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sinofwriting · 6 months

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Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

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A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.” “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

#ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x reader #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman imagine

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lynn-w3st · 5 months

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MK: Preference One Shot #4

Prompt: Syzoth, Johnny, Raiden, Liu Kang, Rain, Bi Han, Tomas, and Hanzo react to the reader having a confident flirtatious and sassy personality like Bayonetta. Bonus Noob Saibot.

Note: This was requested from my dear bestie @khaotic-kris. I hope you enjoy it and I was more than happy to make this for you 😊🥺.

This took a long time to make but I’m very honor and happy to make this. So sorry if some of these came out to inaccurate, I tried my best but if you have questions please message me.

Raiden

This precious pookie is so down bad for his mommy (Y,N). He blushes deeply when you tease him but admires how confident you are.

He would literally do ANYTHING for you. Raiden often wonders how he landed with such a magnificent woman like yourself.

You often tease him when you both would be having a friendly spar in the academy. Johnny teases him badly when he is caught staring at you. (Please let him marry you.)

Raiden gets super flustered when you flirt with him and often tries to flirt back but your mommy rizz is to much for him.

Aside from all the teasing and flirting, you have a very strong and unbreakable bond with him as you are willing to go through hardships and obstacles to protect him.

Raiden worries for you as he knows that you hate being emotionally vulnerable in which he reminds you that it is ok to seek help as he’s willing do anything for you.

This precious pookie would do anything for you and his deep unconditional love for you is what makes him train harder and vows to always protect you and make you happy.

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Liu Kang

This man is precious and a gentleman. Please he gets super flustered when you tease him or jokingly flirt with him on random occasions.

Liu Kang doesn’t really know how to handle a woman of that caliber such as yourself but he is respectful and caring towards you.

He is such a gentleman towards you it’s so adorable. Gets shy when you flirt with him to rizz him up but he is extremely loyal.

This man immediately notice your fake behavior by trying to act sassy to cover up your emotional vulnerability. Please this man will remind you that it is ok to show emotions and to let yourself be vulnerable.

Liu Kang will support you and show you how much he loves you and how much he cares even when he’s busy as an Elder God.

He admires your overprotective attitude towards him and to others as you are willing to go through hell to protect those you love.

This adorable pookie is a gentleman and a softly because he’s willing to always protect and shower you with his unconditional love.

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Zeffeero (Rain)

Zeffeero admires your confidence since he’s also confident and a bit arrogant himself. He is old school will court you the old fashion way.

Rain will actually flirt back at you but in a formal and romantic way. He is Outworld’s best mage so he is immediately courting you by sending you love letters and flowers.

He loves the way you tease others and admires your sassy attitude as he finds it very attractive when you use your rizz.

Zeffeero will show you his magic and often do little shows with it to make you smile and laugh just for you because he’s in love.

Since you are a powerful witch yourself, Rain would often ask if you don’t mind training him so he can admire your skills.

He notice how much you would cover up your emotional vulnerability by putting up a fake sassy behavior but will remind you that it is ok to be vulnerable and seek support.

Rain loves you so much as he is willing to support you and will do anything for you.

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Syzoth (Reptile)

Like Raiden, Syzoth is deeply in love with you but often times he wonders why would you fall in love and marry with a freak monster like him.

This cutie of a man get so flustered easily as he deeply loves you with all his heart and often gets scared that you would get taken away from him like his previous family.

Szyoth would get extremely flustered and cover his blush face when you flirt with him and shower him with kisses and cuddles.

Please he would do anything for you as he is afraid to lose you to and often tells you that he’s will be there for you all the times.

Johnny teases the hell out of him when you flirt with him. He deeply admires your confidence and headstrong attitude.

Syzoth deeply worries for you as he sees how much you dislike being emotionally vulnerable and often reminds you that he is there for you and will do anything for you.

To say the least Szyoth can’t image a life without you as you are his world and new purpose. He loves you and will protect you

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Tomas (Smoke)

This pookie cinnamon roll is in love with you that it’s so wholesome and adorable. He loves his strong and confident princess and is a good boyfriend to you. Biggest green card ever.

Tomas gets extremely shy and flustered when you tease him occasionally. This man will blush super madly that smoke (no pun intended) will come out from his body.

This man will do anything for you and often admires your confident and sassy attitude as it lightens up his day after feeling down.

Smokey bear treats his princess with lots of love and care. Often makes you relax as he cooks, cleans and tends to your needs. You both would cuddle in each others arms.

Madam Bo (Granny) playfully teases him when he would take you on a date to her tea house. She is proud of her baby boy.

Often worries for you when you try to hide your emotional vulnerability as he wants to help you and is willing to share your burden.

He admires your fighting skills and has heart eyes when you would take down your enemies. His loyalty to you is unbreakable as he is willing to go to the end of the world just for you as he wants spend his life with you and hopes to start a family of his own.

Johnny Cage

Knowing his cocky and arrogant personality this man has a huge mommy kink for you. (He doesn’t mind you stepping all over on him.)

Johnny will literally worship the ground you walk on. This man is such a big simp to you that he is willing to do ANYTHING for you.

This man will constantly posts about you on social media like it’s not even funny. He is so super down bad for you that he gets extremely blushy and hot when you flirt.

Star boy here would faint at the amount of teasing and flirting he gets from you. Your mommy rizz makes him feel so blushy.

Please this man desperate for his mommy that he is puppy material when you save his life and vows to treat you like a Queen.

Aside from his simp behavior, Johnny is a good partner and often makes you feel safe and comfortable by making dinner or giving you loads and loads of hugs and soft kisses.

Johnny loves your sassy nature but often gets worried as he notice that you dislike showing emotional vulnerability which he reminds you that he is supporting you and that he’s willing to help you out in anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bi Han (Sub Zero)

Like Johnny, this man secretly has a mommy kink. The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is a simp for a strong and loyal woman like yourself that is the only one fit to rule by his side as his wife.

Bi Han will lowkey get a bit erotic when you flirt and tease him. This man is secretly a mommy worshipper he’s down bad for you.

He admires your confident personality and fighting skills. Worships you by treating you like an empress and gifting you expensive gifts for you like jewelry, clothes and etc.

The Grandmaster will not allow anyone to disrespect you and show them how much you mean to the Lin Kuei. He will kill for you and gets jealous when you tease others. (He gets rizz up by your teasing nature.)

Expect a lot of heating and intimate private moments between the two of you. Let’s just say he makes sure to show you who you belong to by marking you as his.

Bi Han would shower you with love and affection and does secrets services by massaging you after a long mission or simply cuddling with you in his arms.

He may not be very good with emotional support but he’s is willing to tear the world apart if someone threatens you and won’t rest until that poor bastard is dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanzo Hasashi (Scorpion)

The new Grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu would be both in awe and down bad in love with you. You better believe this man is on cloud nine.

This man is so in love that he gets flustered when you tease him in front of his students. He will make sure to punish you for that 😉.

Hanzo admires your confidence and loyalty and often finds your sassy nature attractive.

He knows how you hate being emotionally vulnerable so he remind you that it is ok to be vulnerable and he’s always there for you.

His students often tease him when he would get flustered when you flirt with him, this man has a bit of a mommy kink for you.

He gets a bit hard when take down the enemies and use your flirtatious skills to seduce your enemies for any information.

Hanzo loves you with his whole being and is such a gentleman towards you and will do anything for you like cooking dinner, giving you a massage or simply cuddling with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus: (Something extra)

Noob Saibot (Bi Han)

Just like his counterpart, this man has a very big mommy kink for you. He sees you as his beautiful goddess and will gladly serve for you.

Like I said, this man will be like Johnny and have a massive mommy kink towards you. This man will and would mark you as his.

Bi Han gets erotic when you flirt with him or tease your enemies in front of him as he felt himself get extremely possessive of you. He gets jealous and would get extremely hard.

This man will literally worship the ground you walk on. He is such a big simp to you that he is willing to do ANYTHING for you.

Expect a lot of heating and intimate private moments between the two of you. Let’s just say he makes sure to show you who you belong to by marking you as his.

Noob Saibot would gladly serve you and would deal with anyone who dares to use your emotional vulnerability against you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you guys enjoy and this took very long to make so I’m deeply sorry if some characters came out inaccurate but I did tried my best.

668 notes · View notes

chronically-ghosted · 6 months

Text

i crawl home to her

rating: 18+ explicit

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 8.2K

summary: you bring dieter home to meet your family over the holidays.

warnings/tags: discussions of food, mentions of weight gain, brief biphobia, bad family dynamics, hiding parts of yourself to make yourself more palatable, dom!Dieter when his type-A girlfriend needs him to, smut in places it shouldn’t be, a family can be two people, bad jokes, mentions of marriage and kids, one light booty smack, peep the super obvious bob's burgers reference, minimal edited, you can pry the image of dieter in ugg's from my cold dead hands

a/n: i've caved and finally added to the evergrowing pile of "Pedro boy fucks you in your childhood home". @sp00kymulderr i told you i'd get it out today -- it might be tomorrow for you, but it's not yet midnight! i present to you part 2 of merry thanksgiving nonsense2023!

🤍Masterlist

You nearly miss the exit off the gray-slushy highway because you’re trying to remember Aunt Gayle’s food allergies.

And Uncle Rick’s preferred way of taking his coffee in the morning.

And the right detergent to use when washing your niece’s clothes, or else your sister will come after you with a hatchet.

“Baby, you’re gnawing your fingernails bloody.”

You blink, surprised to find your hand anywhere near your mouth, the other white-knuckling the steering wheel, and to your enormous embarrassment, he was right – you’d pulled up several hangnails, leaving tiny pink gouges, right under your immaculate holiday nails you got for the express purpose of looking presentable in all the inevitable Insta photos your sister demands every year.

“Fuck,” you mutter and curl your fingers into your fist as if to hide temptation. From the passenger’s seat, Dieter frowns.

“Twizzler to make it better?” He spins the red, bendy candy enticingly. Your mind suddenly flashes back to the time you both got way too high on his new bong and he made the exact same motions with his dick. You had never laughed so hard in your life.

The red candy whipping around in a circle, you groan into the steering wheel.

“I’m turning around. This was a terrible idea.”

“What are you so nervous about?” Dieter half-way laughs. He pulls his Ugg-stuffed feet off the dashboard and sits up. Crumbs from the Starbucks Christmas sugar cookie spill off his “Kris Kingle My Jingle” sweater and onto the seat, but it’s those fucking earnest, curious eyes that always seem to rock your world. You occasionally don’t like to be touched when you’re stressed, so out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand waver before falling back in his lap. “It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah, but it’s holiday dinner with my family. They’re all so judgy and mean and every time I come home for more than twenty-four hours, I’m reminded exactly why I fucked off to California.”

“Maybe they’re jealous you’re a hot shot director,” Dieter suggests. “Or that you have a ruggedly handsome movie star boyfriend.” Eyebrow raised, he twirls the Twizzler again and manages to bite it out of the air. You half-way expected it to smack him in the face. “They know I’m coming, right?”

You bite your lip, the last phone call with your mother still achingly heavy in your chest.

“You know what she asked when I told her I was bringing home the one and only Dieter Bravo as my boyfriend to meet my family?” You don’t need to look at him to see the furrow in his brow, the slight curve in his shoulders. You prop your elbow up against the window, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. “She asked if it was a career move. If I was dating you to get ahead in the industry . . . like I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

There’s a fraught silence. You listen to the wheels churn dirty black snow so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why in the world would you start with my dumb ass?”

Despite yourself and despite what’s coming, you smile. But you fight it, wrapping your lip up between your teeth. So he continues:

“If you really want to make it big, you gotta date someone at least forty years older than you. So, what? We’re talking seventy. But, wow, think of the money. Bet he has his dick dripped in gold just to keep it hard–,”

“Dieter!” You swat at him, smile too big to contain, and he grins, grabbing you by the wrist. “That’s terrible!”

“But I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

You smirk. “Barely. More like ha ha than a big chuckle.”

He nips your palm, the rough hair on his chin scraping the soft skin.

By some minor miracle and a forcible act of God, your mother is allowing you two to share a bedroom. Not out of respect for your relationship, of course, but there is simply not enough room to spare. You watch those perfect lips imprint themselves in the cup of your hand and you’ve never been more thrilled to have to share a double bed. God, you cannot be this wet before you have to look your mother in the eye. You retract your hand with a breathy exhale.

“We don’t have to stay long,” Dieter says, a weight to his gaze that proves he hasn’t completely blown off your concern. He twists his body in the seat and crosses his arms, his shoulder pressed into the seat. He watches you with his head against the headrest. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m already on thin ice because we’re just staying two days.” You shake your head. “My sister and her family have already been there since Monday and plan to stay the rest of the week.” You inhale, hold, and exhale until you can feel your shoulders drop. “It’s just . . . I’ve worked so hard to make something of my life, to be someone I can be proud of, and it just doesn’t matter to them. They want me to marry a banker or something, and quit my job to do cutesy family blogging on Instagram. They’ve never, ever liked the real me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something come over Dieter’s face. Not annoyance, or irritation, but as if someone kick started his brain. But it passes and he brushes the back of your hand resting over the gearshift with his fingers.

“I like the real you,” he says quietly. “In fact, I really, really, really like the real you. I gotta keep you around. Who else is gonna remember the name of the best Chinese food place when I’m high?”

Dieter is sweet, knows the wonders his smile can accomplish, with a twinkle in his eyes. A bit crude, a little distractible, but ultimately, well-meaning. However, he seemed physically incapable of maintaining sincerity. Which in the beginning, was also cute, but now, in a moment of crisis, it was boyish in a way that made you worried. A little scared. Like too much pressure and he’d break.

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on?

History says no.

So, maybe you’d just carry everything.

You smile at him and return your hand to the steering wheel.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The car squeals as it stops in the driveway, wheels crunching the cold ice. You look up at your childhood home with the same unease and trepidation that’s been there since childhood.

“Go let ‘em know we’re here,” Dieter says as he unbuckles his belt. There’s still crumbs in the knit of his sweater. At least his sweatpants are clean. But there’s nothing you can do about those Uggs right now–

His hand squeezes yours, centering the universe that’s spinning like the inside of a martini shaker. You can feel the weight of his gaze press into your chest – heavy, warm, forgiving. He smiles, then slides into a smirk.

“Chillax, bro. Your vibes are not gnarly.”

You huff, trying to offer a smile that’s not a grimace. This was such a bad idea. Maybe it’s not too late to go pay for one of those mail-order boyfriends and keep Dieter in his nice California, hippie plastic wrap.

You hear your name being called from the porch and that smile fully plummets into a grimace. Gathering from that reserve of confidence that makes you look at male writers, directors, and (yes) actors and tell them they’re idiots and get the fuck off your set, you open the door and head around the corner to the front of the house.

Yeah, in the face of your mother, that reserve is basically a trickle.

She’s waiting for you on the porch, red dish towel in hand.

“I thought that might be you, darling! I’d recognize that squeak from that rust bucket anywhere.” She smiles, arms wide, as you bend down to give her a hug. You've had to bend down to hug your mother for years now and you still feel about two feet tall. “How are you? You’ve been good? You look pale, but you’ve definitely been eating, haven’t you?”

She pinches your cheek as if to show you all the extra fat you have on your face.

“Where’s Dad?” You try not to look like you’re tearing your face out of her grip and glance into the surprisingly quiet house over her shoulder. “Aren’t Emma and Dan supposed to be here?”

“Your father is out finishing his latest woodworking piece. He’s been at it for days, no matter how much I beg him to help with the food or the house. It’s all on me again to save the holidays.”

As it is every year.

“Your sister and her family went out to get more sweet potatoes. They eat sweet potatoes in California, don’t they?”

Here it comes.

“Yes, Mom, they eat sweet potatoes.”

“Oh good, I thought it’d be considered a carb.” She frowns, hands on her hips as if you’re about to get a proper scolding. “Now you told me you’re going to be bringing your fancy actor boyfriend. Damian Bravado, right? I cooked for exactly seven people, darling, a single empty chair will throw the whole thing off!”

“Yes, Mom, my boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is here. He’s just in the–,”

Someone, distinctly not your boyfriend, or at least not the boyfriend you left in the car, waltzes up the front steps.

Rings gone.

Earring gone.

Gloves that would make Ryan Gosling seethe with envy covering the tattoo on his hand.

His hair slicked back and curling deliciously around his ears, his dark jeans cover the laces of maroon Timberland boots. His black turtleneck clings to his wide chest, the leather jacket broken in enough to be soft, but not so used there’s tears in the seams. And, to top it all off, his cream-colored scarf curled around his throat looks like it came out of a Hallmark movie.

Maybe you are in a Hallmark movie. Maybe on the way up the porch, you slipped and banged your head and all of this is a bizarre, weirdly-erotic dream. Maybe someone actually did call in a mail-order boyfriend who looks exactly like Dieter and the real one is hog-tied in the trunk of your car. Maybe –

You’d heard of quick costume changes, but this is ridiculous.

“Debbie!” He calls out, like they’ve been best friends for twenty years. He flourishes a wrapped bouquet of flowers, bright red against the white snow, and hands them to her after bouncing up the steps. His cheeks are tinged pink, as if he’d run the block, but without a drip of sweat on him, he’s simply glowing with what could be presumed as the holiday spirit.

To your never-ending and horrific surprise, your mother squeals as she takes the flowers.

“Poinsettias! My –,”

“Favorite, I know.” You stumble out of the way when he leans down and kisses her on her cheek. “And they’re fake, so you can reuse them next year. But you’d never know it at $300 a pop.”

Okay, yes, this is a clone of your boyfriend, a walking holiday Ken doll – Dieter never, ever brags about money.

“I’m not a banker or anything, but I like to spoil my girls.”

The bastard winks at you.

Your mother has turned to gooey, drippy putty in his hands. She’s redder than the hand towel and the poinsettias combined. She flounces, flutters, eyes springing back and forth between the ruby-red flowers in her hands and Dieter’s achingly handsome face – one that hasn’t dimmed that thousand gigawatt smile since he first arrived.

“Oh, oh my goodness – well, this is just lovely – it’s so nice to finally meet you – I can’t believe she’s been hiding you from us all this time – please, please come in, you must be freezing!”

She backs into the house, still staring at the flowers, then as if she hadn’t been living here for the past fifteen years of her life, she bounces towards the dining room, then on a quick turn, heads for the kitchen, then turns again to the hallway closet.

“Oh gracious – where did I put – it must be – come in and shut the door behind you – you know where your room is, darling, I’ll be back in just a second, I just have to – ah, these are spectacular –”

A door down the hallway finally swings shut and muffles your mother’s insane rambling.

So dazed, you don’t see him move until he’s pressed you up against the glass etching of the door, his hand palming your hip and the other diving to cup the back of your neck. He tugs you down into his mouth before you have time to blink.

Jesus Christ, mint? His breath smells like mint??

God, he even fucking kisses like a Hallmark Prince. His mouth pulls you into him and your brain whites out – careless of the little whimper you make, careless of the fact that literally any one of your family members could walk in right now, careless that you’re teetering into him as if on string. Your breath flutters down his throat and he huffs through his nose. The tips of his fingers are chilly enough that you shiver at his touch.

He edges the bottom of your lip with his tongue before pulling back and tightening his grip in your hair.

And there’s that Dieter smirk you are all too intimately familiar with.

“How’m I doing?” He mutters. His gaze flickers between your eyes, your nose, and your kissed-pink lips. “I’d say I got Mama Bear on my side.”

Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t always like this. Between the fresh breath scent in his mouth, the fragrance of his much-too expensive cologne permeating your senses, and his thick thigh shoved under your groin, you are embarrassingly boneless in his arms. You pluck your fingers over the soft leather collar at the back of his neck, just as much to inspect the jacket, as much as to release more of that delicious smell.

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” You mutter, smirking, as you wind your fingers into his curls. “Spoil my girls, what the fuck was that?”

“Ah, ha, ha, ha,” he gloats as he lowers his head to your neck. You expect a warm kiss in the length of skin you’ve exposed to him, but instead his teeth lightly tease your throat above your pulse point and you feel your knees buckle as your face warms. “I can be very charming when I want to be.” He squeezes your ass as if to make a point.

You hold back a moan, flattening it to a shudder in your chest. You can feel his grin in your neck and he shifts you, pulls you closer and compresses you deeper into the wooden door. You can feel your conscious thought melting through your fingers so you blink, lick your lips, try to wiggle out from under his teeth.

“This isn’t a Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. This is Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” You gasp his name into the foyer of your childhood home when he licks you from the curve of your shoulder up under the soft place below your ear. Your hips jerk unconsciously, baser instincts seeking out the friction of his jeans, and you push against his biceps. “Dieter, she’ll be back any minute. She can’t – can’t see us like this.”

You’ve never heard him chuckle like the way he does, so darkly pleased with himself.

“Once I’m done schmoozing her, your father, your sister and her – what did you call him – cardboard husband, we’ll fuck in front of them and they won’t say a word.”

“Dieter!” You shove him just as your mother returns from the kitchen.

She frowns and you feel the scolding coming, the scent of Dieter so obviously entangled in you. You might as well be wearing a sign that reads, hi, yes, I’ve been recently groped why do you ask?

“Did you forget where your room is? Honestly, what would you do without me? Now, follow me and I’ll remind you.”

Schmooze he did.

From the same magical bag of weirdly specific and perfect gifts, Dieter presents a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon and two very illegal, but very Cuban cigars. Your father forgets to scowl in the face of some of the most expensive bourbon in the world.

For your sister, he somehow senses that material objects won’t go as far, so he endears himself to your niece first. Asking her questions about her doll, about her school, what she likes to play with her friends and how crazy it is that hopscotch is his favorite game too.

In twenty minutes, he’s on his hands and knees, black sleeves pulled up over his immaculate forearms, and etching out a hopscotch board with pink chalk. He nods and interjects while your niece runs around him, demanding a dragon in the corner, or a crown in another, and suddenly your biological clock starts blaring like an air-raid siren.

“He’s so good with kids,” your sister mutters to you from the door to the garage. A single glance tells you she’s under the same effect of watching a hot man play with a child. You’re so aroused and confused you can’t even eye her with jealousy.

“Mhmm hmm.”

“When are you going to have some of your own?”

And you’re back inside before you can see the look on his face as he lifts his head.

It would be insulting to call it eerie.

It’s not like he’s physically incapable of smelling clean, or dressing nice, or even combing his hair. You’ve seen him do it time and time again for galas and interviews. Hell, that time he took you on a date to get sushi in the tallest building in Toronto, he didn’t look that much different from how he does right now . . . and yet . . .

You feel your face scrunch in suspicion when he remembers your aunt’s food allergies, how your Uncle Rick likes his after-dinner coffee.

Dieter might forget to put on pants, but he’s never forgotten the important dates of your relationship. He remembers what you were wearing the first night you kissed, but can’t remember to take out the pizza before it burns in the oven.

This, this Dieter, feels wrong.

You watch him laugh with your father and uncle by the fireplace with brandy in his hands as you work with your mother and sister to unwrap a dozen saran-wrapped pies. He comes by later and takes the stack of plates from your mother’s hands and assures her he’ll do the dishes, as thanks for such a wonderful meal.

This Dieter Bravo needs a smoking jacket and uses words like “wonderful meal”.

Initial surprise at his near magical transformation from the car this morning long gone, you sit with this uncomfortable feeling, as everyone around you eats pie and laughs and looks all the part of a fucking Hallmark card for “joyful festivities”, long enough to finally understand it for what it is:

Anger.

Shame. Guilt.

Hot embarrassment.

You look at the man who’s invaded your boyfriend’s body as he charms the pants off your mother and father, and ugly, heavy embarrassment boils over in your chest. Washing the knife in your throat down with your fourth glass of wine all night, you excuse yourself with the last bit of breath in your lungs before ducking upstairs, then stumbling to your childhood bathroom you once shared, and share again, with your sister.

You lock the door forcefully in lieu of slamming it shut and sit down on the tile, your head against your knees. Rationally, there’s a part of you that knows this shouldn’t affect you like it is. Women would kill for a boyfriend like this – your sister very nearly jumped him in the garage.

But that’s just the thing – this isn’t your boyfriend. This isn’t the man you spend your days and nights with and this isn’t the man you fell in love with. This isn’t the Dieter you want to show the world.

A soft knock comes from the other side of the door and it breaks you out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Just a second,” you call out as you stand. You flush the empty toilet (this night is filled with ruses after all) and twitch the faucet on for two seconds. But when you open the door, you’re immediately cowed back in.

“Dieter, what are you–,”

“Are you okay?” Beneath the veneer of the Million Dollar Man, his eyes are soft, coaxing the anxiety out of you. “You looked pale when you left.” He tucks an escaped strand of hair over your ear, watching how his fingers brush up against your skin. He gently tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls back. He smirks. “Mom’s dressing wasn’t that bad.”

White-hot shame blooms again and you turn your head from him, tugging your hair out of his reach. You catch his hurt expression out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

“You’re not a good liar. I’ve told you that.” His voice is clipped. Not irritated, but not interested in lengthy bouts of misdirection either.

“Well, I don’t feel like bearing my problems to Mr. Perfect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms, shoulders swelling in the space of the tiny bathroom, and he leans on the sink.

“It means you’re a better liar than me so I guess you’ll have to do it for the both of us.”

You know it’s ridiculous to try and move around him – but maybe this Dieter wouldn’t care if you left angry. Even sober, he could manhandle you without a second thought, but between the heat of the drink in your throat and he’s blurred at the edges, you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Dieter, please, just –,”

He stands his ground, effectively blocking the door, and you huff, pushing up against his waist with your hands, your teeth bared behind your lips. He steps back, you think you’ve won a mile, but then his hands grasp so firmly around your elbows, your entire consciousness is pulled into where his fingers curl against your skin.

He gently, but seriously, shakes you slightly.

“Stop fighting me. You tell me what I did wrong and we’ll talk about this.”

The past two weeks of dread, and fear, and worry, and shame – shame that this is your family, this is how you go to pieces around them, this is all you can offer him – slam into your chest and your breathing hitches. The fingers at his chest dig into his shirt. The fourth glass of wine makes your eyes hot and tight.

“This isn’t you.”

You grimace in the bright light of the bathroom and your confession. But beyond your closed eyes, his demeanor hasn’t changed.

“What’s not me?”

A tear slips out the moment you open your mouth, your throat closing and gagging on your words. You swallow and try again, eyes peeling open to stare at the curve of his shoulder.

“You’re Dieter Bravo. You dry-clean your favorite pajamas to preserve the material. You do astrology charts of people who piss you off to find out how to best get back at them. You paint until four in the morning and sleep in our bed until I wake you up–,”

Your heart thrusts its way into your airways and cuts off your ability to speak. You know you’re not making a lot of sense, but all you can think of right now is how much you want to peel this fucking black, Steve Jobs-esque, goddamn ugly-ass turtleneck apart with your bare hands. Like freeing a mermaid from a net. He squeezes your waist, his broad palm settled in the curve of your lower back.

“Darling, I don’t see why this has you so sad –,”

“They won’t fall in love with you like I did.” You lift your watery gaze to him, unable to stop the spilling of tears. You always got teary when you drank a bit too much, but fuck, if you didn’t love him so much, you wouldn’t be so mad . . . at yourself. “I hate that you feel like you have to do this to be accepted by my family. I hate that they can’t see what makes you so special to me. I hate . . . I hate that they don’t see the real you.”

And out of nowhere, he smiles.

Never one to shy away from bodily fluids, Dieter kisses your tear-soaked cheeks, his hands rising up your back, taking their time to press into the curve of your hips, the bones of your ribs, the high arch of your spine, before settling on your cheeks. He kisses your wet mouth, thumbs against the corners of your lips like a soft leather bridle. He holds you, just like that, until your heart eases, stops racing in your chest, and you lean more into the kiss, chasing instead of hiding. You wrap your fingers around his wrists as he pulls away.

“With all due respect, this is just another gig for me.” His gentle smile hides no bitterness, no anger. No disgust. “I know what people like this are like, how they think, what they want. What they value.” He smears away the cold tears from your skin with his thumbs. “It’s fun, in a way, to infiltrate their little circles. It’s all fake, it’s all bullshit, and fortunately I’m fantastic at bullshit.”

You let out a watery laugh and he reaches behind you for some toilet paper to dry your tears. He blots your eyes for you before you can even take the tissue.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, baby,” he murmurs. “My family was exactly the same way, so I know how the game is played.”

“Yeah, and you don’t talk to them anymore. I just wish I had your bravery to cut them out of my life like you did.”

Dieter’s mouth twitches. “Well, that had more to do with the fact that I like to occasionally make out with boys, than dysfunctional family dynamics.”

You squeeze his forearm as he continues to clean your face, trying to catch his eyes but they’d gone hard where a moment ago they were soft. He thinks, using the silence to carefully fix your make up with his thick thumb under your eyelashes to lift off the smeared mascara.

He didn’t talk much about his life before Hollywood, but when he did, you understood why he was so closed off about it.

“Let’s put it this way: they did the cutting off, not me. And even if we have to be completely different people, your family still talks to you. I’m not saying that to guilt you, or compare trauma scars, but . . . most times we can’t pick who we love, but sometimes we have to.”

You nod, a sense of ease washing over you. His small, I don’t know if I should say this but I’m gonna smile widens across his mouth.

“It’s okay if they don’t see the real me, because I know you do.” He finally pulls away the tissue, his mouth pulled up in sweet earnest. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

A physical string connected between your ribs and his could not have tugged you faster. Tripping into his wide, warm chest, you drop your head onto his collarbone as you wrap your arms around his torso tighter than his own rib cage.

“Just . . .”

His bulky arms pull you into his chest, the bristles of his beard scratching at your temple. It’s not until you sink away from your own thoughts, into the silence in the bathroom, that you realize your breathing is synced with his.

That realization hits you particularly hard, that without trying, without meaning to, you become one with him – you turn and bury your face into the pulse of his neck. If you can get to his heartbeat, maybe that’ll calm you too. Dig through the crust of the earth and end up in China. You shift in his arms, and he does too. Dieter cups the back of your head, thumb rubbing the arch of your skull. His entire arm circles your back.

“What do you need, hm, baby? What can I give you, huh?”

You know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the girth, the weight of his voice has your toes curling in your shoes. His rasp is so often used to light that first spark.

“Dieter –,” the moment shifts and so do you. You squirm, itching for his face in your hands, his mouth over yours, but he holds you steady. Holds you firm. So firm, you can feel he’s half-hard in his jeans.

Oh.

Maybe he did mean it like that.

You press your tongue against his pulse point, your fingers splayed across the back of his rib cage, and he shudders. You’re about to bite down, when his hands peel your fingers from his back and pinch your wrists in one single, meaty grip. Heart suddenly thundering in your chest, he steps back to allow for just enough room to turn you – barely any at all – and pushes you face down on the sink counter, your wrists clasped over your ass behind you.

Cold marble pressing up against your tits, your face turned towards the window and the towel bar where you used to hang your Barbie swimsuits when you were seven, you feel his other massive palm dip under your sweater and press flat against the ridges of your spine. He hums when you let out a small whine. Flexes his fingers when you wiggle your ass against him. You seek out the marble with your cheek, heat rising under your skin, arousal suddenly burning hot in your low belly.

“This is what you need, hm, baby? Need me to touch you? To feel you?” He murmurs. Dieter always did like playing with his food. You nod helplessly, cheek sticky against the marble. He shifts his hips into the crack of your ass, with just enough pressure to have you bucking back against him, but not enough to find relief from the stirring between your legs.

He strokes your hair away from your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone, gaze languid and slow. Like he can see where he needs to pluck to unravel you.

“Why is my baby so tense?” He muses quietly, patronizing. His hand maps your spine in a single palm, edging slowly up your back until, with two fingers, he pinches your bra open. You feel the snap of the release and you rub your nose against the edge of the counter, whimpering. “Don’t I take care of you?”

You gulp. “Y-y-yes, you treat– treat me so good. I want it.”

He has you pressed too tightly against the counter to slip his hand down your front, the edge pinching your hips. So, instead, with your hands still pinned against your tailbone, he palms your ass and rubs a thick finger down between your legs and up over the seam of your jeans. The whine building in your throat breaks into an open moan when he presses your zipper teeth into your clit.

“Want what? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“F-fingers – tongue – fuck – y-your cock. Anything inside me.”

The surprised, breathless chuckle that reverberates down to the button of his jeans seared against your ass has you bending, stretching, just for a glimpse of his face in the mirror.

His mouth open, tongue curling back and forth over his bottom lip, he’s hungry. Wants so much. Can’t satiate this need without something between his teeth. Grinning around a mouthful of incisors. Patience has never been Dieter’s strong suit.

With a firm jerk around your wrists, your back arches up off the counter, shoulders pinched, hands caught low near his groin. You know he wants you to watch him touch you in the mirror – he’s stopped before when you close your eyes – but it’s hard to look at the woman reflected back at you, with her bleary eyes, mussed hair, heaving chest, and exposed belly button where his hand hovers between the waistband and a green sweater, and recognize yourself.

“No one can take you from me. Do you understand?” He dips his head, arched nose dragging up the curve of your neck, breathing hot through his teeth against the lines where your hair and your skin meet. You can’t help but arch up into his waiting mouth. “Not your family. Not mine. You’re so greedy for me – who else is gonna make you feel this good?”

“N-no one, Dieter, no one can.”

His hand rising under your sweater, thumb first at your belly button, then up between the spread of your ribs, and finally, it catches under the wire of your bra and he tugs it down. The material rubs against your sensitive nipples – it almost stings, your body pulled taught like a bowstring – the straps falling low off your shoulders, but your sweater keeps it from falling off completely and he goes no further. You whine, eager for something other than the scratch of the bra – something warmer – and push your sensitive tits into his soft hands, but his hand drops, fingering the waistline of your jeans instead. He ignores what you want to show you what you need.

This is a thing he did. He watched you wind yourself up with deadlines and scheduling and meetings and arguments on set and and doubt and worry and fear and then he took it upon himself to tire you out enough that all of it shattered – crashed and consumed under the white noise in your head. Dieter liked to play however you needed it.

You can feel the seam of his jeans hover just beyond your fingertips, as though his hips swing unconsciously forward while he nips and sucks on your neck. God, you’d give anything to have the weight of him between your palms.

When he speaks again, you realize at some point you squeezed your eyes shut, forgoing sight to chase the sensation that sparks across your skin every time he touched a new bare patch of skin on you. He pulls his head up from fixating a tender purple blush just below where your sweater covers your shoulder to catch your gaze in the mirror. Panthers do not watch with such hungry eyes.

“Arms up.” It’s not a command, a request, but the words drip from his mouth, rich and sweet. He lets go of your wrists and your arms flutter above you, his fingers already rolling up the edge of your sweater. He drags it up, snagging your loose bra with it, and peeling them both off you. The immediate heat of his chest on your bare back is so hot, it burns cold.

“Dieter,” you cry, nipples hardening in the cold air, goosebumps spiraling out along your skin. He’s there for you in an instant.

He bites the soft, invisible hairs at your jaw, thick paws coming up to clutch your breasts, the sudden swap in temperature making your head swim. He pulls you against his chest, a new outer skin that breathes and moans and gasps, one that has a steady heartbeat your own has synced to.

With his eyes fixated on you in the mirror, he molds your breast to his palm, rounding your nipples with his thumbs before sliding down between the curves of them. He licks the back of your neck.

“Face down, baby,” he says.

“But it’s cold,” you huff, pouting. You smooth your hands over his, his angular wrists, his broad thick forearms entombed in long back sleeves, then settle with your fingers in his hair. His height over you has your torso stretched, your tits bare and ripe, and he palms your stomach to the top of your ribs in two hands. He grunts when you twist his curls, keeping his head still so every bruise and wet spot on your shoulders and throat are all too visible. “Don’t you want to see all your good work?”

He blinks, slow and purposeful, his eyelids heavy, mouth parting. You can’t be sure of his decision, of what he wants, what he’s going to give, when his hands arch up the cradle of your arms, soft enough to tickle below your elbows, then around your wrists. He’s done this enough for you to know he wants you to let go.

You do.

Fast as venom moves from fangs to flesh, he plants your hands on the counter, forcibly gripping the edge. This is how you hold on.

He steps up against you again, iron-hot cock pressing without hesitancy between your ass cheeks, and unbuckles your pants without preamble.

“I’d rather just show you.”

Broad hand bending your shoulders forward, fingers pressed flat over your shoulder, you gasp when your tits make contact with the cold counter, and an instant later, he’s filling your open mouth with his fingers. He wets them against the slip of your tongue and grabs your jaw.

Your mind fracturing like cracking ice, you don’t hear the zip of his jeans, the groan as he takes himself out – barely feel the rub along your wet slit, the arranging of his fingers around your bare hip, the widening of your stance with his ankle.

But you do feel it when he’s suddenly hilt-deep inside of you.

You lurch forward with the weight of it, whining as though scalded at the sudden blinding pressure of pleasure and pain, and you slap a palm against the mirror to keep yourself from shattering through it. Behind you, Dieter looks like someone dislocated his kneecaps.

“You good, baby?” He pants, drawing his hand out of your mouth, wet spit between his fingers as he cups your hanging breast. The sensation bleeds hot, then cold. Unable to help himself, he nuzzles your shoulder blades.

You nod, eyes shut, the magnetic north sense of you spinning wildly off-kilter as you try to gulp in as much air as you can. You know you’re about to lose it anyway. He stands upright, not so much as inching out of you, when he plants his feet and nestles your ass against his hip bones, hands wiggling you further down his cock.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

It’s said with such wonder, a breathless reverence, that you think he might not have realized he said it out loud. You glance over your shoulder, turning your head instead of finding him in the mirror.

The facade of the Brooklyn banker is gone. Your Dieter stares, awe-struck, at the body he’s got impaled on his cock like it’s the first time he’s seen a naked woman. Soft, pliant, eager to please, your Dieter lets you collar him, peg him, and give it to you exactly as you ask.

“How do you want it?” The phrase is so familiar, so intimate when spoken from his pink lips, you shudder, a Pavlovian response that’s got you drooling somewhere else than your mouth. He lifts his gaze and finds you staring.

There is no one else in that moment. Not a single living soul besides you and him in this white-tiled bathroom. You can almost hear the absence of people ringing in your ears. His open, hot mouth draws your eyes away from his and you want every bit of him as stuffed up inside you as you can handle. Twisted around, you lick his bottom lip over your shoulder before offering your tongue for him to suck.

He groans, and you breathe in intimacy you’ve never experienced before. A flushed ache rises from your chest, a precursor to the aches he’ll leave you with by morning.

You tip your head back and thumb the bristly skin against his chin.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

For all his faults, for all his forgetting, Dieter switches brain waves as fast as you do, tethered together like the gravitational spin of space rocks in the wake of a gleaming comet.

“Okay.”

He distracts you from the pain of that first rough thrust by biting down on your shoulder.

His motions are short, targeted, and right up into the cradle of your cervix, the pace driven, unrelenting and hard. You shake with the force of them, as fragile as silverware on a table near the drop of an atom bomb.

“Oh – fuck, Dieter–,”

He pins your arm that had touched his chin to your chest, then his chest to your back, sealing your damp skin to his shirt. The curl of that wretched black turtleneck scratches deliciously against your low back.

Grunting in low, short bursts, Dieter sabotages his own breathing by crushing you so tight to his chest. He sucks on your neck as if to draw the oxygen straight from your blood. The fingers on your hip steady you, just for his cock wrecks your insides.

“You wan-na – ngh – you wanna know why it doesn’t bother me?”

Each word is spat out from between his teeth. He’s giving you your requested punishment as much as he is sprinting after his own release.

“Tell me. Tell me please.” Your voice is scraped raw, breathless and gooey at the same time.

“Because when you’re my wife, they won’t be able to do a fucking thing about it.”

Around him, your cunt squeezes, his words sending shocks through your nerves. You whine as if he’d smacked your ass.

“I fucking felt that. You like that. You want that. You want my fucking cock every day.”

Again, he plants your hands on the cold counter.

“Push back against me, baby.” You anchor yourself, ass out, elbows and knees locked. “That’s it, that’s my fucking good girl.”

He lifts his body up right, off your sweaty neck and back, and with both hands pinching your waist, he yanks you up and down on his cock in long, rough thrusts, knees bending with enough force to send you onto your toes.

“Gonna have to take it. Just – fucking – take – it –,”

His leaking cock drives up against that spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and body tense again and again, but yanks back before that hot feeling swells. It’s so close you’re dizzy from it.

You want to fuck yourself on his cock but you can’t time your aching hips right, so you stop trying and bend forward more, exposing more of your cunt to him.

“Dieter, please –,”

“Baby, you gotta be quiet. I know you feel good, but you can’t let them hear us.”

The words are out of your mouth, breaking through the thick, drowning fog and through the hindbrain barrier.

“Fuck them. Let them hear.”

Dieter’s hips slow, punch not as deeply, as if he’s curious what you’re going to say next.

“Take off your shirt. I wanna feel your skin.”

He listens immediately, a very good boy at heart, and the first press of his soft chest against you nearly has you coming then.

“Harder again, please.”

Again, without a second’s hesitation, he kisses your ear before grappling your shoulder with one hand and your hip with the other and he takes up his position as owner and keeper of your sloppy cunt.

You cry out, high and wrecked, some semblance of sanity knowing you’re being far too loud, and he bucks the words out of you.

“I wanna suck on your earring, Dieter.” He grunts as he doubles over as if trying to yank back an unrestrained and early release. He rubs his damp forehead in the patch of soft skin by your shoulder blade.

“Say it again.”

With every rock of his hips, you swing up higher, and higher, your thighs tensing, nails scraping the counter.

“Wanna put it between my lips and suck until you’re cherry red. I wanna choke on your rings. So far down my throat I gag. Wanna – wanna – lick your tattoos – all of them – ‘til the ink blurs from my spit. I –,”

The noise he makes is pained, weak, a man at the end of his rope.

He pops your ass. “Shut up. You’re gonna come now.”

His sweaty palms slip against the soft skin of your hips, and he keeps slipping with no leverage.

“Stand on your toes.” You do and for an absurd second, you think he’s going to pick you up in a bear hug. He wraps his arms around your rib cage, his face nestled into the hot, sticky curve of your neck, in the flipped image of when he takes you after your legs get sore from riding him. Your tits spilling over his forearms, he keeps the ludicrous bend in your spine as well as the short, rough pace. You reach your fingers around the back of his head and hold on for dear life.

The change in angle has stars blowing across your eyes, has you whimpering strings of pleas, veneration, and curses all threaded together. His own thighs shaking, he rubs the pads of three of his fingers across your clit and you’re over the edge.

“Oh – oh, shit –,”

The electrical storm that’s been building one wiry shock at a time finally bursts and you go rigid from head to toe, turning to marble, to steel, bright and sharp. You can feel your own release dribble down your thigh, Dieter stuttering behind you.

“Wait – fuck,”

He tries to speed up, or press harder, but he’s coming so hard you feel it expand your cunt and ends up just making a leaking mess. The sensation shivers you through another minor wave. The crest goes high, then crashes, and you slump forward, cold nips be damned, and he follows you down a second later.

The heated weight at your back and hard, cool marble squishing your tits is too much for your dazed brain to handle. Any looser and you might slip off the edge of the earth.

Dieter seems to be in a similar state. He not so much pulls out of you as he goes weak-kneed to the floor. A single tug on your hip has you stumbling down with him.

Despite the garland around the stairs, despite the smell of cranberries in the air, despite the veneer of perfect holiday wholesomeness, it’s the slick layer of sweat, grime, and cum over your skin that has you finally smiling.

You recognize you have been gone far too long – there’s not enough spiked hot cider in the world to ignore two missing bodies and a locked door. Dieter puts his barefoot preemptively up against the door frame and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Oh, there’s the sound I’ve been missing!” He nuzzles you, a blissful smile breaking open his face, sunlight over storm clouds. He wiggles beneath you, trying to tug you on top of him, but with your jeans constricting your thighs, and his barely below his hips, all it really accomplishes is the two of you rolling around on the bathroom floor.

In a heap of limbs, slick skin, his knee catching the button of your jeans, you bump your nose against his chin, there’s something bright building in your chest – it’s twisting your mouth, pinching your cheeks – his fingers grab your elbow, his eyes lock into yours –

And you’re laughing.

You’re laughing too loud, all pretense gone. You can’t honestly care what they’re thinking downstairs.

He manages to get you under him, his damp hair clinging to his temples and tangling down in frizzy strands.

“I’m gonna say this and I need you to actually hear me.”

You nod, grinning up at him and lightly tracing his clavicle.

He swats at your hand and holds it to your chest.

“Don’t wait until it’s that bad, okay?” You chuckle and he bites the tip of your nose. “Listen to me, you little goblin, I’m trying to be serious for a second.”

You settle under him, fingers intertwining with his over your chest. Sincere Dieter is a beautiful thing to look at.

“This holiday bullshit can be a lot. Spent a lot of them either in coke up to my eyeballs, or in the bathroom the next day. It fucking sucks that these are the people we can from, but we can’t change that. What’s important is the family we build right now–,”

Your mouth drops open, his words suddenly illuminating a future that had always seemed so blurry and distant.

“Dieter, I –,”

“I’m gonna marry you someday, so let’s start with us.” He kisses the back of your hand. “We carry each other, okay?”

You nod, the white light of that future searing a hole in your chest, exposing your heart to the open air, and bringing tears to your eyes. You nod, more assured, before kissing him on his bottom lip.

“Okay.”

The next few minutes play out just like they would if you were at home: cleaning each other up, trying on clothes only to realize he grabbed your sweater instead, and bumping affectionate kisses wherever they could reach.

At the top of the stairs, you don’t know what awaits you in the living room. What exactly you’ll be returning to. Who will catch you and who won’t.

But it doesn’t matter. His hand is around yours and he’s grinning petulantly against all the world.

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on?

Your heart says yes.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #pedro pascal #merry thanksgiving nonsense 2023

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samandcolbyownme · 4 months

Text

Summary: Y/n rings in the new year with Sam and Colby.

Warnings: nothing but alcohol consumption, flirting

Word count: 1.3k | not edited

Happy New Year, babes! 🖤🥂✨

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Y/n. You about ready?" Colby calls from downstairs. You look at the door, "Putting on my shoes. Be there in a sec!" You stand up, walking over to your mirror and giving yourself one last look over.

You smile at the gold shiny dress that's hanging on your body and the heels that both match perfectly to the theme of tonight's party.

Guys wear simple black suits.

Girls wear shiny dresses.

You grab your clutch and walk out of the bedroom. As you make your way down the steps, you hear Sam and Colby's conversation come to a sudden halt.

"What?" You ask with a smile as you walk over to them, "Are we ready?"

They both nod. Lips slightly parted as their eyes move up and down your figure, "You look absolutely beautiful." Colby grabs your hand, giving you a little spin so they can see the full outfit.

"You're stunning." Sam lays a hand on your hip, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Definitely going to make heads turn."

"I'm sure that will happen just because you both are kissing me at midnight." You smirk and walk over to the wall mirror.

They follow you over and Colby lays a hand on your lower back, "We're not going to miss kissing our girl at midnight."

You smile, looking between them in the mirror, "I'm not going to miss kissing my boys, either." You smirk and pull out your phone, "Selfie?"

They pose on either side of you as you take your pictures. Sam pulls his out next and you all pose like you're all just a bunch of friends for the gram, same with Colby when he takes his.

You then take the ones that are just for you guys that involve kissing and being cute and flirty.

You loved those ones the most.

"What a way to ring in the new year." Sam jokes and you look at him, "What by breaking the internet?"

"That won't happen until later. People are bound to blab that you kissed us both." Colby shrugs, "It's whatever at this point. You've been close with both of us for years, so.."

"It'll be fine. It's not every year we get invited to this high of a class party, right?" You fix Colby's jacket, "You guys look so good."

"Not as good as you." Sam wraps his arm around your waist and checks his phone, "Car is here."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

As you make your way into the venue, your arms linked with each of theirs, “This place is so fancy.” You grab the champagne glass from Sam’s hand, flashing him a smile, “Thank you, baby.”

He smiles and nods, “Anything for you.”

“Alright.” Colby slides his hand down your back, “Were going to go say hi to some people, do you want to come with?”

You eyes scan over the room and you smile when you see Kris and Celina, “I’m going to go say hi to them.” You point and wave when they see you. The motion for you to come over and you nod, looking at Sam and Colby, “Come and find me then.”

They smile and nod, watching you walk off before turning to go greet their own people.

“Happy new year, guys!” You walk up, hugging them both, “Wow, you guys look great!” Your eyes move up to Kris’ now red hair, “Red is your color, babes.”

She smiles, pushing her hair with the palm of her hand, “Why thank you.”

“So..” Celina leans in, “What’s the scoop with that?” She subtly points to Sam and Colby and you shake your head, “No scoop. Just known them for years.”

She squints and leans back slowly, “Ahh. I’m sensing there’s more to it, but..” she laughs, “I’m sure you’ll tell me eventually.”

You bite your lip, looking between them before you sigh, “Can you guys do me a favor?”

They both nod and lean in, “Spill the tea, miss y/n. I’m here for it.” Kris laughs and goes serious. You glance back at Sam and Colby before looking at the girls again, “Don’t be surprised if I kiss both of them tonight.”

“O-oh. Oh.” Celina raises her brows and leans back, “Damn girl. You bagged both of them?”

“How the hell did you manage that?” Kris smirks, “I’m happy for you guys.” She snaps, looking at Celina, “That’s why they’ve been so freaking happy lately.”

“They’ve been happier?” You smile and she nods, “Oh yeah. When we met up with them for our last video, they were all giddy and hiding their phones. I was wondering what the fuck that was all about.”

“You’re the perfect girl for them.” Celina rubs your arm, “I had a hunch, you know..” she shrugs her shoulders and smirks, “But I didn’t want to just assume but are we the only ones that know?”

You nod, “Yeah, so if you could ju-“

Kris and Celina drag their fingers over their lips, indicating that they’re locking them. They pretend to give the key to each other and they both throw them.

“Done.” Kris says.

“And done.” Celina smirks and sighs, “I feel so powerful.”

You laugh, “I wanted to tell you guys, but we were just..” you put air quotes, “Friends.. right now.”

They nod, “It’s totally understandable.” Kris nods, “We got your back, babes.” Her accent is slightly British and you can’t help but laugh, “Thank you.”

Sam and Colby walk up, saying hello to the girls and you can’t help but smirk, “They know.”

“Well, guess the cat’s out of the bag on this one, yeah?” Sam laughs and shakes his head. Kris lays a hand on his shoulder, “You got a good one. Don’t mess this up.” She looks from Sam to Colby, “Talking to you too, Mr.”

Colby nods, “Trust me. We don’t plan on it. I promise.”

“So how does that work.” Celina asks and you all laugh, “What do you mean, like.. the sex.. or?” You tilt your head, waiting for her to think about what she wants to say, “I mean.. yeah.” She nods, “Everything.”

The boys can’t help but laugh, “Oh god.” Sam groans, “Don’t out us like that.”

“I’m not..” you give them an, I’ll tell you all about it later on, look and Kris winks, nodding. Celina gives you a thumbs up, leaving Sam and Colby confused.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A few hours of dancing, drinking, and more mingling go by and suddenly everyone is cheering.

“Is it almost time?” You turn, looking at Sam who is standing behind you on the dance floor. He nods, “Yep. Gotta go find Colby.” He takes your hand in his, leading you through the crowd as you walk back towards the small group of your friends, “Hey!”

“Countdown is starting soon!” Celina says, pointing to the screen. You look at Colby, smiling at him once his eyes meet yours.

He walks over to you, laying a hand on your hip, “You ready to ring in the new year?”

You giggle, slightly tipsy from all the drinks, “I sure am.”

Suddenly everyone around you starts counting down loudly in unison, “Ten.. nine.. eight.. seven.. six..”

Sam and Colby both have their arms around your waist, counting down with everyone, “..Five.. four.. three.. two.. one!”

“Happy new year!”

You look up, Sam leans in first, planting his lips on yours, “Happy new year, baby.” He smiles as he leans back and you smile at him, “Happy new year.”

You look at Colby, still smiling until he places his lips on yours, whispering a quiet, “Happy new year, sweetheart.”

“Happy new year.” You smile up at him, turning to look at Kris and Celina who are just standing there with wide smiles.

“Happy new year!” You walk over to them, hugging them both. They hug you back, telling you how happy they are for you.

You guys raise your glasses, “Here to 2024!”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

This was just a short, welcome 2024 thing. I hope the new year treats you all very good!

Love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are appreciated

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imaginethathaikyuu · 8 months

Note

Em, you probably don't know this, but I actually have a huge weakness for streamer!Kenma. This might be kinda basic but what if streamer!Kenma and streamer!reader are both super popular, and everyone is always begging them to stream together, but what everyone DOESN'T know is that they're secretly dating and are afraid that if they stream together everyone will figure it out :') but it's just a thought so yeah no pressure. I hope you do get some inspo for streamer!Kenma though 💗 ily!

kris i love u and i wrote this just for u <333 it feels like me and u are playing ping pong with the writing brain cell recently. i love it we're so back

streamer!kenma x streamer!reader

featuring: secret relationship, kenma teaches u how to play chess on stream, loving banter, little bits of chess talk. i tried not to put too much streamer talk in this so it was actually readable and not cringe. gender neutral reader word count: 1882

Kenma was just about to end his stream when he noticed your name being typed in the chat. Someone linked a clip of you from your stream - which was currently live - so he clicked it.

A text to speech message read out loud, “Are you going to be in Noya’s next event?” and as you were focusing on your gameplay, you took a second to reply.

“Am I… No, I don’t think so.”

Kenma laughed while you struggled your way through playing MineCraft.

“I was invited but - chat, I don’t want to start any drama but I kind of don’t want to play in it if Kenma’s playing, and someone told me he was invited.”

Kenma barked a laugh, a loud noise that was rarely heard from him, as you shrugged and struggled to hide your smile.

“There, I said it! If it starts drama, so be it!” You put your hands up in defense, laughing at yourself.

The clip ended, so he immediately opened your stream, and you were still talking about him.

He couldn’t hide his smile if he tried - he only hoped none of his viewers noticed the fondness in his eyes.

The two of you had been dating for at least a year, and it was the best kept secret of his career.

There was a joke online about the two of you not liking each other. It all started when you were openly avoiding him in a game lobby with other streamers - from there, it grew into a bit that you committed to full throttle.

Everyone knew you and Kenma were friends in real life. You shared a friend group, and often streamed with the same people. Online, however, you made a spectacle of not liking him.

Kenma found it hilarious, and so did your chat.

“Do you guys know he cheats in like, every game he plays?”

“That’s not true!” He was laughing and rolling his eyes at the same time. “Oh my god.”

He typed his words in your chat, and he watched the messages flood with his name.

Your eyes widened a little when you read, “Is he in chat? Kenma, go away. This stream isn’t for you.”

He typed a simple, “no,” and you scoffed at it.

“Every time I mention your name you show up - I know you love the drama.”

A few seconds later a text to speech message read, “he’s such a theater kid,” and at the sound of your laughter, he closed your stream.

“I’m not a theater kid.” He sank a little in his chair, watching his chat being filled with emotes. “I literally played sports in high school!”

It was only a few days later when he was sent another clip from your stream, this time from a text to speech donation.

“Kenma, I think you need to see this.”

He clicked the link and saw you were once again playing MineCraft.

It was a long clip - in the game, you jumped off your boat into the ocean and started swimming to the bottom. Everyone in your chat was telling you not to, but you didn’t listen.

“I’m not going to die. Why would I die? This is the best run I’ve had. I’m not going to die.”

That’s when he realized you were playing the hardcore version of the game, meaning if you died, the game was over.

He watched as you swam down into a huge ravine, and he had a feeling he knew what would happen as your character’s air bubbles were slowly popping.

“Do you want to make a bet? If I die here I will do anything you want. Anything. Because I’m not going to die!”

As you said that, your character started taking damage. And you tried swimming back up to the surface of the water, but you weren’t fast enough. You almost made it, and then - game over!

Your head was in your hands as the chat on screen spammed, “stream with Kenma!”

Three days later, you were forced to take your punishment.

Your viewers had been asking you to stream with Kenma for a long time, and you always avoided it with a joke - never revealing the real reason you didn’t want to go live with him.

It wasn’t the end of the world if your relationship became public, but you knew things would be much easier in private. It wasn’t something you were trying to hide, but you weren’t posting it proudly, either.

You decided on streaming Kenma teaching you how to play chess. He’d been playing a lot online, and you hoped it wouldn’t take longer than an hour. You were too nervous to go any longer than that.

Kenma was late to answering your call. When he finally answered, you immediately started berating him.

“Have you ever been on time?”

“I was just seeing how long you’d wait for me,” he said.

“If you never showed up, I would have gotten out of doing this.”

He pulled up your stream just so he could look at you - even though he’d seen you just a few minutes ago. You were just down the hall, but nobody watching knew that.

“Have you been watching my stream this whole time?”

He grinned, “No, I’ve never watched your stream.”

“Then why are you always in my chat?”

You sat with your legs crossed, playing with the necklace you always wore - the one he bought for you just a few months ago. He loved seeing you wear it.

“Because you’re always talking about me, like you’re obsessed with me or something.”

“Can we get to the game? You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

Kenma wasn’t a good teacher - far from it - but he tried his best. After teaching you the names of all the pieces and how they moved, you were ready to play a game that he’d guide you through. You played white, he played black.

“Can you just teach me the best opening in the game? I don’t need to know anything complicated.”

“...Okay.”

He took a second to decide. Once he made up his mind, he started giving his instructions.

“The first move is pawn to f3.”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you see the pawns?”

You laughed, because the way he said it sounded like he was talking to a kid. “Yes, I see the pawns!”

“Move the one on the F file up one square.” After a second you made your move, and it was his turn: pawn to e6. “Now pawn to g4.”

“What’s this opening called?”

He didn’t reply, instead, he was distracted by his chat. By now, everyone had already figured out what he was doing, and the messages they were sending made him laugh.

“Kenma?”

“It’s called the Fool’s Mate,” he said.

“Why?”

He had to push his microphone away from his face so you wouldn’t hear him laugh, but he pulled it back to say, “I think this is why.”

He made his next move: queen to h4. And a window popped up on his screen, You Won!

“What the fuck!”

“Good game.”

“Kenma, what the fuck!”

“You made it too easy.”

“Kenma.” You were whining his name, sinking into your chair. “This is why I don’t like you.”

“Everyone knew I would beat you, I just sped things up.”

“That’s not true!”

“You’re always such a sore loser,” he mumbled.

“You’re always a cheater.”

Twenty minutes later, you were in the middle of a real game - if Kenma telling you which moves to make could be considered real. And both of you had successful streams so far, your viewers none the wiser to the truth of your relationship.

It was easy, he realized, and fun. He hated how funny you were, because you could make him laugh more than anyone, and he was sure he seemed completely lovesick.

“I think you should move the bishop,” Kenma suggested when you took more than two minutes to offer your next move.

“Uh…”

“The bishop.”

“I don’t remember which one that is!”

Kenma waited for you to figure it out, and then you moved your queen.

And he was truly disappointed, because that was the one move you shouldn’t have made. He couldn’t even laugh.

“You just sacrificed your queen.”

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“Babe - that was a total blunder!” His queen captured yours, and he realized this may have been a complete waste of time. “You lost your most important piece!”

“I thought that was the bishop, Ken!”

He sighed, acting as dramatic as possible. “You haven’t learned a thing. It’s basically game over, now,” and he scanned the chess board on his screen, looking for the quickest way to end the game.

He looked over at his chat to see it was being spammed with question marks, and then his phone vibrated with a message from you.

It read, “you just let the cat out of the bag.”

“Oh,” he said. He laughed, because he only just realized what he said - the nickname had slipped before he could catch himself - and something awkward started to settle. But he shrugged it off. “Oops.”

He started texting you back until you said, “are you disappointed in me, babe?”

“Oh my god.” He sat his phone down, ignoring your message completely. “Stop flirting with me.”

“You said it first!”

“It was an accident!”

You texted him again. “Should we just tell them?”

He typed back, “I think so.”

“Okay, wait,” you said. “Everyone go look at Kenma’s stream. He’s going to do something really cool while I go to the bathroom.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He opened your stream in another tab and watched you get up from your seat.

Everyone in your chat and his was confused - as was he.

Then, his door opened, and you walked in.

“What are you doing?” he laughed.

“I wanted to come say hi.” You walked over to him, grabbing the back of his chair and turning it back and forth just to bother him. “Wait, are you streaming?”

He scoffed, but it was all affectionate. “You’re so dumb.”

You looked down at his screen and waved, “hi chat!” and then noticed he had your stream on his second monitor. “You’re watching my stream!”

“Yeah, I’m a fan,” he joked.

He knew the chat would be filled with questions and reactions, but he didn’t care at all. He found this entire thing hilarious, and judging by the smirk on your face, you did too.

When you finally got back to your room, you sat down as if nothing had even happened.

“Okay, can you teach me what a Queen’s Gambit is?”

“No, because you can’t even tell me which piece is the queen.”

Later that night when you had both ended your livestreams, both of you made your own posts on twitter acknowledging the announcement you’d made. Kenma posted a photo of you with his cat in your lap - the one that had been his phone wallpaper since he’d taken it. You posted the first selfie you’d taken together - both without captions, because there was no explanation required.

And if you kept acting like you hated Kenma during your stream, he’d be the only one allowed to call your bluff.

send a request for a drabble and i might write it :)

#(posting at 7 am cuz im just excited to post.)#i love u kris <3 thank u for the writing inspiration #this was actually so fun to write #and i wouldnt have written it if u hadnt asked me to lmao #i love it!#ive missed writing like this ;-;#everything i write is so COMPLICATED but its so fun to just write something SIMPLE!!!!!!#kenma kuzome #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #fluff #haikyuu oneshot

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enderfenderdragon · 2 months

Text

how would He react?

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how would Colby Brock react if you played a prank on him while you were 'alone' in a haunted mansion's ball room.

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warnings!: Colby Brock x reader, Mostly gender-neutral reader, i little spicy, kind of fluffy, no use of "y/n", bad grammar.

not proof read!

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if you don't like what you read in the warnings. please don't read. scroll away or even ignore me and this post. please don't leave a comment if it won't be nice or anything. if you do decide to leave a comment. i will delete the comment and block you, and your blog.

thank you :D

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you thought it was a good idea for you to play a prank on your boyfriend - Colby Brock. while you were exploring a haunted mansion.

you, Sam, Colby, Celina and kris were going to have to slit up for a while. one of Sam and Colby's 'investigation tactics' or whatever this was.

luckily, you and Colby was partnered up for this because you were supposed to investigate a big section of the mansion - the ball room.

it was about two minutes in when you thought this was going to be your moment to prank him.

so you walk up to Colby and cups his cheeks from behind. you get him to lean backwards somehow and you put your lips next to his left ear. you then rip out the most sinful moan you've ever made, right into his ear.

Colby jumps forwards. He whips around at stares at you with worry and confusion all over his face. part of this prank was that you had to act like nothing happened while your partner withered away in their dirty mind. You stared back at him and smiled sweetly, as if nothing happened.

"there was a mozzie on your left shoulder, i was getting it off for you" you say sweetly, innocently and nervously.

"oh was there?" Colby says back, stalking towards you.

you back away from him until you cant anymore. your back bumps the wall of the ball room. you look back, and looked so pale someone would think you've seen a ghost.

Colby's hands block you way out. trapping you against the freezing, ruff bricks that made up the wall of the ball room.

"C-Colby, we have to i-investigate" you stutter, obviously nervous and scared.

"tsk, tsk, tsk.... that can wait" he all most growls.

"wha-" you don't even finish a word when his lips come crashing down on yours, sucking the life and breath out of you.

"C-Colby!" you shout as Colby's lips trail down your neck. Planting wet kisses on the sensitive skin He oh so loved.

the only sounds heard from the ball room was the rem-pod and wet kisses.

"Colby, the rem pod is going off...." you trail off. Staring at the rem-pod glowing green.

Colby thankfully turns his head around and stares at the rem-pod.

"mhm, it seems so" Colby says lowly. making you squeeze your legs together.

Colby turns his head towards you and stares you down.

"so." He starts. you turn your head just a smidge. your eyes never leaving his own, blue eyes.

"why did you do that baby?" he says lowly, tilting his head so little you would have never noticed, if you weren't staring him down.

you gulp and squeak out "d-do what?"

Colby chuckles and shakes his head, looking down.

"you moaned in my ear..... do you have any idea how hard it is to hold back yourself when your partner wears your clothes?" he mentions to your 'clothes'. also his favourite hoodie and pants.

"hey you have good taste and.... they're comfy" you mumble, looking down at your shoes.

Colby's hand gently cups your chin and tilts it up so you lock eyes with him.

"what can i say? i have good taste in a lot of things...." he trails off, looking you up and down once biting his lip to stop him from finishing his sentence.

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lets just say you couldn't walk or stand after that night you had with him.

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

requests open.

this wasn't a request, it was just an idea that i decided to write last minute.

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stealthywing · 1 month

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I'm still here.

#why is he smiling like that?#he's definitely in love #a boy in love #why do you have that look of love in your eyes?#why are you looking at him like that?#kris guštin #joker out #damon and kris #bakery #damkris #im not okay #i love them #im cryin

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krispdreemurr · 4 months

Text

At first, she's not sure she's even hearing the notes.

They're distant and quiet. Even with her earbuds out, she has to strain to hear anything at all. The notes keep faltering before she can be sure what she's listening to.

She sets aside her notebook and moves out into the hall.

As she starts the walk to the dining room, she can hear them more clearly. It's definitely the piano in the side room, she's sure on that now. But the song...

The song is just the first few notes and chords, again and again, played clumsily and haltingly. There's jarring dissonant edges, and the rhythm is unsteady.

If the tune weren't so familiar, she'd have no idea at all.

(In front of her, or with family, they'd play things she knew - classical music, adaptations of songs from video games or Asriel's anime, more than a few Rickrolls.)

(It was only when they were alone that they'd play the same few songs, simpler melodies that she never heard anywhere else before or after.)

She reaches the doorway, gazing in through the open door.

The room is dimly lit, the moonlight through the windows providing most of the illumination. They're framed against an open window, a silhouette bent over the piano. She watches, silent, as they drag their hand down the keys, press down too hard and get a jarring burst of sound.

She remembers how they used to play. Fluid, graceful. It was the only time she ever really saw them comfortable in their own skin.

That's gone, now.

"Kris...?" she asks softly, stepping through the door.

The next part, at least, is familiar. They stare at her, wide-eyed, looking half-panicked. Hands frozen.

Despite herself, she tries to smile, glancing at the open window. "You know, I'm pretty sure dad gave you a spare key."

They stare a moment more, then laugh, hoarse and tired. Some of the tension bleeds. "Yeah, but breaking in through the window is cooler."

"You're just lucky I forgot how to set up the alarm system..." She steps closer, hooves clicking on hardwood. "It's one AM, Kris. Why are you here? Not that, um, you can't visit, just--"

There's a long silence, where they just stare at their hands on the keys. They're shaking, she realizes.

"Sorry," they say finally. "It was a stupid idea. I just--miss it. And the hospital is closed to visitors. I just wanted to, to at least try... Even if I know I can't any more, not like this." Another ragged laugh. This one has less humor. "Sorry. I'll go."

She looks at them a few moments more.

Maybe she should push more. Ask them what they mean by "like this", demand explanations for why they've been so weird lately, reprimand them for breaking in. She remembers them nine years old and coughing without end, begging her not to tell their mom and dad. She remembers how they drew away in the days after the accident, and how quiet they've been ever since. She knows they shut down, hide, conceal themself. She knows.

But she's tired too, and if she pushes they'll run, and she's lost so much already.

"Can I listen?" she says instead.

They blink, once, then shrug. "Sure, yeah... You wanna sit outside like old times? Think I can handle an audience for the world's worst concert, but..."

"No, I'd rather stay." She goes to settle down in the corner, folding her legs. "I never got to see you play much back then."

"Well, you're not going to see much today," they say dryly.

Their fingers linger a moment more, shuffling uncertainly and stiffly, trying to find purchase--

And then they play.

It's still halting and awkward, marred by misplaced notes and stilted pauses. It's nothing like it was, back when they were something not quite like friends and not quite like family.

But still, still--

Still she closes her eyes, and she listens once again.

#krisp fic #deltarune #thinking abt trying to play piano when your body is stuck on manual

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queenie-the-court-jester · 2 months

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circus x gn!reader

ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please, raise your hands for tonight's star act, mx.maddox and the wanderer's!

★Waking up in a thick black fog was not something you'd ever expect to happen to you. Looking around, Spotting a circus in the distance, was pretty much your only hope of finding a way out. What were they doing out here? Were they in the same boat as you? Regardless, you just hoped they're nice..

★kri was the first to meet you, having found you wandering around outside the circus tents, he quickly introduced himself and asked you where you came from. After explaining your predicament, he nodded in thought

"gee.. that sounds rough.. but don't worry, I'm sure Maddox will know what to do, come with me!"

★Maddox had been stuck in the circus for a long while, along with the other residents. Kri opened the flap into his tent and quickly explained the situation.

"I'm sorry for your predicament young one.. but im afraid we don't know any way out.. on the other hand, you are welcome to stay and be apart of the circus"

★having no other options you accepted, kri excitedly dragging you to the nursery, where all the children and young adults stayed. He introduced you to jiro, Kyo and wendy. Explaining how the four of them were the clowns

★jiro welcomed you with a kind smile, and nodded his head as greeting. You noticed how he didn't seem like much of a talker, preferring to watch and listen

"welcome y/n, I hope you enjoy your stay here"

★Kyo was obviously the most energetic of the bunch, happily blabbering about whatever and making horrible jokes. His friends only gave a small laugh and pat on the back

"it's great to see a new face, come to me if you need a picker upper okay?"

★and last but not least, Wendy. She stayed quiet, giving a shy smile and looking away whenever you'd make eye contact. She shook your hand and soon left, having seemed uncomfortable

"don't mind her... She just needs time getting used to everything, she'll come around"

★they assigned you a bed, and that's how your life at the circus started. Everyone was very welcoming, everyone but wendy. Often staring at you wearily and from a distance. 'Till one night, she came into your tent after everyone went to sleep

"shhh.. I'm sorry for bothering you this late butI need to talk to you.."

"..okay? What is it you need?"

"I'm sorry if I've been coming off as.. distant.. it's just.. you remind me of something that feels so familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.."

"oh..."

"..as you already know, everyone calls me wendy, so you can too I guess.. sorry, did that come off as cold? I'm not really used to Talking to new people.. a-anyways, if you need anything, or if you have any questions.. you can come to me"

"I'll.. keep that in mind, thank you Wendy"

★she gives you a smile and leaves soon after, quickly rushing away. The next few days, she slowly starts talking to you. Opening up bit by bit

"you know.. everyone calls us the dream team, but I really don't think we're suitable for that name. Even Maddox calls us a nightmare!"

"yeah, because you're the main factor to that assumption"

"Wendy.."

"...sorry"

★during your stay with them, you learned that Wendy showed up at the circus just a few days before you, no wonder she seemed so distant. Sometimes she'd say random words in Spanish, most likely cussing kyo out

★their roles in their act goes like this: jiro and kri are the sideshow, doing tricks and all sorts of things while Kyo and wendy were the mains. Acting out many silly stories and using slapstick humor most of the time.

★the first time you saw them in their costumes you nearly had a heartattack. Imagine seeing four scary looking clowns just staring at you ominously from the darkness

★they perform for these shadow people that would come to the circus, nobody knows what they are or why they show up, but there were rumours that once, long ago, the previous circus inhabitants refused to perform for them and.. well.. they had to be "replaced"

★during one of the dream teams acts, you wandered off. Exploring the back tents and dressing rooms when you came across multiple people you recognized, from when they all welcomed you into their little family

★a ballerina named Odette, who was next in line for the show. She seemed sweet as she waved at you from her dressing room, waving back you quickly left

"oh! Hello y/n, do you need something?"

★samson the beast tamer, a peculiar cocky man. He bowed as he dragged a lion by a chain collar behind him. You sincerely hoped they didn't mistreat the animals like other circuses, but judging by the lions calm and obedient attitude, maybe it was domesticated?

"good day sweets"

★will the stuntsman. He gave you a devilish grin as he passed by you, carrying some metal pipe. Giving a wave and smile in return

"see ya later toots!"

★maybe living in the circus won't be so bad..?

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hookhausenschips · 4 months

Text

Dad!Hook Headcanon

AEW Masterlist

Word Count: 1,317

Author's Note: I am definitely going to make this a series, like adventures with mini senerchia or something like that so stay tuned

The day after All In, you and Tyler had celebrated the night before since he had won his championship back from Jack.

You both were too eager to even think of using a condom, thank god for birth control. Right?

Not thinking much of it when it was now October a couple days after WrestleDream and you had still yet to get your period

There’s no way you were pregnant, although you hadn’t wrestled since the Dynamite after All In due to a slight wrist sprain you didn’t have any morning sickness

That night at Rampage waiting for Tyler to come back from his match your phone rang, it was your mother

“Y/N why am I having dreams of being a grandmother again?” She asked straight away, “Wow Hi mom nice to hear from you too. I’m doing great thanks for asking.” you replied. “Cut the shit little miss. I know it's not your brother again or your sister, So the only one left out of my children is you.”

You reassured your mom that you were in fact NOT pregnant, even though you are in your early 20s she still scared you

But as the days went on the thought continued to eat at you.

So here you stood in your locker room before Dynamite with Skye, Kris, WIllow, and Julia all with you for moral support as you took the six tests you bought. Can’t be too sure.

Willow was grinning, “Could you imagine how cute your guy’s babies would be if it is positive?” The rest all joining in gushing as well

You sat there on the floor in front of the table that held the fate of your future.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP* The alarm on your phone signaling the timer was now finished.

You looked at the girls slowly feeling the anxiety start to flood your system

Yeah you and Tyler had talked about kids but not too in depth, you both wanted them but now? Not even at the peaks of your careers, were you ready to be parents?

Taking a deep breath you stood up and flipped over the first test.

Your heart hammered against your rib cage, you blinked several times to make sure you were reading it right ‘POSITIVE” it read in bold letters.

You flipped all the others and they read the same. You are pregnant,

You turned towards the girls feeling overwhelmed with emotion holding up one of the many tests

They all gasped reading the test before crowding around you hugging you

Words of love and encouragement were uttered between them towards you

You shoved all the tests at the bottom of your suitcase before heading off to tell your bosses

They were elated to hear the news, congratulations flew around the room

You would figure out a way to be written off of tv until after the baby was here

You had asked that they not tell anyone yet especially Taz or Tyler, you wanted to surprise the two

Thankfully that weekend was the weekend you were flying back to New York with Tyler for a little get together with some of his family

That Friday before you flew out you went and bought the things you needed for your announcement

Over the course of your relationship you had grown close to Tyler’s family especially his cousins.

You had informed one of his cousins, Laila, about the news and asked if she could help out with filming the announcement. Of course she had agreed.

There you stood in Taz’s backyard holding three boxes that held your surprises

Laila was ready inside at the kitchen island as you asked Tyler, his mom, and Taz if you all could talk

Joining you inside Taz was the first to notice the boxes with their names on them

“Christmas come early ranuncolo?” (buttercup)

Smiling nervously you nodded, “Something like that. You can open them,”

His mother was the first to open her’s. Reading the card first as Taz and Tyler opened theirs as well

Tyler stood silently as he read what the little onesie said ‘future sparring partner’ each box held a positive pregnancy test

His mother was next, she gasped seeing the test and the onesie that read ‘move I’m here for grandma’s cuddles and cooking’

Taz chuckled as he felt tears come to his eyes as he read what his said ‘future ftw mini champion’ and a shirt that said ‘soon to be grandpa’

“Are you serious?” Tyler spoke as his eyes went back and forth from his box, his parents, then you

You nodded smiling

He rushed over to you, picking you up and kissing you before cheering, “I’m going to be a dad!”

His mother and father came over to hug you both and congratulate you

“You two are young but I know that little one will be in good hands. I guess I don;t have to wait until I’m gray now to be a grandpa.” Taz said after hugging you and patting his son on his shoulder

“You are turning gray darling.” His wife replied as we all laughed

Soon enough you told the whole roster, they all were overjoyed at the thought of the AEW family growing

You even called Cody and Brandi to tell them since they were one of the huge reasons why you joined AEW

Once it came time for the scan and knowing the baby’s gender, you trusted the results to Kris and Willow

Your gender reveal was definitely one of a kind, your very own wrestling match to determine the gender with the whole roster and company present before Collision

The winner would get the belt and once the bell was rung the ring posts would burst with streamers and colored powder

You were very amused seeing the set up

The winner was announced and as you and Hook stood in the ring with them when the ring erupted.

IT’S A BOY!!!!

You cried tears of joy as Tyler embraced you, you didn’t care if it was a boy or girl when asked in the pre gender reveal video you were just happy to have a healthy baby with the man of your dreams

Your baby shower was of course wrestler themed, you had to incorporate it

The nursery was put together in no time and you were in love with it

Tyler wouldn’t let you help claiming you were doing enough just by carrying your guy’s baby the least he could do was put up the nursery

He was like that all throughout your entire pregnancy

Due date was soon approaching and you were ready for baby bear to get out

You couldn’t lay comfortably anymore and the past month felt like your rib cage was his jungle gym

Soon enough your water broke the night before your due date, May 24th 2024.

You were in labor for 16 hours, and you were pissed

You threatened Tyler that he wouldn’t get to touch you after your son was born, it was his fault you were in this much pain to begin with was your logic

At 10:28 pm, your little bundle of joy was welcomed into the world

He had a head full of hair and Tyler’s eyes

He was beautiful, you couldn’t stop crying as the nurses placed him on your chest, you felt so many emotions flow through you

After awhile you looked and Tyler to see him crying, you smiled at him gesturing him to join you on the bed

“You want to hold your son?” you whispered, he nodded and held his arms out as you placed the baby into his arms.

You swore you couldn’t fall more in love with Tyler but at that moment seeing him talk to his son; y/s/n, and cuddle him, you could've sworn heaven was here on Earth in that moment.

Join my taglist to be notified of future works!

Hook Taglist: @shawtys-things, @gethooked, @hope4more

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laurenairay · 6 months

Text

I'm still haunted by the memories - S. Crosby

Summary: Maeva thought five years was long enough to get over Sidney breaking her heart. Apparently not.

Words: 5.5k

This is my fic for @senditcolton’s birthday bingo! I chose the bingo squares ‘wedding season’, ‘It was always you’, ‘free space – argument scene’, ‘second chance romance’, and ‘interrupted kiss’. I haven’t written a full fic for Sid in ages, so I really hope you like this!

Warnings: angst, past break up scene, exes to (potential) lovers

Title: Little do you know, by Alex & Sierra

“What am I to you?”

“What?” Sidney asked, confused.

“What am I to you? What do I mean to you?”

“What’s going on, Maeva?” he asked, frowning.

“Can you just answer my question please?”

Sidney frowned even more at the sharpness of her voice. “You’re my girlfriend. I love you. What’s going on?”

“You love me?”

“Yes! Mae, seriously…”

She could tell he was getting frustrated now, but that didn’t settle the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

“We’ve been together five years now. I love you more than I thought could’ve ever loved anyone. Five years of cheering you on no matter what. Five years of supporting you and the team and all the better halves as they’ve come and gone. Five years of always coming second but putting on a smile because I know hockey is your whole world. But I thought I would’ve at least had a part of it?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Of course you’re part of my world,” Sidney said, confused.

Was he really going to be that cruel, to pretend he didn’t know what she meant?

“At the team get together this weekend, when we celebrated the latest Pens rookie getting engaged, someone joked to you about when you were going to put a ring on my finger too. But you just snorted and changed the subject…”

She trailed off, watching Sidney’s face pale a little bit, his reaction sinking like a stone in her stomach.

“I don’t…where did you hear that?”

“I was right behind you, Sid. I was right there and Kris & Cath saw me but you didn’t. They sent me pitying smiles and I hated it, Sid. Why don’t you want a life with me?” Maeva asked, her voice finally cracking as tears threatened to spill.

“We already have a life together. Why do we need to complicate it?”

“Complicate it? You think marriage is just a complication?” she shot back.

“I just don’t see why we need to put a label on things. We’ve got a good thing going,” Sidney huffed.

“Labels? Are you kidding me? I’m nearly 30, Sid, and all I have to show for the thing I’ve poured my heart into for five years is a couple of photos on your cup days? You won’t take me out in public, you don’t talk about me to anyone outside of your team and your immediate family, you can clearly drop me at any moment…are you ashamed of our relationship? Have I been wasting my time?”

“Damn it Mae, I’m not ashamed! I thought you understood that I like my privacy!”

That’s all he took out of it?

“I know you value it, Sid, but I didn’t think it would get to this point. I didn’t think you would go this far. I’m tired of being an afterthought to you!”

“And I’m tired of you being so insecure!”

Her breath hitched in her throat as a pang of hurt rang through her chest, and she could see a flash of regret immediately pass over Sidney’s face.

“Maeva…”

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Sid. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel appreciated and there is nothing wrong with wanting to know that I have a future to look forward to. Because apparently I don’t. Who knew that Sidney Crosby was such a commitment-phobe?”

Maeva glanced out of the airplane window, hazy memories passing through her mind as the plane started its decent into Halifax airport. It didn’t seem like it had been five years since her life with Sidney had fallen apart, almost as long as their just-over-five-years relationship. But the memories of that awful night still burned her heart like a hot poker. She may have left him that night, may have returned to Canada, but she hadn’t been able to move back to Nova Scotia. She’d tried, sure, but she’d only lasted a few months before the memories of their time there together was too much to bear too. It had felt right to flee to the other side of Canada, all the way to Vancouver where she was able to secure an apartment and a job where no-one knew who she was. Maeva had only visited her parents a few times in the five years since – and only when she knew he absolutely wouldn’t be there.

Everything had just hurt too much. It still did.

But now, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was heading back to Cole Harbour in the summer. Her cousin Natasha was getting married, and her aunt had begged Maeva to come home to join her parents in attending. If it wasn’t for the fact that she and Natasha had grown up as close as sisters, Maeva would’ve found an excuse somehow – but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. All she had to do was survive the long weekend. It was late Thursday evening that she’d flown over, leaving Friday for wedding errands, Saturday for the pre-wedding celebrations, and Sunday for the wedding day itself - both ceremony and reception. She’d managed to book a flight home at midday on Monday, but she knew that this weekend was going to be a test of her strength.

Maeva had done so well to protect her heart for so long, and she didn’t want a few days back in Cole Harbour to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for her to pick up her suitcase and head to the arrivals area, a small smile crossing her lips at the sight of her dad waiting for her. Maeva could happily admit that she was a daddy’s girl, through and through, the two of them having the only blonde hair in the family, his quiet calm aura always making her feel happy and secure. That was one of the only things she regretted about not toughing it out in Cole Harbour – she didn’t get to spend the time with her dad that he deserved.

She made a mental note not to take that for granted this weekend.

“My little Maeva,” he said gruffly, warmth seeping into every word as he hugged her tightly.

“It’s good to see you. I’m…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she murmured when they eventually separated.

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad you’re home for the wedding. Lord knows I need a little more sanity in the house.”

Maeva just snickered, looping her arm through her dad’s as they started to walk out to the parking lot. “Mom’s succumbed to wedding fever then?”

“Happily skipped into crazy town, more like it,” he grinned, “I don’t think I can survive another day of folding bits of paper into little birds to decorate the tables.”

Maeva just grimaced, making her dad laugh. That sounded like her idea of nightmare chaos. “Any chance we can avoid most of the wedding prep tomorrow?”

Her dad just smiled indulgently. “Oh I’m sure I can figure something out.”

She really had missed him.

Just as her dad had promised, he managed to get the two of them out of the intense wedding preparations that the family were taking part in on Friday. The two of them went out for a long breakfast in the morning, before her mom could bundle her into the car and over to her aunt’s, and after a slow walk by the waterside, telling him all about her life in Vancouver and her small circle of friends and her low-key retail managerial career, they eventually made their way back to the house. Her mom was annoyed with them both, Maeva knew that much, but she couldn’t stay mad at Maeva for long, not really when she knew exactly why her only daughter never came home – and Maeva made up for it by ironing her dad’s shirt for the wedding and steaming his suit, her mom’s dress, and her own dress, while her father shined his shoes to her mom’s satisfaction.

There would be enough time to apologise to her cousin on Saturday during the welcome lunch up at Hatfield Farm, where 30 close family and friends would be staying overnight ahead of the wedding on Sunday (with the same 30 staying on the Sunday night). Thankfully the venue was only a 40 minute drive from her family home in Cole Harbour, so she would have plenty of time to make her flight back to Vancouver on the Monday.

She just had to get through the weekend first. One step at a time.

Saturday morning was as chaotic as Maeva thought it would be. Her mom had the three of them loading up her dad’s car like a military operation, checklist on clipboard included, to make sure that nothing was left behind, especially as their part of the family was in charge of the table centrepieces and fairy lights for decorating the reception hall. Once all of that, and their wedding outfits (and shoes and accessories) were ready, along with their overnight bags, it was coming close to midday, and with a picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for the little cabin that the three of them would be staying in, they hit the road.

Despite everything, it made Maeva smile as she recognised the other cars on their journey, all of them making their way to Hatfield Farm like a miniature invasion. The curse of a small town.

It didn’t take long to sort out the accommodation keys, and once Maeva had hung up her dress for the wedding (at her mom’s request to reduce wrinkles), she sprayed a little perfume and fluffed up her blonde hair before rejoining her parents.

“Ready to face the circus?” her dad grinned.

“Honestly,” her mom tutted, elbowing him.

But even she gave Maeva a worried glance.

“I’ll be fine. Cole Harbour may be a small town, but it’s not like Sidney can pop up everywhere,” Maeva said, trying to convince herself as much as them. “It’ll be good to celebrate Natasha’s happy day.”

“Atta girl,” her dad said gruffly.

Her mom just nodded, threading her fingers through her dad’s to silently lead them across the grounds to the main reception hall, where the welcome lunch was being held. They weren’t the last people there, not by any means, but they definitely weren’t the first. Maeva could see her cousin walking towards them with a big smile on her face, dressed in a gorgeous peach dress and looking radiant with happiness, and that joy was infectious.

Until Maeva glanced across the other side of the room, that is.

The sound of her breath catching in her throat was enough to make her parents look in the same direction, and her unflappable dad scowled in a way she’d never seen before.

“What is he doing here?” her dad asked lowly, lips pursing as he turned back to look at her cousin.

Natasha glanced over and cursed under her breath. “Sid wasn’t meant to be arriving until later. I was meant to have enough time to give you a warning, Maeva. Carl invited him but wasn’t sure if he could make it – they’ve been friends since they were kids.”

“Curse of a small town,” she murmured, her smile shaky.

She glanced back at him, thankful that he hadn’t noticed her looking yet, her heart racing in a way that made her feel sick as she took him in. Sidney looked good, of course he did. Broad shoulders, giant ass, and thick thighs filling out his suit so perfectly, hair dusted with grey in a way that only made him look distinguished. He was standing sideways, talking with Nate (of course Nate was here too) and a couple of other guys from their hometown, and as he laughed, head thrown back, the sound of his ridiculous honking giggle made her want to cry.

She wasn’t ready. How could she think she was ready?

Her mom subtly took her hand in hers, squeezing gently to reassure her, only making her dad curse under his breath again.

“Hey, you’re my cousin. If him being here is going to ruin your weekend, I can kick him out. I don’t care if his name is on the town sign – you are family,” Natasha said firmly, voice still quiet.

Tears stung at her eyes slightly at her cousin’s care, but she shook her head. No, no she had to face being in Cole Harbour at the same time as him at some point. She wasn’t going to let him ruin things, not this time. “It’s been five years. I’ll survive.”

Natasha just frowned, taking Maeva’s free hand in her own.

“You just say the word and he’s gone, okay? I haven’t had a chance to be bridezilla yet,” she said, grinning sharply.

Maeva laughed a little wetly, shaking her head again, squeezing Natasha’s hand and her mom’s to say thank you silently.

“Everything will be fine. There will be enough people here that you can just avoid him!” her mom said, smiling.

Maeva didn’t need to look at her dad as he huffed to know that just wouldn’t happen. But still, she had to believe it was possible or she wasn’t even going to make it through today. She could avoid him as much as possible – there was only so much her heart could handle.

“Drinks?” Natasha suggested.

“Hell yes,” Maeva sighed.

Drinks, then setting up the reception hall with the fairy lights, and bringing in all of the table centrepieces ready for the venue staff to set up in the morning. Then maybe some more drinks. She could handle that.

When she eventually went to sleep close to midnight, her heart was aching in the worst way – Maeva hadn’t expected to actually be able to avoid Sidney, but she also hadn’t expected to feel his eyes trailing her around the room for the entire day.

And she was dreading tomorrow even more, now that she knew he would be there.

Breakfast in the morning was a communal affair. The wedding ceremony wasn’t until 2pm, and the staff at Hatfield Farm were putting on a breakfast spread for all the guests from 7-9am, so Maeva was making good use of it, knowing she wouldn’t eat for hours after this. Her dress was a flowy one thankfully, so she didn’t have to worry about carb bloating – it was one of the reasons she’d chosen it, along with the fact at it was light and airy enough for the warm weather and a gorgeous shimmery gold colour that complimented her wonderfully. And it didn’t conflict with the beautiful lilac and cream wedding colours either, which was a bonus.

Her parents had already eaten and headed back to the accommodation, leaving Maeva to finish her orange juice in peace. Still, being back in Cole Harbour after all this time, surrounded by people that she’d left behind in her efforts to leave him behind…it was almost too much, and she found herself stepping outside for some air to clear her head.

One more day.

She could make it one more day.

But the moment that she heard footsteps walking over to her, she knew her luck had run out.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get you alone.”

Hello to you too, Sidney.

“Why would you even want to?” Maeva said, voice cold and polite as she turned to face him.

Sidney just winced. “Mae, come on, you know why.”

Oh screw him. Shortening her name like he used to, playing with her emotions like that? No.

“No, Sidney, I don’t know why,” she said shortly, “We broke up five years ago, almost as long ago as the whole length of our relationship was – so what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Please don’t be like this. I’m trying to apologise,” he said, frowning.

“Apologise for what, exactly?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Sidney just huffed out a frustrated breath, putting his coffee mug down on a nearby table.

“Maeva, I’m serious. I’m trying to be the bigger person here and-”

“Are you kidding me? The bigger person? Our relationship ended because you couldn’t commit, Sidney, and you’re talking about being the bigger person like I’ve done something wrong?” she said angrily,

The nerve. What the hell.

“If you would just listen to me…”

“Listen to what? What could you possibly have to say to me?” she spat, cutting him off again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me then I could actually say it!” he shot back, shades away from shouting.

“Uh, guys?”

Maeva looked sharply to the left, seeing Nate standing there awkwardly looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What, Nate?” Sidney said shortly, cheeks flushed.

“Uh, your mom is looking for you, Maeva,” he explained, grimacing.

“Thanks. We were done here anyway,” Maeva said coldly.

“No we…”

But she just stormed away, not letting Sidney finish, ignoring the hissed conversation between the two men, trying desperately to keep her composure until she was alone. Just as Nate said, her mom was glancing around, and the moment that she spotted her, her face fell.

“Let’s get back to the rooms to get ready, yes?” her mom said, pasting a smile on her face.

It was all Maeva could do to nod, letting her mom usher her along, the fire in her chest from their building argument fizzling away into an all-consuming black hole of sadness. Why would he confront her like that? Why would he want to unsettle her like that after all these years? She would never have thought of him as cruel, but this…this was the last thing she needed. Those few minutes were everything she’d been trying to avoid, and the wedding hadn’t even officially start yet – how was she going to make it through the rest of the day?

The moment that their cabin door was shut behind them, her mom whirled around to face her.

“Maeva, sweetie, what happened?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but all that she managed to do was start crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mom let out an uncharacteristic curse, cradling her in her arms, only making Maeva sob harder. This is why she never came home. This is exactly why.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to calm down, for her sobbing and tears to fade to sniffles, and she was just glad that her mom hadn’t changed into her wedding outfit yet.

“Give me the word and I will get laxatives put in his drinks. I know people,” her mom said seriously.

Maeva choked out a laugh, smiling shakily at her mom’s attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head.

“It was stupid. Just stupid. I wish he wasn’t here but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving,” Maeva said sadly.

“You’re a braver woman than I am,” her mom said, huffing out a laugh.

“Nah, I get it from you, eh?”

Her mom just smiled shakily, giving her another quick hug before pulling back to rest her hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s get ready for this wedding. Have a shower and then I’ll help you with your hair,” her mom said firmly.

Maeva just smiled, nodding her head, heading towards her room as she heard the shower stopping. By the time she’d gathered her towels and underwear, her dad was back in the room he shared with her mom, leaving her to shower quickly. Leaving her with her swirling thoughts.

Even though minutes ago her blood was boiling with his audacity, her heart still ached for him. Up close the grey in his hair looked even better than she’d thought, the slight laughter lines around his eyes only adding to his appeal. His voice was a smooth as she remembered, his figure just as broad and overwhelming compared to her slight frame as it always had been. Even his intensity, his emotion, was exactly as she remembered, sending shivers down her spine.

She missed him.

And she hated it as much as she loved it.

She loved him. Even as much as she wished she didn’t.

It didn’t take her long to do her make up and put on her dress, and she blow-dried her hair to the point where it was manageable by the time her mom knocked on her bedroom door.

“Oh sweetie, you look beautiful,” her mom said, voice earnest and sweet.

Maeva just grinned back at her, twirling on the spot to watch her golden dress flare in the mirror.

Her mom laughed, rolling her eyes fondly as she guided Maeva to sit down on the end of the bed. She expertly twisted half of her hair up into an elegant bun, fixing it in place with a couple of bobby pins and a ribbon that matched the gold of her dress, leaving the rest of her hair to flow down her back in blonde waves. It was simple but refined, and she felt pretty the moment she looked in the mirror.

“Thanks mom. Let’s do this thing.”

“That’s my girl.”

The wedding was beautiful. Maeva didn’t know what else she expected though, if she was being honest. Natasha looked ethereal as she glided down the aisle, her fiancé crying a little when he saw her, and the two of them didn’t stop smiling at each other the whole ceremony. Maeva kept her eyes on them the whole time, even though she could feel eyes on her throughout the hour – she knew exactly who they belonged to, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t, not at a wedding she knew she would never have.

All the guests moved into the reception hall, sitting at their assigned tables, Maeva sitting between her parents with each of them holding one of her hands like they didn’t want her to disappear. She could only imagine what her mom her told her dad about her breakdown this morning, but that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. All through the wedding speeches Maeva sipped on her champagne, laughing at the appropriate moments, tearing up at her uncle’s heartfelt words, cheering the toasts to the new bride and groom. She could barely remember what she ate when the food came and went, but she dutifully ate under the watchful eye of her mom, making small talk with the other members of their table, answering politely to questions about her life in Vancouver, 6000km feeling even further away than ever before.

By the time the additional guests joined them all for the evening reception, Maeva was well on her way to being overwhelmed, but she joined the circle of people on the dancefloor to watch Natasha and her new husband in their first dance.

Just as the music started, a familiar figure stepped up next to her. Maeva froze, desperately trying to think of how to make a subtle exit, but Sidney gently pressed a flute of champagne into her hand.

“This is an apology drink,” he murmured. “I should never have lost my temper with you this morning.”

Not here. Not now.

She didn’t know what her face was showing as she glanced up at him but Sidney’s face just looked sad.

“Can we talk after their first dance finishes? Please?” he begged softly.

There was something in his voice that made her façade crack.

“Fine.”

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Natasha and her husband for the rest of the dance, sipping the champagne flute, waiting until people started joining them on the dancefloor to slip away, Sidney subtly following her. Just off the side of the venue was a small courtyard, separated from the rest of the outside space by a trellis of flowers, just enough to give them a semblance of privacy.

Maeva put down the glass as Sidney joined her, wrapping her arms around herself partly as a guard, partly as comfort, her ex-boyfriend standing in front of her looking just as overwhelming as he always had.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he started, smiling a little.

“What did you want to talk about, Sid?” she sighed.

“I messed up all those years ago,” he murmured.

No, no she couldn’t do this.

“Sidney I can’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head.

“Please, please just let me finish,” he begged.

She just bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him briefly to steel herself, before nodding.

“I have spent five years trying to think about what I would say if I ever got the chance to see you again. Five years playing the conversation over and over again in my head, going through every scenario, and right now in this moment, none of it is coming to my head,” he said softly.

That was so typically Sid.

“Forget what’s in your head. What’s in your heart?” she found herself saying.

He huffed out a laugh, nodding his head.

“I love you, Maeva,” he said, tears glistening in his eyes.

Oh.

Oh god this was the last thing she’d been expecting.

He still loved her?

“Do you love me too? Is there any chance that you still love me?” he asked desperately.

He still loved her?

Running on pure instinct, Maeva choked out a sob as she leaned up and kissed him, hands clutching at his shirt.

Of course she still loved him.

Sidney didn’t hesitate as he kissed her slowly back, cradling her face with both hands, pouring everything into the embrace. Maeva’s head swirled as her blood surged and her heart raced…and then a couple of wedding guests stumbled outside too, clearly drunk. They were mostly giggling and falling into themselves, so they didn’t notice Sidney and Maeva springing apart, and as they stumbled around the corner Sidney quickly took one of Maeva’s hands in his, breaking her out of her frozen state of shock.

“You still love me?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“That was so stupid. I shouldn’t have…we shouldn’t have…”

His face fell.

“Please don’t run away. Please don’t leave me, not again,” Sidney begged, interrupting her rambling words.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.

“We can’t just go back to how things were, Sid,” Maeva said sadly, “We’re different people now, we’ve both changed.”

“Then let me get to know you again. And you can get to know me,” Sidney said desperately, “We still love each other – isn’t that enough?”

Maeva’s face must’ve looked as incredulous as she felt, because he squeezed her hand a little tighter, eyes burning with intensity. She remembered that look. It still had the same effect on her, knowing that Sidney was leading up to something heart achingly earnest.

“You are right, I’ve changed – I’m not the same man I was before. I made the biggest mistake of my life taking you for granted, letting you go when I should’ve fought for us, and I regretted it the moment I realised you’d truly left. My stupid pride kept me from reaching out to you in the first few weeks, and when I got over myself, it was too late.”

“Sidney…” she murmured.

“No-one would tell me where you went. Your parents wouldn’t talk to me, or to my mom. Your friends blocked my number. All Taylor could find out was that you were in Cole Harbor for a few months before you left for good and that you’ve barely been back since. I searched for you, for any sign of you, wherever I went and it still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Sidney,” she repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Mae. I love you. I always have – it was always you. It was always going to be you, and I’ve spent five years regretting every single moment of that stupid fight and everything I did leading up to it. As selfish as it is, I can only hope that no-one else has your heart. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maeva swallowed heavily, letting go of his hand to run shaky fingers through her hair in an effort to compose herself. This was everything she’d ever dreamed of hearing from him and it was also everything she’d dreaded. She’d spent so long in therapy building up her walls, repairing her heart, learning how to heal herself and protect herself from falling into this kind of heartbreak again.

But she loved him.

She loved him so deeply that she didn’t know how she could ever stop. Sidney Crosby was so intrinsically part of her that she knew that, being honest with herself, she didn’t know what a life without him looked like. It was one of the main things she still talked about with her therapist, her inability to accept anyone new into her heart, and she knew deep down that no-one would ever replace him, not truly.

But was she ready to just fall back into his arms.

“I don’t know if I can,” she said softly, and wow wasn’t the devastated look on his face heartbreaking? “I want to, Sid, but I have spent years trying to move on from you and I don’t think I can handle going through what we did again.”

Sidney let out a shaky breath, smiling sadly as his eyes shined with tears. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just…I want to show you that I’ve changed. I want to show you all of the love that I should’ve shown you five years ago. You deserve that much. You should have someone love you in every single way that you absolutely deserve.”

“Sidney…” was all she could murmur again.

Maybe it was her lack of refusal, or the softness in her voice, but Sidney took one of her hands again, squeezing it gently.

“I know that we have separate lives now. I know that you have created something wonderful for yourself without me. But all I’m asking for is a chance to start over,” he said softly.

“But how would that work with you in Pittsburgh and me in Vancouver?”

“You’re a Canucks fan now?” he grimaced.

Of course that was his priority. Still, she found herself choking out a laugh, shaking her head as Sidney flushed a little with shame. “I haven’t watched hockey since I left Pittsburgh. Vancouver was just the furthest I could get away and still be in Canada.”

The look that passed over his face was a curious mix of sadness, regret, and frustration, before it settled into the determination she’d known for years.

“Can I call you?”

“What?” she asked, frowning.

“Can I call you?” he repeated. “I’m still not on social media, other than whatever the team makes us do. I’m getting better at texting. Emails are so-so. But I would love to talk to you, to hear your voice. I miss you, so much.”

How did he know exactly what to say to make her heart cry out?

“Sidney, come on,” she pleaded, trying to ignore the lump rising in her throat.

But he didn’t back down.

“Tell me no, Maeva. Tell me no, and I will walk away. You know I’m not that guy – no means no, and if you mean it then I will never bother you again,” he said seriously.

“You know I can’t,” she murmured.

Sidney just let out a shaky breath, squeezing her hand again as a smile hopeful smile crept across his lips.

“So let me call you. We can start with baby steps. I know you have a life in Vancouver now…but I just want to be part of it. I wasted five years of my life without you because I was an idiot who didn’t appreciate the incredible woman I had – all I want is another chance. Do you love me?”

He really was devastating, wasn’t he?

“Do you love me?” he repeated, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“I do love you. I don’t think I know how to stop,” she said, feeling like an idiot but smiling anyway.

Sidney just smiled like he couldn’t believe his luck, and slowly lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“I love you, Maeva,” he murmured.

He kissed her hand again before gently lowering it back down to their sides, so much emotion in his face that Maeva didn’t know what else she could possibly do.

“You can call me. I’m making no promises, but you can call me,” she said softly.

The smile that spread across his face made her heart soar for the first time in years.

Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep? Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories? Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece? Little do you know I need a little more time?

Oh wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain, Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid, Just wait, our love is here, is here to stay, So lay your head on me.

#my writing #nicole's b-day bingo #sidney crosby fic #exes to lovers #sidney crosby fanfic #sidney crosby imagine #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

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