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trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

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with me + part twelve

authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!

i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.

the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”

Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”

In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up.

“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”

Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.

“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”

She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”

“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is.

In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.

He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing.

But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.

That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional.

“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”

“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.

“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—”

“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”

You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe.

Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”

“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”

“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”

You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”

“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."

You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”

“Alexis!”

________

You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.

And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers.

Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.

“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”

“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”

“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”

“How much—”

“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”

“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way.

It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well.

He then asks, “do you want more?”

Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.

“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you.

Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.

But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind.

And apparently so can he.

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body.

“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”

He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”

His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”

He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”

You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”

He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”

Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”

That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice.

“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all.

Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”

Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”

And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have.

“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.

The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit.

“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”

You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”

Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”

His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”

It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”

“No.”

And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away.

“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.

You know better than anyone how awful that can be.

He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.

There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself.

Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.

He still does. ________

“Mama, something is up with Callie.”

You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.

She’s never done that.

But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums.

Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”

“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”

Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”

“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”

“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”

A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?

“What does Joe think it is?”

“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.

“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”

You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”

“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”

Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”

Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”

As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t.

Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”

“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”

You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you.

You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.

Just not now.

Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.

________

Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.

You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color.

“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?”

She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it.

Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.”

You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”

It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two.

Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it.

You want her to really think about what you’re asking.

It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”

Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking.

She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.

“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”

All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.

“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.

“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.

Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie.

You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad.

It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.

“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”

“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes.

“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”

“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”

If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.

And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long.

“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up.

So, you have to move in silence.

Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.

You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.

You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise.

________

God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe.

There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.

“You’ll always have a job here.”

While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.

But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change.

And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.

You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting.

“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”

So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride.

And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.

You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses.

Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona.

“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”

And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is.

Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway.

Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment.

And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy.

It makes your heart swell.

All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.

“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”

“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”

She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”

That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters.

“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.

In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”

Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design.

Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”

“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”

Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.”

Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.”

With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.

“Y/N?”

Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old.

That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.

You keep walking.

A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”

You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?”

You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.

Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”

Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”

Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?”

She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”

“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”

It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him.

“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?”

For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly.

It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”

Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?”

She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”

And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”

“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”

And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words.

You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”

You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot.

Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.

She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother.

But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.

Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad.

Mariah can fuck off.

She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway.

________

“Mommy.”

Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow.

“What's up, sis?”

She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place.

Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos.

She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”

Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while.

You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.

You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.”

She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”

Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”

What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.

“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.

Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play.

We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be

“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits.

If you gave me a chance I would take it

It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me

When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be

At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.

And that makes it all the more special.

Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night.

You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts.

Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.

Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.

Joe: How do I save this?

Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.

Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.

You: You’re such an old man. 😩

You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...

You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol

Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…

You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.

You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. ��

Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.

You: You know me so well. 😊

Joe: Of course, baby.

Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.

But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah.

But now…..

Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege.

Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.

Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you.

But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.

Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.

You have all the people you need in your life.

Mariah can fuck off.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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your-unfriendlyghost · 15 days ago

Note

Do you have Stevie hcs

Yup

tons

it’s a problem

How they met:

-Steve has always thought Evie’s pretty, but in a hallway crush way- he never really met her until the incident at the police station, when they’re both sixteen (Stevie police station meetcute is @dallasgallant’s fantastic idea lol and I love it sm)

-Evie was also vaguely aware of Steve before that, but she just knew him as Darry Curtis’s little brother’s angry boyfriend sidekick

-I talked about/drew it in this post, but in more detail, I think the police station incident went like this:

-Evie’s mom dates a lot of not so great guys. Usually they leave Evie alone, but they’re pretty abusive towards her mom. On the day of the police station incident, one of them slapped her mom in the face. So Evie punched him so hard his nose broke.

-And then he called the cops on her. So she got hauled into the police station.

-That’s where she met Steve, who was at the station because he got caught for a bit of petty theft

-Steve hears her arguing with the cops while he’s waiting for Soda to come pick him up, and when she comes out of the office and sits across from him to wait for her Mom to get her, he says something like “You know, your crime was pretty tuff.” And then he cringes because that’s a ridiculous thing to say to someone, especially a really gorgeous girl

-But Evie, who’s had a hard day, actually really needed to hear that. She was standing up for her mom, and her mom didn’t even thank her, and now the cops just yelled at her and honestly scared her for it. She’s actually started second guessing herself- like is she crazy? Should she have hit the guy? Is she in the wrong here?? So it means the world to have Steve tell her he thinks her actions were justified

-She thanks him, because she’s legit close to tears at this point she’s so frazzled

-Steve elaborates on how badass he thinks she is. He rambles about it more than he otherwise would because he genuinely thinks she’s awesome for that, but he also isn’t used to complimenting anyone (especially not pretty girls), so he thinks he’s coming off as so uncool

-But Evie needs that, actually. So when Soda comes to pick Steve up, Evie makes sure she takes note of his name/who he is, and she starts purposefully showing up at the DX to “accidentally run into him”

General relationship h/cs

-All of Evie’s friends think Steve sucks, which is okay because Evie thinks their boyfriends suck too

-Like when she tells Sylvia, who I hc as her best friend, about Steve, Sylvia’s like “Ew, really?! C’mom, him? The one with the teeth? That guy’s such an asshole, I don’t think he’s ever said anything nice in his life.” Slyvia mainly knows Steve as an annoying friend of Dally’s, who has the same temper and poor attitude but none of the cool rebel allure. (Part of this disdain is that Sylvia just doesn’t find Steve attractive, like at all, so in her head he’s just a worse person)

-And Evie’s like “You can’t say that, you’re dating Dallas Winston.” (Evie thinks Dally is both unattractive and horrible to be around)

-Steve’s friends all love Evie though

-Soda thinks she’s so cool- he’d be jealous (of both of them) if he didn’t have Sandy (for now 😭)

-Evie is the only person Steve feels comfortable showing his deeper feelings. She’s pretty open about her own, so Steve can let himself be more sensitive around her without feeling like a total sissy. I mean, he’s open around Soda too, but honestly less. He still kinda wants Soda to think he’s cool, yk? Evie though is so open about how cool she thinks he is that he can let his guard down easier. (I mean, due to traditional gender norms, especially in the 60s, it’s easier for Evie to be open than it is for Soda or Steve I think)

-They’re both pretty physical- Evie may not wrestle people or affectionately punch them, but she likes physical touch too. Just with her it’s usually like. Less aggressive. She does get a little more aggressive with Steve though to kinda match his energy (translation- they both like PDA a lot)

-Evie’s tried arm wrestling Steve a handful of times- she hasn’t won yet

-But she has carried him before lol- he’d never admit it, but he loves it (He doesn’t need to admit it tho, she can tell)

-Evie’s good with reading people, but especially Steve. She can see right through his bravado and the more preformative aspects of his personality- like how he’s always wearing sleeveless things, obsessively checking his hair, the way he’s always gotta have attention or he’ll just die- and she thinks it’s honestly so cute. Like, he’s not just a cool tough hood, he’s also a dumb teen boy. And she finds that really endearing

-Steve finds her brain really attractive, but also very much her looks. That sounds shallow- hear me out. My version of Evie doesn’t see always see herself as conventionally good-looking- she’s a mixed race girl in a very white part of town, raised by a white mother who doesn’t know how raise a non-white kid, in the 19-fucking-60s. She’s tall, and not the most thin- she’s used to feeling too big, too dark, too much, from how she looks to how she acts to how she is. So having Steve see all that- all her emotions, all her anger, her height, her hair, her everything- and yet see her as the hottest chick in Tulsa and also probably the whole world matters so much to her. She’s never felt like she fits into the proper mold of good wholesome femininity and it kills her, so the fact that Steve sees her as the epitome of The Perfect Girl makes her feel so much better about herself. (I know this attitude probably sounds kind of dated, but uh. Again, it’s the 60s. So.)

-Similarly, Steve’s not always the most confident in his looks even if he acts like he is. Being best buddies with a universally beloved guy like Soda occasionally does make him feel like he’s ugly by comparison. Especially with his teeth and height and the fact that he’s less lean and slender than Soda- Steve’s shorter and hasn’t lost his baby fat and it feels lousy. (Little bit of Steve angst- I h/c that girls have gone out with him in the past just to get closer to Soda. It seriously fucked with his head, because he was so jealous and angry with Soda, but also loves and adores Soda, and it’s not Soda’s fault that he’s good looking and Steve isn’t… ) (Steve is still perfectly alright looking, even if Soda’s more conventionally attractive- but he’s also less friendly/charismatic than Soda) Anyway, having Evie go for him over Soda feels like a big deal- It’s happened before of course, but never with a girl he liked as much as he likes Evie

-Steve used to like reading, but he slowly stopped over time because he’s a JD and books are for sensitive babies like Ponyboy. But when Evie recommends books to him, he reads them and talks to her about them. He wants to understand her and all the things she loves

-In turn, Evie talks to him about cars- she likes cars too, but admittedly not as much as Steve does. Still, she’ll go with him to every motor show and often helps him out at the DX. She used to help her dad work on cars back when he was alive, and so she knows about as much about them as Steve does anyhow

-In springtime, Steve steals flowers from his neighbors’ yards and leaves them in Evie’s locker at school

-One time Ponyboy and Two-Bit catch him with the flowers, and they both make fun of him so hard for “going soft”

-Legit though, for Evie, he is completely soft. She could stab him if she wanted and he’d thank her (she would never do that but you get the idea)

-One time she convinced him to let her do his eyeliner. He thought it was ridiculous, but only protested a little- plus, it meant getting to stare into her eyes and admire her face for the whole time she was drawing it on, and he can’t complain about that

-When they first started dating, Steve was real insecure because he’s 5’7 and Evie’s 5' 7.5- and in the go go boots she always wears, she’s 5’9. And Dally would often make fun of him for being shorter than his girl which just made things worse. Deep down he was also kind of…physically into their slight height difference, which confused him so much. Over time though he got over the discomfort- besides, he might be shorter than her, but he’s still bigger/stronger than her so it doesn’t hurt his masculinity too much anymore

-Steve realizes he loves her when he gets sent to the cooler for lifting hubcaps. As he’s being handcuffed, Evie starts to cry- both at being disappointed in him, and from being scared for him. And for the first time since he was a little innocent happy kid, Steve reconsiders whether he wants to be a hood. Because if it makes Evie this upset…is it really worth it? And that freaks him out, because the only other person he’s ever cared that much about not disappointing is Soda

-Evie has loved him a little bit ever since they first met and he understood her when no one else did- but she falls in love with him when she’s had a fight with her mom and Steve comes over. He had been at some thrilling drag race with Soda, but he dropped everything to make sure she was okay as soon as he heard. Once he’s there, he listens to her talk, takes her seriously, and she’s never felt so understood and seen. And she knows then that she’s found someone who gets her in a way no one else does

-Evie steals Steve’s sweatshirts and jackets and occasionally even his jeans. In return, Steve wears her (more androgynous looking) jewelry- like her rings and chains and whatever. She almost convinced him to let her pierce his ears so that he could steal her earrings too- he chickened out at the last minute, less because of the pain and more because he didn’t wanna be seen as girly or gay (even though he is for Soda). Maybe someday when Steve’s older and more secure in his masculinity he’ll let her do it though

-Privately, Steve has already planned out how he’s gonna propose to her. He doubts he’ll go through with it until after Evie’s finished college, but he knows he wants to marry her someday

#the outsiders #the outsiders 1983 #steve randle #the outsiders steve #the outsiders evie #steve x evie #the outsiders headcanons #headcanon #implied future steviepop but it’s so minor I won’t tag it ig #rambling #ask

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writingroom21 · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: None

Wc: 5K

series masterlist

Chapter 4: This can't be real

“I’m Theo, her ex. You know that little girl's dad.”

Time is frozen around you. Your body feels like it’s been hit by a semi truck. None of this feels real right now. You are actually expecting to wake up from this nightmare and get on with the real day. But it never comes.The blast from the past is staring at you as you vaguely hear someone talking. The voice gets clearer as you force yourself to come back to reality.

“Babe are you okay?” Look to the right to see two pairs of blue eyes staring at you. Cars pass by behind Rafe and Violet making it hard to focus on them. “What?” Rafe quickly picks up on the nervous tone in your voice. He steps closer to you using his body to block your ex from your view.

“Babe, hey. Talk to me.” His touch is what really brings you back to Earth. You shake your head and try to look behind him. “Who even is this guy?” Rafe’s shoulders tense and he turns around to look at Theo. “I’m Rafe, her boyfriend. What about you?” Theo’s eyes scrunch as he tries to look threatening. “Her dad.” He nods his head towards Violet.

“Could have fooled me.” Rafe mumbles the comment which seemed to make Theo even more mad.

“Yeah well you’re just a nobody. This conversation doesn’t need your presence.” This guy really has some nerve to say he’s more important. He was the one that left without a second trace. Rafe still doesn’t know the full story but that doesn’t matter. All he knows is that you were left behind to take care of your child alone. All he knows is that he’s more involved than Vi’s so-called dad and he’s only been in your life for almost two months.

“He is somebody. My boyfriend in fact as well as someone Vi can look up to. Do you even know her name?” Theo just stares at you for a moment, blinking slowly. “Of course you don’t because you aren’t in her life.” Rafe holds your hand to give you a place to ground yourself. He can tell that you are shaken up right now and personally he really needs it.

Theo’s comment hit close to home. He is no one. He isn’t Vi’s dad, he’s just your boyfriend. It would be easy to replace him. Theo may have hurt you but he will always be Vi’s dad. Rafe seeks your comfort to silence the thoughts that are forming. He’s not letting some asshole ruin his progress, not when there’s so much at stake now.

As if she senses something off, Violet snuggles into Rafe calling out for you. “Ma.” Her tiny voice draws all of your attention to her. She sneaks glances at the stranger and then hides in Rafe’s neck. Rafe rubs her back to help soothe her and you squeeze her arm. “It’s okay baby. We’re going.” You shoot your ex a nasty look and start to pull Rafe’s arm.

“Excuse us, we have lunch to get to. Do me a favor and run off again. You seem to be good at it.” You shoulder check him as you pass. Subconsciously you grab Vi from Rafe’s arm, wanting to have her close to you. You feel Rafe stop for a second and see him turn around.

“Her name is Violet by the way. Should be ashamed of yourself. Calling yourself her dad and not knowing anything about her.” Rafe shakes his head and walks back over to you. He wraps and arms around your shoulders. His arm tightens, pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head.

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

Lunch was a blur. Memories kept re-emerging as you picked at your plate. Rafe sat on the other side of the table watching your movements. He’s trying to give you space and not pry into your past life but he’s finding it hard. There’s so much that he wants to ask to know. “Just say it.” It’s the first time you spoke to him directly since you sat down. The only time he’s heard your voice this whole lunch is when you were talking to the waiter or the little cutie sitting next to him.

“I don’t even know what I want to say.” He confesses. There’s so much going through his mind but none of it wants to leave his mouth. “Neither do I.” You look so broken and he hates it. “How long were you together?” It seems so stupid but he has to know. He needs to know how many years of memories he’s fighting against. “All throughout High School and up until I got pregnant. We got together when we were fourteen. Our parents wanted us to date so we did.”

Four years. You were with him for Four years. “I never loved him.” He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I couldn’t love someone like him.” He shouldn’t feel relieved but he does. It’s just sad you were with someone who you didn’t feel something with. He hopes to god you two are never like that. No he knows you aren’t.

Rafe just nods trying to think of what to say next. Your eyes watch him, front row view depicting his fears. “I would never take him back. Not even if he became the best guy in the world. I stayed with him to make others happy, not myself.” Rafe’s eyes meet yours. He sees the somber look in them.

The little flicker of light he likes is so dull like a dying flame. “Are you happy now?” He doesn’t know why he even asked. Hearing anything else would probably crush him. You don’t even take a second to think. “The happiest I’ve ever been.” It’s the truth. You are actually doing well for yourself.

The shop has great sales and you are raking in a good cash flow. You are your own boss so it’s a plus. Violet is amazing and is hitting all of her marks so nothing to complain about. Jo is still hilarious and your best friend. But also Rafe is there. He makes you feel comfortable, cares for you and most importantly cares for Vi.

“Same.” The sincerity in his voice tells you he’s telling the truth. It also helps when he’s staring at you like this. Like you are the only other person in the world who sees him. Maybe you do and this is why everything is falling into place so quickly. Just maybe you also finally feel seen.

As much as it's comforting to hear him say it, you know reality can change things. You may want something but not be able to handle what comes along with it. “I don’t want him in Vi’s life. He’s cruel and I’ve seen it first hand. I don’t want my daughter around that.” Rafe’s fist clenched at the thought of that prick being rude to you or hurting you in any way.

“Not like it’s my place to decide but I don’t want him around either.” For someone who has never cared for another person he does a great job at it. In the short amount of time he’s been in your life he has always made it a priority to include the one thing you can’t live without. He never made it a hassle or made you feel less for being a mom. He’s been everything you could ask for in a partner.

He respects you

“You do have a say. Maybe not in the way you intended but you’re a part of our life too. Whatever happens from here on out affects you.” Rafe’s hand reaches out and grabs yours over the table. His thumb lightly grazing yours. “I’ll always support you. It-” He looks at your hands and takes a deep breath.

“Never really been good at this stuff. Everything I do is wrong or I screw it up. Guess I’m just scared.” The two of you haven’t really gotten too deep. You know his mom disappeared and started a new family. You know that his dad and him have a complicated relationship but he never got into the specifics. He knows about how your parents kicked you out after finding out you were pregnant. He knows about the constant pressure they have put on you.

In some ways Rafe felt as if you were two broken souls who needed each other. He knew it from the moment you back talked to him about some flowers. He definitely knew it when he canceled the order he placed after talking to you in the bar. For some reason everything with you came naturally.

“Why are you scared?”

Rafe chuckles at you and leans back on his chair, subconsciously helping view with her fork. “When you’ve been told your whole life you’re a fuck up you start to believe it. This is the first good thing I’ve had in my life. I can’t mess it up and lose both of you.” Both of you. He included Vi in his statement. You don’t know why you find it shocking. Just the other day she had him running up and down the beach looking for seashells. Never once did he complain. Hell he would run up to you showing the collection before dumping them to get more.

He didn’t even complain when she made him act like Maui from Moana. In fact he did it without a complaint. Even spending hours in the water with her as she giggled her little head off. How is he so confident in this?

“We’ve only been together for like two months.” The masochistic part of you wants him to hurt you. Feeling like this is all too good to be true. “Best two months I’ve ever had.” He pushes Vi in more so she’s not so far away from the plate and not making a mess. “I won't spend the rest of my life wishing on what ifs. I know what I want.”

Just when you think he can’t get better he does. Tears start to well in your eyes from your emotions running so high. You slot your fingers between his giving him a squeeze. “I want you too.” A smile forms on his lips, pride filling his chest. “Good.”

After that lunch the two of you had a plan. Ignore him until he just eventually goes away. You don’t know why he’s here but there’s one thing you know for sure. He’s always been a quitter. That’s the only thing you were banking on. Which turned out to be false hope because the man seemed to have grown a pair since the last time you saw him.

You had not seen him the first two days after your encounter and thought he had gotten the message. Then came the weekend which Jo wanted to work to give you a break. It was relieving not having to see or think about him for four days. It wasn’t till Monday that you found out he decided to stick to something for the first time in his life.

You were wrangling Vi as she ran around you on the sidewalk. Fishing for your keys, you saw nice shoes standing in front of the door. The right foot was tapping the sidewalk impatiently. At first you thought it was a customer but nope it was Theo.

“Can we talk?” You brushed past him unlocking the door to let Vi inside. He tried to step in but you blocked him. “Sorry sir, are you here to buy flowers?” His eyes narrow at you. He places his arm on the doorway leaning further to you. “Get out of the way, Prim. I’m here to talk about seeing my daughter.” The old nickname brings up some old feelings. Maybe not the ones he intended it but the memories start coming back.

You can remember the first time your mom called you that. “You are as pretty as a flower. My little Prim.” From there on out everyone started to call you that. Every family member and your parents' friends used it. Then it became Theo’s nickname for you. “Hey Prim. How’s my beautiful girl doing?” It’s weird thinking of when he seemed to care about you or at least when he was good at pretending. It didn’t last long before it turned nasty.

“Are you fucking kidding me Prim? Why do you always have to start shit?” Tears are running down your face as Theo continues to yell at you. “I was just asking a question. She said that you were with her last night when you were supposed to be at dinner.” Theo’s hands are brushing through his hair, shaking his head as he looks at the ground. “Oh so you’re going to believe someone else?” He whips his head to look at you.

You can’t say anything as you look to the ground. His footsteps echo as he steps closer to you. Theo’s hand comes into view as he grips your cheeks forcing you to look at him. He shakes your head around as he talks to you. “Don’t be fucking stupid. I told you I was sick, hell even my parents said it when they got there. Are you really calling us liars? You think I could lie to you?” His grip on you is tight and it hurts.

“No, I'm sorry. I was just confused and didn’t know why she would lie to me. Please let go, you're hurting me.” He loosened his grip and lightly tapped your cheek. “It's okay. Just don’t let it happen again. We have to trust each other.” All you could do was nod at him as you fought back tears.

You wish you could say that was the last time he tricked you. It was just a constant battle between your thoughts and the lies he fed you. “Last time I checked the only kid here was mine and she doesn’t have a dad. If you aren’t here to buy flowers I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Theo tilts his head at you, examining your body language. Once he realizes you aren’t going to give up he takes a step forward. “Do I have to apologize for living my life? You really couldn’t have expected me to give up my dreams just to raise a kid.”

A kid? She’s not some random kid you picked up from the side of the street. Even if she was, you would expect him to be a decent human being. “No, I didn't expect anything from you. As far as I’m concerned you aren’t anyone to us. Now please leave or I will have to call the cops.” You’re bluffing. You know this is too small of a case that they will blow it off. But you will say anything to get him to leave.

He left shortly after that and came back around lunch time waiting to get you as you walked out. His plans were spoiled when he saw Rafe walking towards the shop. Rafe was on a call with a client when he noticed the guy standing there. “Hey Lenny I’m going to have to call you right back. Something just came up and I have to deal with it.” He didn’t even wait for the other guy to answer before hanging up.

“What are you doing here?” Theo leans against the wall of the building, crossing his arms as he stares back at him. “Just waiting to see my daughter and Prim. Why are you here?” Who the hell is Prim? Rafe guesses his face must have given away his confusion because the asshole answered his thoughts. “You know, Prim and I have a lot of history. Might want to save yourself the heartbreak before it’s too late. I know she’s always wanted a family.”

Rafe’s jaw clicks. He could give you a family. He would love Vi and if you wanted more then so does he. You don’t need some jerk that you never loved because you have him. Fuck this prick who thinks he can get under his skin. “Well like you said the two of you have history. Now if you excuse me I have to take my girls out to lunch.” Rafe walks into the shop, immediately smiling when Vi runs up to him screaming.

“Ray!” His heart still sometimes breaks due to the shift from Ra to Ray. It was honestly so cute. It seemed like she was trying to scare him each time and it became a little joke for him. But hearing the joy in her voice when she calls out to him makes up for it. “Hey my sweetie Vi. You’ve been behaving with mom?” She giggles as He picks her up and spins her around. “Yes!” She laughs out.

Rafe laughs with her and smiles at you. “And how’s my beautiful girl doing?” He walks over to you and gives you a kiss. You smile into it, pecking his lips as you disconnect. “Good, just have a creep outside.” Rafe chuckles and looks behind his shoulder to see Theo looking right back at him. God just his name pisses Rafe off. He’s just happy at the thought of him seeing his daughter and ex happier without him. Maybe that would teach him to leave you all alone.

“Yeah I saw the roach by the door. Should really get someone out there to handle it.” Laughing you push his shoulder and walk to get your purse. “Haha, so funny. Don’t start anything with him please. The more you lay into it the longer he’ll stay.” There's nothing more that Rafe would like than beating the shit out of him or even messing with his head. But the thought of him being gone sooner rather than later takes the cake.

“Promise. I’ll be on my best behavior.” Rafe places a hand on your lower back as you walk out the front door. Both of you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that Theo wasn’t waiting out. Even more relieved when he wasn’t there when you got back from lunch. “I’ll bring you to work this week.” Rafe casually says. “What?” “I’ll bring you to work.” Rafe pulls the leftovers from your hands so you can open the door. “How would I get home then?” Rafe thinks for a second and remembers he has a packed schedule and wouldn’t be able to. “Fine I’ll follow you to work to make sure you get in okay.”

You laugh at how ridiculous he is being. Then one look at his face shows that he is serious. This Theo being back thing must be really shaking him up. “You want to make sure I get to work out?” He looks down at Vi’s hand in his and sees how tiny it is. She’s so small. “I just want to make sure the both of you are okay.” There he goes, saying both of you. Like he doesn’t even need to think about if he cares for Violet. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Okay but that means you need to buy us coffee.” Rafe smiles at you and pecks your lips. “Deal.”

That's exactly what he did for the whole week. He would show up at the house with your coffee exactly how you order it. There would always be a little bag with a treat for Vi. The two of you would then get in your respective cars and drive to the shop. Where he would then follow you inside and stay for a bit before heading off to the office. The routine was nice and just gave you both more time to see the other.

That Tuesday Theo was once again outside waiting for you. He tensed up when he saw the three of you walking towards him. It was a perfect picture of when he first came to see you. Rafe was on the side closest to the street holding Vi in his right arm. While you were walking next to him chatting about god knows what. He doesn’t get how Rafe looks so interested in what you are saying.

All he remembers are the boring tangents you used to go on back in highschool. He would literally do anything to make you stop. He honestly feels bad for the poor guy. “Think you can give Prim and I some privacy?” His voice shocked the three of you. He hates how each one of you looks at him. You give him a look of disgust, Rafe looks at him with hate, and Violet looks at him like he’s a stranger. He’s her dad, not some rebound.

“Stop calling me that and we don’t have anything to talk about.” You rush in through the door taking Vi from Rafe. He stays back for a second to block Theo from going in. “I suggest you leave, you're not needed here.”

The rest of the week went smoothly. Theo was nowhere to be seen and it felt like peace was being restored. Your mornings were now peaceful instead of a constant state of anxiety. But it seems like he caught on to the trick. Rafe was there in the morning and lunch but he wasn’t there at closing. On Friday when you were locking up e snuck up behind you leaving you no choice but to talk to him.

“Where’s your guard dog?” You roll your eyes as you turn around to face him. You are glad Jo said she would watch Vi at home. Having a stay at home job really does pay off. This way you can speak your mind freely.

“Rafe’s at work. You know what that is right?” He scoffs at your audacity. “Yes I know what a job is. I have one.” You fake a shocked expression. “Wow could have fooled me.” You try to go to the left and he steps along with you. “When did you become such a smart ass? What happened to the Prim I used to know?” You laugh at him. “She left right around when you did and when her parents kicked her out. Guess she was tired of being an actress.”

“Don’t bring your parents into this. They were good people, they even left you money after they died.” You take a step back from him, fixing your purse as it slips from your shoulder. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. They were my parents and they abandoned me when I needed them the most. They forced me into their perfect mold and got disappointed when I didn’t fit it anymore. They only left me that money out of guilt not because they loved me.”

You fake going right and when he falls for it you go left. Just your luck is that he catches your arm before you could get too far. “Get over yourself and talk to me.” A loud voice comes from behind you. “Get you fucking hands off her before I break them.” The sound of Rafe’s voice sends shivers down your spine. He’s not happy.

You feel Rafe’s presence before you see him. His hand grips onto Theo’s yanking it off you. You are letting out a relieved sigh when you feel Rafe’s arms wrap around you, inserting himself to diffuse this situation. “Do you just follow her around like a lost puppy? Get a life.”

“Rich coming from the guy harassing her like your being for table scraps. It's like watching a stray animal but instead of sad it's pathetic.” The two guys stare at one another. Rafe is waiting for Theo’s retort but nothing comes. Theo can’t honestly think of anything. He was hoping his presence would be a clear message but that didn’t work.

“I don’t know why you are still here. Just go back to whatever hole you crawled out from and leave us alone.” Your voice breaks their staring contest, both men turning to you. “Life has been pretty good without you these past two years. We didn’t need you then and we don’t need you now.” Hearing you reiterate Rafe’s only words ticks him off.

“She needs a dad. What will she say when she grows up to learn you never let her in her dads life?” He thinks he struck a cord but all he did was make you think he's a comedian now. “Not like she would see a dad in you anyway. You don’t love someone, you control them.” Turning back around you guide Rafe back with your hands on his chest.

“Come on, let's go.” He silently leads you to your car and holds the door as you get in. “I’ll follow you home. I’m taking you and Vi out.”

‘What?” you giggle out. “That’s why I came here. I wanted to take the two of you out to distract from all of this.” You smile up at him, grabbing his shirt to pull him down. When he’s within reach you kiss him, putting a hand behind his head to deepen it. “You’re a really great guy.” Rafe shakes his head as he pulls away. “No I’m not. But I’m trying to be.”

The ride back took no time. Vi was super excited to see that Rafe was with you when you walked through the door. Even more excited when you both packed up some blankets and brought her along for the ride. The two of you may bring her on dates often but this is the first time Rafe said he had something planned for the both of you.

Usually when you brought her on dates you centered them around being kid friendly but it felt nice that he solely planned this. Everytime he includes her you can’t help but fall a little bit more for him. It didn’t help seeing him so excited with her.

He first took you out to eat, picking the place that gives out the coloring mats she loves. He even had two bouquets waiting in the car for you two. Vi’s was just a little bundle of flowers while yours was slightly bigger. No matter how many times you tease him about using another person's flowers he always has the same remark. “Gotta have some element of surprise. Plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give you good things.”

It always makes you giggle. But seeing Vi’s eyes light up when he surprised her with them made you want to cry. That lump in your throat kept getting bigger with each action. He turns down a dirt road and pulls to a stop when he gets to a clearing. “What are we doing here?” The laugh you let out as he unbuckles you with a kiss warms his heart. “I’m taking both of you stargazing.” He’s taking you stargazing.

Like your first date.

“My mom and I used to do it before she left. Then we did it that night on the boat. It’s always been something I loved. It didn’t feel right not sharing it with Vi.” A tear slips down your cheek and he rushes to wipe it away. “Hey, hey why are you crying?” He’s worried he did or said something wrong. “I’m just really happy. You make me happy.” Rafe’s thumb caresses your cheek as he looks at you lovingly.

It feels like he wants to say something. You can see the internal conflict through his blue eyes. “Let’s get out. I think someone is getting antsy.” His head nods to the back and sure enough Vi is bouncing in her car seat. You both get out of the car and you get Vi as he gets the blankets. He leads you to a patch of grass and lays the blankets down. The three of you sit down and Violet automatically goes to sit on his lap.

Rafe lays down and positions her so she's laying back on his chest a perfect view to the sky. You join them by laying down beside Rafe. “So mister wise astronomer tell us some facts.” You tease him while you poke his ribs. “Most of the stars we see are bigger than the sun and are brighter.” The fact is puzzling because you thought the sun was the biggest honestly.

The night just consists of him giving you star facts and pointing out constellations. “Stars are all actually different colors and they get them due to their temperature.” or “Most stars are actually by themselves. There’s large distances between stars.” After a while he got bored of telling you facts, wanting to not sound like a science book. On the other hand you enjoyed that he was sharing his interest with you.

The last hour was Rafe and you pointing out random shapes in stars. Vi had fallen asleep at one point and you both decided it was time to leave. The ride back was silent but comfortable. It just all felt right.

As Rafe pulled up to the house there was a car parked in front of it. You brushed it off to someone visiting a neighbor and left it at that. Getting out of the car you wait as Rafe got Vi out of the car to go inside. Expecting to spend some more time with Rafe after putting your daughter to bed like you've been doing recently. Clearly that was too much to expect because that came crashing down.

As you were walking up the driveway the car’s door opened and some man called out your name. You and Rafe turn around and look as he walks closer to you. “Yes, that's me. Do I know you?” The man doesn’t say anything and hands you an envelope. You look over at Rafe and then the envelope. Both of you have confused faces. “What’s this?”

“You’ve been served.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #obx #rafe x single mom #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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eddiemunsonw · 1 year ago

Text

Like a dog

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

Summary: Happens after Gator gets his ass kicked in episode 2. He clearly needs some help, but he's independent, right? He can take care of this himself, for sure.

CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst? Gator is having some inner struggles and you're doing your best to accommodate him. And yeah, a bit of misogyny in there too, nothing too strong though I would say. Also some fluff and humor, I barely can do without.

Author's note: The title is misleading, but it'll make sense once you start reading it.

Words: 2319

Gator

His ears were ringing, but apart from that no sound seemed to be coming in. He vaguely noticed his cheek was warm, realized it was blood and tried to not freak out. It wasn’t that he was scared of blood, not at all. Sometimes he even got a little kick out of watching things, people bleed. Just not himself.

Then… there was his arm. That was a problem for sure. He had felt the snap, heard it, even, before that asshole used his gun right next to his ear. Last but not least, his groin. His balls and dick felt like they had grown thrice in size in the bad way. He didn’t think there was any enlargement of balls in the good way anyway. But… Yeah. It really fucking hurt.

Getting to the ER was a challenge too. His father was occupied and he didn’t want to ask for his help for something so insignificant. He was independent. He could just walk. Once he stood upright, he felt like dropping to his knees again, his vision swimming. Everything hurt so much it was nearly blinding. He would’ve thrown up if… wait, had he thrown up? He tasted blood but he had also bitten his tongue, so… Whatever. One step at a time. And fingers crossed that shitbird wouldn’t find him.

You

The crash, followed by a yelp and a cry of pain startled you as you were restocking supplies. You rushed to the front and found a guy, a familiar guy, on the floor, holding his arm as he groaned in pain. Quickly, you kneeled down on the floor next to him, gently touching his shoulder.

“He—”

“Don’t touch me!”

His whole body tensed up and he twisted away from your touch. In the moment, it didn’t register to you as funny even though a bystander could probably see the humor of it as he wiggled away from you, groaning and moaning in pain as he did.

“I assume you’re here for a reason. How about we get you upright and in the chair, so I can check you out?”

Gator finally lifted his head to look at you and squinted. You noticed he was sweating, which wasn’t good. His eyes narrowed even more and a scowl pulled the corners of his mouth down.

“Are you even qualified?”

“Do you want help or not?” you deadpanned.

He managed to lift himself up to lean against the door and tried to cross his arms but remembered one wasn’t really cooperating and winced.

“Are you qualified?”

“To take care of dogs? Yeah, I am.”

Gator’s eyes flamed and you could tell he wanted to lurch forward, probably grasp your throat to shut you up. It didn’t help that you were smiling at him. Lucky for you, he was in too much pain to act on his deepest desires. Instead, he nearly spat the words out he said next.

“What are you calling me?”

You laughed dryly. Gator Tillman. He hadn’t changed a bit since school.

“Funny you immediately assume I’m talking about you. You’re at a vet. This isn’t the ER, Gator.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, taken aback. Only now he actually properly looked around. He seemed to have a hard time focusing his vision still. “What kind of bad business are you running here? There’s no one! Also that’s Sheriff Tillman for you.”

You looked at him, rolled your eyes and walked to the back to make yourself some coffee. He could wait. If he wanted to act like an entitled brat he should have gone to the actual ER. You knew barking dogs rarely bite. After a few minutes, he called out.

“Hey! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Depends,” you shouted from the back, “are you gonna stop acting like a dick or not, Deputy?”

A silence. One that dragged on long enough for you to walk back to the front with your coffee in hand. Maybe you hadn’t heard the door open and close? Wrong. His eyes met yours immediately when you looked down, lips pressed tightly together, whether out of pain or annoyance with you, you weren’t sure. You gave him a pointed glance and a quip of your brow, waiting.

“Yes.”

With some help, you got him to sit on the examination table, which immediately required a remark from him, of course.

“Can this thing even handle my weight?”

You eyed him up and down slowly, a slow smirk forming. His frown deepened as you let the silence settle between you and he shifted uncomfortably on the table.

“Yeah. You look like you weigh about the size of a chubby golden retriever.”

“I workout every day!” he spluttered, as if that was the point.

“Okay? Point is, it can take you. No need to worry your little head over it. Anyway… let’s see.”

You could feel Gator’s eyes following you as you gathered some supplies, knowing you wouldn’t be able to help him with everything. The best you could probably do was give him a ride to those that could. You turned around and lifted your hand to his face, gently wiping away the blood that had leaked from his ear. His hand grabbed your wrist tightly when you came closer to his ear and he hissed out in pain. His grip was painful, but you could tell by his ragged breaths that he wasn’t doing it out of malice. He was scared.

“Hey…” you started softly, leaning back to look at him. You stood between his legs and while you were smaller than him, were able to see eye to eye due to the height of the table. “You do need to go to the ER. Get you checked out. I can make you a temporary splint for your arm but I don’t wanna mess with it too much as it’s not my expertise to work on humans. I can give you a ride? Is there anything else that hurts?”

He mumbled something incomprehensible and avoided your eyes.

“Sorry?”

“My junk. I think I need to like, cool it or something,” he said reluctantly. You nodded and walked away from him to grab a gel pack from the freezer, but the hand around your wrist stopped you. As you turned around he was quick to avoid your gaze once again and dropped your wrist.

“You might want to take your pants off.”

“Hah?”

“For the gel pack,” you mumbled as you placed a gel pack wrapped in a towel next to him. He frowned but started fumbling with the button of his cargos anyway. You already wrote a note to stick on your door that you’d be out for a bit and added the emergency number of the nearest vet just in case.

“Fuck!”

His voice startled you and as you turned around you noticed he was still struggling with his button. His vest was slightly in the way as well as his belt, which didn’t help.

“Need help?”

“No.”

He continued to try, frustration rising. The soft whimpers and groans made you pity him a little. After a while he looked closer to crying and you couldn’t just stand by and watch. You made your way back, standing between his legs again and gently swatted his hand away. To your surprise, he didn’t object. Instead, he softly gasped, stammering softly as your hand accidentally grazed him. You were unsure whether it was out of pain or… something else. A quick glance at his face confirmed that he was focusing on your hand, lips parted slightly. His usual slicked back hair was messier than usual and only now you noticed the dried up tear streaks on his face. You pulled down his zipper and stepped back so he could get off the table. He slowly lifted his gaze, cheeks slightly flushed and if you weren’t mistaken, his lower lip trembled a little.

“Can you stand?”

Quietly, Gator pushed himself off the table and stood in front of you, taller again. Except, he looked rather small, looking down at his feet like that. He sighed shakily, making no move.

“Do you need help, or…”

He shook his head and pushed his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers before getting himself back on the table and covering himself with the gel pack. A sigh of relief was heard but other than that, he made no comments, no snarky remarks. Very uncharacteristic really. Or maybe it was just him without the forceful mask on his face.

“I’ll grab something for your arm, I’ll—”

You turned away from him again but before you could step away you felt his hand enclose around your wrist again. The gel pack fell to the ground with a soft thud.

“Don’t.”

“I…” you hesitated on what to say.

“Please.”

His voice sounded fragile now, shaky. You nodded and slowly bent down to grab the gel pack and handed it back to him as he let go of your wrist again. While you weren’t sure what he wanted, you made sure to stay. There seemed to be a lot going on in that head of his. Suddenly quite aware of your close proximity, you didn’t know where to look. Even though his crotch was covered with the gel pack, it was still weird to stand between his legs as his cargos dropped below his knees and slowly sagged down. Your gaze was focused to the side, which is why you didn’t immediately notice how he slowly bent forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder. It sounded like he was holding his breath, anticipating your reaction nervously.

Without thinking, you put an arm around him, your hand soothingly rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. A shuddering breath left him as he relaxed against you. A few minutes in, at least it felt like some, you felt him tense up again. Not much later you felt something wet dripping down your collarbone. He was crying.

“If it’s hurting that badly, maybe we should…”

“No,” he croaked out, arm reaching out to clutch at your hip.

“Okay. Take as much time as you need. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m weak,” he managed to grunt. You weren’t surprised that a guy whose father was Roy Tillman had some deep self-loathing to deal with. In school it had always been obvious he felt pressured about living up to his father’s expectations. To be deserving of the Tillman name. He was as cocky as he was insecure. Still, no amount of pain justified being a grade-A dick to others. And yet… here you were, comforting the classic example of a grade-A dick.

“I don’t think you’re weak at all. Weak people don’t call themselves weak,” you told him softly, continuously rubbing his back. His breath shuddered when you gently readjusted the gel pack for him as it was slipping again.

“As if you know anything about weakness or strength,” he bit out, “you’re a female.”

“Right,” you mumbled, unimpressed. “Guess you’re weak then.”

A silence followed, apart from his soft sniffs, a reminder of his earlier crying. You felt him lift his forehead from your shoulder, breath tracing your jawline before his lips followed in its path. Your breath hitched, heartbeat quickening. Suddenly, his lips crashed on yours, demanding intimacy, taking it with some desperation. His lips felt chapped and for a second you were tempted to meet the roughness of his kiss but something in you held back.

In one quick move you pulled back and slapped him in the face. On the sensitive side, no less. He winced and looked betrayed, hand flying up to grab your wrist once more, tightening his grip until it hurt. You watched him closely, careful but not scared.

“Better not try that again without asking,” you warned.

“Or what?” Gator mumbled, his mouth curled down. Clearly not used to not getting his way. Well, too bad for him it had been you he wanted to kiss.

“Or I’ll squeeze your bad arm as hard as you’re squeezing my wrist right now.”

As if forgotten, Gator looked at his own hand and let go immediately, huffing a response you couldn’t make out clearly.

“Well then, shall we go?” you offered, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His injuries needed to be taken care of already. With clear disappointment he got up from the table and he let you help him get his pants back in place. The moment his hand reached out for your wrist you quickly pulled away and he looked up with genuine remorse. Hmm, interesting.

“Sorry,” he sighed and this time you let him take hold of your wrist, surprised when his touch was gentle as he rubbed his thumb over the most sore spot. “You’ve been all nice to me and I’ve been…”

“Yourself,” you finished with a shrug. Hurt crossed his eyes only for a second and you followed his gaze down to your wrist, where his touch was still so gentle.

“I’m not always like… that. I’m not.”

You cocked your head and watched him until his eyes met yours. There was a hesitance in them, but also determination. A soft smile graced your lips, which was met with the subtlest widening of his eyes.

“Maybe you could tell me more about that other you then, after we’ve patched you up.”

“Oh,” he said softly, followed by a nod. “Okay.”

“Come on, Sheriff Tillman.”

He smiled at your sarcastic, teasing tone and moved his hand down to yours to give it a light squeeze before letting go.

“Gator,” he corrected softly. “Just call me Gator, Y/N.”

“I was wondering if you’d remembered my name,” you chuckled.

“I always remember the pretty ones.”

“Flirting now, are we?”

“Maybe.”

He tried to play it off cool. Until curiosity got the best of him.

“Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

It was.

If you enjoyed this fic, please comment and/or reblog! It spreads my fic to other people to enjoy whereas a like does not, as much as I appreciate those too :) It would mean a lot <3

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #joe keery

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mockerycrow · 1 year ago

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Undercover V (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover series masterlist - previous | next

Summary: Your stress is staying at it’s peak for the time being as you come to terms that you’re staying under a secure watch until you’re properly evaluated, under the wise eyes of John “Soap” MacTavish. Chapter five, otherwise known as “babysitting duty”.

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking literally a month for this chapter. I’m so glad you guys are still loving this series. This a bit of a humorous filler, so I apologize. Next chapter will have more story!! <3

[WARNINGS: Mentions of genocide and human trafficking, inaccurate medical stuff.]

“Truth has many shades; it is not a matter of black and white, but grey.” -Morgan Freeman.

AFTER MY WHOLE failed evaluation, they allowed me to rest again, which I’m half thankful for, half not. I got a few hours of sleep in, but not enough to feel good about. The ache of sitting in a bed for a couple days is finally beginning to kick in so much so that I can’t sleep. I woke up really early in the morning, around 3 AM. I wasn’t surprised to see the lights in my room to be off, but I was surprised to vaguely see a figure in my room which at first freaked me the fuck out, but I quickly realized was Soap. I can’t make his features out enough to see if he’s awake or not, but I don’t care.

I need to get out of this damn bed.

I move my handcuffed hand a bit to grasp onto the hospital bed railing and I begin to slowly pull myself from my bed, hissing as new aches bloom across my healing wounds. Especially my damn stomach area, fuck. I ignore the pain blooming underneath my skin and I manage to get myself into a sitting position, and I can already feel some relief hitting me once I’m not laying back against a surface. I slowly curl one of my legs up, a soft noise leaving my lips as I feel my muscles in my leg thank me for bending my leg. I hear Soap stir, but I don’t pay him any mind. He makes a “hmm?” sound as I take a slow deep breath, allowing the aches in my wounds to subside.

“What’re you doin’?” Soap grumbles out, voice thick and heavy with sleep, making him a bit hard to understand when combined with his accent. He inhales loudly as he stretches and I glance at my handcuffs. “Sitting up.” I reply curtly. Can he not fucking see??

..I forgot it’s dark in here. Anyway..

“Ya need to lay back down and rest—“ I groan. “All I’ve been doing is laying down! My back fuckin’ hurts, man! I’m tired of sitting here like a wet noodle.” Soap gets up from his seat and walks closer to me—which isn’t that far of a distance, honestly, since Soap’s chair is considerably close to my bed. I notice his gloves are still on as he puts a hand on my shoulder, which he must’ve chosen the sore shoulder because I since and shy away from his touch. “Ow.”

Soap quickly retracts his hand, wincing himself in sympathy. “Look, it’s late, aye? Why don’t ya lay down fer now, have tha’ doctors help you in the mornin’?” His eyes glance up at the clock up on the wall, squinting his eyes to look as it’s dark in here. I groan and bite my lip, silently licking and choosing my battles. He is right, it’s much better for me to wait until the doctors or nurses come and help me. I sigh and make a motion with my free hand. “Alright.”

I manage to get myself laid back onto the bed, and I keep looking at my handcuffs. I move my cuffed hand around as I look at Mohawk, gesturing to my cuffed wrist now. “Okay, tell me how truly necessary this is. It’s getting a bit tiring.” My tone is a bit.. curt, and I don’t mean it, but I’m getting antsy in this room and I fucking hate just laying here. I’m uses to being out on the field, so sitting in one place doesn’t do me much good. Soap snorts as he sits himself back in his chair and without looking, grabs his sketchbook notebook thing from where he stuffed it between my mattress and the frame of the hospital type bed. “I dinnae ken how i can say this in a nicer way but, you’re.. considered a risk of some sort by the dafties overseein’ ya.”

I blink at him for a moment and he has a sheepish look on his face, his free hand coming up behind his head and scratching it. I pretend that I know one hundred of what he said—look, sometimes Scottish accents are hard to understand. “You’re one of the ‘dafties’ overseeing me.”

“You know what I mean!” Soap grumbles. I pause for a moment and keep my eyes on him, my fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns into the fabric of my blanket. “Do you think I’m a risk, Soap?”

Soap takes a moment to look back at me, and I mean really look back at me. His eyes pierce through mine again, taking in every detail of my face—and that causes me to look away again, because it makes me feel weird. “I mean.. Maybe. If I had ta’make the final decision, I’d let ya roam, but with someone to watch over ya.” His voice is serious as he seemingly tells me the truth about what he thinks. In a way, I find comfort in his words but I also.. don’t.

It hurts to know that they consider me so unstable.

“You should go back ta’sleep.”

I don’t answer and I look down at my fingers as my index finger scratches at the corner of my thumbnail. It feels like my damn nerves are on fire. “Can’t.” I mutter, and I curse myself when my voice is barely audible. Soap seems to catch what I said, though, because his eyebrow raises in an questioning manner. “Ya haven’t even tried,” He retorts, nearly snorting. Soap wipes his eyes as I huff—he’s right, I haven’t, but I know I won’t be able to. I look over at the clock on the wall, as if I could will time to go by faster. I let out a quiet noise as I shift myself a bit, a subtle painful ache settling back into my jaw and my abdomen. Oh yeah—I’m injured. It’s not like I forgot but, I’ve been so pumped of drugs this entire time, so I haven’t felt much since waking up the first time in this bed. I try to cross my arms, but my damn hand is still handcuffed!

Oh, god fucking dammit, I wanna get out of this bed!

“Stop actin’ like a wee bairn.” Soap snorts as he glances over at me again, then back down at his sketchbook notebook thing. I should probably ask what it is. “I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” I hiss with as much venom as I can muster, which isn’t much because I’m… cuffed to a bed. God. I hate this.

“Oh, lemme translate for ya.. Stop actin’ like a baby. Better?” He questions, pencil in hand. “Sure.” I mutter. I eye the pencil. “What is that?” I ask, pointing over to his general direction. “What is what?” Soap murmurs before holding up the notebook sketchbook thing. “This? It’s a sketchbook.” Ah, okay. I don’t have to call it that super long name now. Sketchbook, it is. I nod quietly as I glance around the room, trying to find something to focus on. It’s not like they could give me my phone. I wouldn’t be surprised if Makarov took it, destroyed it maybe.

….

Makarov.

I feel my heart suddenly drop into my gut and dig deep to stay there. Makarov.. He’s one hell of a man, that’s for sure. Can I even call him a man? He’s not a human being by my standards, anyway. The things I’ve seen him do, the things I’ve seen him order others to do—me to do.. He’s the worlds single largest threat and he’s in the wind. My fingers grasp at my blanket. He is not loyal to any country, he’s not loyal to any creed—he slaughters for his own gain, he doesn’t flinch at anything. Not human trafficking, genocide, fucking hell, what am I saying?? He’s the one doing the genocide! Just the simple thought of him makes my hair stand up and I hate that. I’m going to have to expose myself to these people, what I did to seem loyal—no, I’m not going to excuse it. Yeah, sure, I did it under the guise of loyalty, but I hurt a lot of fucking people. Any regular civilian would call for my death, but what they don’t understand is that when you’re fighting a war and trying to prevent a bigger one, one that will end in M.A.D? You do what you have to do. You turn your brain off, you pull the trigger.

I don’t know what to think anymore.

Something nudges my leg which snaps me out of my daze—it’s Soap’s boot. He puts his foot back on the ground when he has my attention. His eyebrow is slightly pulled in, the outer edge of his lip is pulled tight for a moment. “Get out of yer head there, mm? Look, let’s play a little game, shall we?”

I groan and I look up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m being babysat when you say that.” Soap grins. “Ya are. Anyway—give me a, uh.. give me a thing to draw.” I blink at his words and I decide to not point out what he just said. I grumble and shrug. “I don’t know,” I began, glancing around the room at the different medical posters plastered on the walls—one of them on a program offered to help others to quit smoking. Bet that hasn’t helped too many. “A dog.”

Soap shakes his head as I began to say those words. “No, pick somethin’ else.” I raise an eyebrow at how quick he denied my request. “No, I want you to draw a dog.” I challenge, watching the way he twirls the pencil between his fingers. “Choose somethin’ else, I’m not drawin’ a dog.” My heart monitor begins to beep faster and Soap puts his hands up defensively. “Steamin’ Jesus, gettin’ worked up over the drawing? I’ll draw ya a cat instead, calm ya tits.”

I try to cover my snort of amusement because that wasn’t even on purpose. Soap is hunched over his sketchbook and I watch his pencil wisp across the paper, and I notice an indent on Soap’s cheek, almost like he bites the inside of it or sucks on the inside as he focuses. Huh. Makes me wonder if he does that on missions, too. I turn my head again and read the clock—it’s 3:30ish, maybe 3:40 AM. I only glanced at it before looking back at Soap.

I think I’ll actually break these handcuffs and end my life by breaking off pieces of the drywall and consuming it if this is how the next few hours will be spent.

“Y’know, my L.T. told me a joke concernin’ a dog.”

L.T.? Lieutenant, I’m assuming. I don’t say anything, but I look at him. Soap looks up from his sketchbook with a grin on his face again. “Wha’has two legs and bleeds?”

“A dog,” I respond.

“Half a dog.” He corrects me.

I blink at him slowly before trying to subdue the smile appearing on my face. I’m smiling because it’s stupid. “That’s dumb.” Soap inhales through his teeth as his pencil strokes across the paper. “Oooh, don’t let my L.T. hear that, yeah? The man loves his jokes.” My eyes watch his hand holding the pencil as I speak. “So,” I begin. “Your team is.. who exactly, again? You, Price, who else?” Soap hums. “Well, there’s me—I’m a sergeant. There’s Gaz, who’s also a sergeant. You’ve met Price, he’s my cap’n, and then there’s ‘The Ghost’.” He chuckles, glancing at me for a moment. “He’s my L.T.”

“‘The Ghost’?” I question, raising an eyebrow. Sounds like a name a middle schooler puts down for their kahoot game. Soap looks back at his sketchbook. “Well, it’s just Ghost. That’s just what he goes by.”

Edgy, damn…

“Hm. That’s the 141, then?” I bite back saying something about how they waterboarded me, because I know deep down that won’t help anyone. I’m trying to not think about all the damn torture I’ve endured this year because I find it quite annoying when my chest tightens so harshly—to the point where I can’t fucking breathe. Damn panic attacks.

Soap clears his throat and grins, erasing something before swiping the eraser shavings to the side. “All done. Wanna see?” He looks at me expectantly and I motion for him to show me. Soap turns his sketchbook towards me and he’s sketched out a messy, yet well put together drawing of a cat. He drew it in just a few minutes so it isn’t the most detailed, but it’s quite amazing for the time span he drew it in. “Oh, damn,” I say in quiet awe. “I thought you were just going to.. draw a little fella, I dunno.” I wince as my jaw pulses sharp pain through my nerves and my hand instinctively shoot’s up to cup my jaw. Soap’s sharp gaze lingers where my hand is for a moment before he shuts his sketchbook and stuffs it back between the mattress and the hospital bed frame. He grunts as he stands up and leans over me, his finger pressing the red call button on the remote near my pillow. He probably noticed my pain. “Thanks,” I mumble, my hand remaining on my cheek. My eyes flutter shut as the pain begins to intensify, so much so that I don’t notice another presence beside me until they utter my name. I eyes shoot open quickly, my body tense, but I quickly relax when I see it’s a nurse. “The Sergeant here told me you’re feeling some pain. Do you mind rating it on a scale of one to ten?” The nurse murmurs. The nurse is a man with long brown hair that’s tied up neatly into a bun. He has a darker colored beard with red hairs around his mustache and lower lip, dawning square-ish glasses.

“It’s at a four right now,” I respond, glancing at my IV lines before looking at the nurse’s gloves. “It’s climbing, though.”

The nurse hums and writes down my symptoms on a sticky note. “I’m going to go get you a small dose of a narcotic for you, alright? Usually I would give you some tylenol, but you’ve had some extensive medical care.”

I blink. Oh wow. A narcotic?

Soap grins and pokes me with the eraser of his pencil. “Looks like I’ll be babysittin’ ya fer a while more, yeah?”

Fuck.

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seenoversundown · 2 months ago

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For Death Or Glory : Chapter Sixteen

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex (nothing too deep) Mentions of Loss / Grief / Death, Sad / Anxious themes briefly, Fluff, RomComs (Char is a crier) , Jake being the little sweetie pie that we know and love him to be, and last but certainly not least- A LOT of references to John Tucker Must Die (may include some spoilers if you haven't watched the movie, but also go watch it?? What are you doing? It's incredible.)

Word Count: 4k.

Summary: After a long night with him, Charlotte finds herself in a bit of a predicament.

Author's Note: Oh, this turned out to be a cute one guys! I honestly went into this chapter with a vague idea of how I wanted it to go and then suddenly had the Jimmy Neutron-style brain blast when I realized what they needed to be doing. I really hope you enjoy it; it's a bit of a niche chapter but, it's actually kind of important in the grand scheme! Can't wait to hear your feedback and I really can't wait for next week. 🤭

Feels Like - Gracie Abrams "Met you at the right time, this is what it feels like."

The feeling of him pulling me back into him as I’m half asleep, letting a little ‘mmm’ slip out with his face tucked into me. Our bodies tangle into each other as he slides one of his legs between mine, keeping me as close to him as possible. The warmth coming from him made up for the lack of clothes we had on.

We lie there for a while, in and out of sleep, sharing gentle touches occasionally; he’d slide his hand up and down my thigh a few times and then fall back to sleep or kiss the base of my neck slowly. I’ll never understand how he’s real.

“I have to pee so bad,” he mumbles into me. His morning voice is extra raspy, and despite him being a little too honest, it really is adorable. I just quietly laugh at him as he tightens his grip around me.

“You should probably go take care of that,” I whisper back, trying not to laugh more.

He lets out a long breath against me, “I’d have to stand up, and that just sounds awful.”

“Yes, but if you pee on me, I'm never letting you live that down,” I tell him, making him laugh.

“Alright, alright,” he groans. “But, don’t move– I’m coming right back.” He leaves a kiss on my shoulder before sliding out of bed. I turn around to watch him as he just pulls on a flannel, his legs still fully on display from how short his boxers are. It's hard to believe that no girl has tried to get with him; he is effortlessly gorgeous.

Once he’s left the room, I grab my phone, unlocking it to see the dreaded email from my boss that I knew I would be receiving. We’ve been going back and forth the past few days trying to figure out what I'm doing. To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing. Not cooperating with your job is what you’re doing. Be so for real, Char.

Knowing I’d probably regret my choice, I decided to open his reply.

‘Charlotte- I’ve been trying to be as flexible as I can with you, and I understand that you’re technically doing work—I can’t stress how much this isn’t an option for you. You were hired as an in-office employee. Now, I know you’re still grieving, but our bereavement days are only supposed to be for immediate family members, and we are already letting that slide for your friend, so I would really appreciate it if you were a little more cooperative. I need you to figure out a return date within the next week or so and give it to me by the end of the day.'

‘Letting it slide for your friend,’ the sting from that specific line, making my heart pound and my eyes start to well up. I can’t cry right now; I doubt he meant it to be mean, Char. I don’t care how he meant it; it hurts. She may as well have been family, in my mind. Now, the daunting task of how I’m supposed to go back into the office after all of this will plague my mind today.

My hands are shaking as I scroll up and down through the email. I swallow hard to try and stop the sadness that’s forcing its way up my throat. I quickly lock my phone and toss it to the other end of the bed as the door to his room opens.

“I had a feeling you’d be up,” his soft voice rang through the room. He looks so sweet, carefully walking over with two mugs full of coffee. I figured you would want this.” He holds it out for me, his gaze finally meeting mine.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Thank you” comes out a bit more strained than I would have preferred. His eyebrows pull together. He sets his mug down on the nightstand and sits in front of me.

“What’s going on?”

I shake my head, my throat feeling tight all over again.

“Hey,” his hands gently rubbed my legs, “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

My eyes betray me as they well up. I set my coffee down with his, quickly wiping my eyes as the tears started to come out.

“It’s a long story,” I choke out quietly.

“I have time.”

The tears instantly fall as I sit there in front of him, feeling like he wants nothing more than just to make sure I’m okay. My hands fly up to cover my face, feeling dumb for crying in front of him.. again.

His hands moved to my arms, gently pulling me towards him. He whispered, “Ooh, come here, honey.”

Without hesitation, I crawled into his lap, resting my face against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me. We sit there for a few minutes like that before I finally decide to say it.

“Um.. my best friend passed away,” I tell him, doing my best to keep it together enough to explain. “Her funeral was the day I came in to help and cried in your office.” I can feel him take a deeper breath before saying anything.

“I can’t even imagine,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry.” Resting his face against the top of my head.

“Yeah, it’s just a lot.” My heart aches, replaying the thoughts in my mind before I choke out, “I miss her so much.”

“Tell me about her.”

What? He— oh. I shift myself to face him, sitting in between his legs. He sweetly wipes underneath my eyes, his hands dropping to find mine.

“Her name is Cassie,” I start. Telling him everything I could, how we met, and how she always made me laugh. The way she was so naturally beautiful and inspiring to watch exist. I was explaining how we would always end up spending the night at each other's houses because we would just get too caught up in talking. I found myself laughing at one point while explaining, even with tears still falling.

He held my hands the whole time. He listened so intently, keeping eye contact and only letting go when I needed one to explain something or if he was wiping a tear away from my face. He was everything I needed at that moment.

“She sounds wonderful,” he says, softly squeezing my hand.

My eyes well up as I look at him, forcing out a laugh as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to prevent the tears from falling. She would have loved you. The look on his face makes it harder to keep it together, his eyes looking so concerned as more tears sneak out.

“She really is,” I let out with a sigh, which swiftly turned into a laugh. “I swear I can hear her in my head half of the time.”

He smiles for a second, “That’s how you know she was a good one.”

A tear falls and lands on his hand, feeling the little spray as it bursts against him. Pulling me out of the moment and realizing how close we are. He's so gentle the way he runs his thumb over my knuckles as we talk. He quickly pulled me into his arms, and as soon as he saw tears, there was no hesitation. My heart shakes at the thought.

“You know what,” he starts, bringing me back to earth and gently squeezing my hands. Let me talk to Josh real quick. I have an idea.” His eyes are soft, gazing all over my face.

“Can I know what it is?” I ask quietly. He leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead carefully.

“If I can make it happen, yes.”

I grab the coffee he brought. It’s questionably cold at this point, but I'm sipping on it anyway. Cass, I wish I could get confirmation from you or something. How am I supposed to know if you were right?

He leans against the doorframe and looks at me. “Okay, are you comfortable hanging out for a little bit?”

“I can.”

“I’m going to go down to the bar for a few, and then I need to grab a couple things, and I’ll be back,” he says, talking faster than I think I’ve ever heard him speak. “If that's okay?”

I nod, “I might try to read a little then.”

He wanders over to sit in front of me again, “are you positive?”

“Mhmm,” I can’t help but chuckle at him a little, “Do what you need to.”

He gets dressed quickly, which is unfortunate for me, before walking over and kissing the top of my head.

“You promise you’ll be alright?” he asks, squatting down in front of me and instinctively grabbing my free hand, looking up at me, waiting for an answer.

I can’t help but laugh, “Yes, I’ll be okay.”

“There she is,” he says, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After he left, I spent a few minutes debating whether to reply to my boss but choosing not to do that while I was still emotional felt like the right option. I curled back into his bed, holding his pillow close to me as I drifted in and out of sleep for a while. Hearing the door open, he was definitely carrying something when the thud of it hitting the door rang through the apartment. I crawled out of his bed and snuck out into the living room.

“Hi,” I squeak out, feeling oddly excited to see him.

He turns around, a sweet little smile on his lips, “Hey you.”

I wander over to the couch, pulling the throw blanket over me while he’s putting things away.

“Okay, so, I got us some shitty food to make and some Downeast,” He looks over at me, holding up his hand out of defense, “I can cook, but it just felt appropriate for today, alright?”

“Do you not have to work?” I ask, letting my eyebrows pull together as I stare at him.

He shakes his head, “That’s why I went down early, so I could be free for the evening.” He took the night off for me?

“You didn’t have to do that!”

“No, I know,” he says, his smile making my heart melt, “I wanted to.”

He practically took the wind out of me with that statement. He wanted to..? He’s far too nice to me. It’s almost like I deflated but in a good way. Nobody has ever cared enough to do something like this.. Not realizing how zoned out I had been until his voice brought me back.

“Want to pick something to watch, hun?”

Something about the pet name always makes my body tingle. Last night probably didn’t help. I know immediately what I want to watch, opening Hulu quickly.

He wanders over, handing me a drink.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks, sinking into the couch next to me as I click play.

“John Tucker Must Die,” I tell him, sipping on my drink before setting it on the coaster near me. I have to tell Josh how cute these are.

“I don’t think I could tell you the last time I watched this,” he admits.

“Really? We watch it—” I start to say, but being hit by reality again, “Um... Cass and I would watch it all the time when we’d hang out.” It feels like he can tell that I am having a moment because he quickly grabs my hands.

“Well then, I apparently have been sleeping on a cinematic masterpiece!” He spits out, making me laugh. He sinks back into the couch, propping one of his legs up on the corner of the coffee table.

I was readjusting myself a little, partially for comfort but also because he was so close, and I didn’t know what to do with my legs. He glanced over as I was trying to get situated, silently grabbing my ankle and pulling my legs over on top of his. There were those butterflies again.

The opening segment of the movie showcases how terrible John Tucker really is. Unfortunately, I have wasted plenty of dates on men like him.

“This dude sucks?” he mumbles.

Giggling quietly, “Well, you’re not really supposed to be rooting for him, so I’m glad you think so.”

A few minutes later, Scott Tucker, as we know—he is the better brother—shows up on screen. I look over at Jake. He’s focused on the movie, but his hand is holding my leg, casually running it up my calf, and occasionally giving it a little squeeze.

Watching him for a minute as he’s focused on the TV, I notice that his expression is naturally so soft. I lean forward, pulling some of the throw blanket over him, not realizing I had the bulk of it.

“Didn't mean to hog the whole thing,” I giggle as I tell him. I was still trying to toss the excess blanket over him.

The way his eyes smile when he says, “Well, thank you.” He grabs the edge of it, helping me before bringing his hand back to my ankle. How he keeps some form of contact is so funny to me. It’s very clearly an absentminded thing that he does, and I won’t argue that it isn’t nice that he just wants to be touching me casually. It’s a wildly comforting feeling that I didn’t realize I enjoyed.

His giggles when John has the estrogen meltdown have my heart melting. Just the organic laugh out of him is such a nice sound, especially after earlier. I’ll take any ounce of serotonin I can get. It takes me a few minutes to focus on the TV and not just look at him because I’d almost rather spend the entire movie watching his reactions.

“Yeahhhh .. been there, bud,” he mumbles, as John is tripping over his words because Kate’s in red lingerie. He looks over with an exaggerated scowl at me as I bark out a laugh.

“Hey now,” I start, “You seemed to enjoy it!”

His mouth falls open, “Of course I enjoyed it? I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn’t behind the bar fighting demons the entire time, you little shit.”

“Oh, was it so terrible?” I tease him, trying not to laugh.

He grabs his phone, quickly swiping through our messages and clicking on one of the pictures I had sent. He turns it to face me and slowly blinks at me, “How was I supposed to be okay when you look like THAT?”

“Okay, maybe it was a little unfair,” I let out through a laugh.

His eyebrows pull together, “A little? God, I was sweating, honey.”

There’s that pet name again, and I don’t know what makes the butterflies show up, but they do every time. I pull myself closer to him. He looks over at me, lifting his arm for me to get closer to him.

Staying pressed against his side, his hand lightly drawing little circles on my arm while one of my hands found comfort on his stomach. Something about him, in general, just made me feel safe. The doom and gloom in my brain seemingly lessen when I'm around him.

I look up at him as Scott asks her to be his lab partner again, feeling my eyes well up a little. It’s him, isn’t it, Cass? Seeing the way his eyes light up at their interaction before glancing over to me.

“Oh?” He questions, his eyebrow popping up quickly.

“No, I’m fine,” I laugh out, trying to blink the tears back into my body. “It’s just sweet.”

“It is,” he says quietly, holding eye contact for a minute. I feel my heart start to pound as he stares at me. Why am I nervous, like we haven’t kissed before? My eyes wander to his lips just for a second. He really does have such a pretty mouth. It's hard not to admire him when he’s so close.

His stare drops to my mouth now. This is like the worst game of chicken we could ever play. A smile slowly pulls on the corners of my lips as he gazes at them.

Clearing his throat he starts to sit up, “Do you want some food?”

“Please, I’m shockingly hungry.” I almost couldn’t respond fast enough.

After a couple of minutes, I can’t help but move into the kitchen with him.

“You know,” I start, “it’s really unfortunate that they never kissed at the end.”

“You think so?” he glances over.

“Mhmm,” I say, “You can’t tell me you weren’t waiting for it.” Folding my arms over myself, waiting to see if he argues against it. Even though there’s not a good argument against that.

“Mmmmm...” his voice gets quiet. " It probably would have been a good one, too, huh?” He leans against the counter, holding his hands out to me.

“I feel like it had to be, right?” I move closer, and he smiles as I take his hands.

“Maybe something like,” he pulls me into him, “this?”

His hands held my jaw, pressing his lips into mine. Slowly, we moved against each other, my hands pressing against his chest. He lingers over my mouth for a second; his smile grows as he looks at me. Oh, oh no. The butterflies in my stomach go crazy as he smiles a breath away from me.

“Yeah, that would work,” I mumble. We’ve kissed countless times at this point; I mean, we literally had sex less than 24 hours ago.. Twice even. Something about him today is making my body react differently.

The oven beeping scares the shit out of me and brings me back to real life as I flinch, still in his arms.

We fall back into our regular routine of telling each other little stories that we can recall as he makes food; I’m just physically present rather than watching him through Facetime. And it’s not three a.m.

Not even eating could stop us from laughing about some ridiculous story he was telling me about him and his brothers as kids. I could listen to his stories all day, how he’s so happy when he’s talking about them.

“Should we watch your favorite now?” I ask quietly. “It is November now.”

He beams over at me, “I’ll never turn the opportunity down.”

He steals my plate away from me once I’m done eating, putting all our dishes in the sink. I watch as he just takes care of everything without question, which only encourages those pesky butterflies. I didn’t know who was in control of my body when I stood up, moving over to him at the sink.

“You can go get comfy if you want,” he tells me, glancing over.

I shake my head at him, “Not yet.”

His face was visibly lost, grabbing the towel from behind him to dry his hands off when he turned to me. I move into him, wrapping my arms around him.

“Oh?” he mumbles against me, pulling me tight into him. I soak in the feeling of his arms and chest against me; it’s becoming one of my favorite feelings, and that’s terrifying.

We just stood there quietly for a moment until I finally said what had been on my mind.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He leans back to look at me, “For what?”

“Everything,” I start, “You didn’t have to do all this for me, but.. I just really appreciate it.” And you.

“Sometimes we need people, but we don’t know how to ask for that,” He tells me, his calm tone lacing the words. “You deserved this. I couldn’t just send you to be home alone after that.”

My throat tightens at his words, and I can feel my breathing get heavier; oh, he’s–.

His hands rub my back a few times before sliding down the back of my arms; he giggles as he says, “C’mon, let’s go so you can laugh at me for loving this movie too much.”

Sitting back onto the couch but quickly fell into a more comfortable position this time, pulling a blanket over us and tucking his arm back around me. He’s slumped against the arm of the couch, and one leg stretched out so I can lay against his chest. It’s hard to focus on the movie when I’m listening to his heartbeat in one ear and feeling his hands holding onto me, with the subtle little thumb rubs to remind me that he’s still there.

“This movie really is good, isn’t it?” I mumble.

His chest vibrates as he giggles, “I’m glad you agree.”

The warmth coming from him is comforting, but the sudden heaviness of his arms around me makes me look up. He looks so delicate as he’s drifted off to sleep, sweet boy. I snug back into him, just enjoying the occasional little sounds of his breathing. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of the door opening startled me awake; I don’t remember falling asleep. I saw Josh and Quinn sliding their shoes off and quietly walking through the apartment. I made eye contact with Josh, sitting up a little to acknowledge him.

“Hi,” I whisper.

His grin shines even in the dark, “Well, hello there.”

“I can wake him up, so you two can do whatever,” I say, not wanting to inconvenience the two of them.

“Not necessary, love,” he mutters, looking over at his twin, who’s still out cold. “He hardly sleeps before four a.m. Keep him warm, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He shoots me a little wink as he pads off to find Quinn.

Looking back at this precious sleeping boy, he probably needed the day off. I reach down, grabbing one of the throw pillows that had fallen off the couch.

“Hey,” I whisper, carefully letting my hand rest on his cheek for a second, “lift your head for me.” Seeing his eyebrows pop up like he didn’t fully hear me.

“Mmm,” is all that comes out of him. His arms pulled me back into him, making me giggle quietly.

“Jake, let me help,” I laugh out, trying to push myself up again, but he’s tightening his arms around me. Peeking up, he has his eyes closed, but his little grin makes my heart flutter. His silent protest keeps the giggles coming from me.

“Baby, come on,” slips out; my face warms after calling him that, but his arms relax a bit so I can sit up. “Here, scoot down a little.” He never opens his eyes, but he listens, moving so he should be more comfortable. Slowly, he reaches up, his hand holding my chin and pulling me to him; he gives me one very tired kiss before he mumbles, in the cutest, little, husky tone, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” I whisper back. I move his leg over so I can squeeze between him and the couch cushions. My leg draped over his, pulling myself into his side and snuggling my face into his neck. His arms tightened around me for a second before I felt his hand run down the back of my head, leaving it there as he kissed my forehead. I can feel his lips smile against me; closing my eyes as a tear sneaks out, hopeful that he doesn’t notice.

I lay there, listening to his heart slow and his breathing change as he drifts back to sleep. I was just looking at the necklace he had on carefully, trying not to wake him. Occasionally, I softly scratch his chest, just trying to be in the moment, even if the tears are still slowly falling. His hand moved from my side to his stomach, so I decided to take the chance. I grab it and bring it up over his heart with mine, lacing my fingers into his. The sight of it caused a slight smile on my face despite the tears falling this time.

“Oh, Jacob,” I whisper to him, “what am I supposed to do with you?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Seventeen

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billskeis · 8 months ago

Note

Can you do gustav with an m!reader who’s more quiet in bed so like gustav’s worried he isn’t making him feel good and it just ends with fluff (sorry if it’s super vague but I’m kinda bad at writing prompts💕)

ᡣ𐭩 gustav pleasing his bf

heavy kisses were placed on your mouth as you intertwined your hands with gustav, tongues dancing together as you gain a pace both you and your boyfriend felt good with.

you feel yourself getting hard, growing from within the constraints of your jeans to which it then becomes an uncomfortable sensation.

gustav notices this after opening his eyes and looking at your obvious hard-on. he stops kissing you and places a peck on your cheek.

“c-can i..?” he asks with glossy eyes looking up at you.

“mmhm,” you nod.

with a smile, gustav unbuttons your jeans and frees your cock from your boxers. moaning in relief, gustav cannot help but blush from how sexy you sound.

“ah,”

“feel better?”

“definitely..”

“am.. am i allowed to touch you..?”

oh how cute, bless gustav’s heart for asking questions. obviously, you oblige and give gustav a kiss of reassurance as he begins to stroke your member.

his hand moving up and down your shaft slowly, precum already beginning to leak from the top of your cock.

you bite your lips, and look at how concentrated gustav is in pleasuring you. eyebrows furrowed and with total determination to make you come.

he pays a lot of attention to your tip, engulfing it within his palms and rotating his hands in a circular motion.

“m-mmph..”

you jerk your head up to the ceiling and close your eyes. fuck, it feels good. a tightening in your stomach begin to grow.

for his first time, it feels really good. i guess what comes with both being guys he already knows what feels good and what doesn’t.

is this how gustav masturbates?

thinking about it makes you hotter by the second, cock already leaking with just the thought of it.

however, due to your lack of noise gustav cannot help but pout. he begins to slow his movements as you open your eyes to look at your boyfriend, curious as to what happened.

“baby..? what’s wrong, why’d you stop?”

“you’re quiet.”

“y-yeah i am,”

“i don’t think i’m making you feel good..” he looks down and his pout forms into a frown. you swear you can see puppy dog ears folding in sadness and a tail stop wagging.

oh. my. god. how adorable.

“baby..” you place a hand on his shoulder, “i am feeling good,”

“hm.” gustav responds back in disapproval.

“c’mon baby, just because i’m quiet doesn’t mean i’m particularly not being pleasured.”

“i find that hard to believe schatzi..”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, you free gustav’s member from within his bottoms and scoot your bodies closer to one another.

taking a hand, you bring both yours and gustav’s members and rub them together. skin to skin. the contact of both your cocks melt to become one.

“can you feel it..? can you feel how wet i am? that’s all your doing, baby..” gustav whimpers as you reassure him.

“i’ve never felt so good in my life. i feel like i’m melting from your touch gustav. i literally have goosebumps on my arms, my stomach is uncomfortable and i want to come, so bad..”

“y/n..”

“just follow my lead now, i’ll take over.. you deserve to feel good too, yeah?”

“o-okay..”

as you jerk both your cocks together, heavy breaths are heard from you and gustav. chests heaving as the precum from each of you slick the lengths of both members, making it easier to please one another.

“p-promise..?” he asks,

“i promise.”

you hold out a hand for gustav to then interlock with his. leaning in for a kiss, you and gustav begin to make out as you masturbate his cock with yours.

moaning into the kiss, gustav tightens his grip onto your hands. you disconnect your lips from his, a string of saliva still attached to your mouths.

“mm..!

“gonna come?” you smirk. you pay more attention to gustav more than you do to yourself.

“y-yes, schatz fuck—ah..”

“me too..”

with a couple of jerks, both you and gustav come at the same time, orgasms hitting pretty hard as gustav begins to fuck his cock into your hand, how cute.

staining your palms is both yours and gustav’s cum. you look at it and smirk, but gustav just blushes and looks away bashfully to grab a tissue.

wiping your hands, you place a gentle kiss on his cheek that results in him giggling.

“thank you gustav,”

“mmhm,”

“you made me feel really good..”

“r-really?”

“yes really, i love you,”

“i love you too, liebling.”

a/n : this one was realllyyyy short but i hope it suffices for u anon >.< also not to familiar with writing for m!reader so feedback is greatly appreciated

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #tokio hotel smut #gustav schafer #gustav schafer x y/n #gustav schafer x you #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schafer fluff #gustav schafer smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

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narcissosbythepool · 6 months ago

Text

PriceGaz Week - Day 1 (and 4, arguably)

Poetry prompt: "& how many times have you loved me without my asking? how often have i loved a thing because you loved it? including me"

Rosie AU

Tags: Established pricegaz, past trans pregnancy, non-sexual intimacy, showering together, scars (incl. caesarean section), mild body image issues, fluff, kissing

Kyle has always been handsome to John.

From the very first moment they met, John could vaguely estimate that Kyle was a good-looking guy, though at the time he didn't think much of it, busy with the whole gas operation and helping Farah. After he recruited Kyle for 141 and they began to work closer together, it kept slowly creeping up on him, the attraction, the affection. And then one day he looked at Kyle and his eyes truly opened to his beauty, the depth of his eyes, his full lips, how his brown skin glowed in sunlight. Toned body and a wicked smile, add his charming personality on top, and John found himself inevitably, inescapably falling deeper into an infatuation that then became something more.

The man who met Kyle in Piccadilly had no idea where he would end up.

The man who first noticed Kyle months later had no idea that Kyle could become, somehow, inexplicably even more alluring.

John knew the changes to Kyle's body from the pregnancy, and even postpartum, were not the easiest for Kyle to process. John knew that no matter how much and thoroughly he convinced that Kyle was still gorgeous to him, it did not really matter as long as it bothered Kyle. Now, nearly 18 months later, Kyle is almost back to the shape he was before the pregnancy, and he seems more comfortable in his skin than he has in ages.

Fatherhood also suits him well. He's become irresistible. John doesn't know how he's able to keep his hands off at any time. And he doesn't – whenever he's back home he finds himself touching Kyle constantly. Pressing a hand to the small of his back at every chance, caressing his face and hair, giving him hundreds and then thousands of kisses so that they lose count by the time he has to go.

He had already thought he had found the love of his life, that this was the extent of how much a human heart could handle affection – and then came their little Rosanna and grew his heart at least three sizes just to contain all of his devotion for her. With all the hard work that comes with parenthood, she's truly his everything. Not a day goes by that he doesn't miss her, want to hold her and watch her grow, become a person in this frightening world. Her smile is the reason he keeps going, her laugh and little arms around his neck life's greatest gift.

So naturally watching Kyle interact with her makes his brain break.

Kyle is so comfortable with her – it's no wonder, they've spent 18 months together, a criminal amount of it alone as John's been gone. Kyle's attentive to her every need and when they look at each other it's clear that they're each other's world. John is merely grateful he's allowed within this galaxy of parental wonder. He'll make it up, he tries each time he comes back, but he also finds it sweet that the two people he loves the most in this world adore each other like this. Kyle handles her with ease, taking everything in stride, be it tearful meltdowns or Rosie’s boundless energy. She is such a happy little child and John could not be more grateful that his absence doesn’t seem to have affected her sense of safety in the world.

He’s watching now as Kyle puts Rosie to bed (he insisted on doing it tonight, claiming that ‘you’re hogging her all to yourself, let me have a moment’, which isn’t untrue).

“Say ‘good night’ to Da,” Kyle tells Rosie, to which Rosie replies “Night-night!” and they both turn to wave at John, who waves back, clearly being chased out – fine, he can take the hint, and he blows a kiss to the pieces of his heart and then closes the door behind him. He listens by the door as Kyle starts reading a story to Rosie.

“Now that Da has stopped eavesdropping,” he begins and John rolls his eyes, finally tearing himself from the door. He takes a look at the flat and then sets himself to cleaning up the day’s activities. He gathers Rosie’s toys and arranges them in their respective boxes, puts all the pillows back on the sofa, and then turns to the kitchen, filling up the dishwasher as quietly as he can, resolving to get to the frying pan tomorrow, and then wipes the counters, the table and the tray of Rosie’s high chair.

With all that done, he looks around and there’s just… nothing else to do. He should welcome the quiet, and he does on some level – life with a toddler isn’t the easiest thing in the world, no matter how adorable and sweet Rosanna is, but he still doesn’t feel the pull of sleep like he usually does at the end of the day.

No can do – he’s restless. Leaves have always been tough for him, his mind constantly in mission-mode. It was worse, before, he would pace around like a restless dog yearning for a run, and he would do that too. Run for miles, try to distract his mind from the emptiness around him. Now it’s different, with Kyle and Rosie, and he’s happy that he can channel all of his restless energy into spending time with his daughter. Give some alone-time and well-earned rest to Kyle and make sure that he bonds with his daughter properly before he has to go again.

Rosie still cries when he leaves. It tears him apart every time.

He glances at the clock. It’s only 7pm, normal bedtime for Rosie, perhaps even a bit early, but she was getting cranky and getting her to sleep before a meltdown is always better. She’ll most likely fall asleep mid-story again, which is always very cute, but it will take some time and John now has to figure out what to do in the meantime.

He ends up scrolling on his phone on the sofa and bothering Nikolai, trying his best not to ask about work things. These days he really tries to disengage from work, try out the whole work-and-life balance thing that’s all the rage these days. It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year and a half already, of living this new life of his – being a father (the thought still makes him feel a bit dizzy), returning home to his family, being the kind of person who gets to leave work to his workplace and then just… be done. Be home.

He’s still really bad with alone time, though. Waiting for Kyle to re-emerge from Rosie’s room feels like it takes forever, and John can’t help but be reminded of a dog again.

He looks up when he hears the door and Kyle smiles at him.

“She fell asleep fast,” John lies and Kyle yawns.

“I almost fell asleep first,” he admits and then joins John on the sofa. John opens his arms and Kyle settles sideways on his lap, practised by now in the fine art of cuddling.

“No TV tonight?” John asks and Kyle presses his face against John’s neck, and then nods.

“Can’t concentrate,” Kyle admits. “I don’t understand how I’m this tired…”

A thought occurs to John. “How about,” he suggests, “we take a shower?”

“In that case,” Kyle concurs and then leans in to kiss John’s cheek. “What are we waiting for?”

Kyle slowly raises his head. “Too tired for sex, too.”

“That’s why I suggested showering,” John raises a brow at him and Kyle flushes a little.

“For you to get off my lap,” John replies cheekily and gets a light tug on his beard.

“Piss off,” Kyle chuckles and then blesses John with another kiss.

John gets them the softest towels he can find and takes the baby monitor to the bathroom just in case. Kyle waits for him there already, still clothed, helping him out of his shirt and pants and dropping them to the laundry bin (which seem to have multiplied ever since they had their baby). When it’s Kyle’s turn, they both halt.

“How are you feeling today?” John asks. “Clothes on or off?”

Kyle swallows. This is always a bit of a difficult thing for them – they enjoy the intimacy of being skin-to-skin, but recently Kyle has had days when he’s just not feeling like feeling or looking at his body. Be it the sensory overload of parenting a tactile toddler or dysphoria, the reasons differ or intertwine, some days being touched and seen is overwhelming for him. John’s tried to make it clear that he never expects anything, is willing to go by Kyle’s wishes no matter what, but he knows Kyle worries about this.

Still John asks every time.

“Off,” Kyle says then. John resists the urge to ask if he’s certain – he’s learned that Kyle does not enjoy fussing, and would rather John take him at his word.

John lets Kyle take off his own clothes, as much as he longs to touch, but then Kyle plasters himself against John’s body and John’s arms come around to pull him closer into the embrace.

“Hi,” Kyle mumbles against his skin and John is met with such a rush of fondness that he has to close his eyes for a moment.

“Hello there. Ready?”

Kyle nods and then pulls back just to slide his hands from behind John’s back over his sides, all the way to his pecs, lovingly caressing his chest and the hair there. John enjoys the petting, lifting his hand to cup the back of Kyle’s head and press a kiss on his forehead. Kyle chuckles, until his gaze falls on John’s arm – specifically the tattoo there.

A simple rose, with Rosanna’s birth date on it. There are many marks of life on John’s body and this one he’s the proudest of. He got it not that long after Rosie’s birth. Kyle follows the shape of it, the series of numbers, with his fingers, and then presses a gentle kiss on John’s shoulder, then his neck, a trail of soft kisses all the way up to his jaw.

“Yeah,” Kyle sighs in his ear and John feels heady with Kyle’s undivided attention. His hand travels to Kyle’s ribs, to the tattoo commemorating their daughter right under his top surgery scar on the left. A stylized bee design, mimicking their nickname for Rosie, and her birth date next to it. He knows the lines of it by heart, doesn’t even need to look. The symbols of their daughter permanently etched in their skin feels appropriate – she turned their lives upside down, and it would not be fair if the inner workings of their souls were not reflected externally.

Close to the heart, always.

They step in the shower hand in hand and John makes sure the water temperature is warm enough before they step under the spray. He pulls Kyle close again and for a moment they just stand there under the water, brows pressed together and eyes closed, taking in the skin contact and closeness.

He lets Kyle take charge, as much as he yearns to touch and pamper him – but Kyle seems determined to be the active participant today, and John’s still not sure where they stand on the whole touching thing today. So he lets Kyle soap him, lets the touch ground him as Kyle washes his body, hands roaming gentle, stopping every now and then to appreciate a detail – a gnarly old scar by his shoulder; the expanse of his chest; another wide, deep scar from a knife wound across his waist (almost spilled his guts in Latvia); and throughout John watches him with soft eyes, feeling loved and cherished.

“My turn?” he asks finally, and Kyle returns to him with yet another sweet kiss.

“Sure.”

John repeats the same process: soaps Kyle thoroughly, washes him clean of sweat and the day’s grime, and presses kisses to his shoulders and neck whenever he can reach. His hands follow the lines of Kyle’s body – the toned muscles, the softness of his dark skin, stalling by the stretch marks he adores. He knows Kyle isn’t the biggest fan of them, but John loves them. He runs his fingers over them.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs and Kyle cups his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with his thumb.

“So you’ve told me.”

“It’s true. Every time.”

Kyle answers with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and John has to keep going to keep himself from crumbling on the spot.

He traces Kyle’s scars with reverence, as always. He knows them all by heart: that’s from when he ordered Gaz to rescue the hostages; this one’s from when he told Gaz to leave them. That’s from a gunshot wound from a sniper John didn’t notice; there’s a stab wound from Gaz covering for Soap. All these marks of life on him, and yet—

“I love this one the most,” John says, tracing the C-section scar across Kyle’s abdomen. It’s healed by now, but still clear – he knows it occasionally bothers Kyle, but John himself is positively obsessed with it.

“Yeah?” Kyle chuckles. “How so?”

“It feels like I put it there,” John says, transfixed on the darker line contrasting against Kyle’s beautiful brown skin. The truth is – he thinks most of Kyle’s scars, received after he joined John’s task force, as his. Both with the occasional guilt, but also with a sense of devotion. Kyle got these scars because of his orders.

This one, though. This one he knows he’s responsible for.

Kyle knows this, and throws his head back with a rich laugh. “You’re deranged.”

“Yup,” John replies and then leans in to chase Kyle’s laugh with his lips, pulling him into a deep kiss once again. Kyle hums in his mouth and then pulls back with a sweet little peck.

“You know what I like about you?” Kyle asks, hooking his arms around John’s shoulders.

“Mmhm?”

“You always make me feel better about myself.”

“Really now?”

“Swear. You compliment me and say nice things.”

“Of course. You’ll always be gorgeous to me,” he says and Kyle grins.

“Yep, that’s what I mean,” he chuckles, bringing them nose to nose, nearly touching. “You’ve made me like many things. Including myself.”

It’s suddenly hard to speak. He parts his mouth but nothing comes out, and Kyle closes the distance, kissing him right on his stupefied face, the tip of his nose, then his cheek and finally his lips – by then John’s brain has caught on and he returns the kiss with a gentle kind of cupidity.

“The least I can do,” he murmurs. Kyle laughs again, the sweetest sound.

“And that’s why I love you,” Kyle says to that, sincere and heavy, and John doesn’t know how to verbalise the depth of emotion he feels – love just isn’t enough, with his entire being yearning to merge their very souls into one spinning spiral of light. Who else could he stand with in the water, like this, just exist together like the entire world revolves around them? Who else would he spend the rest of his life with? It feels impossible to even think that this could ever end, and he does not even dare to imagine such an impossibility.

“You alright there?” Kyle wipes a thumb over his cheek and John can’t tell if he’s wiping away a stray droplet of water or tears, and he doesn’t really care.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “I love you too.”

“Wow, for a moment I was worried you wouldn’t say it back,” Kyle teases – as if John could ever deny him the confession. He replies by brushing the tip of his nose against Kyle’s.

“Like I could resist.”

They enjoy the hot water, holding each other close, until the tips of their fingertips are all pruny.

John dries Kyle with the soft towel, takes his time with it, and Kyle lets him, understanding that John needs this moment to wind down from the emotional intensity. He gets on his knees to dry Kyle’s legs and when he looks up, it’s a sight from his dreams: Kyle looking down at him with a benevolent smile, like some saint, and John can’t resist but press a reverent kiss on the scar on his abdomen.

You’ve given me everything, he wants to say, you’re like a painting by the renaissance masters; I’d build a cathedral to your worship if you gave me the word; you’re the father of my child and I can never thank you enough.

But perhaps Kyle understands – he lifts John’s chin with two of his fingers and pulls him up to his feet as if tethered to his touch.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says.

Kyle’s word is law, so John dries them both as carefully and hastily as he can.

They change into their pyjamas (a matching set – a gift joke from Dotty, but in frequent use nonetheless) and climb under the covers, Kyle settling in John’s arms as easy as breathing, like their bodies were made to be moulded together like this.

On their way to bed, he lingers for a moment by Rosie’s nursery, eager to peek in and see if everything’s alright. He feels a touch to his elbow and it’s Kyle, gesturing with the baby monitor in his hand.

“She’s fine,” he says and tugs John by the arm. “Come to bed.”

He’s gorgeous. He’s everything John could ever have wished for and was convinced for so long that he didn’t deserve, couldn’t even dream of this reality. And yet here he is – sleeping in the same bed with his partner, their toddler dozing away in the next room, and it really can’t get better than this. And he owes it all to this man in his arms, the man of his dreams, the man—

“Stop thinking and go to sleep.”

He’s barely able to stop the audible laugh bubbling in his chest. Best not to wake their little one behind the wall.

“Yes, sir.”

END.

#pricegaz #gazprice #pricegazweek2024 #pricegazweek #rosie au #narcissosbythepool #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #trans pregnancy #tw body image issues

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jacobsbigmelons · 2 years ago

Text

accidents happen

Jacob Custos x male reader

Fluff, Soft Jacob time, Kaitlyn being a girlboss, whatever other tags that would go into fluff or something.

blood, slight descriptions of injury.

The sun began to set as your group of kids were eager to see the moon with your telescope, you wanted them to do their best at drawing the moon when they saw how it looked like in person. After all everything looks better when you get to see it in person.

You handed out some papers with a big circle in the middle which is where they would draw the details of the moon, although one of the kids seemed to not hold on to one of the papers good enough because as you sat down you saw the paper dancing in the very slight breeze that came by as it got trapped under the table you were sitting at. You put your finger in the air as a way to let the kid know to wait, you ducked underneath the top part of the table as you went to reach for the paper. The lack of sunlight wasn’t helping but your eyesight should be just fine.

As you tried to reach for their paper you felt something sharp claw against your bare forearm, you quickly pulled away as you changed positions so your other arm can avoid whatever it was that nicked you. You finally got ahold of the gravel tainted piece of paper and gave it back to the kid, luckily the groups lanterns weren’t bright enough to expose what accident you had going on.

You sat back down. back to the group as you inspected the probable scrape or whatever, but when you went to touch your arm, you felt a liquid as your body practically froze. You tried to find the walkie-talkie you stuffed in your bag, luckily that was an easy find at least. You got up and stepped away from the group as you were trying to keep your cool in order not to freak out a whole group of elementary kids.

“Kaitlyn, where are you? come in.” you released your blood stained fingers off the button as you suspended the other arm in the air, the walkie-talkie made only static before her familiar voice rang through. “I’m with Ryan by the fire why?” her voice questioning with slight concern “get southbound, I- I think I hurt myself like…really really bad. And keeping my composure in front of ten to fifteenish kids is getting pretty hard with a hurt arm.” you kept it a bit vague in case the other councilors were with kids themselves.

After you stated your condition, other councilors began to chime in to your channel as they were also worried. “Woah woah are you okay?” Abi spoke “need someone to watch over your group?” Nick offered “ohmygoshyespleaseyesyes” you spoke very quickly as you heard fast moving footsteps from behind you, as you turned you saw Kaitlyn practically running from up the small hill before she eventually made her way to you as you maneuvered your way past the group while hiding your arm.

“Dude…how the hell did you do this?” Kaitlyn spoke quietly with a worried tone, you only had a concerned look on your face as you shrugged. She applied a tourniquet as she wrapped it up in cloth. During this Nick came by as Kaitlyn was about to take you back to the main camp. “Nick…just…guide the telescope to the moon. It isn’t hard, you got this.” Nick gave two thumbs up as you and Kaitlyn got back to the main camp as quickly as you could, she was trying to help you apply pressure while also getting back asap.

Ryan’s group of kids was at the fire as he was probably narrating more of his scary stories, Kaitlyns light illuminating you two behind him as you guys entered. You found Dylan and Jacob who were just communing with some of the other kids, of course walkie talkies nowhere in sight so they have no clue what’s happening. Though as they saw how scared the two of you looked they immediately went to express a lot more concern.

“uh are you guys okay?” Dylan said as he got up from his spot and walked to you, “Yo dude, what happened with your arm?” Jacob said as he pointed to it like he needed to or else he wouldn’t even believe what he was seeing. “Nicked myself on some sharp thing while I was helping a kid” you said while shrugging again, “okay okay that’s enough talking, we kinda have a patient in need here” Kaitlyn said as she shoved past the two boys and went into the clinic.

You sat down on the supposed to be bed area as Kaitlyn grabbed your hand and pushed it down on the wound to let you know to keep pressure. “Don’t let go of that wound, let me get shit to clean that up.” She said while scavenging around the cabinets, she eventually found some gauze and bandages. “Okay let’s- let’s clean the wound before I patch you up” the door opened with the two boys again, your arm now in some good lighting showed just how bloodied it had gotten, even with a cloth it still rarely dripped just a bit.

“Oh perfect, Jacob in here, Dylan make sure those kids don’t get nosy and try to peek in or whatever” Kaitlyn demanded as Jacob entered the clinic and Dylan went back to talking with the kids who they were talking with before. “Jacob we’re gonna clean his wound but it’s gonna sting and if this wound was as big as I think it is, you’re gonna have to hold him still because he will most definitely want to get away from this” Kaitlyn said as if you weren’t conscious to the ongoing problems at hand “i’m right here…what y-you think I can’t handle a bit of disinfectant?” you giggled as she rolled her eyes.

You two got up to go to a nearby sink as cool water began to run while Kaitlyn carefully removed the cloth, the tourniquet doing its job valiantly. She exposed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide as both Jacobs and your eyes lit up in slight fear but moreso you. “When you said disinfectant-“ “Dude you’re not gonna- put that…on his arm right?” both you and Jacob would rather amputate than deal with the pain that is hydrogen peroxide. “It’s all we have, it’ll disinfect it practically instantly but its going to burn like all hell.” You sighed as Jacob sighed, his footsteps slowly maneuvered behind you, so slow it’s as if he didn’t want to put you through even more pain. His hands rubbing your shoulders as if you were gonna get a pep talk, except that never happened. He grabbed your arm as you were thinking of any excuse to make Kaitlyn stop.

“Kaitlyn are you sure that’s all we got, i mean shit cmon there’s gotta be- FUCK DUDE FF- A-aHh- SHIT-“ You immediately tried retracting your arm but Jacob held it tight as you used your other hand to muffle your faint but very slight held back cries. “Shit dude i’m sorry i’m sorry” Jacob said rather genuinely. “Sorry, if I just did it now rather than hearing you make every excuse in the book for why I shouldn’t we would be here all day, I’m sure you’ll understand when your vendetta against me fades away in maybe a few centuries?” She said trying to lighten the mood despite the fact you couldn’t really grasp what anyone was saying, the burning was just way too much even if the cool water was supposed to help.

It felt like an eternity, the pain refused to let up and if it was then it’s doing a terrible job at it “hey man you did it! you did it!” Jacob moved his hand from your shoulder to your back as he tried to sooth every feeling going through you, his voice was always able to snap you out of thought even if it was a bit harder this time around. Your hand moved from your mouth as you simply gasped, trying not to make any of your pain vocal. Sure the pain was going away more and more at a snails pace but did she really have to do it so suddenly? You hadn’t realized the tourniquet was off as well, I guess the cut wasn’t super deep, no stitches thankfully. Though the cloth was put back on.

“Alright you gotta rest up, i’m sure the other guys will come back soon” she said as she moved you back to the bed, “cmon Jacob” she said as she tried pulling him out with her. “Uh- c-can he stay? Just a bit?” As much as you needed rest, seeing someone hurt and ask for something only to not get it just didn’t sit right with her. “Okay just- don’t stay in there forever kay? He needs rest.”

She closed the door softly as Jacob sat next to you “Fuck man that scared me dude, thought you were gonna like- I dunno lose an arm?” it was quiet to the point where Jacob thought he said something wrong before your head rested on his shoulder and your intact arm wrapped around his. “Sorry just…I kinda need someone like you with me right now, no offense to Kaitlyn but she isn’t a big strong guy who makes people feel safe.” Jacob was just looking around, not weirded out or anything just appreciative that you think that of it, “I make you feel safe? Well what can I say, you don’t workout just for nothing” he got that tone where his ego was boosted just a bit as he flexed the arm you were holding just to prove his point.

“Yes thank you for making it clear you have big biceps” you said playfully annoyed as you smiled in the moment, you liked him a lot and he didn’t seem to mind all the physical affection you were giving him. You explained how you got hurt, and with the rambling you two were doing, his voice lulled you more and more to sleep. At this point his hand was on your head to make sure you don’t accidentally fall off his shoulder. “i’m glad you’re okay man, really” he hugged you in a slightly odd way with how you two were together but he somehow found a way to hold your head up while giving you a rather delicate hug.

His head slightly rested upon yours as he was just glad to know you’re okay, the last thing he needed was someone he cared for a lot to get hurt. Even if it’s only been a month and a half together, he cared for you to be that safe figure for you to go to. He eventually did want you to get some sleep so as carefully as he could he moved your body to the bed as slowly as he could and made sure your hurt arm wasn’t touching anything unnecessary.

He got up as he just watched your sleeping body, “don’t do that shit again” he huffed with a smile as he playfully tapped his fist against your leg. As much as he would want to make you comfortable and take your shoes and jacket off, that would probably be what wakes you up, so he just carefully exited the room as he rejoined his friends while keeping you in his mind.

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