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total-dxmure · 5 months

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✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff.

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“The fact that she’s military is the only thing saving her ass right now.”

Ellie kept her head bowed down low, her hands clasped in between her legs as she hunched over in the seat, making herself as small as possible. Her knuckles were bruised and scrapped to hell, the blood already dried and crusted. Most of the blood wasn’t hers, and if she thought about that fact for too long she’d probably have an episode. Either that or she’d throw up all over the sheriff’s office.

“Boss, I really appreciate you calling me instead of booking her. You have to understand that she’s in therapy and is on a shit ton of medications. Is the guy gonna press charges. . . ?” Hearing her best friend kiss up to his boss on her behalf had the vein in her forehead twitching.

“Technically the boy was shoplifting, so I doubt he’s gonna go forward with any sort’a legal action. I know she was trying to help, but she used excessive force. Beat the poor kid black and blue. . . I mean-” The officer lowered his voice, and Ellie could hear Jesse’s chair creak as he leaned forward. “His damn tooth was knocked out.” The sheriff whispered.

She closed her eyes tight, running a shaky hand over her face. She should own up to all of this and apologize. This was her fault, so why. . . why was she just sitting there? It was like she was glued to the chair, unable to move her head up. She couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. She was ashamed of herself.

Because she smelled like greasy, unwashed hair and cigarettes, was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn yesterday when he invited her over to his and Dina’s for dinner, and now he was having to pick her up at the police station for starting a fight.

A pack of beer. That’s what she’d pummeled the boy over.

He couldn’t have even been her age. He looked freshly legal, and something in her fucked up mind told her that it was okay to hurt him like that. The second that the nice elderly woman behind the counter had started screaming about a man stealing from her, some sort of switch had been flipped in her brain. Loud noises always made her feel anxious, but screaming like that? She couldn’t have stopped the meltdown even if she’d wanted to. So she dropped what she was holding and ran after him. What happened afterwards was. . . well, it was a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her temples, trying hard to remember.

Her therapist called them “PTSD episodes”. Random things triggered a breakdown: loud noises, gunshots, screams, flashes of light. . . they were unavoidable. She’d lose total track of time when it happened. One second the door to Ellie’s walk-in closet was closing behind her, plummeting her in darkness, and the next she’d be laying on her back in the middle of her room, balling her eyes out. Living like this was hell, but no matter how many mind-numbing pills she was prescribed, she still found it nearly impossible to function.

She didn’t want to scare her loved ones. When Joel called she just. . . lied. It made her feel dirty. It was wrong and she knew that, but it was better than the alternative. Being a liar was better than being a broken failure.

“Yeah, I’m doing great. My therapist is on to something, I think.”

“Come on, rambo. Let’s get you to bed.” Jesse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, knowing better than to pat her on the back like he used to.

Ellie knew it hurt him to see her flinch under his touch. She swallowed back bile and stood up, practically having to drag herself out of the officers office. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t thank him or- or anything.

But then he did that thing. . . he thanked Ellie.

Ellie didn’t give a shit about the military discounts or the cheaper car insurance- she got a nice cushy check from the military every month just for breathing. She didn’t want pity or thanks simply because she didn’t deserve it.

“Thank you for your service, Williams.” The sheriff’s voice reminded her of Joel’s. For some reason that made it hurt even worse.

Still, her muscles tightened, and she worked hard to straighten her posture.

“It was my privilege.” It was a well rehearsed response. It didn’t even sound like her voice when she had said it though, and it scared her.

As she followed Jesse out to his truck, she tried to ascertain whether she was just beginning to disassociate or whether or not this was all just another strange side effect from her meds.

She blinked and suddenly she was already situated in the car, Jesse on the main road to get the both of them back home. He had the radio turned down to just a hum, his sleepy eyes glued to the road in front of him. The clock on his dashboard told her that it wasn’t just “late” anymore, but “morning” now. Ellie sat up suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to map out exactly how many minutes she had just lost.

“Fuck.” She breathed, pressing her palms against her eyes.

She needed to call her therapist sometime today. She needed. . . She needed a lower dose of medication. There’s no way any of this was normal.

“Have you eaten?” Jesse asked, turning his head to finally look at her.

Ellie wished that he felt inconvenienced by her. Anger would be better than pity, but the look in his eyes was anything but annoyance. Jesse looked like he was close to tears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Ellie felt called to reach her hand out and place it on his shoulder. She wasn’t a very touchy person these days (and it’s not like she was to begin with), but he needed it.

“Not in a couple of hours.” Ellie answered him, letting her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He nodded and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. When Ellie dropped her hand and turned to look out the passenger side window, she could have sworn he lifted his arm to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. She couldn’t be sure though. . . seeing as she was now legally blind in her left eye. The wonky eye and the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and ended on her brow bone were the only physical reminders that she had of the explosion.

It seemed so miniscule compared to all of the shit that was going on in her head. She’d much rather have a destroyed body than a brain that didn’t work right anymore.

“How about you sleep in the guest bedroom? Dina’s probably worried sick about the both of us. Let’s. . . let’s spend the day together. Yeah?” It sounded like he was pleading with her.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence. No matter how much of a burden she saw herself as, the thought of going home right now frightened her. Ellie was terrified that she was going to end up all alone in this world, but she couldn’t stop pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if. . . she knew that she was bound to self-destruct at some point. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that.

“She’s going to kill me.” Ellie groaned out, dramatically banging her head against the headrest.

Jesse’s lips twitched up into a smile, but he was quick to try and mask it. “Nah. Dina? Mad at you for getting arrested at one thirty in the morning? No way.” His tone was sarcastic, and Ellie appreciated the fact that Jesse could still joke under circumstances like this. It made things feel almost normal. Almost.

Ellie winced, dragging a battered and bruised hand over her face. She had no idea why she’d been at the gas station picking up a bag of pretzels and a pack of ding-dongs that late at night. A documentary about the recently discovered Exo-planet was on the Discovery channel, and she’d actually worked up an appetite after it was over. She missed acting her age. Maybe that’s why she ended up getting into her Jeep. She was tired of feeling nostalgic and actually wanted to do something for herself. As minuscule as grabbing snacks from the gas station down the street was, it still felt out of the ordinary for her. Special.

Dina was sitting on the couch when the pair slunk into the house, walking on their tip toes in the hopes that the creaking wooden floors wouldn’t wake up JJ. Ellie froze in the entryway, green eyes wide as she took in the female’s crossed arms and death-glare. She was in trouble, which meant that Jesse was in trouble as well by association.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dina whisper-yelled, throwing her arm in the direction of the clock on the wall.

Ellie squinted her one good eye, noting that it was now four in the morning. She’d lost three hours. She should have been passed out on her prescribed sleeping pills by now, plagued by vivid nightmares. Instead she was intruding on her two best friends, and for what? ‘A pack of beer’, she reminded herself. A god damn pack of fuckin’ beer.

Ellie’s mouth went dry, her lips moving but no words escaping her. How many times had she apologized to Dina since she’d gotten home after the accident? Still, her best friend’s anger was better than Jesse’s pity. The sleeves of Ellie’s flannel tightened around her biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Dina’s posture as if to protect herself. She slipped a hand up, covering her neck anxiously.

“I’m getting better, D. I’ll schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist and-” Ellie sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

What she was doing couldn’t be called living. Ellie was simply existing and not doing a very good job at it either. She was tired of being tired. She blinked her misty eyes, turning to face the kitchen. She refused to cry. Once she started she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to stop.

Jesse and Dina’s shoes were all neatly laid out by the front door and JJ’s baby bag was sitting on the dining room table. This was a family that she had just burdened. Her eyes snagged on JJ’s highchair, and then the guilt was building right back up in her chest.

Guilt and jealousy.

Ellie had once had hopes of starting her own family eventually. When did she lose her grasp on that? On her lifelong dreams and aspirations? She wanted to help people- save people- so when had she become the one that needed saving? The marines hadn’t ruined Ellie. Ellie had ruined Ellie.

“No, you’re not.” Dina said simply, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “Ellie, look at me.” Her voice was commanding despite her sadness.

Ellie’s eyes fell to the floor, but she turned her head to face Dina, green eyes flickering up to her face. Bottom lip quivering, brown eyes misty- Dina looked miserable.

“You’re not getting better.” She whispered to Ellie, shaking her head to drive the point home. It looked like the words physically hurt for her to say.

Every excuse that she could have given dissipated. Suddenly she felt naked, utterly exposed. Every nasty, jagged scar was on full display. How many times had she said that to the people that cared about her?

“I’m getting better.” “I actually feel a bit better today.” “You don’t have to worry about me. The meds are really working this time.” Ellie wasn’t sure when it happened but she had become a liar. A damn good one too. Dina was looking at her now though, really looking at her, and Ellie’s face crumpled.

“Fuck.” Ellie whispered to herself, moving her hands to cover her face.

Jesse stepped behind Ellie, wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. A sob caught in Ellie’s chest and she strangled it before it could escape her. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t let her shoulders sag, couldn’t allow herself to feel everything in front of her best friends.

“I called Joel,” Dina finally said, leaning against the back of the couch, her knuckles going white with how hard she gripped the leather. “And he bought you a plane ticket. You’re flying out tomorrow.”

“No,” Ellie was already shaking her head before Dina had even finished her sentence. “How could you do this?” She felt the betrayal like a slap in the face. Her lips parted, eyes wide in silent desperation.

Please let this be a nightmare.

Her hand desperately flew to her arm, giving it a sharp pinch. The floor didn’t fall out from under her. She didn’t sit up sweating in her tangled sheets. This was actually happening. Actually real.

“You’re flailing, Ellie. We thought that eventually you’d level out,” Dina tried, taking a few steps towards Ellie and her husband. “But you’re only getting worse.”

“I’m getting better.” The well rehearsed line was the only thing she could think to utter. She prayed that eventually she could convince herself of that too. If she said the words enough times then maybe, eventually, they would become her reality. Perhaps she could somehow manifest her recovery.

“When was the last time you ate a solid meal? You barely touched your plate the other night. And I know you aren’t eating the food that Jesse drops off for you.” Dina was pointing out her flaws as if she didn’t see them all herself.

A full stomach meant nausea.

“When was the last time you showered?” The dark haired girl questioned.

Showering meant closing herself up into a tight space. It meant getting naked- seeing her scars. Remembering what happened to her and the rest of her unit.

“We know how this will end, Ellie. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of my life for calling Joel. I refuse to lose you like this.” Dina’s voice quivered as she spoke, but her eyes hardened. She was resolute about her decision.

Jesse’s arms tightened around Ellie and suddenly they no longer felt like a comfort but a prison. She needed air. Needed to call Joel and apologize. Needed to tell him that she was fine. She was fine. She would be just fine.

“I can’t breathe.” Ellie managed to whisper out, knees buckling from underneath her. It felt like the world was finally swallowing her up whole.

She was a failure. She’d failed Jesse, Dina, JJ and Joel. Why couldn’t she just be normal again? Why couldn’t she just fucking breathe.

Jesse let go of Ellie as she began gasping for air, helping to sit her down on the cold hardwood floor. It felt like everything around her had slowed down to a crawl, but her mind- it had sped up to a breakneck pace. She couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t turn off the thoughts and the images and the feelings.

She’d killed her unit. It was her fault that they all died. They had all been taken home in body bags, and what had Ellie gotten? A fucking government issued check every month that she blew on booze and a Purple Heart that collected dust.

“D, get the medication that’s in the cabinet and a glass of water.” Jesse called out to his wife. It sounded like they were underwater. She was drowning.

“She’s ripping her fucking hair out, Jesse.” Dina called out in panic, rifling through the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Her best friend gripped her wrists, forcing them back down to her sides. Strands of Auburn hair were tangled up between her clammy fingers.

JJ must have woken up because of the comotion. She could hear him crying from the other room. Screaming for his mother.

Blood. So much blood. It’s coming out of her mouth, what do I do? What do I do about internal bleeding again? Wasn’t I trained for this? Breathe. She’s not breathing. Are there other landmines? Can I drag her to safety? Where is everyone else? H-How. . . How can I help?

“Swallow, Ellie.” Dina was crouched in front of her, forcing her lips open to slide a pill onto her tongue.

“It was my fault. I-I fucking,” She choked out, gagging at the taste of the pill that was beginning to dissolve on her tongue. “I led them out there. Oh, fuck.”

Dina was beginning to panic, pushing the plastic cup up to Ellie’s mouth in the hopes that she would drink. She did, choking back the water in deep gulps. The water helped to fill the aching pit that was beginning to grow in her stomach. Water poured down the sides of Ellie’s lips, but she kept drinking. Deep, thoughtful gulps of ice cold water.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Dina finally asked, her eyes flickering between Ellie and her husband.

“No. No hospital. Just go sit with JJ, alright? I’ve got her.” Jesse told her, letting go of Ellie’s hands so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her against his chest so that she couldn’t stand up.

Ellie blinked and Dina was gone, the sound of her bare feet jogging down the hall was the only reminder of her presence.

“Joel isn’t going to judge you, Ellie. We all just want to help. So let us, alright?” She knew he was telling the truth, but the thought of Joel seeing her as lesser-than killed her. She would crumble completely if Joel looked at her with the same sorrowful eyes that Jesse did.

Joel was newly retired though, and the last thing he needed was to put up with his PTSD-ridden adopted daughter. She was tired of feeling like a burden, but where had standing on her own two feet gotten her? Arrested on multiple occasions? So she relented. She surrendered to the idea of sleeping in her old bedroom and taking up space in Joel’s too-big ranch home.

“Okay.” Ellie croaked, feeling the medication kicking in. Sleep. All Ellie wanted to do was sleep.

“Okay?” Jesse repeated back to her, needing to know that she was serious. The last thing he probably wanted to do was wrestle Ellie onto the plane. He wasn’t entirely sure he could overpower her when it came down to it.

“Okay.”

Grief was an uphill battle. One minute you’re laughing with your friends and then the next you’re laid up in bed, tossing and turning with the realization that what could have been was now an impossibility. You missed Abby. You missed the life that you could have had with her. All of the memories and milestones you missed out on were soul crushing the second that the sun went down.

You were left in your empty house, laid up in the bed that the two of you once shared. Her scent had long since washed out of her pillow. All that was left were pictures and a gravesite that you still couldn’t bring yourself to visit. Life doesn’t stop when you lose somebody though. People eventually become less forgiving as the months pass by.

So you squeezed your eyes closed and hoped that sleep would come sooner rather than later. You had an early start tomorrow for work, and the last thing you wanted was to show up with puffy eyes.

Life was getting better though. The pain wasn't as debilitating as it had been months ago, and for that you were thankful.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

You were still breathing, which was exactly what Abby would have wanted for you. The overwhelming grief hadn't killed you, no matter how many times you'd secretly prayed that it would. You were still here and that was good enough.

For now, at least.

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wileys-russo · 7 months

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off limits (3) II a.putellas x león!reader

part one part two

back again! the next part might be the last? but there is more to come off limits (3) II a.putellas x león!reader

if it was team cohesion alexia wanted, then you were determined to give it to her.

you would be the most perfect of teammates, showing up early to training and working hard as you could, not allowing any of the brewing drama to affect your ability to play in the red and blue and to win.

on the pitch you would feed her any assists possible and take any passes she'd give you. the same went for playing alongside your sister, you'd take any ball she sent your way, any crosses aimed in your direction you were on in a flash.

however, to them thats all you would be, a teammate.

you went out of your way to avoid any sort of interaction with your ex girlfriend and captain that wasn't completely professional, and you avoided your older sister like she had some sort of disease, refusing to speak to them in any capacity that wasn't absolutely necessary or football related.

neither girl had properly spoken to the other since that night in anyway that wasn't professional either, the tension between them was simmering but palpable and not completely obvious to most of the team who weren't aware of any ill will.

the same could not be said for the uncomfortably awkward space you created for those who were aware that you and alexia were clearly going through some problems, which was the members of the team who'd figured out you'd both been dating.

or that there was clearly something wrong between the león sisters, normally attached at the hip and joking around in some sort of way at games and training. or posting together going out for walks or meals or spending time together on your days off, instead there was radio silence and everyone had picked up the two of you had come to a disagreement on something.

lucy had tried time and time again to get all three of you to speak with her about it to no luck at all, brushed off each time or sent away on a drill.

claudia and patri had tried to get you to open up again without any luck, both about your issues with alexia and the way they could clearly see you and mapi also were not talking. but again you dismissed them with a shake of your head, hurrying away to be by yourself.

after all, it wasn't affecting your performance on the pitch.

if anything your underlying anger with both women only spurred you on more, using football as a therapy of sorts. the free time in which you'd normally be sneaking off with alexia or messing around with mapi you spent doing extra shooting practice or meticulously studying past matches.

you were flying on the pitch, but you were leaving both of them behind in order to do so.

it was a thursday morning off for you. you had a photo shoot in the afternoon with a sunglasses company you were partnered with but beside that you had no plans. so you glanced up in surprise from your spot reading in the sunny corner of your living room when there was a knock on your door.

marking your place in your book you uncrossed your legs and padded over to the front door, glancing through the small peephole and frowning as you unlocked and pulled it open.

"hi, can we talk?"

mapi awoke as the warm morning sun bathed her face and she rolled over, expecting to be enveloped by her girlfriends welcoming arms but to her disappointment she was only met with an empty bed and cold sheets.

blinking tiredly the tattooed spaniard pulled herself up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, head swiveling around the bedroom but unable to spot her norweigein lover anywhere her eyebrows furrowed deeper.

mapi called out for her, only rewarded with silence as she swung herself out of bed making her way around their shared flat, frown deepening as there was no sign at all of ingrid.

greeting bagheera with a scratch behind his ears mapi picked up her phone to call ingrid but the line only rang out to the girls message bank, mapi trying not to assume the worst or overthink as she made herself a coffee. but she didn't have long to spiral as she sat down with her breakfast and heard a key sound in the lock.

"good morning baby." her girlfriend smiled happily, closing the door after her as mapi was up and by her side in an instant. "where did you go? i woke up and you were gone!" she frowned after they'd hugged and shared a sweet kiss.

"i went out for breakfast." ingrid started, dropping her bag on the counter as mapi sat back down. "oh." the girl replied, trying to hide her disappointment at the lack of information or invite.

"...with your sister." ingrid finished, hiding her head in the fridge as she rummaged around for a moment. "oh." the spaniard repeated, this time a lot quieter as she sipped at her coffee, thoughts drifting as she stared out the window, hand bending down to gently scratch the cat which rubbed itself against her leg fondly.

"how was it?" mapi asked slowly as ingrid sat across from her at the table, having made herself a coffee as well. "it was okay, she misses you." her girlfriend murmured as she sipped the drink in her hands. "does she?" mapi asked skeptically, leaning back in her chair with a raised eyebrow.

"well she didn't exactly say it, but i could tell." ingrid sighed, a small smile tugging at her girlfriends lips at the brunettes forever present optimism. "mi vida she hates me." mapi chuckled, finishing her food and pushing her plate away with a sigh.

"she is very angry, but she has a right to be."

that made the defender frown, crossing her arms over her chest. "before you argue what would you do if it was the other way around? if she told you that you were not allowed to date me, and then i left you because of it." ingrid challenged, bagheera jumping up onto her lap.

"alexia left her?" mapi frowned quietly, her girlfriend giving her a look of disbelief. "please tell me you are joking. how did you not realise that from her behaviour?" ingrid shook her head as mapi could only shrug.

"i don't know. i just figured she was angry with me! i didn't think she would actually listen to what i said, she never does." mapi mumbled with a roll of her eyes as ingrid gave her a look.

"she has always listened to you love, she looks up to you so much its obvious for anyone to see. which is why she is so hurt by your response, then add in a break up in which she had no say and imagine how much pain she is in?" ingrid warned, guilt suddenly flooding the spaniards body as she sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"it is not up to you to say for either of them who they date, that is only up to them." ingrid warned sternly. "but she's my-" "no. she is her own person, and she deserves her own relationships without you adding in your negative opinion, which believe it or not actually means a lot to her. she was not wrong you can be very nosy, and very over protective." ingrid added on as mapi scoffed, but a harsh look from the tall brunette had her face softening.

"she is still your sister kjære, and she needs you. so you need to make things right with her, and with alexia!" ingrid finished as she stood, kissing her girlfriends head as bagheera pawed at mapi for attention, the defender scooping him up onto her lap with a deep sigh.

maybe she had really messed up here.

the next day you turned up to training early as usual, lucy was also early and so the two of you spent some time juggling to each other as the rest of your team mates arrivals trickled in.

"so how are you kid?" lucy asked, sending you a smile as you shrugged, flicking her the ball. "fine." you replied curtly, lucy abandoning any further attempts to coax you into being honest, sensing you were just not in the mood.

after breakfast with your sisters girlfriend yesterday your head was somewhat of a mess. ingrid had always been nothing but kind to you the entire time you'd known her, and had been easily welcomed into the family with open arms.

everyone saw the way she cared for your sister and the way your sister cared for her, in fact you probably spent just as much time with the norweigein as you did with your sister. the two of you shared a lot of common hobbies, hanging a lot one on one much to mapi's constant whining about being left out.

but her thin veil of tolerance for shopping only lasted so long, and so she was content to leave the two of you to your little bonding days. hours spent flitting from store to store, always returning to her home and showing her what you both bought as you'd stay for dinner and a movie.

so catching up with the tall brunette had been nice, and she had a way with her words that had you opening up to her for the first time about everything that happened, revealing exactly what was said and how it left you actually feeling.

ingrid had of course tried to coax you into coming back home with her to speak with your sister, assuring she would be there with you and would not allow you to be spoke to like that again. but you weren't ready, and she was not going to push you.

though it seemed she must have said something to your sister, as once the final whistle for training blew and you hung back for some extra shooting drills with sandra, you noticed mapi speaking with alexia.

you tried not to pay it any mind, the two walking away from everyone together clearly not speaking tactics for tomorrows game as they made sure they had no audience within earshot for their conversation.

after around a half hour sandra called it quits, patting you on the back for your efforts and retreating into the change rooms. you did some juggling for a moment to clear your head before you picked up the ball, also deciding you were done for the day.

though as you turned around you couldn't help but notice alexia and your sister walking back toward the few members of staff who were left, arms slung around one another and laughing at something, together.

the sight made your blood boil and you felt yet another knife stab you in the back.

the thought that neither of them were willing to apologize and try harder to fix things with you but were now best friends again as if your sister hadn't all but denounced their bond just a couple of weeks ago made you sick to your stomach.

so with a shake of your head you dropped the ball in your hands by the bag of them and stormed off back into the training facility. entering the change rooms there were only a few of your team mates left, most having left for the day already to rest up before the match tomorrow.

ingrid noticed your mood was off right away, glancing up from her phone as she waited for her girlfriend, watching carefully as your shoulders hunched over and you were quick to pack your things up.

normally you'd always shower before you left like a ritual, usually one of the last to leave because of this. so for you to be trying to exit as quick as possible she knew something was off.

pina who was sat at the locker next to you also noticed, frown forming on the younger girls face seeing you wipe away a few angry tears. "hey amiga what-" you shook your head furiously, cutting her words short and pushing away her hand which softly grabbed at your wrist.

ingrid stood to make a move toward you but was cut off as laughter sounded around the change rooms and the two causes of your bad mood entered, alexia shoving mapi for something she said as the shorter girl swung at her playfully, the two chattering away in spanish with large grins on their faces.

that was enough for you.

you slammed your locker closed with a force so hard you were surprised it didn't break, the loud bang causing everyone present to jump and look toward you in shock.

you zipped up your kit bag and pulled on a hoodie, slinging your bag over your shoulder and again brushing off pina who tried to speak with you.

having seen alexia and your sister had clearly made up and left you behind in their apologies your erratic out of character aggression all made sense now to ingrid who looked at you with a pained wince, understanding exactly why this would have hurt you further.

"hey hermana-" mapi grabbed you by the bicep as you tried to dart by you, holding you beside her with a frown. you pushed her off and sent both her and alexia a murderous glare, storming off out of the change rooms as mapi looked to her girlfriend with raised eyebrows.

ingrid sighed and beckoned her over to explain, knowing that if something didn't change soon things would only get worse.

on advice from her girlfriend to allow you some space to cool off, your sister waited until after the match before she approached you to try and talk.

alexia on the other hand without advice from anyone and worry for you growing with every day that passed that you refused to speak to her properly, did not.

you looked up from the floor as someone tapped your shoulder, pulling your headphones down to your neck with a cold stare up at the tall blonde stood in front of you.

"can we talk please?" alexia requested quietly, nodding for you to follow her as she lead you out of the change rooms and into one of the unoccupied recovery rooms.

"yes capitana?" you asked calmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you awaited what she had to say. "how are you?" alexia started, closing the door and moving in front of it, effectively blocking your exit with her own body.

"fine. but we have a match to prepare for if you are finished?" you replied impatiently, tapping your foot as the cold stare never dropped, making alexia's stomach tie itself into knots.

"cariño please i-"

"don't." you warned, feeling like someone squeezed your heart at the familiar term of endearment, something she no longer had any right to call you. "you need to remember to be professional with your teammates, capitana." you spoke bluntly, raising your chin as the older girl sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"when are you going to drop this? just because we are no longer together does not give you the right to ignore me and act like a stubborn child." alexia warned, tone shifting causing you to scoff at her words.

"i am simply treating you as you treat a team mate. after all you can't have any problems with your girls, no?" you challenged, clenching your jaw in anger as you threw her words back at her with a bite.

"let me make this very clear alexia." you took a step toward her. "i am no longer someone you have any need to worry about beyond the field. i play well, i score, i work within the team to help us win, thats it." you started.

"unless i require the help or assistance of my captain, i owe you nothing. you left me without even giving me a chance to speak to you about anything, do not forget that." you warned, taking another step closer to her, the taller girl towering over you but you only found in her eyes a hidden fear of your next words to come.

"you acted like a child. you ran away the first moment things got tough. you left me there crying and hurt and alone when i needed you. and then you wait two weeks to speak with me? after you made up with my sister who hurled insults at you and at me in which you made no move at all to defend me." you poked at her chest with every sentence, the older girl allowing you to do so.

"so you do not get to tell me that i have no right to ignore you alexia. i warned you that if you left i would never speak to you again, so don't you dare make out that i am the problem here. you are a coward, i hope you and your best friend are very happy but stay away from me." your voice cracked at the end, betraying the obvious anger in your features as you wiped away a singular tear, shoving past the girl and leaving the small room, and again she made no move to follow after you.

your sisters attempts to fix things after a very successful 6-0 win had been met with the same icy demeanor.

"hermana we need to talk." she'd cornered you as you came out from the showers, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes bore into yours and you sighed, making your way to your locker as she followed.

you didn't grace her with a response, only sat down and began to put your shoes on, mapi taking this as a silent agreement you were going to listen.

not wanting to do this in front of an audience she hovered around waiting for you, disappearing to the bathroom for a moment, frowning deeply when she noticed you'd already left on her return.

"joder!" she cursed under her breath, grabbing her bag quickly and sprinting out to the parking lot hoping she wasn't too late. thankfully for her you'd been cornered yet again though this time by pina and patri who were begging you come out with them tonight.

"the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else amiga!" pina tried, causing patri to frown and punch her rather harshly in the arm for the insensative comment. though the interaction had graced them with a small smile of amusement from you.

"so you will come?" patri begged, clasping her hands together as both girls pouted at you hopefully. "fine!" you agreed begrudgingly, admittedly missing the chance to bond with your team mates and friends with your voluntary self isolation.

both girls hugging you tightly and kissing your cheek you shoved them away playfully, agreeing for patri to pick you up later to assure you couldn't bail out on them.

though as they left and you slid into your car, looking forward to a few hours of time to yourself it seemed the universe had other ideas.

you jumped as someone suddenly opened your passenger door, sliding in and swiftly yanking your keys out of the ignition, your sister slipping them into the side pocket of her backpack and out of your reach.

"give them back and get out maría." you warned, jaw clenched and giving her the most fierce glare you could muster. but your older sister knew you far too well to ever be intimidated by you as she shook her head firmly.

"no, i meant it we need to talk." she started, dropping her backpack by her feet and crossing her arms staring you down. you let out a long and tired groan at the situation, head coming to rest on your steering wheel with a small thump.

"talk then." you waved for her to speak, closing your eyes and resting your head back on the seat, tucking your knees to your chest. "are you going to listen?" your sister asked, raising an eyebrow.

"no but you are welcome to talk." you kept your eyes closed, swearing and smacking her hands away as she pinched you sharply with a warning glare. "sorry i am too stupid to listen. just a selfish little girl who knows nothing!" you spat her own words back at her as she winced.

"you did not listen to me when i tried to talk to you, so why do you suddenly deserve that?" you asked, glaring right back at her unwilling to back down.

"pequeño-" "don't." you warned her at the nickname, causing her to sigh and look up at the roof, thinking about her next words carefully.

"i was very angry and i spoke without thinking. i said some terrible and awful things i didn't mean and i cannot say enough how sorry i am for them. and for pushing you and for yelling at you and not listening, for all of my behavior." she started as you glared out the window beside you, refusing to look at her.

"you know i love you more than anyone hermana, and as your big sister i have always looked out for you because of that. i thought that's what i was doing here and i was wrong, i know now that i don't get to say who you can and cannot love. it doesn't matter who it is, so long as you are happy and treated right thats all that should matter." mapi explained softly, a slight begging present in her tone as you again ignored her and stared out the window.

"what do i have to do to make things up with you? do i have to beg? because i will beg!" your sister warned seriously, clasping her hands together with a pleading look. "please don't." you mumbled with a roll of her eyes.

"i will! i'll do it!" mapi promised seriously and you heard her shifting around beside you. sparing her a glance you saw she had shuffled so that she was on her knees on the car seat, hands clasped together tightly still. "please? please, please, please, please? please, please-" your sister began to repeat over and over.

"ay dios mío. stop it!" your arm reached out to shove her but it did nothing as she continued, repeating the word over and over which grated at you.

"fine! just shut up mapi por favor. and give me my keys back!" you gave in with a groan, burying your face in your hands as she finally ceased her begging.

"i knew that would work." the older girl grinned happily, moving to sit back down as you shot her a glare. "i'm still annoyed with you. this is going to take time and i want to be left alone until i'm ready!" you warned, holding out your hand for your keys which your sister dropped into your palm.

"okay. and i will be right here whenever you're ready, because again hermana i love you, more than anyone." she promised sincerely as you hummed, sticking your key back in the ignition.

"i'm not saying it back, you can get out now." you nodded for her to leave as your sister sighed but understood, leaning over to kiss your cheek before finally leaving.

"see! don't you feel better already?" patri grinned, sliding in next to you and handing you a drink. "give me a few of these and we'll see chica." you smiled, clinking your glass against hers as a few more of your team mates arrived.

"how many people did you two ask?" you frowned, leaning in closer to the two girls who'd dragged you out in the first place who shared a look. "everyone." they both answered in sync as you sighed, fearing that would be the answer.

sure enough shortly after did your sister and ingrid arrive, but to your surprise mapi gave you your space, sending you a nod and a small smile before sitting at the other end of the table as ingrid came over to give you a hug.

"i'm proud of you elskling." the taller girl mumbled as she hugged you tightly, rubbing your back and kissing your cheek before joining your sister at the other end.

as another hour ticked by it seemed most of the team was here and you started to relax, assuming it was now far too late for your rule loving anti mid season drinking ex girlfriend to bother coming out.

of course though you spoke far too soon as you heard cheers and looked up to see she had arrived, dragging her younger sister along with her. or rather it would seem alba had dragged her here given the obvious look of displeasure on alexia's face.

she made no move to greet you which you were grateful for, hovering down the other end of the table. alba on the other hand sat herself right next to you, slinging her arms over both you and pina with a grin.

"vamos chicas! i think i have some catching up to do, no?" the younger putellas stole your drink, downing it with a wink as you couldn't help but smile.

despite your burning anger at her sister you couldn't find it in your heart to be mad at alba, the two of you had always gotten along well even if she was also none the wiser to your dating history with alexia.

and you were determined to have a good night, it was what you deserved.

"come on amiga, it's time to dance!" several drinks later and alba had grabbed your hands, dragging you along with her to where half of the team was already on the dance floor.

"hey chica, she's hot!" the younger putellas whistled as she spun you around and pointed to a tall brunette who was very clearly making eyes at you a few feet away.

"vamos amiga off you go!" alba suddenly shoved you in her direction when you did not expect it, your state of intoxication causing you to stumble as the brunette grabbed at you. "hola." she grinned down at you, helping you to steady yourself.

though they may not have been sincere pina's words from earlier echoed around your head. this girl was hardly unattractive, in fact as your taste in women went she really was exactly who you'd normally be drawn to.

glancing over her shoulder you saw alba, patri and aitiana gesturing for you to dance with her with eager grins as you shook your head. "lo siento, my friends can be...forceful in their wing womaning." you smiled causing the girl to let out a laugh.

as the two of you began to dance together and the alcohol rose to your head, your hesitations faded and you started to relax, grinding a little more into her and allowing the tall stranger whose name you were still yet to learn become a little more intimate in her touches, allowing her to kiss you a few times but pulling away before they became anything more.

what you failed to notice was two hazel eyes locked on you from across the room, alexia burning with a fierce jealousy that she knew she had no right to.

"hey ale, you alright?" lucy asked quietly from beside her, having noticed what the captain was staring so intently at. "fine." alexia mumbled, eyes still locked on you as now your sister took notice of what she was looking at.

though with a belly full of tequila and ingrid distracted in conversation with sandra and keira, there was no one to filter her next words. "ay capitana! stop staring and go get your girl then." mapi grinned drunkenly, lucy cringing at her words.

but if alexia heard them she made no move to acknowledge it, though it seemed she had as she suddenly stood, grabbing her bag and her keys ignoring lucy's attempts to stop her.

"should we get out of here bonita?" the girl murmured in your ear, her hand already having slipped just up the inside of your dress. "let me just go to the bathroom and we can leave." you grinned, kissing her cheek as she let you go, your friends watching on carefully as you stumbled away.

alba went to go after you, having just agreed with patri that you'd had your fun and a dance with the tall brunette but were too drunk to be leaving with her right now.

but as she saw a flash of blonde follow after you she turned back to the girls with a shrug, assuming her sister would take care of you instead.

you did your business and stood, the room spinning slightly as you shook your head, fixing your dress and kicking the stall door open. but as you right away saw the all too familiar figure leant against the counter clearly waiting for you, you scoffed and rolled your eyes which wasn't lost on alexia.

you chose to ignore her as she called your name, moving to wash your hands and take a moment to breathe, your head still spinning slightly as you'd stood too quickly.

"take a picture it'll last longer capitana." you snapped to the blonde who wouldn't cease staring at you, twirling her keys around her finger as she did, causing an irritating jingle to echo repeatedly around the bathroom.

"you can wave goodbye to your friend, we're leaving." alexia stated firmly, grabbing your wrist as you tried to move past her toward the door. "you wish." you laughed bitterly, trying to pull away as her grip only tightened. "let go of me." you spoke through gritted teeth in warning.

"no. you can hardly walk, i am taking you home before you do something stupid." alexia shook her head at your current state. "the only stupid thing i did was think you were capable of loving me, now let go of me alexia!" you spat venomously, unable to filter your words in your intoxicated state, a slight slur to them.

"it is because i love you that i will not let you go home with someone who couldn't care less about you and only wants to take advantage of you, you're too drunk to consent to anything. so we are leaving, now!" the catalan growled, both of your heads turning sharply to look to the bathroom door as it swung open.

"what is going on in here?"

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

part four

#woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #alexia putellas #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 2 months

Text

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?”

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.”

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.”

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.”

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.”

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.”

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?”

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.”

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.”

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.”

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars.

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking.

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.”

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf.

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.”

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?”

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl.

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?”

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.”

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough…

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby.

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek.

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point.

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?”

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.”

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment.

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.”

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me.

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?”

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?”

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?”

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?”

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though.

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.”

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.”

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?”

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?”

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?”

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his?

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.”

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.”

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.”

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show.

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.”

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could.

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.”

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.”

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.”

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?”

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.”

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.”

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.” Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment.

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.”

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat.

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me.

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.”

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?”

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.”

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?”

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.”

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.”

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.”

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.”

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.”

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.”

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.”

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off.

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.

Dieter’s POV

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day?

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days.

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home.

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!”

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored.

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming.

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing.

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple.

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first.

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.”

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.”

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…”

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure.

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.” I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.”

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?”

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.”

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?”

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.”

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?”

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.”

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position.

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.”

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting.

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances.

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble.

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?”

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming.

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.”

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face.

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.”

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?”

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.”

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.”

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok...

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @pedrostories

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dancing dieter #closed position series

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chibsandchill · 4 months

Text

A blood red setting sun

Fandom: HOTD (House of the Dragon)

Pairing: Aemond x GN!Dragonrider!Reader (reader’s house is not specified)

Warnings: Death, toxic relationships, Aemond needs therapy (like a lot), sui§ide, Dark!Unhinged!Aemond, bad language, blood and gore (described), unreliable narrator (Aemond), grammatical and spelling errors. This is a dark fic

Summary: Rhaenyra changed her mind and sent you instead of Daemon to guard Harrenhall, and a battle between you and Aemond one-eye ensues far above the Gods Eye. Inspired by Love crime by Siouxsie and the Hannigram cliff scene.

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Alys clung to his back, her breath warm on the side of his neck. It made his skin crawl,

he loved it.

That feeling of wrong that washed over him every time they touched. The disgust that sprung down his spine when he joined himself with her. How his breath caught in his throat when she kissed him, when she pressed herself against him,

the instinct to flee.

It was familiar,

unlike with you,

when everything felt right.

Aemond shifted forward in the saddle once he spotted the charred ruins. Alys moved closer, her rounded belly pressing against him to the point of discomfort. Disgust rolled in his stomach at the thought that she carried his bastard. He tugged her closer still, chasing the feeling, and yet, despite his efforts it ebbed away, just like it always did. He chased and chased like a dog with a bone,

but even that would abandon him.

Aemond scoffed and pushed her arm away. He would push her away, off his dragon were it not for the fact that he was addicted to her. She was a witch,

his Alys.

His.

It rushed through him again, the loathing. It set his nerves on fire, his chest aching and heart screaming in protest,

oh how he loved it.

“There, my Prince.” Alys whispered in his ear. It made his skin crawl. Oh, how he loathed her touch.

But true indeed, there you were. Waiting for him by the ruins and the great old tree. Your dragon stared them down when he ordered Vhagar to land. No respect, no… fear, either of you, he thought, for both dragon and rider neither flinched nor moved away when he landed his Queen of Dragons recklessly close.

“Kinslayer!” You named him. “You came at last.”

He helped Alys down from Vhagar. Her touch chased away the delight he felt at hearing your voice again. “I hear you’ve been seeking us.”

“Only you.”

“Hm.” A smirk grew on his face. “I rarely leave my Lady’s side.”

You frown at the sight of the witch’s belly. “Clearly. I see Aegon’s lesson stuck after all. Tell me, Lady,” you turned to Alys, “did he cry as he spilled himself inside you?”

Your fire excited him. He found he didn’t even mind that it was his past you used to tear at the frayed edges of his wounded heart. It was you he had cried to that day Aegon had taken him to the brothel. He had cried as the old whore forced him to his peak,

a whore who looked like Alys.

Perhaps that’s why he chose her. So he can relive it time and time again. So that when he dreams he can hide in your arms again, where you press him to you to the point of pain. It grounded him,

unlike now,

Aemond felt untethered, like a kite who’s string had been cut and was left to waste away in the wind.

His witch stood tall. Perhaps a bit too tall. Rigid. “Hardly.”

“Ah,” you lean back against the tree, “you’re upset about the gift I left you, witch.”

Alys tensed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Aemond wanted to look at your hands but he refused to tear his eye from yours. Were they bloodied with Alys’ bastards? Or had you scrubbed and scrubbed until your hands bled. Were your arms marred with tiny scratches as they fought back?

How did it taste?

How did it feel to have your soul tainted with their blood?

Could you still taste the iron on your tongue as he did?

You were the same,

tainted,

doomed.

You had left them all in a pile. Poor Alys could barely recognize them, much less identify what pieces belonged to which of her children. She had cried that night as he took her. He had licked the tears from her face and her misery warmed him.

He wanted to thank you for it,

for the high.

Could you do it again?

“I had thought murdering children was Daemon’s brand of cruelty.”

“As did I, kinslayer.” You worried your lip between your teeth, face a perfect mask of indifference. “I do believe the saying to be ‘an eye for an eye’, not ‘an eye for a life’. Let’s not forget about sweet Lucerys,” you pouted and stepped closer. “He was Rhaenyra’s favorite, you know. Was it worth it?”

Always, he wanted to say.

Aemond the One-eyed kinslayer with a heart as black as the night he slayed his nephew.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Perhaps a little.

“And how is the whore of dragonstone, hm? I hear they heard her screams all the way to Dorne.” Aemond placed Alys in front of him, pressing himself against her. “And her daughter? A sign from the gods. My sister is more beast than woman. It is not so surprising then to find our uncle rutting into her so.”

“You think I am here for her?” You laughed.

Aemond bristled at the sound. He stood before you, a warrior, bloodied and proven,

and you laugh.

“No, Aemond,” his trousers tightened despite Alys pressing back against him, “I am here for you. It is time we end this. It is time we see who will win this deadly game. Say goodbye to your whore.”

Alys twisted in his arms with outrage, but Aemond said nothing. He wanted to disobey, if only to see what you would say,

what you would do to her,

to him.

Would you tear the bastard from his arms? He tightened his arms around Alys. Would you? Could you see it in his eyes? The desire?

Take her, he urged you in his mind.

Take her. Take her. Take her. Take her.

Take me.

In his dreams you called him ‘yours’.

Eager to chase it all away, Aemond forced Alys around and pressed his lips against her hard and fast without an ounce of kindness. They were already bruised from last night and she twisted in his hold to get away,

but he wouldn’t let her.

She saw much in the fire, his Alys. Surely she saw into his very core and knew the beast that waited there, ready to devour all that tries to take what belongs to another,

what belongs to you.

Piece by piece Aemond fed Alys to it.

Who did you feed to your beast, Aemond wondered, or had you left it starving until he returned? Did you wait for him like you swore? He refused to believe you had. He did not. So you did not. What if you had? If he touched you would the beast take him? Would it turn against him?

He wanted to try.

If you consumed him,

he would be glad.

You had lain with another. You must have. Or else… He refused to believe you had not, refused to believe that you had not betrayed him for that meant that it all was for nothing.

He could see it in your eyes. You taunted him with it. A piece of you had been given to another. It must have been. It had been. He could see it. He saw the lack of it. You lacked it. You could not give it to him. It was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Just like you.

Where did you go?

He tore his face away from Alys and pushed her out of the way.

There.

You were mounting your dragon.

The die had been cast, it seemed. Now to see who would survive this dance of theirs.

Aemond clambered up the chains to Vhagar’s saddle.

“Kinslayer!” You interrupted him as he was about to fasten the chains around him. He looked up, and there you were. Upside down in your saddle. He scowled. “Don’t bother with the chains. This won’t take long.”

“Soves!” Aemond barked at Vhagar, who grumbled and growled in protest at his tone, but the she-dragon obeyed.

Your dragon was smaller and swifter than the old she-dragon, and quickly the pair of you disappeared in the clouds above. Because of her size Vhagar was much slower and had taken to ascending in ever widening circles, forcing them out over the vast lake. The waters of Gods eye shimmered like molten copper under the setting sun. It was rather peaceful, Aemond thought.

And then,

your dragon emerged from the clouds from his blindside. Teeth like swords wrapped around Vhagar’s throat and talons ripped and ripped at her soft underbelly. Vhagar twisted in your dragon’s hold, tearing herself further at his teeth in her desperation to be free.

“Vhagar!” He shouted in horror.

Her roars of pain echoed across the land. She turned and turned, lashed out with her tail, her claws.

“Dracarys!” Aemond commanded her. “Dracarys!”

Fire spouted from her maw, so bright that it looked like the clouds themselves caught on fire.

Your dragon let go so that he could get a better grip but Vhagar banked to the side and the two dragons grappled at each other. Talons tore at hide until blood rained down on the fishermen below.

And yet, through it all, you remained quiet. Such was your bond with your dragon. It needed no words.

Vhagar’s claws caught on the soft underbelly of your dragon, and her teeth on his wing, but the she-dragon was dying. Her great wings slowed down, her fire a mere ember glowing in her throat. Your dragon bit at Vhagar again with renewed vigor, undeterred by her talons cutting straight through entrails.

“Oh, kinslayer!” Your voice echoed in the wind.

He looked up and only managed to draw his dagger as you leaped from your dragon. You slammed into him and your sword through him. Aemond gasped and sputtered. You were touching him.

Skin against skin.

Your face against his.

Blood coated your teeth.

You had never looked more beautiful.

He barely noticed Vhagar’s dying shrieks, or that the three of you began plummeting towards the water.

The feeling of her,

it rushed through his veins,

burned up his skin.

Your chest heaved, but you smiled at him. You smiled and pressed yourself closer to him. Would you impale yourself on your own sword to get closer? Bleed into him as he bleeds into you. For what was this but you killing yourself? You and he were the same.

Then you gasped, and Aemond was broken from his trance.

You were still falling,

falling together.

But his dagger? You had fallen straight onto it. Red gushed out onto his hand. Horror filled his chest. He brought his hand up to his face. He wanted to cover his eyes and pray, pray, pray until he woke up in his bed and this was all a bad dream.

He hardly felt his own pain over the pain in his heart. The beast rattled at the bars of the cage, breaking his ribs to crawl out of her chest and be reunited with you.

Aemond’s eyes flew open at your touch. Calm acceptance waited for him in your eyes. He knew then that you also knew that this would never end in any other way. You were never meant to survive the war, for what was there to live for if not the other. You were always meant to burn together,

die together.

Happiness. You were happy,

happy with him.

He could see the water now. It would be your grave. But you would be together. He wondered if you knew what would happen when you decided to jump from your dragon. Had you seen his dagger? Was this your design all along? To die together at each other’s hands?

The one piece of you that you could give to no other. It was his.

His. His. His. His. He was yours.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

You brought his blood coated hand to his mouth, and without looking away he licked at the wetness there. You pressed it harder against him and he licked and licked until it was gone and his face was stained with you. You. You. You.

You threw yourself against him again, your lips pressed against his. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. But it was perfect. He chased your lips as you pulled away. You had never looked as beautiful as you did then, lips smeared with blood and wide-shot pupils.

You clutched at his tunic, to bring him closer or push him away? Aemond didn’t know. You pulled and then you pushed.

And then,

blackness.

Aemond looked up.

A blood red setting sun.

Water filled his lungs. He didn’t feel cold and it was okay,

because he had you in his arms,

and now you would never be apart.

#aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x you #aemond x reader

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lex9923 · 2 months

Text

Tw// SA

This will be my one and only official statement on this situation, because frankly I’m done with all of this mental hopscotch happening.

I am a sexual assault victim. I was the same age as Caiti is now when it happened, and I was cornered with his hands down my pants touching my vagina and up my shirt touching my boobs, while I tried to get away and make it stop. I still to this day don’t know who my attacker was, but it will follow me for the rest of my life. It’s been five years since then, and my story has not changed once. Not ever. I hadn’t told people for a couple years cause I thought since I didn’t know who my attacker was, I wouldn’t be believed. As well as the fact that I came forward about a sexual harassment I faced at a job and was met with “well, boys will be boys”. Through it all, I am here, and I survived.

Watching the reaction to this situation from both of the main parties involved, those who weren’t there, those who were, and the fans had sent me spiraling. I’ve spent the past two weeks reliving that trauma from five years ago cause I thought I misinterpreted my assault as something else. I had not, and never have. It’s been incredibly invalidating watching the alleged “victim” change the story multiple times, make fake texts, omit important information, all while not even listening to the person she accused of a criminally offensive act.

Caiti is absolutely allowed to feel uncomfortable and regret what happened after the fact, but it is not, and will not ever be assault-unless George actually did touch her boobs, and then that will be a different discussion, but with her credibility disappearing, I’ll only believe it if he admits it himself. I’m trying to extend grace to her being young, sexually inexperienced, and caught up in online culture, but it’s hard the longer this gets dragged out. There are things you do when approaching a situation like this:

1. You absolutely need to provide evidence and proof of your claims. You can’t prove something that never happened, but you can prove something that did. It’s why it’s innocent until proven guilty. Expecting people to blindly believe you is delusional at worst and ignorant at best.

2. You must absolutely have your story 100% correct and factual to how you perceived what happened, before bringing forth any accusations. Using purposefully charged language and then changing the story to match the one you accused is not it. Nor is changing your story yet again when people are catching on to the inconsistencies.

3. Allow the accused person to defend themself. You can’t expect people to listen to all of your claims-most of them blindly doing so-and then get upset when people wait for both sides to say their piece, especially when you present no evidence at your initial statement. Again, you have to prove guilt. If you can’t prove it, the accused are allowed to defend themself.

4. You are in no way obligated to accept apologies, but acknowledging one was made-multiple times in fact- is the bare minimum. Trying to change your story one last time to make it seem even worse than what you both agreed upon, and then hiding behind “I’m not going to address this anymore” is manipulative at worst and cowardly at best.

I hope Caiti gets therapy, cause it’s clear she’s been severely affected by something, though I’m not sure she even knows what it is. I also hope she learns from this, and next time utilizes the “direct message” function every single app has. This could have been a dm, and the way it spiraled has been a shitshow and her intentions are coming off less and less pure the more this gets dragged out. I’m so sorry she was uncomfortable, and regretful, but until she shows any proof whatsoever of any assault happening, it will never be. I hope she heals, and I hope she gets better friends cause they have all failed her.

For George, I’m sorry this got blown so out of proportion and no one even privately talked to him about any uncomfortability being felt. I’m sorry his friends are performative. I’m hopeful that he was made aware of things he wasn’t before, and will do better next time. He is not irredeemable, and I believe growth is possible (the difference in his two responses proves as such). I hope this isn’t the last we see of him or his content, and I hope he can heal from this as well.

To my fellow SA survivors, I’m so incredibly sorry that our trauma has been thrown around like this. Our hurt and pain do not deserve to be mocked in this way, and I wish it would’ve never even happened. You’re stronger than what happened, regardless of how shitty this situation has been for us. And as a 24 year old, I like to consider myself a big sister of sorts, so I love all of you. We got through it then, we’ll do it again.

Speaking woman to woman, I’m sorry this has been so messed up. This will make it harder for us to come forward in the future and that is indescribably frustrating. However, that does not take away from the pain and hurt we went through, and I hope if you do have the strength to come forward, you are believed.

I’m done with this whole situation. It should not have come to this point, and if you stayed this far, I greatly appreciate you reading this. One last time. Caiti, I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable. Get therapy, better friends, and take a break from the internet. George, I hope you learn from this situation, and I’m sorry you were made out to be a criminally offensive person before giving your side or anyone ever speaking to you.

I hope you both heal.

I hope sexual assault victims having to relive trauma, and are affected by this continue to heal.

I love you all.

Lex

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golden-barnes · 1 year

Note

So I have this concept in my head I think I even shared it with another writer. But anyway here it goes. Reader is the cook at the avengers tower and Bucky is convinced she's working for Hydra. He thinks she was sent to trick him and spy on him. His reasoning is she always where's these aprons that reminds him of his ma. Different aprons for every occasion. She always has 40s music playing and is always singing along and dancing. She's this soft feminine bundle of sunshine. And her chocolate chip cookies taste just like his ma's. He knows she's evil but she's really just wonderful. He has fallen for her but doesn't realize it and is constantly trying to get her to reveal that she is a Hydra agent. She just wants to make him happy because she saw what he was like when he was healing after what Hydra did and harbors a huge crush. She actually got the recipe from his sister before she passed away to make them to help Steve adjust and started making them for both of them. Anyway I'm done rambling.

Your freaking BRAINNNNN. Ugh if this starts a series in my page Im blaming you because I am obsessed but also don't have enough time to write a full story so I might do something longer later with this idk. (also I'm envisioning a chubby plus size reader because it just felt right) Hope you like it!

Warning: swearing

"Hey, Robocop, could you stop glaring at our new cook?" Sam joked, noticing his friend glaring at their newest cook.

"She's a spy, Sam." Sam scoffed at the ridiculousness of Bucky's words.

"Bucky, she is baking an upside-down pineapple cake and wearing a pink and white apron while dancing to a Nat King Cole song. If she's a spy, Beyonce is my wife." Sam tried to reason with the soldier, but Bucky glared at him.

"Maybe that's what Hydra wants you to think. They are trained to be unsuspecting and blend in." Bucky whispered to Sam, looking at the cook, who was singing the lyrics of the song that was playing. He was transported back in time when his mom and sister would do the same thing. And there she was, (Y/N) in his mom's summertime apron, singing one of his mom's favorite songs. Hydra was getting sloppy with their spies if this was what they were sending.

After his therapy session, Bucky arrived at the compound and noticed a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen counter. He didn't think much, but he grabbed one and ate it.

He paused and looked at the cookie. It was exactly like his ma's recipe. He could feel his eyes water because he hadn't realized how much he missed these fucking cookies.

"Hello, Sargent. Like the cookies?" The alleged spy asked. She was wearing a very familiar floral apron. An apron he used to laugh at, saying it looked like his nana's curtains. His ma would always stick her tongue out in retaliation. Maybe he should try and see if she has the same reaction...

"Nice apron... Kinda looks like my grandma's curtains." (Y/N) laughed at his joke.Like a full belly laugh. She looks cute, Bucky thought. But immediately shook his head. Nope, this girl that looks like a warm hug personified is evil.

"It does kinda look like that. My grandma had the same one." She said, twiddling with the edge of the apron. Hydra really trained this one well.

And every day it was like this. Bucky would find her singing and dancing with an apron that was exactly like the one his mom would wear. It was driving him insane. Sam had tried to reason with him, but everything felt like a trap. It was like Hydra stole his memories and was recreating them with a beautiful lady that was just Bucky's type.

But today, it was Bucky's last straw. (Y/N) was wearing his ma's favorite red apron. And he knew it was his ma's because he could see the J and R embroidered in the apron's hem. Bucky had bought the apron, and Becca embroidered it as a Mother's Day gift.

"Cookie?" She asked, showing him a plate of freshly baked chocolate cookies. They smelt exactly like the ones ma' used to make. It angered him.

"What's your deal? How did you get this recipe and that apron?" Bucky growled. (Y/N) took a step back, but she didn't look scared.

"You know the bakery in Queens called Paulie's?" She started saying; Bucky nodded. His mom used to bring them there anytime they were going to celebrate something special in their family.

"I used to work there part-time in high school. So did Rebecca, your sister... She was the head baker there and taught me all the recipes I knew. A lot of them were your mom's. When she retired and moved in with her grandson, she gave me all these beautiful aprons. I am sorry if it made you uncomfortable. " She said honestly.

Bucky kept looking into her eyes to search for a lie. But there wasn't any there.

"Steve went to Paulie's and tried my cookies. He said it tasted like your mom's, and that's when SHIELD hired me. They thought having a familiar aspect would be easier for your transition." She confessed.

"And the music?" Bucky whispered. He felt kinda nice; she wasn't a spy. She was just a woman who had a connection with his sister. Maybe he could find out more about her last moments through her.

"She wouldn't work if she didn't have music playing in the background. I think I just adopted that habit." She said sheepishly. Bucky chuckled; his mom was the same.

"Would you like to learn how to back?" She added and Bucky nodded, holding back the tears.

"Sure, I would love to." The smile that she gave him was worth a million dollars and he would gladly pay it if it meant he would see it again. To think he thought it was a fucking Hydra spy.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes drabble #nami answers

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for telling my ex I had sex?

This has been rolling around in my head for a while. I'm pretty concerned I did the wrong thing and was needlessly cruel.

My (20X) ex-boyfriend (25M) was pretty self-obsessed the entire time we were together. We has known each other for 8 years and got together when I was 17 (I know this part is fucked up, I've come to realize it since).

He always expected me to be there and spend all my time with him. Example: One time he got mad at me for falling asleep when I had a crown on my island in animal crossing and made a public show of it on the group I was opening my island to, consisting of both my brother and my cousin. He's overall just very clingy and doesn't really seem to think anything is ever his fault from my friends' perspective, and eventually mine as well.

Anyway, I tried very hard to get away from him, but since we had been using the same Skype group for years and he was the one I told everything to, it was pretty difficult to do, until my current girlfriend (21X) came into my life and I could cling to them instead of this dying, toxic relationship.

I ended up deleting Skype and not initiating conversations with him. He started using Discord to talk to me occasionally, and I kept it polite but distant. He kept trying to work his way back in though, and I could tell. Largely innocuous things, like sending little hearts and stuff, and continuing to make sexual remarks after I told him I didn't want him to anymore.

So here's where it gets rough.

My ex had this girlfriend who left him and stopped talking to him altogether. Eventually she got married, and he took it very personally and hated her husband. I promised I would never leave him the way she did.

Well, I met up with my girlfriend for the first time and we immediately clicked. That night, like the title says, we had sex.

(I need to make it clear that I had told him at this point multiple times I wanted to break up and just be friends, trying FwB at one point just to ease him into it, but at this point I wanted nothing to do with him aside from polite conversation. I had also told him he needed to get therapy before I would consider getting close to him again, and he still hadn't attempted to get therapy.)

The next day, while I was trying to enjoy the event we were at, my ex sent me a picture of a heart-shaped stone. I sent back a picture of the two of us at the event.

He asked who it was, and "I can't believe you went without me smh" (probably a joke. probably.)

I responded back, "we had sex last night"

He immediately got more formal, asking why I would do this to him and saying his ex and I have a lot more in common than I think. I then explained to him that I was sick of him doing the things he had been doing, and he claimed it was all platonic.

We haven't spoken since, except once when I let him know his art was in an AI database.

So.... AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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zfiledh · 1 year

Text

Headcanons: The Owl House

In no particular order:

Luz and Camila took Amity, Hunter, Gus and Willow to Comic Con dressed like characters from Cosmic Frontier. They actually got to meet the creator(s) of Cosmic Frontier, who were very bemused by Gus and Hunter asking a multitude of questions and Gus’ warning about the giraffes. Luz and Amity got to hang out with fans of The Good Witch Azura.

After the Collector installed the new portal door, Jacob Hopkins managed to get out of jail and attempted to sneak into the house. The last anyone heard from Jacob, he was trying to set up an online fundraiser to get home from Mars (when he really was sent to a place called Quinhagak, Alaska.)

Months after Belos fell, Alador and Odalia divorced. Odalia tried to revive their original arms business, but it fell flat. Amity, Edric and Emira never spoke to her again.

Masha learned the truth about Vee and the Demon Realm. In fact, they’re one of the first humans to attend Gus’ Human Student Exchange Program.

Some sketchy ex-Coven Heads (the Potions Head, Terra, & Adrian) and Kikimora attempted to take over the Boiling Isles and replace the vacancy left by Belos. This was quickly thwarted by the B.A.T.T.s C.A.T.T.s and the Hexside squad and a thorough investigation and trial took place. Unsurprisingly, Odalia was also implicated in the plot because of the subpar Abomotons that were used. The plotters and Odalia were banished from the Boiling Isles and sent to Titan Trapper Island to live out their sentence. Kikimora worked out a plea deal and that’s how she was found working with Matt Tholomule to rebuild Bonesborough.

Eda and her dad have a better relationship these days, to Gwendolyn’s delight. Dell and Gwendolyn have also doted on King and Hunter. In fact, Eda was the one who introduced Hunter to Dell after Luz mentioned that Hunter wanted to learn how to carve Palismen.

A delegation was sent to Titan Trapper Island, and Bill is no longer the leader there. Tarak was appointed as the new leader and he promised that he and his people will not to go after the last Titan (King). It also helped that The Collector was included in that delegation to seal the deal and promised to build a portal between the two islands if the Titan Trappers behaved...and changed their way of dressing and the name of their island.

Lilith unlocked her harpy form the same way Eda did: with cookies made by Hooty. However, it wasn’t as “smooth” as Eda’s transformation, but with the help from Eda, Gwendolyn, and Camila, she was able to take control of her transformations. Hooty was also temporarily banned from the kitchen. Right after she managed this, Lilith showed off her transformation in front of Flora.

Luz told Eda what Papa Titan told her, and Eda felt honored. Though Eda was a bit offended about the Titan questioning her homemade apple blood recipe.

The Therapy Coven had never been busy after the fall of Belos. Hunter and Raine in particular spent some time with them because of the shared trauma of possession by Belos.

Hunter elected to stay with Darius, though he's always welcome with the Nocedas back in the Human Realm, with the Parks, the Blights (minus Odalia), Eda, and the senior Clawthornes.

Willow introduced Hunter to her dads after Hunter finished gushing about sewing and wolves with Darius and Eberwolf.

Boscha peaked in high school.

The Bat Queen sensed that there was something about Hunter, and Hunter told her about Flapjack’s sacrifice. After that talk, Hunter also became welcome in The Bat Queen’s forest.

Luz and Amity got more “mundane, slice-of-life dates”, both in the human realm and the demon realm.

The Collector visits King from time to time, and the Hexside squad learned to relax around them and teach them about how to approach people and play other games.

There was an attempt to introduce Camila to the food in the Boiling Isles. Suffice to say, she was only able to eat griffin eggs like Luz, though she found the animals there quite fascinating.

Viney and Jerbo eventually became friends again, to Barkus’ relief. (Barkus knew they would become friends, it was a matter of when.)

Principal Bump officially retired as Principal the following year. That was not the end of his love of education because he spent the next year to reach out to Glandus and St. Epiderm about revising their curriculum and offering multiple magic tracks.

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bearsinpotatosacks · 6 months

Text

Top gun 50s/early 60s AU but it's also a boarding school AU.

There's a separate boys and girls school but they kind of interlink, they do dances together and stuff so think like the two schools in Heartstopper and how they're close by and do social stuff together

Carole is a scholarship student, she's a bookworm who has those big glasses and a gap toothed smile. Her roommate is Penny, a nepotism baby with a dad who got offered the role of an Admiral after his excellence as a Captain in The War, she's very sporty and more butch, or as much as she can be in the late 50s/early 60s, as she has 4 brothers.

Carole's friends with the other scholarship kid, Charlotte Blackwood, who's detemined to make it into college even if her parents really don't think that's a woman's place. She's got a weekend job in town and saves all her money up for fancy clothes, bright red lipstick, satin dresses with fur trims and does her hair like Marilyn Monroe. Her roommate is one, Elizabeth Corday, a british student who just wants to be a surgeon like her dad

In the boy's school we have Nick Bradshaw and his cousin, Mark Greene, both kids with dad's in the military. Goose is called that for how he sneaked a goose into the girls dorms during a prank war.

He's best friends with Pete Mitchell, sent to the school by an aunt who just wants him out of the way like everyone. Last year he dormed with goose but this year, let's say their junior year so 16-17, he's been paired with Tom Kazansky, determined to be an Admiral just like his dad.

But Goose realises he not only likes rock and roll, learning to play a lot of songs on the piano much to the teacher's dismay, but also boys. One boy in particular, the Captain of the Football team, Ron Kerner

Ron's a scholarship kid too, he's serious about getting out of his shitty life any way possible and does not have time for dating

Goose goes to the school library with his friend Carole, and finds out that she has a crush on her roommate Penny and, to make it even more taboo for them, her friend Charlie as well

And when his cousin Mark makes the assumption that he's dating her, he gets the brilliant idea to fake their relationship, try to set up their crushes with each other, Charlie with Pete and Penny and Ron, secretly date them behind the scenes, using their double dates as a cover up to go off with their crushes

The only problem is, they have to do this without outing themselves and maybe getting themselves kicked out to conversion therapy *sad 50s noises*

And to add another layer, Penny and Charlie don't even like each other because they're fighting over Pete

Charlie dated him last year, as a cover up and in the poor hope that it will get rid of her outrageous crush on Carole, but showed up after the summer to see him sharing spit with Penny

So they hate each other

But both love Carole

And Carole loves both of them

When hanging out on the weekend, Penny and Carole find themselves alone, one thing leads to another and they end up kissing

Carole still loves Charlie too, and Penny's not giving up her cover with Pete now

At a school dance, Goose, sad that he's still not got closer to Ron, offers her a solution, set Charlie up with Ron, two career focused people who both have an image to up keep

Cue typical rom-com shenanigans, also featuring Carole and Penny cuddling for warmth in winter, Goose watching Ron train and going fully red when he walks over and smiles, all covered in sweat

Eventually, Goose kisses Ron, he teaches him a bit of piano and tries to show him that he can still have his golden future and have fun at the same time

Also Icemav get together in the background

Eventually we get a grease like situation in terms of friendship, but charenrole, sloose and icemav together secretly

Also Mark and Elizabeth get together too, but that's really in the background, just got to sprinkle in my love for ER wherever I can lol

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reds-writings · 1 month

Note

OH MY GAWD YOU ARE SO FREAKIN TALENTED!

Seriously, every time you post, I immediately get this happy tingle inside. I think it’s basically a pavlov dog kind of instinct by now.

Everything you write feels so real. You take time with the details, with characterisation, you even write out the accents. It’s got this very meticulous quality to it, which is really rare and enthralling.

If you are feeling inspired by this prompt from the miscellaneous list, I would be thrilled to see what you can come up with

“The residual fear and anxiety after waking from a nightmare.”

thank you!! this is such a high compliment i am positively giddy. for this one i kinda did something different. reader gets comforted for once as opposed to rust! this drabble includes a bit of a sneak peek of what she went through after he left for alaska. fair to say it's a little heavy! hope you enjoy!

Nightmares visited you sparingly with the amount of attended therapy and self-care efforts you had made towards yourself over the past decade. It unfortunately hadn’t meant that they’d ever release your tired mind for good. Always involving the same scenario. July of 03. The Bayou. Those girls. Deafening gunfire riddling anything it could find. The searing pain of Lenny Broussard’s vengeful knife. You as the tragically doomed target. That stench of death burning your nostrils something sinister, stomach made to twist unforgivably. One way or another, you were forced to relive it on repeat in the inescapable realm of sleep.

You’d had one tonight. It had maybe been a month or two since the last one but it shook you all the same. Ironically, the longer in between these nightmares the harder the come down was when they made their attack once again. Sweat stuck to you like some sickly second skin and your hands couldn’t cease their trembling no matter how hard you balled your fists. Defenses always remained high after these fits, like you’d somehow be unlucky enough to find yourself sent back in time to suffer the consequences of that failed raid in one torturously hellish loop.

It had been raining hard outside for a while now. Using the violent downpour as white noise to helplessly quiet your unsteady mind, you had been curled in on yourself on the couch for God only knows how long now. The buzz of adrenaline had numbed your skin, keeping you locked in place like some petrified statue. The silent tears that once ran blood hot now stained your swollen face in a dry track as you fought off any lingering tremors.

The sound of shuffling footsteps on hardwood had your aching muscles tightening up again and sinuses stinging with the threat of incoming saltwater. A hesitant hand came to rest on your hair, freezing in place at your sudden jolt at the contact. But you knew that touch. That veil of cigarette smoke and cologne that was so uniquely Rust. He hadn’t ever seen you like this before. Ever. The both of you hadn’t been able to really talk about all that he missed from Alaska. The window of opportunity had no room to present itself in the midst of you giving your all to making sure he healed successfully over the past several weeks.

His careful fingers brushed the curtain of hair obscuring your troubled face to tuck what they could behind your neck. He’d gotten a glimpse of some of the old scars from the gruesome attack here and there but you were careful to keep most out of view for his fragile sake. The one taking up most of the left side of your face often rendered him painfully remorseful whenever he really focused on it. An unmerciful marker to remind you both of the near-fatal blow that almost robbed you of life once and for all. His throat would always find itself tightening at the thought of having been so casually unaware of what horrors had occurred due to his ill-fated cowardice. From what he gathered, you had gone at it all alone minus the initial help from your sister living in New Orleans. Marty hadn’t offered much on the story. Whether it was because he didn’t feel like it was his place to share or he wasn’t around for much of it at the time, Rust hadn’t the nerve to ask.

When you made no further shuddering movements, he gently maneuvered your trembling form into the haven of his lap. His other hand came to guide your head to his erratically beating heart. Discovering you so visibly small and frightened did plenty to set him off. You always cared for everyone else more than you ever would for yourself. It was a rare occurrence for him to be the one cradling you as opposed to any other scenario where it always seemed to be the other way around.

“It’s okay, baby.” He kept his tone hushed as he gently rocked you back and forth. The tenderness of the notion had your body wracking in reviving sobs. All he could do was continue to sway and mumble words of comfort so that he may just ease your mind by a fraction.

“We’re safe. You gotta breathe for me, baby. Breathe. Just like that.” Rust exaggerated inhaling and exhaling for you to follow. Soft kisses dotted your hairline as your hands unfurled to wrap around his sturdy midsection. If you had half the mind, you’d be embarrassed to find yourself balled up like some baby in your lover’s arms. You couldn’t find it in you to care one bit. No one could do what he was currently doing for you now in all the time you had been alone.

Once your breaths had started to calm down again he moved your head so that he could see you more clearly despite still being shrouded in the dark. You were sure you were a grisly sight. Snotty, sniffly, puffy, and all. He didn’t give a shit about any of it. His heart burned all the brighter at the vulnerability you entrusted him with enough to display. The calloused pad of his thumb drew itself feather-light over your scar, making your eyes flutter shut. Not much about you had changed, not much could with an eternal beauty like yours, he decided.

He brought himself down to kiss your marred cheek, then reverently once more to your forehead, before tugging you closer into his body as if to act as a shield against the world around you.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed to be the only thing he could say lately. You just shook your head and nuzzled in as much as you were physically able, sticking to him like makeshift velcro. You just wanted to feel less at a distance from everything with him by your side.

Rust was your tether and he’d be damned to ever let you go again.

#reds-writings #rust cohle #true detective #true detective season 1 #rust cohle x reader #anon ask #writer blog #rust cohle imagine #true detective imagine #jj universe #drabble #blurb #request #true detective fanfic

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halfagone · 1 year

Note

Sudden thought I had:

Phantom, after everything he did for Amity, now being an adult (I'm putting at 27 here) with the necessary emotional maturity to recognize that he doesn't owe them anything, seals the portal, places the entire frame in his lair for safekeeping, along with all the blueprints his parents had, and leaves to go explore the world, like his little girl likes to do so much (I'm a sucker for Danny adopting Ellie, and being very supportive of her while also being always ready to be summoned next to her and crack some skulls if needed).

While going through Paris, and finding a pair of teenage heroes, like he and Valerie had once been, Danny decided he can take a break from his travelling to helpd these baby heroes and give them the training and support they need.

They get along better than anyone expected. Danny is Life and Death, Balance personified. Who else would be better to teach the hosts of Creation and Destruction than the one who embodies both in perfect balance?

I'm envisioning Danny sits down to have a nice chat with the Guardian about getting the kids proper training, and he's not going anywhere. The kwami in the box swarm him because he feels like a spirit of incredible power, and really, what else would happen except Danny finding himself taking spiritual custody over two teenage heroes who are clearly way over their heads fighting literal adults.

Step number one: get legal custody of Adrien Agreste and get his father charged to the fullest extent of the law for being so negligent to his own son.

I'm seeing this going 2 ways:

Danny gets custody over Adrien, moves into an apartment next to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, and their place becomes Vigilante Central, with Phantom often watching over the kids as they go out at night, typically going invisible to not give away his presence.

Hawkmoth tries one last desperate move to get the Miraculous before the police come for him. He takes to the field...and is subsequently trounced by Phantom, who beats him into the ground for picking on a bunch of children instead of getting therapy.

Plucking the Miraculous and setting the kwami within free from the old man's control, certainly expedited the process of acquiring custody over Adrien, but it also sent the poor boy spiraling for a while.

Or 2:

Their entire issues are solved by Gabriel being unable to use his Miraculius, because prison doesn't really...allow...jewellery. Which means Hawkmoth no longer shows up. Until Natalie, ever loyal to her boss, picks up the Moth Miraculous and tries to make his dreams come true. Except Phanton is...a little more ready to throw hands, and by the gods she's going to catch them whether she wants to or not.

By the end of it, Danny just doesn't really go anywhere else. Just stays in France full-time to help raise these two reckless kids. And sure, Marinette has her own wonderful parents. Doesn't mean Adopted Cousin Fenton won't spoil her rotten and enable all her chaotic gremlin tendencies while also keeping her safe. Add Ellie into the mix, and Paris has never been more happy and yet annoyed by all these gremlin heroes running around, cracking the most awful jokes and keeping the city safe.

I actually really like the idea of option 2, not gonna lie. I like the slow, dawning realization some people might have, Adrien specifically, as they realize the possible reason for Hawkmoth's sudden disappearance. While I usually like public reveals for Danny, for Hawkmoth I actually prefer more low-key ones because I know people would probably blame or question Adrien for not knowing sooner. (Because let's face it, this is the same world that lets kids like Chloé get away with all sorts of stuff.) So I think if I ever wrote a fic following along with this kind of idea, I would actually go the route of #2.

You're giving me such brain worms, don't do this to me! One of these days I may actually have to commit to a crossover between these two specifically, and I already have so much to write TAT

#halfagone replies #dp x mlb

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wonderbias · 1 year

Text

Secrets (your fire)

Inspired by "Symptom of your Touch" by @yoonivy. Go read it!

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader.

Genre: Fluff, little bit of angst and humor.

Warnings: language, mentions of sexual relationships.

Notes: after more than ten years in tumblr reading fanfiction I'm publishing my first one. Yep. I'm old. Also, inspired in Magdalena Bay song Secrets (your fire).

Word count: idk, in google docs says "short".

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

She is petrified at the confession.

So much that she almost chokes on her ice cream.

No. All good.

The almond went through the right pipe.

"So...", she begins. "How many times?"

He stares back at her, his angular cheekbones covered in a blush. Her stare is one of 'Really dude?'.

He sighs.

"...too many to count," replies Aemond. His hand runs across his medium length hair.

"Holy fucking hell! And now...?"

"She's very happy with Aegon, the jewel of the family," Aemond says, the venom in his voice evident. "They started dating after...the last time, yeah. Been together for six months."

She stares back at him and sighs, when she asked him what was his most important secret, she hadn't expected this. Her confession of being a virgin at 21 was just a tiny detail next to the bomb he had dropped. Suddenly she had no appetite for ice cream.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this.", she said, leaning close to softly caress his shoulder.

His face fell, the look of despair in his eyes was replaced with rage. Although, there still was a sadness undertone to it.

"You know what the worst part is? That the cunt of my brother knows, he fucking knew all the time! So now I have to live with the humiliation of him knowing, the heartbreak and having been used like a common whore!", he spat.

She sighed, his hurt and angst was evident.

"I wouldn't say like a common whore...at least whores get paid," she tried to joke with him.

Bingo. Success. He smiled a little at that.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that...dark version of 'The Kissing Booth'. But hey...at least she dumped you before she caught an STD from Aegon," she joked with a wiggle of her brows.

He burst in laughter and threw her a pillow.

"You fucking idiot. Thank you," and there was sincerity and affection in his eyes for his best friend. "So, is that an confession that you watched 'The Kissing Booth'?"

"Yes I did watch it, I washed my eyes with sulphuric acid after," she said with amusement in her voice. "But, let's go back to 'That Girl'. Are you better? The therapy is working?"

"I-I like to think it does. I've changed...a lot...since I started therapy. It helped me to finally appreciate myself, but when 'That Girl' is brought up I feel like I haven't made any progress. Now my insecurities are tied with the probability of being alone forever and that I'm unworthy of love," he said with a sigh, his fingers scratching the couch.

"Well, that makes two of us. But mine is being alone forever, that I'm unworthy of love and dying a virgin," she said back to him. "I win."

He laughed at her and shook his head in disbelief, before changing the topic into what movie should they watch, like every Sunday.

Their friendship had started in the most bizarre way. They didn't share a major in Dorne College and they lived far away from each other but, by destiny, they had registered in a seminar of Literature at college last semester.

The first time they had talked to each other had happened when they arrived ten minutes earlier to class and started a small talk about their majors. When fifteen minutes had passed and nobody else had arrived they realized that the class was a Thursday, not a Tuesday like they had individually thought.

A small error had blossomed into a great friendship. They both had trouble socializing, very few friends and an interest in novels of any kind, especially fanfiction. When he had, by error, sent her a link to an AO3 fanfic, she had screamed in delight at sharing the same tastes.

It felt magical to have someone who completely understood you, who understood the fascination for reading fanfics where #BruceWayneisaGoodParent, who had the same humor in memes, who knew the references to Epic Rap Battles of History and who screamed in longing at the scene where Cecilia asked Robbie to come back to her in Atonement.

It was perfect.

Well, except for that small small detail...

She liked him.

A lot.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #mine

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jackiequick · 9 months

Text

Blonde hair, blue eyes and a pretty little smile to match | Steve Rogers Fanfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC

Timeline: Phase 1 -> 2012, Pre-Avengers

Summary: The last thing the girl needed was a reminder that her life sucked right now. Broken hands, broken heart and a broken spirt. She was healing slowly but surely but last thing she needed was to see a face like his. Or maybe that’s what she needed?

Characters mentioned: Sarah Rogers, Leo Strange, Theigo Strange

Marvel AU

———

Her heart felt like it beating out of her chest. The whispers in her head bounced around like a ghost in the mist of daylight. The city streets brought nothing to brighten up her mood. She just got out a physical therapy session with her older brothers.

Two brothers! Jeez, her dad clearly was busy that he made 3 children all at once.

She loves her brothers. Thiego and Leo are her lifeline whenever she needed it. She didn’t expect to find comfort in the both of them.

But sometimes it was suffocating being surrounded by them all the time.

Magic lesson one day, physical therapy the next and a consistent basis of reminders from doctors. Looks from people and old friends that you aren’t the same after this. That accident sent you for a worldwide mess.

She didn’t feel pretty. She cried in her room last night about it. Her soft skin was now scarred. Her hands and arms were always wrapped in bandage. A cut on her forehead that result in some shitty set of bangs. She couldn’t do anything right, she felt anxious about everything.

Self-conscious.

No one looked at her like a human being anymore. More like a half inch of what she used to be.

She wasn’t the girl she worked herself to be for the media’s eyes anymore.

All the years of work, interviews, training her spirt and wishful writing was down the drain now.

The press always showing up to ask her questions. Cameras following her movements across the streets. Upper east side ladies from the night of the accident such as Liane Felton took her accident as a way to show off and pretend to feel sorry about her.

It made her sick. She would’ve stay hidden behind the curtain of her hospital room if it wasn’t for the fact that she wanted some fresh air. She was caught up in her thought that she didn’t have a moment to think about what happened.

Her favorite small size coffee was splashed onto the sidewalk. Her shaky hands didn’t allow her to keep her fingers gripping the cup and it didn’t help that the jerk who roughly bumped into her, didn’t care to say sorry.

He just smirked looking over his shoulder as he walked away. Pathetic. He said underneath his breath. But she heard.

And he was right.

She stumbled into the ground about to lose her grip and let herself just fall. She squeezed her eyes shut, her legs felt wobbly and her lips parted into a broken sob in the back of her throat. Her face hurts. Her whole body just hurts.

Suddenly she didn’t fall. She could’ve swore she let herself stumble. But instead she realized that an hand was placed gently onto her forearm and the other cautiously holding the small of her back.

Her eyes met the face. However his face was turned to face the previous jerk from beforehand with a glare and shout. He walked her over to a small open table nearby a cafe, let her sit down carefully.

Which lead her to this moment.

She caught her breath in a hitched note, her eyes wet with tears and sniffling a bit. She rubbed her nose, finally looked up at the guy. She didn’t even realize he was asking, if she was alright for the second time in a row.

“Hey. Don’t cry, things happen. A-are you alright?” He asked.

Short blonde hair fell a little out of place. Light eyes. Pretty blues like the ocean on a warm autumn day. And small yet soft smile to match. It didn’t help that he had a beauty mark on his far left cheek. He looked like an all American painting.

A charming spirted man who loves to paints, drink a single coffee every Sunday morning and take a walk underneath the lower east side.

She has been through his before.

Being looked by the pretty blonde who asked if she was alright, saving her from her sad story and two years later he left her. Dead. Alone. Caught in a mist of sorrow.

She can already picture the other relationship ending in a framed silhouette of her crying her eyes out.

Her mother just died some time back. She didn’t need another reminder of what she lost. Not today. Please god, not today. Anything but today. She was a mess.

She couldn’t even look at the man who looked concerned about her. She was left lost for words for a second there, like she couldn’t breathe exactly what he meant. Tuning out his voice before tuning it back into her ears.

No. Not today. She reminded herself. You doesn’t deserve to be saved at this moment.

“Miss? Ma’am?” He asked once again, with such honesty in his eyes.

She let out a small group of words as her response, “..y-yeah. Yes I’m alright. Just peachy..”

“Hmm.”

“Look, I’m sorry you look busy, I’m fine. Just go on with your day, sir..”

“Uh, no it’s alright. I didn’t have much planned today. But you don’t look alright, do you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine…i um, thank you for sa—helping me.”

He softly smile, “Your welcome. I’m sorry that happened to you, you seem like you’re not having the best week and that guy just made it worse. No offense..”

“None taken.” She replied half smiling back, “I’m not having a good week and i thought a cup of coffee would fix it..”

“Well that’s New York for ya. The people are tough and don’t want to waste others time. But hey, at least you didn’t get coffee on yourself. So that’s a plus right?”

This time she let out tired chuckle and shook her head, “Yeah, your right about that.”

“You see? You’re day is looking up i hope.” He replies with a matching chuckle.

“Yeah..I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I have to head home soon..”

“You sure you okay?”

“Y-yeah..i can handle this.”

The women decided to walk out of the chair, only to stumbled as her hands started to shake. Twitching and shaking out of anxiety, nervousness and a flash of heat that crawled up her back. She wasn’t okay and she knew it.

He knew it. Guiding her to sit back down as he kneeled down in front of her. He caught her fall. He can tell she was nervous, he has seen it before in plenty of men and women.

His mother hands used shake out of nervousness, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding her breath. So his father used to gently guide his somewhat safe to sit, doing breathing exercises and run his fingers across her palms to let her know she was feeling something. Concentrate on something. Sometimes he held her wrists.

So he decided to do the same thing. This was more extreme that he seen, but he willing to give it a try. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he let the poor women go uncertain of her next move.

His did some breathing exercises, telling her to hold her breath every once in a while before letting out. Coming up for air. Telling her to focus on his voice, his words. Just try and concentrate on his voice and the sounds around them.

“I-i can’t..” She said letting out a shaking breath, sounding like a whisper as she closed her eyes.

He kept a small smile on his face, running his gently fingers crossed the palms of her hands. “It’s okay. Focus on him, what do you feeling?” He asked.

“I just feel you…i-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Your okay. Is it okay if i hold your wrist, press them down onto your knees?”

She just nodded. Somehow she allowed him to do so. She didn’t know what it was? She didn’t want to be saved. Or maybe she did want to be saved? But she doesn’t always think she deserve it. But he didn’t see her exactly that way, he just wanted to calm her down.

In her eyes, she was the damsel in distress. He probably saw it himself.

His voice was gentle as he talked about the last time he ever done this. It was a way to distract her, she knew it. But she didn’t care. She appreciated it actually. Taking a hold of her wrist eventually pressing them down, gently onto her knees to keep her balance.

Suddenly he realized something he forgot to ask. He chuckled to himself embarrassed he didn’t ask her this, nor did she ask him. They were literally in public doing this practice with the girl and he didn’t ask her. He thanked the lord for the cafe outside being somewhat empty.

He has seen her on TV. The News. The accident, the whole center of New York City talked about her. But she wasn’t anything like he imagined her to be. He has seen films and know people lie about their namesake for the spotlight.

To keep themselves sane and not let the whole public know everything.

Still he asked.

“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked the women holding her hands, with a gentle whisper.

“You don’t know my name?” She replied with a half smile.

“Oh, I know your name. I just wanna know if you know your name.”

“S-stella.”

He raise an eyebrow at her.

“Stella. Stella Strange.” She said with a soft smile chuckling.

“Okay, okay good.” He replied with a matching smile.

She let out a small laugh, it sounded like a scoff. She heard a significant change in his voice. He looked at her confused for not understanding why she was laughing.

“W-what-what’s so funny?” He asked with a light chuckle.

“You’re from Brooklyn.” She said with a smile.

“Y-yeah. How did you…?”

“I know an accent like that when i see it.”

“You caught me.”

“What you doing outside of Brooklyn? Waiting for the big guy?”

“Ma’am?”

The polite tone with his accent slipped out once again, as she chuckled at that.

“The big man? Iron man? He flies up and around theses parts. Stark Tower is a few blocks that way.” She told him, nodding her head a direction across from that.

“Oh? Oh no!” He replies with a chuckle this time, “No, I’m not sure I’m here for him. Just wanted to hang around the city. I love the parks here.”

“So why are you here?”

“I uh, don’t know yet. I live here now, moved out of Brooklyn some time again, and today, I decided to take a walk near the park. Grab a coffee and do some grocery shopping.”

“Nice place to meet people.”

“Tell me about it.”

She noticed her hands started to stopped shaking as the time they talked. The gentle grip and movement he held on her rough scared hands calmed her down. She looked away ashamed.

Stella just met the guy, sheepishly let him hold her hands. He must’ve thought she was damaged or something with hands like that. He hasn’t even seen her arms.

She has taken out her bandages an hour ago for let her hands breathe but she hasn’t looked at them since then. Her arms still worn the bandages but her hands were exposed. The roughness, the way she couldn’t hold things correctly anymore for too long, the thick scares and the issues that came with it.

She felt ugly once again.

He noticed the look on her face and asked, “Hey..you okay?”

She nodded, “I um..yeah. Sorry, my hands aren’t the prettiest thing you seen…”

“Hey, look they aren’t that bad. They will heal soon, just takes time.”

“Yeah, i hope so too…they aren’t even the same anymore. It probably sounds weird but i hate it..”

“Everyone has cuts, bruises and scratches on their body. But that’s what makes us human.”

“..why are you so nice to me? We just met..”

“That’s right. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

“But..you helped me..why?”

“Yeah i know..because I believe everyone deserves a hand of kindness no matter who’s it’s from.”

“Who taught you that?”

“My mother..kindness is a strong thing. You should alway help people out, even if it’s the smallest thing.”

Those sounded like something her friend, Sam Wilson, might’ve said to her. A good solider.

Maybe she did need a bit of saving today? A small reminder of what she lost, but also what she might’ve been missing out on…?

That feeling of being helped, accepting the fact that she’s not okay and not being seen as a result of a crashing issue.

Who knows? She still thought she didn’t deserve it exactly.

However the smile on her face might’ve said otherwise.

She took a deep breath hearing that and chuckled, “What are you? The perfect man? Hercules in disguise…?”

“I’m not perfect.” He replied with a chuckle, “I’m whoever i need to be today.”

“Prince charming…”

“What?”

“Your a knight in disguise. A heroic man…like a hero?”

If she only what they said about him, he thought. He just chuckled accepting her words and shrugged, not wanting to say too much. He was just glad he could help her out, returning a smile to her face.

He helped her stand up, noticing the time and realizing he should be heading home soon. They both should.

She thanked him once again for the helpful service he gave her. Before she walk away she asked him something. She should’ve asked him beforehand but wasn’t thinking straight to bring it into conversation.

She turned around, pushing hair out her face and asked, “Uh, hey.”

He hummed in response, hands in his pockets facing the young women.

“What’s your name?” She asked, sounding silly about it.

“Steve.” He replied with a smile, “Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to have met you, Steve.”

“Nice to have met you too, Stella.”

With that last minute, they walked different directions from another, facing the other way. Stella nodded, taking a breath and thanked the universe for fact she didn’t fall. That someone was kind enough to ask if she was okay today. Even if she wasn’t, it felt good.

Crossing their paths across the streets, not without Steve looking over his shoulder at the women before entering the general storefront. He nodded, start to feel okay that he woke up 70 years later in the future. The people will need help doesn’t matter what happens. He let out a small sigh smiling to himself.

Sometimes the smallest interaction with someone can leave an impact on you..

Thank you so much for reading this! 💙

Please like, comment, share and reblog.

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @hanlueluver @msrochelleromanofffelton @mandylove1000 @eliohasmyheart @terry-perry @sherloquestea @superspookyjanelle @starkleila @whitewiccan @rooster-84 @buckysteveloki-me @blueboirick and etc

#steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character #the avengers imagine #marvel x oc #mcu oc #doctor strange #the avengers 2012 #captain america the first avenger #steve rogers imagine #chris evans #anne hathaway #meet cute #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Note

ok what am I supposed to do now the one for the money, two for the show is done!!!?! I would love more lord while I go back a reread everything from the beginning!

If you’re taking requests maybe quick snapshots of the year apart? Not to get too personal but I have a crush and I’ve been stalking their social media but like in a chill way (or I’m trying to) I imagine reader and Joel both seeing each others accomplishments or posts or being tagged in things and just being happy for each other but also….the longing

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant to Be

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author's note: this is so angsty i'm sorry

Summary: This ask

Warnings: angst, yearning, oh it's so sad

Joel Miller's New Album Set to Break Records

Everything We Know About Joel Miller's New Album Glass House

Glass House Expected to Go Platinum Before Next Month

What Songs on Joel Miller's New Album Are About Famous Actress Ex?

You almost text Joel about the headlines and theories flooding your timeline. Almost. You actually started typing out a message before reading the last message you sent him almost four months ago and quickly deleting it. You're happy for him. You really are. In the pictures from his album release party, he looked insanely happy, posing with Ellie and Sarah and hugging his musician friends in celebration. He even played one of his newest songs, "Love-in-idleness," at the party with only his acoustic guitar and that deep voice of his. You think you would know it's about you even if he didn't tell you about it before you left. Love-in-idleness is the flower used in A Midsummer Night's Dream to make a love potion to unite the couples. It's common knowledge, but Joel might be one of the only people in the world who knows how much that play means to you. The song quickly becomes one of your favorites, but you don't tell him.

You scroll through his social media unashamedly. Dave Grohl and half the world congratulates him on his album release. He's making the music he's always wanted to make. Sarah told you she got into UCLA, and Ellie is drawing again. He's happy. They all are. So, why do you feel so shitty? Neither of you has deleted the pictures of each other from your profiles. It feels like a staring contest, seeing who will hold the torch of your relationship longer. It doesn't help that people are screenshotting the pictures of you together to "add context" to Joel's lyrics. The one that makes you break down is a quick snapshot someone took of you leaning on him in Central Park when you were watching the guitarist with lyrics from "The Yellow Subway."

She knows more than me. You better believe

That city couldn't hold her right, but then

I couldn't either.

Despite the heartbreaking lyrics, you two look comfortable together— your head on his shoulder and his hand in yours. You cry in between scenes, ruining your makeup and having a mini-therapy session with your makeup artist, Saoirse, as a result. You don't post anything about his new album, but you put on a happy face and post snapshots from your time spent in Ireland thus far. Pitchers of Guinness, the Cliffs of Moher, stunningly green mornings, and a picture of you and the film crew hiding out in a tent while the rain comes down around you. Joel likes the photos but makes no other move to communicate with you.

You wonder if he's torturing himself in the same way you are. You wonder if he's waiting for a headline about you dating someone new like you are for him. You wonder if he's hurting the way you are. Selfishly, you hope he is because that means he still thinks of you. You also want him to hurt because he hurt you. You still love him, but you can't be the woman who crawls back to someone who can't trust her with things, like telling her the mother of his child is back in town.

This is what's best. It's what needs to happen. You need to be here, working, and he needs to be there, being a dad and making music. It doesn't make it any easier or soothe the ache in your heart, but it's necessary. It's for your own good. Right?

Right?

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel x actress!reader #rockstar!joel miller #tlou au #the last of us au #joel miller fic #joel miller requests

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lykaonimagines · 2 years

Text

Come Home - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4,233

Description: Sherlock had sent Y/N away shortly after Mary’s death in hopes of protecting her... and preventing her from stopping him from doing what he felt he had to do to save John. Now that she’s back and has all the details, she’s not sure their relationship can survive it.

Other Things: Hurt comfort. Angsty but there’s a happy ending. Timeline-wise The Final Problem doesn’t exist, this takes place shortly after the hug in The Lying Detective. Sherlock’s close enough to his mother to talk about feelings.

Warnings: Mentions prior drug use. Overall mentions/references the events of The Lying Detective and things Sherlock did in there (drug use, near overdose, setting himself up to be killed, etc). Breakup. Some swearing.

Y/N’s fingers flex on the door as she takes a deep breath and finally pushes it open. Dragging the suitcase behind her, she carefully heads up the steps to the landing. Leaving the suitcase there, she clenches her fists tightly and turns to the open door of the flat she’s lived in for years.

Taking a few steps into the room, she freezes as she finally sees Sherlock sitting in his usual chair. His eyes meet hers hopefully, but drop to the cup of tea in his hands as she feels a scowl pass across her face.

Looking over his face, her throat tightens as each new detail hits her. Scruff. He never let his facial hair grow beyond when he’s been… so it’s definitely true then. A black eye, the blood vessels in the same eye burst.

“Have you anything to say?” She asks after a few moments of silence.

“You’ve not brought your luggage in,” he states quietly, his gaze going toward the door briefly.

“I’m not sure I’m staying,” she snaps.

“This is your home. Where would you go?”

“Is it Sherlock? Is it my home?” She asks as she crosses her arms. “Because my last memory of this place was you sending me away.”

A frown pulls at his lips, “I wasn’t kicking you out of our home, I needed to send you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t have to be involved. You still live here, and we’re still together.”

“I’m honestly not sure about either of those things anymore. You sent me away giving me no real explanation, then ignored my every attempt to contact you.”

“I was trying to protect you from-” he begins before being quickly cut off.

“From you trying to kill yourself of drug overdose? Or was it the part where you baited a serial killer to murder you? One of those things?” She blinks at the hot tears crowding her eyes. “I’ve talked to John, I know what’s happened since I’ve been gone. So don’t even try to lie.“

“I… wasn’t going to lie to you,” he says softly, getting to his feet.

“No! Don’t come near me!” She yells and backs further away from him. “You sent me away to follow the most idiotic plan you’ve ever come up with. Broke your promise to me about never touching that shit again. And I find out you were weeks at most from your body just shutting down due to it.”

“I had to-”

“No you didn’t! Maybe John just needed time? Maybe he needed more therapy. He agrees with me that he thinks the entire plan was insane. I’m glad you two have mended all that, and that he’s getting the help he needs and moving forward. But what if he hadn’t made it in time Sherlock? What if he didn’t go along with it? Then what? I was supposed to come home and find you dead of an overdose or get a call that you were killed while in the hospital?”

“There was very little chance he wouldn’t have come,” Sherlock insists trying to take a step closer as she takes another away.

“You promised me!” She shouts as the tears finally drip down her cheeks. “No more drugs and no crazy life risking crap. You promised. I told you I couldn’t do this if you continued on like that. I asked you to tell me honestly if it was something you could do before I got too deep. Now here we are, you’ve broken both of them, lied to me, sent me away and ignored me for months, and I’m far too deep to just say it’s just some differences we can’t get past and just be friends. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

“I’ve hurt you,” he says slowly.

“Excellent deduction, just figured that out did you?” She growls, turning her head away from him.

“Please try to understand,” he takes another step toward her.

“What is there to understand? You didn’t attempt to understand how I would have felt about any of this, why do I have to try to understand your view on it?”

Before he can give a response, she sticks her hand up to silence him. “I don’t even know why I came back here. Maybe I was hoping you’d try to fix this somehow. I should have just stayed where I was.”

Turning back toward the door, she steps out onto the landing and grabs her suitcase. Without turning back she shouts over her shoulder, “I’m done Sherlock. This is done.”

“I- your belongings?” Sherlock asks helplessly from the doorway.

“John already said he’d box them up and send them to me when I get a new place. Goodbye,” she tugs the suitcase down the stairs as quickly as she can, pulling it out the doorway and slamming the door behind her.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she angrily stomps a few blocks away before sinking onto a bench defeated.

Where could she even go for now? Nearly everyone she knows in the city is connected to her through Sherlock. John has a baby, and Sherlock will surely be going over there.

Scrolling through her contacts, she pauses as she sees one in particular. Mummy Holmes as she’d put herself in there. His parents home… seems inappropriate but what choice does she have? He rarely visits them as is. He wouldn’t happen upon her there like he would at John’s. And she did always tell her she could come to her for help.

Swallowing her pride, she taps the contact and holds it to her ear, gnawing at her bottom lip as it rings.

“Y/N darling! It’s so good to hear from you!” The warm familiar voice greats her and eases the tension in her slightly.

“Hello, how are you?” She asks weakly and sniffles, quickly wiping her nose with a tissue from her pocket.

The line stays silent for a moment, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I… No. I’m not,” she says swallowing thickly.

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” Mrs. Holmes asks concernedly.

“Sherlock and I broke up,” she admits, the words burning on her tongue. “And I understand completely if based on that information alone the answer is no, but I… I have nowhere to go and-”

“You can come here, there will be a train at 3 and we will pick you up from the station,” she says firmly. “Or I can phone Mycroft and have him send a car to you. You can absolutely stay here dear.”

“I can take the train,” she responds softly, relief washing over her. “I don’t want to trouble your family more than I already am.”

“I assure you that you aren’t troubling us at all,” Mrs. Holmes says quickly. “Now you get a move on and get to that train. I’ll have a nice warm dinner waiting for us when we get back. We’ll see you soon!”

Hanging the phone up, Y/N stands up and grasps her suitcase and heads toward the train station with a renewed sense of determination.

The first few weeks at the Holmes’ Estate go by relatively quickly. Mrs. Holmes doing her best to make Y/N comfortable, and eventually pulling the whole story from her about the breakup.

Staying in Sherlock’s childhood room however wasn’t the easiest part of the whole ordeal. Being surrounded by all the little things that made him, well, him. Made even harder by the daily phone calls by the man himself.

Just one call a day at exactly 8PM. Each time she would watch it ring, his contact photo enlarged on the screen seeming to taunt her. A simple photo of the two of them, him behind her with his chin on her shoulder and one of his relaxed genuine smiles.

And at the end of the rings each time, he’d leave a voicemail. Sixteen voicemails sitting in the inbox staring back at her each time she unlocked her phone. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to them.

Now the seventeenth voicemail popped up on her screen shortly after the contact picture disappears, the sinking feeling in her deepening. She needed to figure out something. What she’s going to do, where she’s going to go. She couldn’t stay at his parents’ home forever.

Walking out into the family room, she freezes as Mrs. Holmes’ voice carries to her, “Sherlock, honey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

The woman in question looks up to see her, and gestures her over.

Y/N looks away for a moment, then finally gives in and walks over to take a seat next to her on the couch.

Mrs. Holmes quickly puts the call on speaker and sets it in between them.

“Mummy I don’t know what to do anymore,” Sherlock’s voice comes from the device sounding defeated and clearly upset. “She won’t answer my calls, she hasn’t responded to my texts, I’ve no clue where she’s gone and Mycroft refuses to help.”

“Dear, she may just not want to speak to you. You can’t force her to talk if she doesn’t want to.”

The line stays silent for a moment before Y/N’s eyes widen at the sound of a sniffle. “I can’t give up. I know I’ve hurt her, I know I was wrong. I know this is all my fault. But I just… can’t. I don’t know what to say or do to fix it, but I want to. I need her. I need to try.”

“You can’t always fix it when you hurt someone Sherlock, there is only so much people can handle or will deal with,” she says gently.

“I know,” he responds miserably. “I know I have probably ruined it. I don’t know how to accept that fact. Clearly I know it, but it won’t actually process as fact. Every time I think of it my brain goes frantic and tries to think of some way to stop it from being true.”

Y/N points toward the mute button on the phone quickly, making eye contact with Mrs. Holmes, “Darling give me one moment, your father just stepped in.”

Tapping the mute she looks back up at Y/N expectantly.

“Can… can you maybe invite him over here?” She asks hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” She asks asks, seemingly searching Y/N’s eyes. “Once he knows you are here, he may keep coming by trying to talk.”

Looking down at the couch, she grabs onto the fabric and takes a deep breath, “I love him… I don’t want to be apart from him. That’s one of the reasons I was so hurt. And that he seemed to not think he’d actually done anything wrong. But he sounds remorseful now… maybe…”

Mrs. Holmes reaches over and squeezes her hand tightly, “I’ll invite him, if you decide you can’t face him once he’s here you can just stay in the room until he leaves.”

Y/N nods firmly as watches as she unmutes the call, “Sherlock honey, come visit us in the morning tomorrow. It will do you some good to get out of that flat for a bit, and you know we always want to see you.”

“I… that may be a good idea,” he says slowly and shuffles on the other end of the phone.

“Why don’t you take the train at 8 and we’ll pick you up from the station?”

“Ok,” he agrees easily. “I will see you tomorrow then. Good night.”

As she ends the call, Mrs. Holmes wraps an arm tight around Y/N’s shoulders and presses a kiss to her head. “Everything is going to be alright dear.”

Fidgeting in front of the mirror, Y/N looks over her reflection for perhaps the hundredth time since she heard the car return to the house.

Was she ready for this? The question burning in her mind as she went around in circles each time she glanced at the door.

Placing her hand on the handle, she quietly twists it open and takes a step out into the hallway. His voice carries to her immediately, and she pushes herself toward the kitchen with all the determination she can manage.

Leaning against the doorway, she looks him over as he talks to his parents with his back angled toward her.

From his profile it’s obvious he still hasn’t shaved, his facial hair longer than when she last saw him. The black eye nearly gone, but his features sunken in. His hair un-styled and barely brushed hangs dully against his skin. And he appears to be wearing an old t-shirt and baggy jeans she wasn’t even aware he owned.

“Drink your tea before it goes cold,” his mother scolds as she gestures toward the cup in front of him and pushes a plate of biscuits across the table before briefly glancing up at Y/N with a reassuring smile.

“Good morning Sherlock,” Y/N says after a moment, watching as his entire frame tenses then whips around to face her, a biscuit halfway in his mouth that tumbles out to the floor.

His eyes widen and he stumbles to his feet quickly, taking a step toward her cautiously before rapidly closing the distance between them and throwing his arms around her. Her cheek presses hard into his chest as his arms tighten around her shoulders and he buries his face in her hair.

Her own arms wrap around his waist and she rubs his back soothingly. His body trembles against hers, his breathing sounding labored against her ear.

“You’re here,” his states, his voice muffled from her hair.

“I am,” she agrees, and tries to pull back to see his face. But his arms quickly tighten and pull her back in.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” he admits softly. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“That had been the initial plan.”

His breath catches in his throat and he makes a garbled sound before pulling her body completely flush to his own. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, I know how badly I’ve ruined this.”

“Do you?” She asks as she gently runs her fingertips along his spine.

“I’ve lied to you, I’ve left you out, I sent you away, I broke my promises. I was using again, I didn’t consider what you would have felt if it went wrong. I didn’t even consider how you would feel with it working out. I just expected you to be fine with it even though I hurt you,” he says miserably, his breath warm against her head. “I’ve done everything wrong and I have no right to ask it of you, but I need you, please.”

She runs her hand slowly up his back and neck until she reaches his hair, twirling her fingers in the curls she finds there and smiles slightly at the almost purr-like sound he makes at the contact. “I need you to look at me and say it.”

His hold on her slowly loosens, letting his hands go to her shoulders as he takes a step back and her hands move down to his hips.

His eyes meet hers, the redness and irritation from the tears he tries to quickly wipe away on his shirt is obvious but she doesn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry, I have royally screwed up, I’m an idiot to have risked us without a thought,” he states as his grip on her shoulders tightens. “I could make promises again, but I know they mean little after what I’ve done. All I can say is I love you, and I need you in my life. I won’t push you away, I’m going to work on letting you in. I won’t use again, for anything. Recreational or case.”

“And?” She presses quietly.

“And I won’t be as reckless with my life. It’s not just my own anymore. We built a life together and I have no right to carelessly put it at risk.”

Lifting her hand from his hip, she reaches up to cup his cheek. Smiling at him gently as he nuzzles into her palm, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he says firmly, pulling her in closer once again. “Please come home.”

Reaching her other hand up, she grabs ahold of the fabric just below the collar of his shirt and yanks his face down closer to her. “I’ll come home,” she whispers against his lips before pressing them together.

His lips press nearly bruisingly back, his lips moving in a quiet desperation on her own as his arms slip around her waist. As their lips part, a shuttered breath he lets out ghosts over her lips and his body slowly relaxes into her.

“Perhaps you should both come have your tea and give yourselves a chance to relax into this?” Mrs. Holmes voice makes them jump as they remember their audience of two.

“Good point,” Y/N responds sheepishly, slowly pulling back from Sherlock. “I’ll just grab myself a cup.”

Sherlock nods reluctantly, brushing against Y/N briefly as he walks back to his seat at the table.

Heading to the table herself, she steps toward her usual chair before feeling a pair of arm wrap around her midsection and swiftly tug her back into Sherlock’s lap. “I could sit in my own seat you realize right?”

“Mm, a physical possibility yes,” he mumbles and grabs a biscuit from the tray and brings it to her lips. “However, until moments ago I still thought I’d never hold you again. Therefore for my own health and well-being, you should stay where you are.”

Taking a bite of the biscuit, she shrugs gently and leans back against his chest, “If it’s a matter of medical well-being then I suppose I must.”

“Good,” he responds quietly as she looks up at his flushed cheeks. His eyes looking across the table at his mother’s warm gaze on them, his father’s arm across her shoulders with a similar smile.

“I, for one, am very glad you two are working this out. You both seem so distressed apart,” Mrs. Holmes says as she reaches across the table to pat Sherlock’s hand. “And I certainly didn’t want to lose Y/N from the family.”

Sherlock nods in agreement, looking back down at Y/N briefly, “Is this where you’ve been this entire time?”

“Yes, I really didn’t know where to go. I feel safe here, and they graciously let me stay despite the situation. I was here while deciding what exactly I was going to do.”

“You can always come here dear,” Mr. Holmes says with a gentle smile. “You are part of the family, even if our son seemingly does everything to make you want to leave it.”

“Alright fair, I deserve that,” Sherlock responds with a physical cringe. “Where had you intended on going after here?”

“I was talking with a friend out of the country, had put some thought into moving in with her. I have actually applied for jobs there already,” she says with a shrug.

“Offers you will turn down to return home I would presume?” He asks in an even tone, but his eyes betray a moment of panic.

“I said I’d come home, I’ll come home,” she reassures him and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You’ve been in the guest room here?”

“I put her in your old room,” Mrs. Holmes says with a bit of a smug smile. “I may have hoped it would possibly… inspire a reconciliation.”

“Sneaky,” Y/N laughs and reaches for her tea. “It did have me missing him even more. There’s something so inherently Sherlock about the room. Including rolling over in the middle of the night and stretching out, only to brush against a piece of paper with soil quality test results on it.”

Sherlock stays quiet at that, his eyes gently searching her as she turns back to his parents and continues the conversation.

Twenty minutes go by with his relative silence in their conversation before his head whips toward his parents, “Would it be alright if we stayed here for the day and night?”

“Of course,” his mother responds immediately. “We can have dinner all together tonight. I’ll even invite your brother. A nice family dinner would do us all some good.”

“If you must invite him,” Sherlock rolls his eyes but gives her a tight smile before adjusting his hold on Y/N.

Sweeping her up as he gets to his feet, he carries her bridal style from the room as he announces they’re going up to take a short rest.

“And if I’m not tired?” She teases.

“You are. You were up all night thinking about how this would go,” he answers. “You were nervous.”

Pushing his old bedroom door open with his shoulder, he walks through the door to set her on the bed and turns to shut the door behind them.

He quickly sets to pulling his shoes off then gets on the bed to crawl around her to lay down and press his back flush with the wall, “Joining me?”

Laying back, she grabs the blankets and pulls them over the two of them, sliding in closer until his hand lays on her hip and guides her even closer.

Plopping her head on the pillow beside his, her eyes start roaming over him once again, “Now then, where did this outfit come from? I’ve never seen you in this.”

“Under the rest of my clothes. I… have mainly stayed in my bed clothes lately. I didn’t have the motivation for a suit today. I look rather awful don’t I?” He asks with a frown.

“You look… very worn down at the moment,” she admits reaching out to run her thumb along the dark circle under one of his eyes. “You also still haven’t shaved.”

“I haven’t used since the day in the morgue,” he says in response to her silent question.

“You’ve just decided you like facial hair?” She asks with a raised brow, hand slipping down to run along the hair on his jaw.

“Hardly,” he rolls his eyes and leans into her touch.

“What have you been doing the last seventeen days then?”

“Staying in bed. In my mind palace. Going between trying to think of any way to change your mind and trying to accept that you were done with me. John came over a few times, forced me to eat, and packed your things. They’re sitting in boxes stacked against the wall. Started unpacking one of them one night, putting your clothes back in the drawer, convinced that if I just…” he trails off into silence and his eyes shut tightly.

“Convinced that what?”

“That if I just put everything back, that I’d wake up and you’d be there. That you’d change your mind when you saw all your things still in place, realize you wanted to be at home with me. I put them all back after a day, to not cause further problems for John.”

“Well we can put it all back together this time, hopefully permanently back in place yeah?” She offers and lays her free hand on his chest.

His eyes blink open as his own hand covers hers to move it to the left side of his chest, “If you go again, please just take it with you. I clearly can not handle it well, look at me Y/N.”

“Something so darkly romantic from the one who always said sentiment was a defect on the losing side,” she teases lightly, pressing her forehead to his.

“Mhm, still is,” he states, his eyes drifting down to her lips for a moment. “I’m an absolute mess riddled with sentiment for you. I’m losing that battle, and it’s far too late to correct it. I’m in too deep, and I’ll drown without you there. And frankly, I don’t give a damn as long as you stay with me until my time comes.”

“And that time better be a long ways away, I’m agreeing to this under the condition I’m going to be waking up next to an old man Sherlock in thirty, forty years.”

A small smile spreads across his lips and he exhales deeply, “Just the fact you want that is enough for me.”

“Lift your head would you?” He says, shifting his arm under her as she does, pulling her in until she rests her head on his shoulder. “More comfortable?”

“Mmm,” she mumbles, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” he admits, settling his chin on her head and cradling her with his other arm. “Get some sleep love.”

“You too,” she replies as she feels his hold on her tighten. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Will you?” He asks, clearing his throat roughly to cover up the crack in his voice.

“I will. And if you’re serious about everything you’ve said, I’ll be there every time you wake up.”

“I will hold you to that,” he says softly, turning his head to bury his face in her hair. “I will see you in a few hours then, messy hair and all.”

A giggle erupts from her throat before she can stop it, and she snuggles in closer to his chest, “Messy hair and all then.”

----

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