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly.

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears.

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly.

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day.

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them.

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

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the-offside-rule · 6 months

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Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - First Snow

Day 2 of Christmas

Carlos sat in his and Y/n’s shared bedroom, dressing the newest member of their family in various layers of fluffy clothes. Y/n always found Carlos’ careful side funny whenever he was around the baby. There were corner protectors on each and every corner of the house and now that winter had hit, he had spent a lot of his money on warm clothes. “Carlos, I think she will overheat if you put any more layers on her.” Y/n chuckled, looking in the doorway. “You think?” Carlos lifted the 10 month old, her face looking chubbier because of all the layers her father had on her. Her joyous grin still as cute as ever. “I think we could do with a layer or two less, Carlitos.” Y/n said. “No, no, I am not risking Julietta getting sick.” He turned her around to face him and began peppering her face in kisses. “Isn’t that right, bebe? I would never let anything-”

“You do know that too many layers can make her overheat? Then we’ll be in a lot of trouble.” Carlos sat her back down onto his lap. “So less layers?” He asked. “Just a few.” Carlos nodded and removed some cardigans and shirts. “Can I put on the bear jumper?” He was of course talking about the fluffy jacket his mother had bought for Julia to wear to the paddock, where she became well known for it. “Of course. Then we can bring her outside.” Y/n reassured him. “Her first snow.” Carlos hummed. "You're more excited than she is."

"No, she's excited. Can you not tell?" He was saying in his baby voice. "Come on, Sainz. I think we should get a start here." He nodded along, taking off two layers. "Can you hold her while I put a jacket on?" He asked. "I'll bring her outside. You take your time." Y/n assured him. Carlos was speedy with his jacket, not particularly wanting to spend any time away from his daughter that he didn't have to. After all, it's not everyday he gets to see her during the season, so the pre-season became his new favourite time of year. As he walked down the stairs, wrapping his scarf around his neck. It wasnt any scarf, it was a scarf Y/n had bought for him when she moved in with him in London, back when he joined Renault. They had been through so much, but their love was in just as good condition as that scarf.

Carlos opened the door and saw Y/n leaning down and looking at the ground. Carlos looked confused. Where was his daughter? "Look, baby! Your papa is coming." Y/n cooed. Carlos heard the cutest giggles but no sign of his daughter. "Look at her doing snow angels, Carlos." His heart raced. He began running over towards her and as he grew closer, he spotted the baby wiggling around in the snow with the biggest smile on her face. "What are you doing?!" Carlos nearly screeched, picking her up and into his arms. He held her closely in his chest and looked at Y/n angrily. "She's playing, Carlos. It's safe for her to play in snow. We even asked the doctor last weekend like you wanted." Y/n replied, trying to remain calm. "No, no! I want to keep her safe!" Carlos said defensively. "Carlos, she is nearly 10 months old, now. She can play in the snow." He huffed. "I'm bringing her back inside." Carlos muttered. "This was such a bad idea. Why would I-"

"Okay, okay, listen." Y/n held onto both of Carlos' arms. "Breathe." She said. "Breathe? I am breathing, Y/n!" Carlos snapped back. "Then calm down, maybe?" Carlos scoffed. "I don't want her getting sick." He said. "Shes going to eventually. You can't stop that from happening." Y/n chuckled. "No, but I'm can try avoiding it." Carlos mumbled, kissing his daughter on the head. "Carlos. Think of how excited we were for this. Look at how happy she looks." Carlos sighed. "I know. I'm just worried. I haven't got too much time to spend with her this year." He explained. "I don't want some of my only memories of her being that she's sick." Y/n caressed his cheek. "I know, but we just need to let her get on with it I'm afraid."

Y/n and Carlos smiled as Julia threw snow into the air and laughed in delight. Occasionally throwing some at the dogs and giggling when they sneezed back and tried biting the snow. "Do you ever look at how far we have come?" Carlos asked suddenly. "As parents?" Y/n asked. "I mean as a couple. Take this how you will, but I didn't expect us to last this long. Especially when you started college." Y/n chuckled. "We didn't see eachother that much during those years, did we?" Carlos shook his head. "And now look at us. We have a dog, a house, and we have Julia too." He said. "You forgot we're married now." He grinned. "I know. Its crazy."

Julia looked back at her parents. They noticed and waved before something incredible happened. She decided then and there to hold onto the dogs laying beside her and trying to push herself up but falling back down. Carlos jumped up to go get her, but Y/n pulled him back. "Just wait." She said. As Carlos and Y/n watched their daughters multiple attempts, hoisting herself up then falling. "If she doesn't make this one I'm getting her." Carlos whispered. "Okay. That's fine." Y/n replied. They watched as she once again leaned on the dogs, pushed herself up and this time, she stood. Carlos smiled and clapped for his daughter. "Muy bien! Very good, Julietta!" He cheered. Before they knew it, Elena stepped one foot in front of the other and leaned forward to walk.

"She stepped! Y/n she stepped!" Carlos said in disbelief. Y/n chuckled. Julia's first laugh had been while Carlos was away doing work with Ferrari. The first time she crawled was while Carlos was away at the Dutch Grand Prix. She first stood up in the Ferrari garage in Austin while Carlos had been out racing. Any of her huge milestones had been missed by Carlos, so her father was obviously ecstatic to be seeing his little Julia talking her first step. "I know. Such a clever girl." Y/n said. Carlos opened his arms wide, encouraging his daughter to walk. She instead giggled again and dropped on all fours to crawl over to her dad. "Nearly there. You're so smart." Carlos smiled, pecking her face a few times. "Should we go inside now? We don't want her getting sick now, do we?" Carlos looked back at his wife.

"No, we definitely do not." He replied. "Okay, Papa Sainz. Let's get some hot chocolate going." She said. "Oh my god, I'm actually Papa Sainz now."

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz junior #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #christmas

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hanniluvi · 5 months

Text

( 🌨️ ) THIS IS HOW IT FEELS — PARK SUNGHOON FIC

[ DAY EIGHT ] of the advent calendar !

( 🌨️ ) SYNOPSIS . . Sunghoon hates the winter, but somehow you made it feel a bit more bearable.

( დ ) PAIRING . . friend!sunghoon x gn!reader

( 🌨️ ) GENRE . . fluff, friends 2 … ? 😊

( დ ) WARNINGS . . none that i know of ~~ WC 0.7K+ ( 721 )

( 🌨️ ) NOTE . . happy sunghoon day 🤭 this song somehow reminds me of sunghoon so you know i had to write a fic inspired by “this is how it feels” by d4vd , laufey 🤍

Winter? Sunghoon absolutely despises winter.

The coldness during this season is something he particularly dislikes. He loathes the biting chill that seeps through the layers of clothing, making each step feel like a battle against the frosty air. The winter season, with its harsh temperatures and biting winds, always manages to dampen his spirits.

The snow is another aspect of winter that Sunghoon absolutely detests. Its intrusive nature, clinging to his layers of clothing and making every step a challenge, frustrates him. In his opinion, snow only seemed to be visually appealing when viewed from the cozy warmth of indoors. For Sunghoon, winter has become a time he'd prefer to skip entirely.

So, it wasn't surprising for Sunghoon to grumble about having to exit the warm confines of the school building into the cold. He loathed leaving the heated rooms to brave the harsh winter chill, especially with the slight snow making the situation worse. Slowly dragging his feet towards his locker after the bell rang, he clearly did not want to go home at all, an unusual behavior for him.

It didn't take him long to reach his locker, given that his last class was nearby. As he punched in the code to open it, you appeared with a cheerful smile. "Hey Hoon," you exclaimed, hastily retrieving your coat from the locker. "Did you see the snow? It's so pretty!"

Sunghoon sighed, mustering a half-hearted smile. "Sure did."

"Come on, why aren't you slightly excited?" you nudged, attempting to elicit a more enthusiastic response from."It's the first snow day of the month—what's so bad about that?" you remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

"And it should remain the first and final day," Sunghoon deadpanned, closing his locker. You playfully rolled your eyes, well aware of Sunghoon's dramatic tendencies. "Seriously?"

"I'd much rather stay inside longer because it's snowing—you know me. I don't like snow," Sunghoon shrugged, sliding his arms into his coat.

"Well yeah—wait, I'll help you like the snow!" you declared, a determined spark in your eyes.

"Huh—" Sunghoon barely had his arm in the sleeve of his jacket when you started walking away from the lockers. With a confused expression, he followed after you, still adjusting to the abrupt situation.

"YN!" Sunghoon shouted, watching you instantly take off once you reached the exit of the school. Hesitant but determined, he put his hood over his head, attempting to catch up. The wind carried the snow into his way, getting blown all over the place. He shields his eyes with one of his hands, "Why are you running?"

You turned around, smiling and laughing as Sunghoon tried to catch up while trying to avoid the snow as much as possible. "Why am I running?" you echoed, the wind tousling your hair as you grinned at Sunghoon. "Because, Hoon, sometimes you just have to embrace the unexpected and let loose in the snow!"

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but couldn't help but crack a smile. As he finally caught up, you slowed down, and the two of you found yourselves standing in the gently falling snow.

"See? It's not that bad," you teased, twirling around to catch the snowflakes. Sunghoon gazed at you, bundled in your scarf with white earmuffs. Your rosy cheeks and bright smile created a warmth he hadn't experienced before, not from his own clothing. It marked the first time he felt a different kind of warmth—the kind that made his heart pound slightly faster. “Right?”

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” he joked, smiling as he held eye contact with you.

“It will grow on you quickly,” As you laughed and turned around to continue walking, Sunghoon couldn't deny the flutter in his chest.

He quickened his pace, matching his footsteps with yours, walking alongside with you. The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet and the delicate fall of snowflakes created a serene backdrop. Sunghoon couldn't help but steal glances at you, realizing that this only made him notice his true feelings.

It was a feeling unfamiliar yet strangely comforting—the warmth of the season mirrored in the connection forming between you two, turning the chilly day into a heartwarming memory.

So this is how it feels to love the cold days.

This is how it feels to fall in love with you.

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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ilguna · 1 year

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☼ flowery, gentle, and feminine (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick think that he's got competition with your childhood friend.

warnings; swearing, cheating mention.

wc; 2.3k

–

When you were growing up, it was a normal occurrence for the neighborhood kids to gather on the street and play games with each other until the sun began to set. There were about six of you, all around the same age. And you went to school with each other, but had different friends to hang out with then.

Your hangouts were reserved for the neighborhood, which made them that more special. There was no worry about having to share your friends with other people, because you weren’t that close. They were there if you were bored, and vice versa. In the few years this lasted, they managed to become the people you could confide in the most.

There was only one of them that you became attached to outside of the neighborhood, and that was Atlas. He was a year older than you, he had two older brothers and a pet dog that was by far the friendliest dog in the district. Half of the time, the dog would sit on the porch and watch you play, like a quiet source of protection.

Atlas sought you out during school hours, he wanted to be more than just street friends, he wanted to be a permanent friend. You supposed that the friend group was splitting as you were getting older. A couple of them had stopped coming outside because they were too busy, or too responsible to keep playing tag.

Atlas didn’t want to lose another friend just because everyone else was growing apart, it was only a matter of time before the neighborhood friend group was disbanded. He chose to hold onto you the longest, because he was you as the little sister he always wanted. And he was the sibling you never got to have.

You were friends up until middle school, which was when he abruptly moved without a warning or a goodbye. He left after the first week of school. You thought that he’d caught the flu that was going around at the time, but when he never returned, your parents told you that he likely moved to a different school, because their house was for sale.

You spend the next two years disappointed and lonely, but right when high school hit, everything got busy in your life. There were too many classes and a lot more drama between friends to be worrying about some boy from your past. Not to mention, you got reaped for the Hunger Games during your sophomore year.

Everyone tells you that you insisted on going back to high school for the final two years, wanting to grasp onto the last of normalcy that you’d have before responsibility hit. Honestly, you don’t remember any of it. You must’ve blocked it out, because you don’t remember walking the halls again. All the pictures that your parents have of you during your senior year seem unreal, you look out of it, like you’re staring off into the distance.

It all straightened out again when Finnick started coming around more often, worried about your wellbeing after the Hunger Games. It was innocent enough, the two of you would hang out and play games, or go down to the beach when it was particularly hot in the houses. Sometimes you went out shopping for dumb shit that you’d never use again because you had a disposable income and it didn’t matter how much you spent. There will be more money next month.

And then Finnick asked you to be his girlfriend that winter. You knew better than to say no, because you’d just regret it later on. Finnick’s one of those people that come around once in a lifetime, and if you miss your chance, then it’s your fault for missing something so perfect.

You’ve only been with him for two years, but it’s been the best two years of your life. You’ve begun to believe that he brought good luck with him when he started talking to you regularly. It sounds cheesy and impossible, however you can’t recall anything majorly bad happening the past two years.

In fact, you found Atlas again.

He looks the same as he did when he was younger, you almost couldn’t believe your eyes when you ran into him last month. You were helping an older lady with setting up her stall in the market, when he appeared out of thin air. He was watching you, and you thought it was weird but didn’t look up right away. When you did, you practically screamed.

It’s been nearly impossible to separate from him since, there’s a good ten years to catch up on. He knows the majority of it regarding the Hunger Games, but your life before and after is a never-ending rollercoaster. He’s just another one of those rises that makes you anxious for the drop.

It’s easier to be around him, especially since he moved into a nearby neighborhood. It won’t be quite the same without your other childhood friends, but you’re not sure if you need them. He’s all of them wrapped into one, and he’s better because he went out of his way to keep you for as long as he could.

“Thanks for walking me back.” You smile, adjusting the tote bag on your arm.

Atlas shrugs, leaning against the Victor’s Village gate. He’s not allowed inside, there was an incident with non-victor’s coming through the gate and ruining the garden that the groundskeeper works hard to keep neat. The Capitol comes randomly to take pictures to put in their magazines. You can’t make dead flowers come back to life in a matter of days, and it’s a lot easier to upkeep than start from the beginning.

“No problem.”

“So, the event’s going to start at five, you might want to show up an hour early to say hi to everyone.” You kick the rocks on the cobblestone. “A quick walkthrough should be fine. I won’t be able to show up until later because I’ve got some stuff I need to do with Finnick before it’s too late.”

“Sounds good to me.” He stands up, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” You chirp, turning around and walking the path to Finnick’s house.

When you come through the door, Finnick’s nowhere to be seen. You slip off your shoes, and find that his are sitting there, untouched from this morning. He hasn’t left the house all day, then.

He was given a take-home project from Coriolanus. They want to feature him in a magazine again, like they do every year in the spring. They’ve exhausted most of the few ideas they’ve come up with since his win, so they need new material. That’s what you’ll be working on with him.

You’d say that the two of you can appear in a few of the pictures together, but the Capitol will never go for it. There was a public outrage when the news got out that the two of you are together. They’ve been trying to forget that you’re a couple ever since. You guess that no one can touch their darling Finnick, too bad for them, you don’t care.

You run a hand through your hair to get it out of your face, heading down the hallway and to the back office. You knock a few times on the door to let him know you’re coming in, gently pushing the door open. Finnick looks up from the notebook he’s reading, leaning back in his chair while a smile spreads over his face.

“(Y/n), you’re back.”

“Hey,” You greet, heading over to where he is, “Come up with anything good yet?”

“Bunch of duds. I was thinking we could do a beach shoot…” A deadpan look comes across his face, “Unfortunately I’ve done about ten of those already.”

“Atlas had a good idea.” You sit in a chair.

Finnick’s face twitches, “You told Atlas?”

“Yeah, I was trying to brainstorm out loud with him.” You wave it off, “He said we could do something flowery and gentle.”

Finnick spins in his chair to face the window behind him, you catch the eye roll that he was trying to hide, “Is that how he sees me? Flowery and gentle?”

“No.” You laugh, “No, it’s how the Capitol sees you. They don’t focus on the violent stuff, remember? I liked the idea, I thought we could put you in that flower field by your old home so I can take aerial shots. We could probably send the trial pictures tonight and get a response before the day’s over.”

“Any other ideas?”

You sit back against the chair, “Not really. I thought the sunset and flowers would look nice. The Capitol hasn’t really done it before because the other careers usually go for the expensive look.”

He turns back to face you, shaking his head, “I’ll figure it out.”

“We have a deadline.” You remind him, “And today’s the only day I have, I’m busy the rest of the week with Atlas.”

Finnick’s eyes meet yours, lips pressing together, “You can’t give up any of those days?”

“Well, I mean I could but—”

“You’re not going to die tomorrow, (Y/n). You can give up a few of those days to help me.”

You let out a sigh, “Yeah, you’re right. Can we please try the flower field? It’ll only take an hour. I still have to be at that thing tonight.”

Finnick shakes his head, “I don’t want to do the flowers.”

You stare at him for a long minute, “Okay well, let me know when you come up with anything, because I feel like I’m coming up with ideas and you keep shooting them down.”

“They’ve all been done before.” He reasons.

“Yeah, the beachy shit has, I’m talking about nature—you know, greenery?” You stand up from the chair, “I’m going to get ready for the Powder Festival in the meantime.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you leave the room, shutting the door behind you. As you go down the hall, you shake your head. You’re not sure what it is exactly, but he’s been more passive-aggressive lately, and it’s getting on your nerves. He’s never had trouble telling you how it is, straight forward, in the past, so you’re not sure why he’s biting his tongue now.

Either way, you’re not going to let him irritate you into having a bad night. You’re going to be one of the faces of the Powder Festival tonight, you need to be smiling the entire night. If you can prove to the Mayor that community events go well, then he might lift the recent ban put on public gatherings.

They said it’s for the safety of the peacekeepers, since too many people can overpower them and make them feel threatened. Once again, you’re catering to the needs of the Capitol instead of the people around you. It’s getting pretty old.

You spend the next hour and a half in the bathroom, sitting on a stool while you do your makeup and hair. You try to come up with any ideas for Finnick in the meantime, despite being a little mad at him still. You think that it could be cute if the Capitol put outlandish makeup on him, but you’re not sure if he’s going to like the idea. If he doesn't like flowery and gentle, you can’t imagine what he’ll say to feminine.

You’re beginning to pull on the sundress when he knocks at the bathroom door before coming in. You look at him through the mirror, watching him come into the room. “Hey, Finnick. I think I’m going to leave early to make sure everything’s set up right. I forgot to tell Atlas that he needs to make sure everything’s in working order and there’s backup generators.”

Finnick, who had previously looked relaxed, and maybe even a little bit sorry, begins to look angrier by the second. “You didn’t tell me that Atlas was going to be there.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” You clip on your earrings, “It’s not like we haven’t been around each other all day.”

“You could’ve told me.” His eyebrows are pushed together, “So, what? Did you invite him or was he already planning to go?”

You make a face, and then relax, “I asked him to go so that I’d have company. It’s going to be a long night.”

“You couldn’t ask me?”

“Finnick,” You laugh slightly, “You already told me three times that you didn’t want to go, and to stop asking. You even told me to find someone else to go with.”

“I didn’t mean Atlas!” He bursts.

You turn around to actually look at him, instead of through the mirror. You cross your arms, eyebrows raised, “What’s this about? Why are you mad at me?”

Finnick takes a deep breath to regulate himself, “You’ve been hanging out with Atlas a lot more than you’ve been spending time with me.”

Your face falls, “What?”

“I’ve barely seen you at all—you don’t even come here to sleep anymore.” He motions to the door behind him.

“Finnick…”

“I just need to know if you’re done with me.” He says.

“No. no—!” You start towards him, “No, Finnick, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.”

“Are you sure?” He’s apprehensive.

You collide with his body, wrapping your arms around him tightly, face pressed to his chest. He hugs you back, squeezing you into his body. You can feel his chin on the top of your head as he holds you.

“I’m sure, Finnick.” You murmur, “Atlas is like a brother to me, he couldn’t be anything more, ever. I was just excited to see him again, and I could tell you were getting sick of me mentioning him. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He sighs.

“I’m going to ask this one more time,” You pull away so that you can look him in the eye, “Do you want to come to the Powder Festival? I can bring my camera and we can take pictures then.”

Finnick halfway smiles, “Yeah, I wanna go with you.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #thg #the hunger games #angst #request

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ficklecat · 4 months

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even more kkg headcanons

Gai loves using pet names. He calls Kakashi all manner of things when they’re in private together (if you’ve read my fics - among his favorites are “dear heart” and “precious thing.”) He also knows that Kakashi likes them, but gets a little embarrassed when he is called them in public, so he sticks to “rival,” which he considers to be their first pet name anyway.

Kakashi seldom uses pet names for Gai. When he does, he’ll keep it simple and usually just call him “love,” or sometimes if he’s feeling romantic, “darling man.” He saves “rival” for special occasions or when he wants to get a rise out of Gai - he loves how red his face gets when he whispers it to him in bed or even out in public after a sly innuendo. (He particularly likes to use it during a challenge to throw him off guard, which Gai insists is cheating).

Gai sometimes gets really awful phantom pains in his body, especially in the winter months. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night immobilized by these episodes, unable to speak or ask for help, unable to soothe himself, unable to move, while Kakashi sleeps next to him unaware. Gai is terrified by this, because it often feels like he’s going to die and he’s afraid he will one day and won’t be able to say goodbye to Kakashi (this is a big fear of his, anyway). But he doesn’t tell Kakashi when this happens. In the morning he’s groggy and sore and will chalk it up to “a bad night,” but he fears if he says anything about it, Kakashi will worry. It’s the only thing he hides from him.

Kakashi witnessed Gai’s phantom pain only once, when they were early in his recovery and still learning to navigate his healing. His entire body seized, he gasped in little hiccuped breaths, his body trembled and tensed so hard Kakashi was worried he’d pop blood vessels or rip his tendons. He didn’t know what to do, nothing seemed to work. Gai had told him afterward that there was nothing he could do, that really he could only wait until it passed. Kakashi had been terrified; Gai looked horrible, trapped in his body he once trusted now betraying him at will. He’d felt so useless to that horror, wounded that he couldn’t take his pain away. They cried long and hard together afterward, and though he’d never witnessed another episode again, Kakashi knows it happens. He feels guilty for this, but part of him is glad Gai doesn’t seem to have them in his presence. He hates to feel this way, but seeing him in so much pain is more than he can bear.

Kakashi and Gai still keep their own apartments all the way up until after Gai awakens from the aftermath of the eight gates. It’s Kakashi’s idea that they live together - he was admittedly fearful of not having his own space, so used to living alone for so long, and being so particular with his space and his things. He also felt a little skittish around the kind of commitment it took to live with someone. But he realizes quickly these things are trivial - almost losing Gai makes him realize Kakashi doesn’t care about anything as much as being with him.

Gai and Kakashi disagree on when they became “official.” Kakashi has a specific time in mind - shortly after he is dispatched from ANBU, when he kissed Gai for the first time with intention. Gai considers their relationship to be “transcendent” of any time frame - he insists he and Kakashi were always destined to be together, and as such, they always have been. There is no start date for him, he doesn’t pin it down. For him, Kakashi has always had his heart. Kakashi won’t admit this very readily but he can’t think of this without getting a little choked up. And he won’t argue the point either, because secretly, he knows Gai’s right.

#some ficlets to come of a few of these #I love them so much #kakagai #kakashi hatake #maito gai #headcanons #tw chronic pain #ax says stuff

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srvbryn · 6 months

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ᝰ.ᐟ A chilly encounter

₊ ⊹ Bi-Han X Reader

₊ ⊹ warning: Fluff, my grammar is bad, ooc Bi-Han

In the heart of the Lin Kuei temple, where icy corridors echoed with the whispers of combat training, you found comfort in. As a diligent student of martial arts, you often practiced alone in the quiet corners of the temple, away from the piercing gazes of other warriors.

As you perfected your techniques that you've been training since a few months ago, you heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the place. Turning around, your eyes met with the frosty gaze of Bi-Han, the formidable cryomancer of the Lin Kuei.

"Training alone, I see," he remarked, his icy blue eyes softening as he observed your dedication.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of surprise and nervousness in the presence of such a skilled warrior. "I find peace in these kinds of moments."

Sub-Zero studied you for a moment before offering a rare, smile. "May I join you?"

Grateful for the company, you welcomed him. Together, you practiced various forms, exchanging tips and techniques. As the hours passed, Sub-Zero revealed a side of him, rarely seen by others—a more relaxed, 'human' side.

During the training, a playful snowball fight ensued. Laughter echoed through the temple halls as ice crystals danced in the air as if it was dancing around the two of them. It was a stark contrast to the usual seriousness of Lin Kuei training.

As the day unfolded, Bi-Han shared stories of his past, offering glimpses into the man beneath the icy exterior. You learned of his struggles, his dedication to justice, and the weight he carried as an assassin burdened by duty.

In return, you shared your own tales, creating a bond that transcended the rigid hierarchy of the Lin Kuei. Bi-Han became more than a mentor; he became a friend.

As evening descended, you found yourselves atop a frost-covered peak, the moon casting a silvery glow on the snow. The serene landscape mirrored the calm feeling that had settled between you.

Bi-Han spoke, his voice gentle like a winter breeze. "In the midst of battle, one can forget the warmth of camaraderie. Today has been a welcome reminder."

You nodded, feeling a connection that surpassed the confines of the Lin Kuei brotherhood. The chilly air held a comforting embrace, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down.

As you both gazed at the night sky, Bi-Han reached into the folds of his attire and presented a small, intricately crafted ice sculpture—a symbol of friendship.

"May this serve as a reminder of today for the both of us," he said, placing the delicate sculpture in your hands, as his fingers accidentally grazes your hand he quickly pulls away feeling the electricity sparks between them.

The gesture touched your heart, and you smiled, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed. Together, you watched the stars twinkle above, knowing that even in the coldest of realms, warmth could be found in the connections forged between warriors.

And so, in the quiet solitude of the Lin Kuei temple, a friendship blossomed, thawing the frost and bringing a newfound warmth to the hearts of Sub-Zero and the dedicated student.

As the seasons changed, so did the dynamics between you and Sub-Zero. The initial awkwardness transformed into a deep camaraderie that extended beyond training sessions. You discovered shared interests beyond martial arts—quiet conversations in the temple gardens, moments of talking and stealing glances during meals, and occasional friendly competitions to test each other's skills.

Sub-Zero continued to surprise you with his thoughtfulness. On a particularly frigid day, you found a soft blue color scarf waiting for you in your room, a silent testament to his consideration for your well-being in the cold Lin Kuei climate.

As your friendship deepened, his brother, Tomas, and Kuai Liang began to notice the change in Bi-Han. The once stoic warrior began to exhibit warmth. The elders, though initially skeptical, observed the positive influence your presence had on him.

On one particular day, Bi-Han approached you with a request. "The Lin Kuei is hosting a festival to honor our traditions. Would you be my guest for the evening?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Thrilled by the invitation, you agreed, and together you navigated the festivities—participating in traditional dances, savoring local delicacies, and even engaging in a friendly sparring match to showcase your combined skills.

As the night drew to a close, Bi-Han escorted you to a vantage point overlooking the Lin Kuei temple, illuminated by lanterns and the soft glow of moonlight. "Thank you for bringing warmth to my world," he confessed, his gratitude evident in his eyes.

In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the festival and the genuine connection you shared, it became clear that your bond with Bi-Han might become more than just a casual friendship.

₊ ⊹ Bi-Han<3

#bi han sub zero #bi han x reader #bi han mk #mk1 #bi han x you #i love him

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yoga-onion · 10 months

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Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (18)

T for Tinne (Holly) - July 18th - August 5th

“Tree of Sacrifice - 8th month of the Celtic Tree Calendar (Ref)”

Colour: red; Star: Mars, Saturn: Gemstone: ruby, bloodstone; Gender: male; Patrons: Taranis, Jesus Christ, Thor, Lugh; Symbols: discord + humanity, blood + compassion, endless love

When it comes to holly, there is no one who doesn't know the prickly leaves and red berries. The evergreen holly tree has dense branches, and thanks to its glossy evergreen foliage, the holly tree remains unchanged through over time and throughout the year.

Since ancient times, holly has represented the robust vitality and masculine strength of nature. It was closely associated with birth and rebirth rituals and the transmission of esoteric knowledge, and was particularly linked with unconditional love, and eventually came to symbolise all gods dedicated to sacrifice. The holly is also known as a tree that protects fairies and, as with all 'fairy trees', legend has it that cutting it down will bring bad luck. People in the past planted holly near their houses because it was said to ward off evil and stop lightning from striking.

It is said that long ago, when the island of Britain was still called Albion, prehistoric Britain was protected by a giant called Gogmagog. This giant who covered his entire body with holly branches and leaves, primeval god Gogmagog, eventually became known by the name 'the Holly King'. The giant held a holly bush as a club and is said to be the twin brother of the 'King of Oak'. In the medieval story 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight', the Holly King appears as the immortal Green Knight and Sir Gawain as the Oak King.

The Holly King, who rules over the six months leading up to the summer solstice and winter solstice, takes the throne after the Oak King dedicates himself to the summer solstice bonfire. Then, in a cycle of death and rebirth, he sacrifices himself to give way once more to the Oak King on the winter solstice. Hence, Oak King and Holly king represent two phases of nature's guardian deities.

The Celtic festival of Lughnasadh (Lughnasa) takes place at the end of the holly month. This celebrates the rebirth of Lugh, the god of light (the sun) and crafts, and is celebrated on 1 August in the UK, Ireland and Europe at the Harvest Festival. This is also the Anglo-Saxon festival of Lammas.

The evergreen holly, which does not die out even when all plants have died, symbolises a strong life force and is a 'good omen' tree. The druids (Ref2), who regarded holly as a particularly sacred tree, proceeded to bring holly into the house during the winter months. The holly, with its red berries and bright foliage, which exalts the soul, was a protector of elves and fairies from the harsh cold. So, during the winter, they do not misbehave.

Any holly brought into the house must be returned to the outdoors by 'Imbolc Eve'. It's because if holly leaves remain in the house after that, misfortune will befall them.

This was retained in Christianity as Twelfth Night (also known as Epiphany Eve). In Christianity, which teaches that holly eventually grew from the ground on which Jesus walked, the thorny leaves and red berries of holly represent the Passion and shed blood of Jesus.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (18)

TはTinne (ﾋｲﾗｷﾞ) - 7月18日～8月4日

『犠牲の木〜ケルトの木の暦（参照）の第8月』

色: 赤; 星: 火星、土星: 宝石: ルビー、ブラッドストーン (血石) ; 性: 男性; 守護神: タラニス、イエス・キリスト、トール、ルー; シンボル: 不和＋人間性、血＋憐れみ、限りなき愛

ヒイラギといえば、棘のある葉と赤い実、知らない人はいないだろう。常緑樹のヒイラギは、びっしりと枝を張り、またつやつやとした常緑の葉のおかげてヒイラギは、時の移ろいにも変わらぬ姿を見せている。

昔からヒイラギは自然のたくましい生命力や男性的な力強さを表してきた。古代では、誕生や再生の儀式、秘伝の伝授などに縁が深いものとされ、とりわけ無償の愛と関係があり、やがて犠牲に捧げられたすべての神々を象徴するようになった。ヒイラギは妖精を守る木としても知られ、「妖精の木」がすべてそうであるように、伐採すると不幸をもたらすという言い伝えがある。昔の人は家の近くにヒイラギを植えていたが、それは魔除けになり、雷が落ちなくなると言われていたからだ。

その昔、ブリテンがまだアルビオンと呼ばれていた頃の、太古のブリテン島はゴグマゴグという巨人が守っていたといわれている。このヒイラギの枝や葉で全身を覆った巨人、太古の神ゴグマゴグはやがて「ヒイラギの王」の名で知られるようになった。その巨人はヒイラギの茂みを棍棒として持ち、「オークの王」の双子の兄弟であるといわれている。中世の物語『ガウェイン卿と緑の騎士』では、ヒイラギの王が不死身の緑の騎士として、ガウェイン卿はオークの王として登場する。夏至かた冬至に至る半年間を治めるヒイラギ王は、オーク王が夏至のかがり火に身を捧げた後、王位につく。そして、死と再生を繰り返すサイクルの中で、冬至の日に、自らを犠牲にしてふたたびオーク王に道を譲る。オーク王とヒイラギ王は自然の守護神の二つの局面を表している。

ヒイラギの月が終わる頃にはケルトの祭典、ルーナサが行われる。これは、光 (太陽) と技芸の神、ルーの再生を祝うもので、英国、アイルランド、ヨーロッパでは、8月1日に収穫祭が開かれる。これはアングロサクソン人のラマス祭にも当たる。

すべての植物が枯れても死に絶える��とを知らない常緑樹のヒイラギは屈強な生命力を象徴し、「吉兆」の木でもある。ヒイラギを特に神聖な木として崇めていたドルイド（参照2）は、冬の間はヒイラギを家の中に持ち込むように進めた。赤い実と鮮やかな葉が魂を昂揚させるヒイラギは、厳しい寒さから妖精やエルフを守ってくれる存在だった。だから、冬の間、妖精たちは悪さをしない。家の中に持ち込まれたヒイラギは、「インボルクのイヴ」までには必ず屋外に戻さなければならない。その後にも家の中にヒイラギの葉が残っていると、不幸が訪れるからだ。

これが十二夜（エピファニー・イブとも知られる）としてキリスト教に残された。イエスが歩いた地面からはやがてヒイラギが生えてきたと教えるキリスト教では、ヒイラギの棘のある葉と赤い実は、イエスの受難と流し血を表している。

#trees #tree legend #tree myths #folklore #mythology #legend #celtic belief #holly #celtic calender #holly king #oak king #art #nature #imbolc

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gamma-rae-bursts · 1 year

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Finding My Peace with You

Cooking lesson doesn’t go as planned

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Panic Attack, Alcohol Abuse, Past Abusive Relationship (lemme know if I missed anything)

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 1700+

A/N: felt angsty today, sorry not sorry.

Falling for Melissa Schemmenti was easy.

She was the first teacher to approach you when you started working at Abbott Elementary a few months ago. You were the new history teacher, now sharing your duties with Jacob, and you still felt a little out of place. It started with casual conversations during lunch, soon after which the redhead invited you to sit with her and Barbara at their usual table of the breakroom.

Not so long after that, much to Janine’s despair, Melissa invited you to join the two older teachers in one of their favourite restaurants instead of having the lunch at school. With time, the two of you started walking each other to your corresponding classrooms, taking turns on who was walking who every day. And as the weeks passed the two of you grew closer to each other. You loved Melissa’s company, she made you feel comfortable around the other teachers and always made sure you were included, for which you were eternally thankful. This school routine quickly progressed into the two of you hanging out outside of the work hours, movie nights at either of your places were at least a weekly occurrence.

You couldn’t help falling for her, deeper and deeper with every exchanged word, with every look. You adored the soft side of her, the one she doesn’t show to many people. But she allowed you in and you knew that under this badass shell there is a big softie. You loved the way she was with her students, the way she cared about every single one of them and would go above and beyond to ensure the best quality of their education.

And Melissa couldn’t help falling for you either. She had a particularly soft spot for you, always saving you a seat at the weekly assembly that you would inevitably be late to. Each time she cooked she would make some extra, just to save it and bring it for you the next day.

One particular evening she finally gathered the courage to ask you out on a date, a real one this time. Not just a movie night ending in a sleepover. She took you to one of her favourite Thai restaurants, the woman always said that no Italian restaurant in the area would come anywhere close to her cooking, so she opted to stay away from them. And you, of course, didn’t protest. The evening was perfect, almost as perfect as her, the two of you chatted for hours, about everything and anything. Shortly after you made the relationship official between the two of you, still wanting to keep it somewhat private, away from the school gossip.

***

As the cold winter day started reaching its end, filling Philadelphia with darkness, you and Melissa prepared to make dinner together in the redheads sacred kitchen. You have been dating for a few months now and most of your evenings were spent together.

It didn’t take long for your girlfriend to realise just how bad of a cook you were, and it seemed that she has taken it upon herself to teach you the “Italian secrets” of cooking passed down in her family from generation to generation. Tonight, Melissa was teaching you how to make her signature lasagne. She would always emphasise that the secret to a good lasagne was a homemade pasta, which you couldn’t argue with, after all her lasagne was the best one you’ve ever had.

You watched older woman expertly chop garlic, explaining to you the secrets behind the technique and you couldn’t help it but feel a sense of awe. You have always been intimidated by cooking, but you adored the way Melissa made it seem so effortless and all the patience she had for you.

She of course noticed your hesitation when it was your turn to chop a few cloves, she smiled at you warmly as she gently guided your hands “Don't worry, cara," she said "Cooking is all about love and passion. You just need to feel it in your heart."

“But what if I don’t” you chuckled as you turned your head towards Melissa.

“You will sweetheart, trust me on this one” she replied as she placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Here, keep going and I’ll just pour myself some wine.”

Your body tensed up as the last words left her mouth, your chest tightening as the anxiety slowly started creeping in.

Deep down you knew that you were safe around your girlfriend, that she would never hurt you. But you couldn’t help the overwhelming fear that had you in a spiral at every brief mention of alcohol, because you knew all too well what it makes people capable of.

You never told Melissa about your past experiences, the hell one of your ex’s put you through. It didn’t seem important and you didn’t want to let it have any more control over you. Despite it being over 3 years, the wounds you were left with did not heal yet, the scars being constantly picked at by everyday conversations you’ve had with your friends.

You tried your best to keep it in you, continuing to chop the garlic with your shaking hands.

“Would you like some too?” Melissa said cheerfully as she started pouring the red liquid into a very fancy looking wine glass.

“Hm… no I’m okay” you replied with a slightly shaking voice “um Mel, I think I’m gonna go get some fresh air” you whispered as you dropped the knife onto the chopping board and sped out of the room. You felt your eyes fill with water as you opened the back door and stepped into the backyard. Despite the cold winter air hitting your body it was increasingly harder to breathe.

Melissa knew something was wrong as soon as she heard your reply, but you were out of her sight before she could ask what was wrong.

The second you were outside you couldn’t keep your tears in any longer, letting them fall down your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. You stood by the wall, trying to keep yourself standing as your head became dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

This is when you felt Melissa’s gentle hands wrap around your waist trying to hold you up right. You frowned at the initial contact, but the softness of her touch allowed you to begin to relax in her embrace. She pulled you towards her, strong yet gentle arms providing you with the comfort you needed in the moment. You wrapped your arms around her tightly as you buried your face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry” you whispered as your embrace around the woman tightened.

“Shh it’s okay baby, there is nothing to apologise for” her gentle voice sounded through the silence of the evening “I’ve got you y/n/n, you’re safe” at those words you let out a quiet sob, you tried to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down.

The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, neither of you wanting to let the other one out of the safety of this moment. You decided to head back into the house when you felt Melissa shivering, not wanting to be the reason your girlfriend gets a cold. You sat down on the couch as Melissa handed you a glass of water, before joining you and pulling you into the security of her body she knew you needed.

“Would you like to talk about that?” she asked, gently stroking your hair as you lied on her chest. You took a few deep breaths before gathering the courage to answer her.

“I don’t know what happened” you murmured, looking up at her, into her big, green eyes. “Usually, I know how to manage it, just when you mentioned the wine today a lot of bad memories came back flooding my brain and I couldn’t escape them”

You proceeded to tell Melissa everything, detailing all the memories that were brought back to you. The fear you felt every time alcohol was mentioned, the fear that had you unable to move as you were awaiting the inevitable, when you knew alcohol was involved. And what it left you with, or without.

“Oh darling, why didn’t you say anything before?” Melissa whispered back as she placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and tightened her hold of you “I wouldn’t have done that if you said anything”

“I didn’t want to inconvenience you” you chocked out, tears freely falling from your eyes as you weren’t even attempting to stop them at that point.

“Honey, you never inconvenience me, especially not with something like this” she said as she smiled at you softly. You started to get calmer as Melissa’s hands held you close to her, your head resting on her chest. The sound of her heartbeat sounding in your ears, allowing your body to relax. You stayed like this for another hour or so, making some meaningless conversations as the redhead stroked your hair.

“I’m sorry Mel” you said softly after a few minutes of silence “I feel like I ruined our evening”

“y/n/n, you didn’t ruin anything” Melissa replies as she started to slowly lifting the two of you off of the couch “come on, we don’t need to have another cooking lesson today, I can finish everything off and you can be my cute sous chef”

“That’s a very nice upgrade from a spatula holder” you chuckled as you grabbed her hand and headed towards the kitchen. Right before you managed to grab your favourite kitchen utensil from the counter Melissa pulled you back into another hug.

“I love you y/n.” she whispered into your ear as your arms wrapped tightly around her “Thank you for sharing everything with me today, I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you.” she added as she kissed your forehead. “You’re safe now and I promise I will never, ever hurt you.”

Falling for Melissa Schemmenti might have been easy, but loving Melissa Schemmenti was even easier.

Taglist:

@nightmarish-fae

join my taglist here!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #y/n fics #reader insert #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #wlw

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jackie-sugarskull · 5 months

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Today marks 7 years since the reawakening of my Captain Underpants hyperfixation, which had been asleep for a very, very long time.

I had first discovered the books much like any kid in the late 90s/early 2000s; at the Scholastic Book Fair. If I remember correctly, the first one I had found was the second book, Attack of the Talking Toilets. I remember thinking how silly the cover looked, and it drew my little elementary school self in like a moth to flame.

I had quickly read it and absolutely loved it, and like discovering a new favorite treat for the first time, I immediately wanted more.

I was able to find the first book in my school’s library so I was able to get the full story on the two best friends who pulled the ultimate prank by hypnotizing their grouch of a school principal, and how it immediately became the worst decision they ever made. And I loved every second of it.

As the years went on, I eagerly anticipated the Book Fair’s arrival at my school and would beg my mom for a few dollars extra, just so I get my hands on the newest adventure.

I devoured every single story I could find and bought as soon as I could, and each one was more entertaining than the last. From alien lunch ladies and zombie nerds, to a megalomaniac professor with an incredibly silly name in a giant robot with charts that you could use to give yourself a silly name (mine is “Poopsie Bananachunks” BTW), to an insane hypnotized woman with Medusa hair that gave atomic wedgies.

The more I read and reread these stories, the more I couldn’t help but think that it would make a pretty fun movie, or at least a tv show.

These stories had been with me through a lot of ups and downs in my life, the biggest being my parents’ divorce. They were there to remind me that even when times could be tough, you can make it through and still be able to laugh at even the silliest of things, no matter how old you got.

By the time I was 10, I got my hands on the latest book in the series, The Big Bad Battle of the Bionic Booger Boy Part 1. I loved it as always, but was shocked to see it ended on a cliffhanger. This had never happened before. I was anxious to see what would happen and how George and Harold would get out of this mess.

But… it would be some time before I got those answers.

Time went on, and my attention went to other things. I found new hyperfixations over the years, and while I didn’t have the 7th book at the time, I was eventually able to get answers thanks to the internet.

Eventually I entered middle school, and I found myself drawn to new book series that I grew to love, but Captain Underpants remained a big part of my childhood and some of its happiest memories. And for a while, I thought that was all it would be; memories to just fondly look back on.

But that all changed the winter of 2016.

It was the halfway point between Christmas and New Year’s, and I was gonna be 24 in less than a month. I was spending my downtime between holidays like any other bored 20-something year old; scrolling through Tumblr, of course. It was during that time that I stumbled across this post by @mondentertainment. It was photos of posters from a Licensing Expo, showcasing upcoming animated projects, be it films or series.

Among them were a few that sounded promising, others not so much.

But what caught my eye was this.

A poster from DreamWorks with a very familiar face on it.

I could barely believe what I was seeing, and from the comments and reblogs on the post, neither could a lot of other people.

It was like a door that had been long locked in the back of my brain finally burst open, and all those memories came flooding back, particularly of a reoccurring thought that ran through my young mind whenever I would look at those illustrations every time I turned the page.

Could it really be true? Was one of my favorite childhood books finally getting a chance to truly come to life on the big screen?

It had already happened once before after I read Coraline in middle school, so there might be a chance.

As you could probably imagine, I poured my thoughts of hope and excitement into the tags as I reblogged the post.

And when the trailer finally dropped three months later, it was like meeting that one childhood friend you never truly forgot all over again.

So much happened after seeing the movie on opening night, including meeting Dav Pilkey himself!

And all the great memories and friends I’ve made since rediscovering the fandom all lead back to that one moment on December 28th, 2016.

And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

#captain underpants #captain underpants the first epic movie #captain underpants: the first epic movie #personal #personal ramblings

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sorryjustafangirl · 1 year

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make it to christmas

a/n: in the absolute middle of exams, winter, homesickness, and holiday stress, i was well overdue for some (resolved) angst me thinks. this is also based off one of my fav christmas (sad but upbeat) songs of the same name by canadian icon alessia cara. i really hope you enjoy!

word count: 2.7k+

pairing: quinn hughes x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, kinda rude parents, mentions of Christmas, sad quinn a little, i can't think of anything else?

disclaimer: this is a piece of fiction so don't come for me about real life stuff. also i didn't make the gif, @gabelandeskog did (and it looks amazing!)

Quinn gets distant with you when the team is on losing streaks. When the team was on losing streaks in the winter? It would get worse.

After three years with him, you’d noticed that this time of year makes your boyfriend get in his head a little. His frowns were a little deeper, the light rarely reached his eyes even around you. He always said it was the lack of snow Vancouver got that messed with his winter routine. When he told you that, you made him promise that he’d tell you when he was feeling particularly sad.

He was good at keeping that promise. During the winter months when the sun set too early and the sky was grey for days on end, he’d be quiet for a day or so before confiding in you under the comfort of the covers. If things got bad, the two of you would watch reruns of Friends until he fell asleep to your heartbeat and the claps of the theme song. You’d always savoured the winter because there were so many of those moments you’d get to spend together.

But this year, it felt different.

The whispers in the dark never came and he never gave the pleading eyes to watch a show. He’d open his phone again and again, the blue light reflecting onto his face but a smile never came. You’d try to pry a little — he never did respond well to it — but you knew this wasn’t your Quinn, winter or not.

The breaking point came when he stopped saying ‘I love you’. He never failed to say it or even send a text with it before one of his games, and he especially never forgot on road trips. But now? You couldn’t remember the last time you were able to slip into bed beside him, and say a ‘love you’ without the ache in your chest of knowing you won’t get anything more than silence in response.

“Do you still want to come home with me for Christmas Eve?” you asked one night, when you saw the date in your calendar.

“If you want me to, yeah sure,” he mumbled, barely looking up from his phone. You couldn’t even fake a smile at his response, just settled into bed. He may have been beside you but he might as well be a thousand miles away.

On Christmas Eve, the two of you had dressed silently. It wasn’t like a no words communication, it was no communication, a stark contrast to other occasions when music had been playing and Quinn had been asking your opinion on which tie matched your clothes the best. Now, you waited by the door, the car keys in your hand until he came out of your bedroom, took them, and silently moved out the door. You locked the door on your own, your boyfriend twenty steps ahead of you. You sighed.

“Just make it to Christmas,” you whispered to yourself.

The car ride was silent and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I got Milo and Coolie some cute toys I thought they’d like. They’re wrapped under the tree for when you see Brock next,” you offered. He just grunted in response and you sighed a little.

“Did Petey say what he was doing for the holiday break?” You asked, turning slightly to see his face better but the frown never left his face.

“No.”

“Oh, Holly sent us their family Christmas card, they all look so nice. Did you see them?”

“No.”

You took a pause. “Did you want to see?”

“No.”

You pursed your lips, sighed a little, and sunk further into the seat, looking out the window so he didn’t see how his behaviour was affecting you.

When he pulled into your parents driveway, you could see all the bright yellow lights and your family already sitting in the living room with smiles on their faces. Usually, a sight like this would make you excited to bolt out of the car and be in the warm familiar house. This time, it only filled you with dread, having to pretend your relationship was okay, and you sighed for the last time.

“That’s the third time you’ve sighed like that,” He said, unbuckling his seatbelt. Oh so now he was attentive? Sure. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, let’s go.”

“It’s not nothing, what’s the matter?”

“Q, can we not do this right now? My family is waiting on us and I don’t want either of us to be grumpy. Let’s just try to make it to Christmas please,” you grumbled. He just grunted and got out of the car, his door slamming behind him. You took a deep breath before exiting the car yourself. At least he’d been bothered to wait for you before walking up to your parents’ house.

But when your dad opened the door, it was like a switch was flipped. Your boyfriend smiled, shook your dad’s hand, and passed the gift (that you were a little confused on where it came from since you hadn’t bought it — and you did the holiday shopping for the both of you) to your mom.

He sat on the couch with his arm draped around your shoulders. He brought you a drink in your favourite mug without asking. He held your hand and caressed the back of your hand when your dad brought up a work project that frustrated you. There would be times when you were talking to your sister and his arm would rest on your thigh and you’d forget about everything that happened before and just relish in his love. But as soon as it moved, the cold seeped in and you were reminded that this was not the regular anymore – this was a one-off and only a matter of time before it wasn’t there at all.

“Y/n, honey, could you help me in the kitchen really quick?” You mum asked.

“Yeah, sure. Be right back, Q.” You started to get up from your place on the couch but Quinn leaned over, quickly giving you a peck on the cheek.

“Hurry back babe.” He winked, throwing you a little off-guard. This was like the Quinn you knew, but where has he been the past four months? You walked into the kitchen, ready to help your mom but she was ready with questions.

“Is everything okay sweetheart?” Fuck fuck fuck. You tried to give her your best confused face instead of the panic in your mind that she saw right through your facade.

“Yeah, why do you say that?”

“You just look a little down,” she said, rubbing your arm lightly. “Even with that boy so nice to you, you just don’t look super happy. And it’s Christmas! Is everything going okay with him? He’s not too busy with work, is he?”

“No, Mom, he’s fine,” you lied. “We’re fine, thank you for checking.”

“Well, if you say so sweetheart. There’s no shame in breaking it off with this hockey boy so you can have something where you’re happier.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I’m going to be right back.”

“Don’t go anywhere! I’m making hot chocolate with marshmallows before the board game,” she called after you, seemingly aware that she sent you into a tailspin.

“I’ll just be a minute, you can get started without me.” You were already halfway down the hallway by the time you said it, your focus on nothing but getting out of the room.

You walked out the back deck, taking in the night sky and silence. You took deep breaths. It just didn’t make sense. How could he just think that nothing is wrong in front of your family? Act so carefree so easily? You were struggling to even smile at his gestures, wondering what got into him to act like his old self and your mom noticed. She noticed and basically told you to break up with him, so nonchalantly, like she’d never taken your relationship seriously.

“Hey. Here.” His voice interrupts your racing mind and you turn around to face him. In his hands is the hoodie he keeps in the car in case you get cold, outstretched to you. You suddenly are aware of the goosebumps all over your arms and how you could see your breath. You take it and pull it over your head as Quinn walks closer to be beside you.

“What’s wrong?”

You scoff. “What's wrong?”

“Yeah, you never miss out on a hot chocolate, especially not with the marshmallows. What’s wrong?” He didn’t seem to have caught onto the slight edge in your voice, and you dropped the attitude.

“If I’m honest, it’s us,” you huffed.

“Us?” You could see the furrow in his eyebrows even if you weren’t looking at him. “We’re fine, aren’t we?”

“For the past two hours when we’ve been in front of my family, sure. But even my mom noticed I’m not really happy. In two hours, my mom saw what you couldn’t in months! Q, it’s been weeks since we’ve been really fine. Weeks. We are not fine! There’s all this distance between us, even when you’re sleeping right beside me! When was the last time we went out on a date? When’s the last time you even had time for a date? Time for me? We haven’t talked about anything other than hockey and my job for what feels like months!“

He goes to open his mouth but you cut him off. “And I know, I know, it’s winter, this is how you get. But it’s not. Quinn, I’ve been around enough to know what it’s like in the winter but this is something else. You give me one word answers, you’re shutting me out. I can’t even remember the last time you said you loved me. It’s fucking different and I’m so so close to saying fuck it and throwing the towel in!”

“Then why didn't you? Why did you invite me here?”

“Because it’s Christmas! Because I’m an idiot! Because I’m not ready to give up on you! Because I keep thinking that this is just a bump in the road and one day, we’ll feel like us again, just like we did in there! Because if you didn’t come, my dad would give me such a look of pity at the empty chair beside me and my mom would tell my sister “I told you so” when she has evidence you’re too busy for me. And on Christmas? I…I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it. Break up with me on Boxing Day, but can we please just make it through Christmas?”

“Wait, break up? Who said anything about a break up?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been wanting to do? Why else have you been so distant these past few months, so engrossed in your phone?” You said, crossing your arms across yourself and looking down at your feet.

“I’ve been trying to propose.”

You stared at him blankly. “To me?”

“No, to Brock. Yes, of course to you.”

Your mouth hung open in shock. “You’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“I’m not following,” you said, genuinely confused. Where was this coming from?

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you all this, but you remember that night out on the lake in July? When we went out and watched the sunset and you told me you could do this for the rest of your life?” You nodded.

“That’s when I knew I wanted to marry you. So I started looking at rings, asking some of the married guys for advice, that sort of stuff. But when I went to my mom to ask for her help picking out a ring, she…she just seemed surprised that I didn’t know what you wanted. I went through your jewelry box and everything but I still couldn’t figure it out. So I started to think that maybe I didn’t know you as well as I needed to before we got married.” He looked down at his feet as he started shuffling them side to side.

“And then when I asked your parents about marriage, your dad didn’t look very impressed with me. Like they said fine, but they didn’t seem over the moon that I was going to be the one asking. That’s why I acted so different in there. I…I didn’t want your parents to think they made a mistake by telling me yes. I guess that all of that just made me feel really insecure about me and this lifestyle that threatens to move us across the country in one second! I was insecure in our relationship, convincing myself that you and your family wanted no part in being part of the league, part of the drama, the chaos. Believe me, you’re the last person I ever want to hurt and I was just too much in my own head to see how it was hurting you, and baby, please, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I-“ he cut himself off. “I can’t believe I let myself get so caught that you don’t remember I love you. Because I do. I love you a lot. A whole fucking lot, I can’t even explain it. I want to marry you, please, I don’t want to break up.” He made eye contact with you then, his brown orbs void of anything but sorrow.

You felt your own eyes welling up but you had to get it all off your chest before consoling him. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about this?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want you to tell me our parents were right. I thought if I kept it to myself, you wouldn’t notice how I might not be enough for you.”

The tears that had welled in your own eyes started to fall and there were no words coming to mind that could do your feelings justice. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck fiercely. His arms wrapped around your waist with as much ferocity and one of your hands held the back of his head.

“Not enough for me? You are everything,” you whispered into his ear.

“Don’t quote The Office to me.” His voice was muffled by your shoulder but you could hear the slight smile in it.

“Q, I don’t care what my parents said. I don’t care that you don’t know what ring I would want – I don’t even know what kind of ring I’d want! I don’t care about any of that; I care about you. I love you. And you are enough. You are all that matters to me.”

He pulled away from you, slowly, to see your face but his body stayed as close to you as possible.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as good as you.” Your face softened. One of your hands moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into your touch.

“It doesn’t matter. You have me. But the next time you feel like this you have to talk to me, okay? I was absolutely miserable when you wouldn’t communicate with me and I thought you didn’t…”

“Believe me, I’m never again going to let you believe, even for a second, that I don’t love you with every fiber in my body. I’ll talk with you next time,” he promised, pressing a long kiss to your temple and pulling him towards you again. “Now, you’re freezing and look desperately in need of a hot chocolate, so let’s get you inside.”

As the two of you walked back towards your parents place, hand in hand, you turned to look at him.

“Oh, and by the way, my answer is yes,” you said.

“Answer to what?”

“When you ask me to marry you. My answer is yes and it will always be yes.” His face softened and he slowly turned you to face him. His fingers, although cold, cupped your face and he brought you in for a slow kiss, dragging it out for as long as he could.

“I love you,” He said breathlessly, a sliver of light reaching his eyes again. “I love you so much.”

You gave him another quick peck, before leaning into his chest for a hug.

“I love you too, Q.”

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#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #vancouver canucks imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #abby writes #i just realized there's blood in that gif but there is no blood in the fic i promise #this is also not proofread because i have no brain power right now

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