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sunlightmurdock · 5 days

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Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of them. This place is something that they had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not their home and it has never been, until now. Now, Avery, at least, is stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, she’d had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, she is met with a smiling family picture. Only, she’s not in it.

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself.

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of her bags in one hand behind her today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind her, reminding her that she’s standing stationary and blocking his path.

The nickname stings. Avery’s last name isn’t Mitchell because her biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because her mother’s husband knew she wasn’t his and would rather die before letting her take his name.

She shrugs her duffel bag closer to her body and turns left. Bradley huffs under the weight of her luggage, watching her walk her cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of her single duffel bag, she turns slowly to face him and frowns slightly. “My room.”

Avery doesn’t remember Bradley. Not in her own memories, anyway. She knows he was around, she’s seen him in pictures but the image in her head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat.

Even with all those differences, there’s a very slight familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” Avery realises with a hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was hers. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was hers, too. It’s not like she had ever kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that she would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of them.

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on her face, right in front of him, is killing him.

The big room. The loft room upstairs. Avery thinks about it and finds herself pretty sure that she’s never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?”

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that she had stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on her face, he hadn’t even considered leaving her here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for her sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone.

“Okay,” Avery agrees, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like hers, anyway. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. She calls Maverick ‘Pete’ now.

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of her bags and nodding for her to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself.

Of course, as they walk silently across it, neither one of them would know that. Neither one of them was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind her, following her up. She stops at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind her.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around her and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at her. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, her shoes along the tan oak floors. Her fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now.

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before.

Suddenly, Avery’s throat is thick with the knowledge that all she knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that she’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding her of why exactly it is that she’s here.

Fire burns behind her eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets her bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling her eyes out, and Avery refuses to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again.

That thick feeling sits in her throat like a stack of weights as she sits down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking her weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to her and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since she had even set foot in this house last. If she had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… she sits and thinks to herself about if she would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting her head, she blinks at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing her onto her feet again.

Mobile once more, Avery turns slowly to take in her surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, she was prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing she wants is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” She nods, setting into motion to help take the sheets off.

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, she hasn’t seen how he has been for the past few days.

“I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to her with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of them until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows.

Then, there’s a moment of total stillness between the two of them. Her gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of them.

Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of them.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

Avery watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. She wonders if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. She stands there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew her dad. Once.

When it comes to wracking her brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, Avery can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside her shoddily installed car seat.

Truthfully, her experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to her as any of the other guys in the stories she grew up hearing about. Her very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at her.

He can’t hide from her forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger.

He stares down at the pizza between the two of them as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when she had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of them, now. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. Avery has barely unpacked. She set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever her space to claim.

She chews absentmindedly at the bite she had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above their heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why she isn’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for Avery. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here she is, calm as can be.

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at her. Her hair is up differently now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs, tidier than it had been earlier. She’s wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes she got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think she looks that much like her old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when she offers him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. They both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” Avery asks quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows she probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in her spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

She stops chewing. That last bite sits in her mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. She stares across at him, awkwardly making herself swallow down the last of her bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at her mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” She tells him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. She’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.”

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” She picks up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell her not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches her, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.”

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For her, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.”

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into hers under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” She hums, pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that Avery wakes up. He hears her coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s hers, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making her uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as she strolls into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at her eyes.

She’s wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt she had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making her lift her gaze from busily tapping at her phone. Her gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton.

Blinking, she finds his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. She locks her gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles.

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” She heads right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when she grabs the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. Avery the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching her face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee.

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” Avery skims her fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much she knows about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for her to get herself one. “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.”

“Did he like Mav much?” She asks, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make her coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. She swings it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if she’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across her mind — what’ll happen to this place when she leaves it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into her tone as she curls her fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white.

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on her face, stuck between whether she’s sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of her tongue with a shrug of her shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father.

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for her without thought. His palm claps against her shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on her shoulder, her eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what she’s searching for, or whether she finds it. His fingers squeeze softly against her skin before the touch is gone all together.

They drink their coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in their silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — she doesn’t have a clue of what to expect.

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces her not to wear the more formal dress she had thought she’d have to wear. She slips into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes her dusty old car look even worse.

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, she watches him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; she silently appreciates that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when sleep is cut from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep Avery up.

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with her car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night.

“You ready?” His voice startles Avery from her daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” She’s stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before she’s taking her next breath, leaving him to catch up to her.

His long strides have him at her side before long, reaching ahead of her to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters.

This process has already been easier with him at her side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops her from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against hers.

He catches her forearm as she tries to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm.

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on her forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of her wrist as he nods his head towards her.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way Avery has stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards Avery, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who the girl at Bradley's side must be.

Her boots hit the ground, Avery's lips parting slightly as she realises that this stranger is headed right for her. Bradley feels Avery's arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way she's trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch Avery when he can see how unnerved it makes her.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from her forearm and his palm falls flat between her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid Lynn's hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while Avery continues down the hall.

Bradley catches up to her as she raps her knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against her thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind the young woman he had arranged this meeting with. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Avery checks back over her shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind her, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression.

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into hers and shakes her hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting her hand go, he then reaches to her right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps her back as he leans into the handshake.

Avery steps away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to her than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

Avery sits in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can.

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him, not really.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

Avery blinks at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley.

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Her brows knit together, lips pursed, unimpressed.

“But— he’s dead.” She frowns abruptly, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at her, her words like a jolt of ice-cold water, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in her expression, no fear or sadness. Pete deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from her side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

She shoots him a look. When it’s clear that she isn’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue.

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects are delivered to you.”

She drags her teeth across her plush bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of her head. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictures the moment that this is all over. She can get out of here and pretend it never happened.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns her. He’d heard that she had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead her about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for her.

She’s biting at the inside of her cheek so hard that she must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of her skirt and breathing like she’s trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing her across the parking lot, listening to her try to control her breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching her cautiously as she crowds herself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around her. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes her bicep, bending his knees so he can catch her eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

Avery knows that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, she’s sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left her with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of her plate for her. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at her bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in her eyes not to spill over.

She sniffs, turning her gaze towards the ground. The lump in Avery’s throat burns and bobs as she tries to swallow it away.

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that she is in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than her. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud.

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.”

…

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #bradley Bradshaw x reader #bradley Bradshaw x you #bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

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lewmagoo · 1 year

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to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die.

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that?

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course.

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security.

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security.

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.”

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage.

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did.

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office.

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him.

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him.

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety.

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it.

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors.

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room.

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved.

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit.

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him.

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence.

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours.

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation.

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger.

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized.

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child.

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking.

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart.

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?” You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling.

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back.

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride.

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear.

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life.

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things.

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it.

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate.

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you.

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of.

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking.

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger?

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place.

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room.

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him.

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof.

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion.

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor.

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it.

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker.

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room.

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied.

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed.

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room.

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so.

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around.

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan.

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him.

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found.

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals.

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked.

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him.

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him.

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security.

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired.

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest.

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes.

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety.

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him.

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life.

But you would cherish the time you were allotted.

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake.

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see.

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door.

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room.

“Is that better?” He asked.

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again.

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers.

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply.

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.”

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked.

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down.

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted.

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own.

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed.

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you.

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit.

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling.

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing.

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured.

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb.

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while.

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time.

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch.

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods.

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out.

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor.

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth.

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you.

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless.

“Feels so good,” you whined.

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his.

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own.

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him.

“Bobby,” you whimpered then.

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly.

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it.

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game.

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased.

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing.

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally.

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship.

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver.

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was.

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.”

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you.

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting.

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped.

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight.

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand.

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache.

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back.

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out.

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours.

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock.

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks.

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to.

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable.

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper.

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly.

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes.

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him.

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke.

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged.

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks.

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart.

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth.

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it.

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.”

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away.

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom.

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did.

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night.

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him.

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest.

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you.

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door.

And, unfortunately, it did.

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest.

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be.

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line.

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully.

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake.

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled.

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air.

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired.

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor.

But he had no idea how many more there were.

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation.

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent.

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered.

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone.

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle.

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath.

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming.

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you.

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull.

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.”

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg.

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you.

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

But then, hope.

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger.

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic.

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground?

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him.

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out.

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet.

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob.

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn.

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead.

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob.

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered.

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him.

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury.

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead.

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization.

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway.

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them.

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you.

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed.

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied.

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him.

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile.

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious.

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks.

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob.

But that was out of the question.

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth.

They were going to operate immediately.

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze.

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth. “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you.

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was.

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over.

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk.

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply.

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We’ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you.

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it.

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it.

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action.

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued.

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands.

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore.

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone.

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it.

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply.

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through.

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway.

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked.

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security.

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head.

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things.

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House.

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path.

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did.

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed.

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like.

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven.

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all.

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

taglist (a mix of those already on the list/who might be interested):

@bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @delopsia @milesmillergf @ohtobeleah @purelyfiction @honeymurdock @ihavealewproblem @high-speed-r @happyrebelruins @chasing-fics @roostersgirlfrxend @bradshawsbaby @whisperofsong @hangmanapologist @callsign-magnolia @callsignmedusa @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @agentorange9595

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd

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sickuma · 1 year

Text

ORPHIC (2) — A Simon Riley fic.

❱ This is the last part of HIRAETH ! I don't want to drag it any longer than this. It's so much fun writing this and exploring more words to add to my vocab! Everyone's been nice (except when they give me their therapy bills) I love you guys srsly, You make writing so much more fun <3

I should have gotten this done HOURS ago, but I had to do stuff and just finished working out T-T but hey, writing block isn't killing me rn.

ꜝ？This fic may contain heavy topics such as death, depression and melt-downs, if any of those are not to your liking. Please do so exit the fic. Angst warning!

➴ SYNOPSIS — Ghost mourns of what's lost; reminiscing of the memories, apologizing, begging for you to hear his desperation for your presence as he sat Infront of your tombstone.

QUERENCIA — (n.) A place from which a one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

“Relationships in the military,”

He spoke, pausing to stare at your eyes. Searching for hesitance,

“They tend to be tragic.”

“But we’ll be together, no?”

“look , kid, it's not as easy as it sounds—”

“Do you feel the same way?”

You cut him off, not giving him the chance to speak. Catching ‘the’ simon ghost riley off guard, “Yes.” he breathes out.

“Then I don't see the problem, lieutenant, I love you, you love me. That's what barney said.”

He stares at the void, remembering yet again another memory he kept special in his heart. He wondered if you had not pursued him at that exact moment. Would he still feel the raw pain that plagued his heart now? Would it still hurt all the same?

If you hadn't stubbornly shown him how determined and real your love for him was, would he still be in this position, dreading every day that comes knowing the person he needs the most was taken from him.

throwing his gear onto the side. Making his way back to his quarters without giving anyone a second glance,

Ever since you've been gone, the base has been awfully tense. The rest understood his situation, trying their best to be there for him, all while attending to their own duties. The past few weeks had been the hardest, They could tell Ghost had been on edge.

He’d only speak to them if it's necessary, otherwise he’d be kept to himself. As if the past had repeated itself, there appeared a gap between his friends and him. He was mourning, and he plans to keep mourning,

If that means having you on his mind,

Then he’ll mourn forever.

“Ghost?”

Price’s eyes widened at the sight of Ghost,

It’s the first month since you've passed away and the rest of the team planned to pay you a visit to show respect and also let you know how missed you are, not just by them, but also by Ghost who seemed to have shut his whole world out.

He saw how Ghost shown a tough facade when he would hear him call for her,

At night, when everyone slept, Ghost cried and wept for you to come back. Begging aimlessly for your return,

Begging endlessly to feel your arms around him again.

Price didn't expect him to be joining them. He hadn't been. The team visited your resting place a couple of times before, he’d invite him but he’ll make up reasons not to go. Price figured he still hasn't accepted that's where your body lays,

The ride to their destination felt almost eerie, the tension leading the hour long drive. Nobody dared to speak, not a single word.

Ghost’s mind resides elsewhere, watching the scenery they drove past. Chest heaving up and down as he struggles to fathom that he’d finally visit you,

No—he was more occupied with thinking about how it’s only been a month.

It felt longer than that. It felt longer than his training days. He felt more exhausted, more agitated, and more angry. He resents every breathing thing he comes across to,

He knew it sounded cruel, but why do they deserve to live and you don't? You have been the kindest, and yet you were taken first. He couldn't understand,

As a soldier he’d lost multiple comrades, having to face funerals—visit the cemetery, and deal with death itself. Though yours felt unreal,

It felt as if his bones were crushed. He knew how pathetic it seemed, clinging onto someone who's never coming back, but he'd rather cling onto the past if it means having to hold you close to his heart forever, where you belonged.

、

Everyone got out of the car,

Everyone but him.

Price sighed, not planning to pry. If his breath felt shallow just by being here, he could only imagine what Ghost felt at this moment, considering it was his first time to ever be here.

A few minutes passed, and the three sat quietly at first until soap had cracked a dad joke, lifting the atmosphere just a little bit. They spoke as if you were there, sitting with them, price would constantly glace at Ghost, who sat quietly in the car. He wondered what ran through his mind.

“We should give him his own time to talk to [name].” Price groaned as he stretched when he stood up, the two following closely behind him. “He needs this.”

Ghosts' eyes caught them approaching. He felt his stomach sink. He knew he planned to wait until they finished before he took his turn as he expected himself to break down and shed tears. He didn't want them to see that. And yet he still felt his heart beat faster when they came back,

Price threw him a small smile, a smile of empathy.

As if that's his cue, he jumped out of the car. Taking slow strides towards ‘your’ direction. He never thought he could ever despise a cemetery so much in his life,

The only thing he could think of was the way you laid down there, away from his grasp.

No matter how slow he walks, he soon finds himself in front of ‘you’, oh well—a stone that only proved to him that you're gone. “Have you been waiting?”

He couldn't believe it,

He was talking to a mere stone.

But he’ll take what he can get.

“Wake up.” he stared down with an expressionless face, “enough laziness, [name]. Get up from there.”

“You can have all of the shirts you want from me, you can pluck my eyebrows, do it, you can get a puppy. Anything you want just— just wake up.”

His voice betrayed him the more he spoke,

The longer he looked at the stone, the way he kept reading the credentials written on it, the more it felt real. Every passing second is just another evidence of your disappearance,

“You always call me mean,”

He swallowed,

“Yet you're the one who left first.” his cold gaze softened, the more he looked at the ground. Under the ground where your body laid.

Where the body of his lover slept eternally.

“How do I find you now? Now that I'm stuck here?”

He recollects his promise, the promise to reunite in your next life. It all pierced through him. He’s a soldier, yet he finds himself worrying about the most ridiculous thing. What if you'd reincarnate before he passed?

What if you leave him behind again,

What if this time you find someone else to love?

What will he be then?

“Remember when you'd go on tangents about how fascinating reincarnation and universes are? I believe you now, okay? So— so wait for me.”

He sat down, quietly enjoying the breeze. He couldn't deny the pain of the piercing ache that developed in his chest. It never really went away. He would simply distract himself.

“I find it hard to sleep again, love.”

“The bed feels colder without you in it. Do i sound cheesy? Do not make fun of me. I want to be honest. Maybe doing that would lessen the overbearing hurt in my chest. It’s just—it’s only been a month since youre gone and im already a fucking mess. I mean, look at me,”

He chuckled,

“I look rough, dont i?” he sighed, “would you still find my eyes pretty even when i tire them out by crying?”

He looked away, observing the serenity of the cemetery. He wondered how many souls wandered around, and if yours were one, and if you stood close to him.

“I feel—just terrible. When I woke up, I thought I'd finally lose it, well I did. I caused price trouble, you'd have scolded me. I really did it this time, pushing everyone away as if you'd come back to tell me off. That's not ever happening, and that's what hurts the most.”

He spoke slowly, yet he felt out of breath.

“It feels suffocating—you know? To live without you.”

“I don't know why I woke up, I wished I didn't. Maybe then I'd be with you.”

“It’s scary, [name], so scary.” he whispered, the rasp of his voice sounding more evident. “I have no certainty if we’ll see each other again; and I need nothing more than to hold—to feel you again. To hear your voice, to take in your scent. If I have to give everything up for that, I will.”

“Anything just to have you back to me.”

He stared at the words engraved on the tomb,

“but if i have to wait decades or centuries—i will—without hesitance, without a blink, i will. For you, I'll keep being patient.”

“That's how worthy you are [name]. So wait for me please, no matter how long it takes for me to find you again, please wait.”

He spoke lowly, but certainly, no matter where you are, he hoped you'd recognize him, hoping you’d recognize his eyes you loved so much,

“Even if it means i'll have to die again and again, i’ll keep searching for you until we’re back home until i can hear your voice call my name again.”

“Wait for me, [name].”

Hoping you’d recognize your Simon.

、

Somewhere along the memories,

、

Somewhere along the universe,

、

Somewhere along life and death,

、

Somewhere along—

、

“Simon.”

“Pardon?” he looked at you, puzzled expression written all over his face. “Whatd you just say?”

“My simon.”

We're home.

767 notes · View notes

qwimblenorrisstan · 1 month

Text

Surprise Pt. 2 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys are slowly settling into your apartment, looking for the terrorist group they’re hunting down, while memories begin resurfacing for Simon.

Word Count: ~ 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic relationship, toxic family, abusive dad, panic attack/ptsd episodes, guns, violence, prob terribly inaccurate to anything military (I’m trying my hardest ok😭)

A/N: this part is mainly for worldbuilding, I’m alr working on part 3 but felt like y’all might want a little update, lmk what you want to see, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It was safe to say that Ghost and Price had a long conversation that night.

“How much does she know?”

The captain had asked, hat hanging over his head before he picked it off between two fingers, setting it on the bedside table in a guest room. The two available rooms were split with Gaz and Price in one, and Ghost and Soap in the other.

Simon thought for a solid moment. He hadn’t told you anything, other than he was going to the military. He’d stayed over at your place maybe once before, years earlier, and all he’d told you was that he had a mission, an important one, something he couldn’t tell you about. To keep you safe.

It wasn’t a lie. At first, you’d been angry that he wouldn’t tell you, but something must’ve clicked at 15 because that was when you stopped questioning it altogether. Then again, at that point, he’d rarely texted you or called you at all. It had been years since physical words were exchanged at this point.

He felt bad about it, but with the last words exchanged between the two of you…it made regret and grief flare up in him all over again.

You were pacing. Back and forth, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you burnt a trail in the carpet with how frenzied you looked. Shock, grief, anger, and pure disbelief mixed all into one, your body language reflecting as much.

He hadn’t even taken his mask off yet, leaning against the wall behind him in the home his mother had grown up in. The home he’d grown up in. A home you’d visited before, only because of the court-deemed custody that your father somehow got.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

His harsh voice finally rang out, and your pacing stopped. You turned to look at him, defensiveness automatically rendering itself in your expression. Always so easy to read. If only you were like that now.

“I couldn’t make it in time. You know that, Simon.”

You said, and his temper flared. Every single lesson he’d had drilled into him in his military-deemed anger management classes went out of the window at that. At how you defended yourself, even when he knew you could’ve made it on time for that funeral. Or at least he thought you could’ve.

“Really? Or did you know about this, huh?”

He accused, anger building in his tone as he pushed off the wall, stalking closer to you, now pacing in his own slower, more predatory manner. Your eyes widened at his accusation.

“You think I was plotting to kill your mum? The fuck is wrong with you?”

Simon knew it was outrageous, there was no way in hell you would’ve done it. Not when you’d known her, even if only for a little bit. But Ghost….Ghost had been betrayed too many times. He was desperate for any answer, any way to get rid of you so he didn’t have to deal with any reminder of his mother, or Tommy, or his little nephew that had been so painfully young.

Maybe you didn’t understand, but if he made himself believe this…then you wouldn’t be around him anymore, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone killing you like they had everyone else around him.

“What about Tommy? Or Joseph? Didn’t make it to theirs either, did you.”

“Simon, I came as soon as I could, you know that. I was in that camp for a month, there was nothing I could-“

“That’s convenient, isn’t it.”

He said drily, stalking closer, hand moving to the hilt of his gun. You didn’t notice, probably because you had no military training or anything of the sort. If he wanted to kill you right now, make you disappear, he could. Easily, too. He could already think of how he’d do it, the silencer on his gun covering the sound as he would shoot you, once in the head, twice in the heart, then he would take you down into the sewers, and you’d disappear-

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Your voice, slightly scared now, and your body language showing just how intimidated and panicked you were, was wobbly at best. Tears welled in your eyes as you opened the door to leave out of the front, your car, a black jeep you weren’t old enough to drive yet, but did anyway thanks to the fake ID you’d made, parked in the rocky driveway.

He snatched your arm up, yanking you back into the room as he pressed you against the wall he’d previously been leaning on. He leaned close, breath coming through the fabric of his baklava and speaking softly, like the old Simon would, to you in your ear.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.” He began.

“He was your dad, he was all you had, wasn’t he? Maybe you were jealous, or angry about what happened to him. What I did to him.”

He almost whispered to you, as if it was some forbidden knowledge. Your small body was stiff against the wall, unconsciously leaning away from him. You were terrified. He could feel it.

“You’re insane. Completely fuckin’ insane.”

You said, trying to squirm away, and he let you gain an inch of room, only to force you another inch against the wall. One more and your breathing would be strained if you could breathe at that.

“I’ll let you off, but if I find out you had anything to do with this, with her…”

He didn’t get to finish the rest before you struggled free, and you made it to your car quicker than ever before, and drove off, not caring about any speed limits or anything.

“Simon? You here?”

Price’s voice snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in, and he gave a little grunt in response. Shaking himself out of it, he tried to remember what the captain’s question had been. Something about what you knew.

“The bare minimum.”

“Good. She seems like a good kid, keep her outta this.”

Simon didn’t mention the fact that you had already faced minor charges multiple times, some for breaking and entering or assault and battery, most of which were dismissed by a judge he suspected was paid off. Or the fact that you’d used a fake ID for your car for multiple years. He would know, considering he’d asked Gaz to find you multiple times. You weren’t an easy one to find, almost as if you’d tried to wipe yourself off the grid before turning back on it.

You weren’t a good kid by any means, but by your age, he’d probably been killing people already, so he supposed there were worse things to be doing.

“Roger that.”

Price gave a small nod of confirmation, clapping him on the shoulder as he went to walk to the room that he was sharing with Gaz.

“Get some rest, Simon. We’ll get directions from Laswell tomorrow. Don’t stress over it.”

Despite himself, Simon gave a little nod.

If only he was stressing over things as simple as terrorists and covert warfare.

Soap, surprisingly enough, woke up first. It was around 5:30 AM when he did, and Simon was still fast asleep on the bed beside him.

“Scuse me, Lt.”

He mumbled while sliding out of the bed, and walking to where he thought the kitchen probably was, and after wandering around, he found one small dim light on in the general kitchen area. You were standing in the kitchen, wrapping some sort of spandex-looking bandage material around your left knee. The type to help support it, in the case of an injury.

You were wearing a pair of blank shorts that didn’t go nearly far enough down your thighs, and what looked like an old jersey, with a faded number ‘14’ on it. Your right knee had a knee pad on, your left knee pad laying on the table. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was braided.

You both just stared at each other for a minute, before he grinned and obnoxiously whistled.

“Lookin’ good, lass. Where ya headed?”

He asked, already watching the gears turn in your head as you tried to decode his thick accent. Surprisingly, it didn’t take you nearly as long as he thought it would. Usually, new people had to take a few seconds, but you responded almost immediately.

“Practice.”

You replied bluntly, either not a morning person, or just not a talker. By the blank look on your face, he was just assuming you were also a heartless bastard like Ghost. But even Simon Riley had his tells, and he was sure you did too.

“What the hell’ve they got you practicing for at 5 in the mornin’?” He asked, and you looked at him for a moment, as if trying to see if what he’d said was a joke. As if he was stupid. He was not stupid.

“Volleyball. I’m on the team. Got a scholarship.”

His brows raised at that. Another blunt answer. You really were Simon’s sister, weren’t you? And to get a scholarship in volleyball…he hadn’t even known you’d gone to a private school, let alone the fact that you played sports.

I mean, sure, he’d sort of assumed you might based on your muscular thighs and arms he was entranced by, or the sheer unmoving look you always had, barely changing. Volleyball girls always had nice asses though, and you weren’t an exception, that was for sure.

You were either telepathic or had seen him staring because, with a simple snap of your fingers, he had flinched out of his daze.

“Eyes up here, MacTavish.”

You said in a mildly annoyed tone, and he gave you a slightly pouty look.

“Can’t blame me for looking at it when it’s right there, now can you?”

You had only given him another annoyed glance, before slinging a bag over your shoulder and walking out. He didn’t fail to notice the way you checked the peephole before walking out. Or how your eyes darted to the windows consistently, or the nearest available exit.

He didn’t blame you, living alone as a girl in this end of town, you had to be cautious.

They had been at this all day.

Laswell had radioed them in earlier, probably around noon after they’d raided your pantry, which only really had bread in various forms in it. Your fridge wasn’t much better, only cheap lunch meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and a few miscellaneous vegetables and fruits.

Since then, they’d been on the hunt for any suspicious characters, any sign of the terrorist group that had gotten away. It had taken a bit of travel, but a few miles out, they’d passed a van, white, with four burly shadowy figures in the darkened windows. Windows too dark to even be legal.

“Armed men, four of ‘em, cap.”

Soap had said, and Price had only given a nod, taking a U-turn to trail the vehicle. It wasn’t every day you would see any military men driving in a white van with tinted windows.

It had only escalated from there.

The van had stopped near an old alleyway with no people around, failing to notice T141, who were now all trailing on foot. They’d left the car behind with Gaz, despite his protests. They needed someone able to drive, and Soap was needed to disable any possible bombs. They were dealing with terrorists here.

Slowly crawling up the building to the right of the alleyway, Ghost let his gun peek down into it through some crumbling brick on the sides of the roof’s edge.

“We droppin’ em’?”

He asked quietly over the radio, and Price, on the building roof opposite of him, replied.

“Not yet. If we can get one alive, we’ll want ‘im for interrogation. Three of ‘em on my count.”

Soap, to the left of Ghost, nodded mainly to himself, his gun focusing on the man closest to a trash can, Price on the man to the right of him, and Ghost to the man leading the other two. The fourth was lingering behind a bit, examining the surroundings. Paranoid.

“Gaz, start bringing in our exfil.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“On your mark, Sergeant.”

With that, the first relatively silent shot went off, and two more followed until all that was left was the one man, who immediately took cover and jumped through the open window of the nearly abandoned building Price was on the roof of.

“Shit. Get him.”

Price’s voice cursed over the radio, and Gaz driving the car came into view only moments later, as Ghost and Soap hopped down from the roof of the building, taking the same route as the escaped terrorist through the building, and clearing it one floor at a time.

Hours later, it felt like they’d searched the whole damn city and come up with absolutely nothing. Whoever they’d missed had disappeared completely, and possibly contacted outside forces of their presence. They had to be careful with this.

“We headin’ back?” Soap asked, and Price replied.

“Affirmative. I’ll let Laswell know what happened.”

And so they headed back to the apartment, only to find you completely not there. Gaz got there first, gun still in hand as he cleared the apartment. Just in case.

“Clear.” He radioed over,

The rest of the boys filed in after that, taking the time to take showers, in the hope that you wouldn’t notice their bloodstained clothes. It was only after they had all changed into casual clothes that Soap remembered about you.

“Anyone know where the girl is?”

Gaz seemed to stir at that, immediately on his feet, when Ghost pushed him back down into the chair he was sitting in at the dinner table.

“She’s at school, lads.” His rough voice spoke, and Gaz and Soap both made an “ohhhh” sound at the answer. It was obvious, but they hadn’t gone to school in…a long time, and you were almost an adult now, so they tended to forget about that.

“Where does she go?” Price asked, taking a sip of his cup of water. Ghost shrugged.

“Some private school, said she got a scholarship for volleyball or somethin’,” Soap added, and Ghost shot a tiny glare at him. The fact that a random Scottish man knew more about you than Simon Riley, your technical brother, wasn’t making him too happy. Soap only gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“You seem to know an awful lot about her, Soap.”

Kyle then spoke up, carefully eying Simon and Johnnie. Even as Simon huffed out of his nose, taking a sip of water. His lips were chapped, Gaz noticed. Soap gave a little shrug, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Just curious about ‘er is all. We are living in her house, after all.” He answered, and Price stood up, mumbling something about a smoke break while walking across the kitchen to reach the balcony, where he smoked. The first time he’d tried to smoke inside, you’d grabbed it straight from his fingers, and thrown it into the sink before running cold water over it.

It took him a minute to realize that had only been yesterday night.

The week went by quickly, and the boys slowly got used to your schedule. More like they just started fitting into the routine you had, really. Having four random military men inside of your house wasn’t easy, especially when they kept leaving the toilet seat up in the bathroom in the hallway.

“Couldn’t just put the seat down, could they..”

You mumbled to yourself late into the night, slamming the seat down as hard as you could without breaking it. Every time they left it up, you made sure to put it down hard, making enough noise to wake them up. Distantly, you could’ve sworn you heard Johnny’s laughter from the room he was in with Simon, before a low “Shut it.” and a “Roger that, Lt.” was faintly audible.

You had practice almost every night, even some on weekends, which made sense considering you were the team captain for the junior varsity of your school. Once you became a Senior next year, you’d probably get team captain of the full varsity team. A big responsibility, but one you seemed to enjoy, even when some days you would come home, lock yourself in your room, and fall straight asleep without eating anything.

Where they went every day, you never asked. Didn’t want to.

One night, Price walked into the kitchen, where you kept a washer and dryer for the clothes as well, tucked into the room where it wasn’t easily noticed, and saw you pouring hydrogen peroxide on some bloodstains in their clothes. It was strong, stronger than anything you could legally get from a pharmacy, he could tell that much.

Your eyes both met, and you didn’t waver from his stare, and he didn’t from yours.

“You aren’t going to ask questions?” He asked, voice a deep rumble. Your eyes shifted away at that, back to the clothes. As if hiding whatever gleamed within them, the knowledge you had, or what you’d seen. What you knew they did every day.

“Better for all of us if I don’t.”

You’d replied simply, voice still relatively neutral, the barest amount of a British accent lingering even when you’d spent so many years in America. You almost mumbled it, as if used to speaking quietly. Based on the small fragments he knew of Simon’s past, and his father, one that you both shared, he wasn’t surprised. It would be a hard habit to break.

Whatever had kept you from interacting much with Price must’ve changed after that night, because you showed up more after that. It was late at night, and you looked beat, but he could still see the gears working behind your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked as you walked over to where he was sitting in the bed he and Gaz shared, and sat down next to him on it, showing him a notebook. He recognized what was on it, a court of some sort, a net in the middle, and a rotation of numbers, with all the enemy patterns and numbers on the other side of the net.

“Help.”

You stated simply, and he nodded before you explained to him the basics of volleyball. He only really knew the frequently adjusted rules he’d seen on the Olympics sometimes, so it was a lot of explaining, but after that, the both of you were straight to work on finding a rotation and pattern that would work to beat the team that you’d lost to twice this season.

“If 28 is your hitter, why not move them back row, to move in for the kill?”

“It would leave our defenses entirely open. A tip could lose the point and serve, and when we got the serve back, 14 would be serving. She doesn’t do well with serving under pressure. 28 needs to stay front row as long as possible to block.”

“Got it, so..”

He would admit, you were not stupid, and that was for sure. You knew everyone on your team’s strengths and weaknesses and used them to your advantage. It was almost like looking at a younger, female version of himself. Always taking charge, always thinking ahead.

And Johnny…he was obnoxious.

Always flirting with you in any way he could, making random jokes just to hear your tiny laugh or the snort you usually made instead. He couldn’t help it, even when the rest of the guys were getting sick of hearing him.

But, he had his uses, too.

When the remote would break down? Don’t worry, he only took it entirely apart, replaced and tweaked it so it would work, and put it all back together with his nails as a screwdriver.

When you were in an especially foul mood? His terrible jokes came in handy, not because you were laughing at them, but at how stupid he looked telling these jokes, chest puffed out like a proud bird when he saw you snort or your lips twitch, even though he didn’t know whether you were laughing with him or at him.

Johnny was smarter than you originally thought, as well. Had incredibly complicated math homework, and giving you a serious headache? Somehow, the bastard knew exactly how to do it.

“How do you know that equation.”

“It’s simple, really, I use it all the time for me explosives. Reminds me of the time I and the Lt planted them all over, you should’ve seen-“

“On topic, Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

But living with military men did have downsides, more obvious than them leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to do the dishes when it was their day or the same for laundry, or messing up the guest beds. (Though Gaz never forgot about his responsibilities, even taking the time to make you dinner when you would get home late with what little ingredients you had.)

You were a quiet person, and Gaz had noticed it first. How you rolled on your feet, careful not to make noise, not even noticing how you were doing it. Or the way that unless you were slamming the toilet seat down for the umpteenth time, you took extra care in placing things down gently, not dropping them. It was an odd contrast with your blunt, slightly harsh demeanor that reminded him of Simon.

But it had been Gaz that made you fully remember what these men had gone through when you had been scared shitless because of Soap purposefully sneaking up behind you and scaring you, and accidentally letting out a small scream that was more like a yell. Instinct had kicked in, muscle memory as well, and before his mind even knew whose scream it was, his body was moving.

He’d tackled Soap straight to the floor, hands around his throat.

“The fuck, Kyle-“ Johnny had choked out, and it had been Price who’d snatched Gaz up, restraining his hands against his back while you watched in slight sympathy.

It had taken him only a few seconds to calm back down and figure out what the hell was happening, at which he sighed, giving Soap a regretful look.

“Sorry, don’t know what got into me.” He mumbled, and Johnny only stood up, brushing his knees off, and patted Kyle softly on the back.

“Don’t. I get it.” The Scotsman said, before walking out. When he glanced at you, it was the empathy for him that Kyle found most odd. The fact that you seemed to understand.

It was only weeks later that he understood why you could empathize with him over his actions.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

#writers on tumblr #cod mwii #ghost cod #writing community #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #john price #captain price #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #soap call of duty #johnny x reader

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cat-in-a-box13 · 2 months

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Twisters Headcanons Time!

Because this movie has been living rent-free in my head for the past two weeks

Javi, Kate, and Addy were absolutely friends in high school. I would even argue that Kate and Javi go back as far as middle school because I too, would do anything for the people that saw me through my warrior cats girl phase and still agreed to be seen in public with me.

Addy met Praveen in college and he took one look at her and decided she was absolutely insane and he wanted nothing to do with her, only to discover that his best friend was dating her best friend when they introduced the friend groups a month later

Speaking of introducing the friend groups, it was absolutely a disaster. No one can convince me that any of the Tornado Tamers (is that the name we're going with? Because it's honestly awesome) were functional human beings at any point in their lives

Addy was a disaster lesbian and I will except no criticism on this. She had terrible taste in women, and every time she walked out of the room after introducing the Tamers to her latest girlfriend, they were all side-eyeing each other like "This one was... interesting" "She was a bitch." "Oh, thank god somebody said it. I hate her."

Jeb was the dad of the group, but Praveen was absolutely the mom. Neither of them know how the original trio survived this long.

Javi gets horrendously carsick if he's in the backseat. He is always either driving or in the front passenger seat as the navigator.

This means that whenever Javi and Kate chase together, she's always stuck in the passenger seat because it's harder for her to navigate and drive at the same time, and Javi doesn't have the same instincts that she does.

After the "lightning incident" as they later termed it, Praveen kept a first-aid kit that a paramedic would be jealous of stuffed in the back of the car under the seat. When Javi went looking for everybody after the tornado passed, it was the only thing he was able to recover from the car. He still uses it to this day, and he thinks of Praveen every time he has to open it.

Kate hasn't visited the graves since the funeral. Javi visits the graves monthly, except for when he was active-duty military and couldn't get away.

The first time Kate tries to visit their graves after she comes back to Oklahoma, she had a panic attack when she tried to get out of the truck and had to call Tyler to come get her because she couldn't drive home. It took another week, and a pep talk from her mom before she managed to stand in front of the graves and say hi.

Speaking of her mom, Cathy liked to joke that she had five kids when the Tamers were using her barn as their home base. When Jeb, Addy, and Praveen died, she knew something was wrong hours before Javi called her sobbing from the hospital where her baby had just gone into surgery. She had never driven that fast in her life, until she gets another call from a considerably calmer Javi five years later. He still cried when he saw her the second time, and she hugged him just as tightly as she had before.

#twisters 2024 #twisters movie #javi twisters #kate carter #cathy carter #tyler owens #Jeb twisters #Addy twisters #Praveen Twisters #it started as funny little ideas and then it got sad #twisters headcanons

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clarisse0o · 1 month

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Camp Wiegman-Part 40

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Homophobia

Masterlist

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Monday, January 18th; 7:50 AM - School Grounds.

Anxiety slowly takes over me. I’m about to meet my new class in a few minutes. Fortunately, I won’t be doing it alone. Both Leah and Lotte are accompanying me on this new adventure, thank God. I would have gone crazy otherwise. As if I hadn’t already had a disastrous night… Nothing is ever normal at home anyway. Everything always happens at once. My nightmares came back stronger than ever. I found myself drenched in sweat in my little bed at three in the morning. I was lucky not to have woken up Lucy. I was in a terrible state. I even had to get up and change. I think she noticed I wasn’t wearing the same pajamas this morning, but she didn’t ask me about it. She’s understood my need for space since her rejection. I don’t want to deal with her until I’ve sorted things out in my head. It’s painful, but I have to look at things positively... I’ve finally granted her wish to sleep in separate beds. Even though it worked against me last night, it’s also what I want now. It was a mistake to get used to being in her arms. I should have known better. I suddenly remembered why I keep my distance from people. But now it’s too late. Too late to regret what’s been done. The problem is, I’ve become dependent on her. That’s an undeniable fact. I found myself lying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. Her steady breathing calmed me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone, but I still couldn’t sleep. The realization that it was her, her presence against me, that I missed completely overwhelmed me. I had never reached this stage with anyone before, not even Mapi. Instead of swallowing my pride by waking her up or joining her, I locked myself in the bathroom and slid down to the floor. I was on the verge of breaking down, realizing the situation I was in. Everything hit me all at once, and I hadn’t seen it coming. I let her into my life, and now there’s no turning back. I could have cried out in sheer pain, but I didn’t. I held it in because I had no right to do otherwise. I put myself in this situation. The rest of the night gave me plenty of time to reflect with my tormented mind. I ended up spending the rest of the night on that floor until it was time to sneak back to my bed. I didn’t want Lucy to notice my suspicious absence. My plan worked, and it’s likely to be very effective next time. Though, I doubt my body can endure this for long. I’m already struggling now. I noticed dark circles in the mirror this morning, and my eyes sting. Lucy couldn’t see them. I rushed to the bathroom as soon as the alarm rang to cover my face with foundation.

“Relax, Ona,” Leah chuckles, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You’re acting like we’re going to a funeral. Your stress is palpable from miles away.”

“You’re funny,” I grumbled. “You both know everyone here, unlike me. It feels like I’m starting school all over again.”

“You weren’t even this tense when you first arrived here,” she mocks.

“I didn’t care about being here back then,” I say, shrugging. “Remember, I was looking for a way out.”

“Not anymore?” Lotte asks.

“Looks like things change.”

“Little Batlle is evolving!” Leah jokes. “I thought we’d finally get to see a rebel.”

“Pff, nonsense. Of course, Bronze managed to train her student again.”

That unknown voice was harsh. I look around to find the person who dared to listen in on our conversation. I spot a student I don’t know at all. She seems to be mocking me.

“Got a problem?” I reply.

“Me?” she answers, feigning outrage. “Not at all. I was just saying Bronze succeeded again in taming the camp princess.”

I furrow my brow. Camp princess? What kind of nonsense is this? How do the students know that nickname? An inexplicable rage builds up inside me. So this is what they think of me here? That I was a little rebel that Lucy managed to tame? If Alessia hadn’t had her hand on my arm, I would have grabbed her collar by now to make her regret her words.

“Let it go, Athenea,” scoffs a girl who just arrived. “The rumors about her must be true. She’s probably a lesbian who can’t resist the charms of our dear instructor.”

I clench my fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white as snow. This is really not the time to provoke me about that. I take a deep breath, telling myself they don’t know what they’re talking about, but that girl’s smug smile is infuriating. Looks like I’ve already found someone to despise in my new class.

“Let it go, Ona. Let them think what they want.”

I take Alessia’s advice and turn my back on those two troublemakers. I’m not going to stoop to their level by getting provoked. They’re just trying to irritate me, but I won’t give them that satisfaction. The best response is to ignore them. I was ready to continue our conversation until I felt a presence behind me.

“By the way, my name is Korbin,” she whispers in my ear. “You’re going to remember my name very quickly with all the trouble I’m going to cause you… filthy dyke.”

She walks past me, turning around to give me one last malicious smile before entering our classroom. Great. This couldn’t have started any better. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s messing with.

“We should go inside,” Alessia gently reminds me.

I nod without taking my eyes off the doors she just walked through.

“Are you okay?” she murmurs.

I sigh, nodding again while trying to hide my slight tremors. This is the first time I’ve experienced a direct homophobic remark. She pats my shoulder before I follow her into our new classroom. Most of the seats are already taken. Luckily, Leah and Lotte got in before us and saved us seats in the back. I sit next to Alessia, taking the spot by the window. I take out my supplies and put my bag on the floor, then lean against the wall to get a view of my new class. I quickly spot the infamous Korbin, who gives me a twisted smile. Looks like I’ll have to find out more about this girl.

“Good morning, everyone, to your new Business Management class,” my new teacher’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “I’m Mr. Tompson, your new homeroom teacher for the rest of the year.”

I’m surprised to see a young teacher at the front of the class. He’s nothing like any teacher I’ve had before. I’d guess he’s in his early thirties at most. He has a certain charm with his slight beard and tousled chestnut hair.

“I’ll be your management teacher for the rest of the year. We’ll start off slowly by taking roll,” he continues as he heads to his desk. “Just so you know, I have notes on each of you from your previous teachers as well as instructors. This will help your new teachers and me to understand you quickly.”

Lucy didn’t mention anything about that… Damn. I’m going to be labeled right from the start. I wasn’t particularly liked by my previous teachers.

“Well, let’s get to roll call,” he says, sitting down. “I want to put faces to the names I’ve read about.”

I sink into my chair as he calls the first name on the list. I glance at Alessia, who smiles at me. I was disappointed not to be in the same class as Alexia for the rest of the year, but maybe this will give me a chance to get closer to others. It might be a blessing in disguise. Maybe I’ll be able to forget Lucy in the process. I furrow my brow when Alessia nudges me.

“ Batlle, Ona?”

“Sorry,” I say aloud, realizing what’s happening. “Here!”

I look my teacher straight in the eye. His are a very plain brown. He gives me a warm smile. I feel like he’s judging me in some way.

“So you’re the famous Ona I’ve heard so much about,” he says. “I have mixed opinions about you,” he tells me. “A lot of people seem to believe in you. Let’s see how that turns out.”

“She must have slept with Bronze to get positive remarks,” the bitch from earlier snickers.

“Shut up!” I snap without thinking.

I glare at her to emphasize my words. She just smiles at me maliciously. This girl is pure poison, it’s unreal. Many laugh at her stupid joke. I really didn’t need any more rumors about me on top of everything else.

“Hey, that’s enough!” the teacher shouts. “Quiet down,” he demands, silencing the class. “There’s no place for that kind of remark here, got it?! Next time, you’ll explain your inappropriate comments to the principal.”

“Oh, come on, I was just joking,” she giggles.

“Real funny,” I growl.

- "I said that's enough!" he lectures. "I’m going to finish taking attendance, and then we’ll start the lesson right away as a punishment."

Discontented sighs are heard. They better not even try to blame me. The entire class acted childishly. I rest my head against the palm of my hand until attendance is over. I feel like this day is going to be even longer than I expected. My lack of sleep isn’t helping, but it’s best if I don’t draw attention to myself on the first day. Once attendance is over, he follows through on his threat by starting the lesson. This day isn’t much different from other Mondays. My schedule is almost identical. It’s just the content that changes. Today we have two hours of management, then two hours of math. Since it’s the first day, the hours pass more quickly. The teachers take their time getting into the thick of things. We lost half an hour in each subject listening to their spiel and their attendance list, as they don’t know most of us. Finally, lunch arrives. I was chatting with Alessia on the way to the cafeteria until a brown-haired bundle jumps on me, making me lose the little balance I have. I catch her by the thighs to prevent us from falling to the ground.

- "Oh my Onita, I missed you so much!"

- "Alexia," I chuckle. "It was just a morning!"

- "That’s already way too long. I want to see my crazy friend in class!"

I laugh as she hugs me tighter. This position must look hilarious to the others. It’s exactly what I needed after this disastrous start to the day.

- "Putellas, get down immediately," a voice I know too well commands.

My roommate must still be traumatized by Lucy to have listened so quickly. I turn to see her with a stern expression on her face. I simply adjust my backpack properly, then turn on my heel towards the cafeteria with Alexia, who places her arm over my shoulders.

- "Is there any tension in the air with Bronze?" she asks hesitantly.

- "We’ll talk about it later," I reply simply. "How was your morning otherwise?"

- "Calm... Too calm," she sighs. "I really missed you. Plus, I’m with Alba now. I have to behave seriously."

- "Oh, don’t say that," I laugh. "I’m sure she’s not as serious as she pretends to be, little Alba."

- "Oh, not her... But she makes sure that I am."

- "Hey! I’m not that bad," replies Alba, who must have overheard us.

- "Prove us wrong then," I challenge her. "Let your sister live a little!"

- "Well, she lived with you! She only had comments about talking too much in her file."

- "Oh, they gave you your comments? We weren’t so lucky. They only said they couldn’t agree on me."

- "Not surprising," Alba mocks. "Do you have a good class?" she continues.

- "Eh. I have a bitch who’s taken me as a scapegoat."

- "What’s her name?"

- "Korbin, if I remember correctly."

- "Ouch..." she comments. "Avoid her as much as possible. She’s a pain."

- "I noticed. Do you know her? If so, you’ll need to tell me everything you know about her."

- "No problem," she smiles. "We’ll talk about it at the table."

She winks at me before moving forward in line. I realize this is the first sensible conversation I’ve had with Alba. I mean, I talk to everyone around the table, but never one-on-one. The only people who’ve had that privilege are Alexia and Leah. They were the only ones I focused on because I feel close to them. I regret not opening up more to others. I now understand what Mapi meant when she said I was so hooked on Lucy that I could barely talk about my friends. In reality, I gave her so much importance that I didn’t give the same to the other people around me. I think this distance will show me all the things I’ve been missing out on.

Monday, January 18; 5:00 PM - Classroom

I pack up my things as soon as the Alba rings. I absolutely hate my first classes. I just endured two hours of accounting, and I’d be lying if I said I understood anything. It’s a subject that bores me so much that I don’t wait for permission to start packing my bag. I’m the first one standing when the teacher gives the green light to leave.

“In a rush?” Alessia asks, holding me back.

“Uh, yeah. I need to see Wiegman about something personal. I’ll catch up with you in the common room when I’m done.”

“Didn’t you say you’d study in Bronze’ office after your classes?”

“Oh, right. I changed my mind. I’ll study with you guys, so you can help me with what I didn’t understand if that’s okay.”

“No, not at all. I’d be happy to.”

“Cool,” I say with a small smile. “See you later then.”

I quickly escape from that hellish classroom, heading straight to Wiegman’s office as I mentioned. I know the way perfectly, having been there several times already. I don’t hesitate to knock on the

door. I open it when I’m given permission to do so.

“Good aft-”

I stop in my tracks when I see not one, but two pairs of eyes staring at me.

“Well, hello, Ona. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to discuss something with you. I can come back later if I’m interrupting.”

“Don’t be silly, we were just finishing up,” she says. “Come sit next to your supervisor. It shouldn’t bother you to talk in front of her, right?”

She couldn’t have picked a worse time to be here. I must be cursed; there’s no other explanation. Having no other choice, I shake my head before closing the door behind me. I move as slowly as possible to the empty chair next to Lucy, placing my bag between my legs. My pulse quickens, and I can’t control it.

“What did you want to discuss?” she asks.

How did I end up in this situation? I should have left. The topic I want to discuss isn’t one I should address in front of Lucy. Anxiety takes over me. I lower my head to avoid facing them directly, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling their eyes on me. I shake my head briefly to regain my composure. Her presence should not influence my decision. I’ve had enough time to think it over during the night. I take a deep breath. I’m ready to defend my point if necessary.

“I want to go back to my room,” I blurt out like a bombshell.

With my eyes lowered, I can’t see their reactions. Judging by the silence that follows, I doubt it’s a good one. Surprise, maybe. I gather my courage and raise my head to indeed see that expression on their faces, at least on Wiegman’s.

“I’m feeling better,” I assert confidently. “I still have restless nights, but I’m not having any more episodes. I’ve already caused enough trouble for those around me because of my personal issues.”

Laughter fills the room. I quickly regret meeting my supervisor’s gaze. It’s hard and filled with anger.

“Are you kidding me?” she hisses. “Are we talking about those dark circles under your eyes? You can hide them all you want, but it doesn’t work with me. I absolutely do not agree with this room change.”

And there it is, as expected. I’m screwed. Damn observant! I thought she hadn’t noticed. We both turn to Wiegman, waiting for his decision. She scratches his head while observing us closely. I’ve noticed it’s a habit when she’s thinking. She looks back and forth between us before finally focusing on me.

“Why do you want this change, Ona?”

“I’ve already troubled my supervisor enough. She’s losing sleep because of me, and I don’t want that to continue.”

“She volunteered for this. She’s doing it willingly. Unless you’ve changed your mind, Ms. Bronze?”

I sense agitation next to me. She’s probably seething right now. I won’t come out unscathed from this meeting.

“Absolutely not,” she growls.

“Good. In that case, it’s up to you to decide what’s best for your student.”

“Her episodes are unpredictable,” she responds. “There’s no way she can return to her room right now.”

The tone she uses sends shivers down my spine. I don’t even dare look at her anymore. She’s going to hate me after this… Maybe that’s what I was aiming for when I made this decision. I raise my eyes to our principal when she speaks again.

“So the matter is settled,” she says, causing my shoulders to slump in defeat. “Don’t feel embarrassed about such small things, Ona. We’re here to help you, don’t forget that. We were just talking about the remarkable progress you’ve made in your behavior.”

“Um… right,” I respond indifferently. “Can I go now? My friends are waiting for me.”

- "Yes, of course, you can go."

- "Thank you for seeing me. Goodbye."

I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder. I head for the door, feeling the weight of Lucy's eyes on my back.

- "You can leave too, Miss Bronze. We were finished."

I suddenly pale. Damn! I hear her thank Wiegman as I make a run for it to get out of there. I was on a good track until I heard her after slamming the door.

- "Not so fast, Batlle!"

Ouch. It's not a good sign when she uses my last name. I do the exact opposite of what she asked, running towards the exit. I was about to reach the door when Lucy couldn't control her momentum in the chase and ended up crashing into me as I stopped. Her body pins mine against the door before she grabs me by the collar of my jacket. She forcibly drags me to a room I recognize as the restroom when we arrive. She immediately locks the door behind us to prevent me from escaping.

- "What the hell is your problem?" I snap.

- "My problem?!" she exclaims. "What about yours? You've been avoiding me like the plague since this morning! You haven't said a word to me, and now I find you in Wiegman's office asking for a room change? When exactly were you planning to tell me, huh?"

I've never seen her this angry before. She's so red with rage that I don't even dare to speak. I'm paralyzed. She seems to notice my fear because she closes her eyes for a moment. I could have taken the opportunity to slip away if she weren't standing in front of the door. I don't feel ready to face her now. I probably never will be. But I know she won't let me out of here without getting her answers, thanks to those two determined emerald jewels of hers.

- "Answer me. Explain yourself, or... I don't know. Do something!"

Her tone is harsh, and she's losing patience. Lucy has never been someone who loses patience. My silence is affecting her more than I imagined. I lower my head, trying to come up with some reasonable excuse for what I've done, but what's the point? There’s none that can replace the truth.

- "I-I can't, Lucy."

- "Can't what?"

- "Act like nothing happened! You rejected me, and I accept that, but... But don't blame me for distancing myself. I've been hurt by rejection enough in my life. I don't want it to happen again."

Her shoulders slump at my response. It was like she just realized the consequences of her decision.

- " Ona..." she says in a strangely calmer voice. "I-"

- "No, shut up. I don't care about the reasons, okay? I don't even know if there are any, but I understood your choice. You can't or you won't. I don't know, but the result is the same. Either way, I can't let myself develop any further feelings for you."

- "It's my fault we've come to this... I should have maintained my professionalism and avoided giving you false hope."

I laugh bitterly. I don't regret how I feel about her at all. It's her reaction I regret. I say nothing, preferring to play along with her.

- "Yeah, maybe you should have, but it's too late now."

- "I never wanted things to get to this point, Ona. I-I thought we could stay friends, that I could help you. That's all I was trying to do."

- "You don't get it," I spit out.

She doesn't understand that it's her that I need, the relationship she's denying me. She reignited something in me that had been destroyed in my downward spiral. I'd never felt as good as I did with her by my side. I take a deep breath as I see her watching me curiously. If she thinks I'm going to make it easy for her by saying all this, she's dreaming. Who knows why she doesn’t want me? Maybe she’s seeing someone else, like that girl from the other night. They seemed close and she was pretty cute. I shake my head to get that image out of my mind. It’s none of my business.

- "Forget it. I-I... You know, today I realized that I've deprived myself of so much by focusing on you. I never wanted to feel these things for you, but it's not something you can control. I can't turn back now. Just when I thought I had finally discovered the real you..." I murmur thoughtfully.

- "Nothing is stopping us from continuing..." she murmurs, almost desperately.

- "N-no... I-I'm really sorry... B-but, I need to step back. That’s all I’m asking. If you care about me even a little, then... Stay out of my life until I need you again."

These words hurt, but it's the only solution I've found if I don't want to lose her entirely and waste the progress I've made. Running away has always been my way of protecting myself. I know Lucy can understand that. She’s always been able to read me with unsettling ease. That’s probably why she looks so sad. She knows it’s the only way to keep me intact. She’s the one who transformed me, but she could also be the one who destroys me in the blink of an eye. That thought terrifies me. I should never have gotten so attached to her or developed these feelings. And then my friends wonder why I don’t open up anymore. It was to avoid moments like this that I stopped trusting new people. I should have kept going down that path. You always end up disappointed, even with someone as perfect as Lucy.

- "Okay," she resigns. "I want you to know that I never wanted things to get to this point, but I'll give you the space you need so I don’t lose you completely..."

I avoid looking at her so she doesn’t see how much her words affect me and how they sting my heart. She doesn't even try to stop me or change my mind. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her for putting barriers between us. No matter what she says, I know our relationship isn’t meaningless to her. Or maybe it is. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.

- "Thank you for respecting my choice..." I say, not without difficulty.

- "It’s not without conditions."

My jaw tightens. How dare she ask something of me? Seeing that I’m not planning to respond, she continues.

- "I’ll give you the space you need, but you’re still sleeping in my room. I’m also offended that you wanted to talk to Wiegman about it before consulting me."

- "To forget about this whole thing, I need to cut ties completely..." I admit. "I knew you’d never let me leave, which is why I went to her directly without consulting you."

- "I figured as much, but that’s not going to happen," she says, frowning. "No matter what happened between us, there’s no way I’m going to let you spiral down again."

- "I’m not spiraling."

- "I know you. This is my condition, Ona. I also want to keep our evening classes. Just because we had this little falling out doesn’t mean you should jeopardize your education."

I scoff at her words. So this is just a "little falling out" to her? I doubt she understands my feelings for her, then.

- "I’m not planning to jeopardize my education," I reply coldly. "But I’m not keeping those classes. I asked Alessia to help me instead, and she agreed."

My answer seems to surprise her. She doesn’t realize how thoroughly I’ve thought this through. She almost looks disappointed. Knowing that I’m still attending classes, she has no reason to forbid it.

- "I guess that’s non-negotiable...?"

- "Exactly. I need to spend time with my friends and distance myself from you."

- "Very well..." she sighs. "But don’t completely ignore me like you have the last couple of days. I want you to talk to me at least a little."

- "Yeah, whatever you say, Commander. Can I go now that the negotiations are over?"

- "Hmm... I’ll see you tonight," she says as she opens the door.

- "Yeah. I’ll probably be with Alexia before I come."

I walk out with my head held high. I feel relieved of a burden after confessing my feelings and proud of not backing down for once. But that confidence fades once I’m away from her. I have no idea how I’ll feel in the coming days... I’ve focused so much on her these past few months that it feels like I can’t live without her, and the consequences are starting to scare me. I take a deep breath when I get outside. I’m determined to prove to her—and to myself—that I can live without her. If I can make her regret her choice in the process, that would be the ultimate goal. I stop thinking about her when I reach the common room. All my friends are there. I join Alessia and Alexia, who are sitting around a table working. Well, if you can call it that. It looks more like they’re chatting than anything else.

- "Oh, Onita!"

- "Don’t start calling me that," I grimace.

- "I think it’s a cute nickname," Alessia comments.

- "Would you prefer ‘Princess’ instead?" Alexia teases. "I heard that one’s making the rounds at school."

I sigh and nod. Unfortunately, I think I’d rather it be "Onita" spreading instead of the other one. It’s going to remind me of Lucy, and that’s exactly what I would have preferred to avoid. The first days are going to be very long. I take out my notes while replying.

- "Yeah, it seems so... I wish it weren't the case. I don’t even know how they could have found out."

- "Who knows," Ale smiles. "I heard you were at Wiegman ’s?"

- "Yeah. Bronze was there too."

- "And...?" she asks hesitantly, which makes me shrug.

- "If you want to talk amongst yourselves, I can step out," Alessia offers.

- "No, don’t worry. We’ll talk about it tonight."

- "Hey Ona, you’re finally here!" Alba enthusiastically says. "Want to play a game of foosball?" she suggests.

- "Not tonight, sorry. Alessia owes me some tutoring and it might take a while... I’m really completely lost in my new subjects."

- "To that extent?" Alessia asks. "It’s not that complicated."

- "Oh yes! It’s like Chinese to me, seriously! How can such things even exist?" I grumble.

- "Okay, I get it," Alessia chuckles. "We’ll review everything from the beginning."

I nod with a small smile. I move my chair closer to her with my stuff. I just grab some scratch paper, as I used to do with Lucy... Alessia returns my smile and gets into the groove of going over our lessons for the day. I hope the motivation will be with me; otherwise, I’ll never make it through the year.

Monday, January 18; 8:30 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room

- "How could I have missed so much?"

I’ve just confessed everything to Alexia. When I say everything, I mean the entire story between Lucy and me. I couldn’t keep it to myself knowing how I’m going to feel in the coming days. She would have found out something was wrong anyway, and I doubt she would have stayed quiet without getting answers this time. All I can say is that she is not at all happy. She’s upset that I hid the progress of this relationship from her. I bite my lip, realizing the stupidity of excluding Ale from my life. I should have confided in her rather than Lucy. Her eyes did light up when I admitted that I’ve been sleeping with her recently or when I explained how much I care about her, even now.

- "Are you in love with her?"

- "No... I said I care about her, not that I’m in love with her."

- "It was just a simple question... You know, you’re allowed to be."

- "No, I’m not allowed," I sigh. "I just told you she turned me away. Developing feelings for her would destroy me..."

- "Good grief," she sighs. "Can’t you hear yourself? It can’t be like this. Didn’t you see the way she looked at me at lunch when I was on your back? I thought she was going to kill me with that hurt look!"

- "You’re exaggerating," I roll my eyes.

- "No, I assure you... There must be another reason she doesn’t want to develop your relationship."

- "Whatever... I extended an olive branch for her to change her mind, and she didn’t take it. She accepted me stepping away rather than keeping me by her side. It’s pretty clear as a response, don’t you think? Besides, this break won’t hurt me. She just made it clear that I need to continue being wary of people."

- "I doubt she wants you to react like this..."

- "I don’t care. I just need to clear my mind, and this is the only way I can do that."

- "Alright... If you say so."

I put down the pencil I had between my fingers and let my sketchbook fall between my thighs. It’s been so long since I touched my drawing materials that I’d forgotten the relaxing effect they gave me. As far back as I remember, they were always my best means of escape. Staying in my room with Alexia was probably the best idea I had to escape Lucy for the evening. Lucy hadn’t forgotten that I owed her an explanation, so she dragged me to come with her, but I admit I should have thought of that from the start.

- "Lucy had become my pillar, but I need to prove to myself that I can live without her."

- "You’ve become addicted to her, huh?"

I frown when she says that. It’s not the first time someone has said that to me. Mapi was the first, and I’m starting to question it.

- "No... Haven’t you been talking to Mapi?"

- "Oh, no... Not at all," she mocks.

- "Of course! What did she tell you?"

- "Nothing. She wanted you to tell me yourself. I assure you," she smiles. "But now that you’ve explained everything, I can finally understand what she was talking about, and sorry for you, but I can only agree with her. You’re in love with Lucy, and you’re denying it."

- "That’s not true," I protest.

- "Yes, it is. Just admit it."

- "Definitely not."

- "Say it. It will set you free, you’ll see."

- "No," I say, shaking my head. "You don’t understand," I say desperately, making her sigh.

- "Come here."

She pats her bed. I sigh but join her, grabbing my pillow and hugging it like a stuffed animal. I then curl up when she forces me to rest my head on her shoulder. My eyes fix on a point as I lose myself in my thoughts. Ale’s strokes in my hair, meant to relax me, have the opposite effect. I hate her. That’s how I feel about Lucy right now. All the recent moments of my life are related to her. She has taken up too much space, and now I have to live with this idea while trying to resume my life before she came along. The problem is, I don’t know how it works anymore. She took care of everything. It’s as if she did my thinking for me. I wasn’t ready for everything to turn out like this. I suffocate as I release the lump that had been stuck in my throat for too long.

- "Let it out."

That’s all it takes for my tears to start flowing down my cheeks. I can’t control myself anymore. Everything comes like a tornado. I let myself fall against Alexia, who opens her arms without hesitation. I never thought it would hurt this much.

- "I love her, damn it."

I close my eyes as Alexia encourages me to let go of everything my mind has prevented me from doing. I haven’t cried this much since I’ve been in this damn camp. I’ve felt sad more than once in my life, but I’ve never expressed it so much to others. I feel like I’ve become sensitive to everything. I collapse onto my roommate’s lap as she lets me unload my emotions. She achieved what she wanted. I feel drained. I’ve poured out everything I could until I ran out of strength. Alexia holds me against her, giving me soothing pats on the top of my head to calm me down. I look pathetic with my pillow clutched against me. We stay like this for a while until a muffled noise is heard at the door. I straighten up with my back to it to wipe my face as best as I can. The door opens without permission.

- "Oh, hello Bronze..."

I freeze at Ale’s clearly deliberate hint. I can only mentally thank her for making me realize it was her behind me. I was expecting her if I came too late to her room. I think curfew must be approaching. I squeeze my eyes shut to compose myself before facing her.

- "I was told I’d find you here," she says. "Curfew is coming soon, and it seems you still need to take a shower."

- "I was about to come," I mumble.

- "Hmm... I just wanted to make sure. I was afraid you might skip out on me despite our conversation."

I haven’t discussed this part with Alexia. I didn’t want to rub salt in the wound for now. I guess I’ll have to talk to her about it tomorrow now that she has brought it up.

- "I’m coming. You can go. I’ll tidy up first."

- "I’ll wait."

I sigh and grab my sketchbook from my bed with a brusque motion. I put it away in the cupboard with the rest of the materials, taking care not to turn around even once. It’s only when I pick up my jacket from the desk that she’s likely to see my disheveled state. I approach Alexia, who has already gotten up in the meantime. I give her a huge hug of thanks. I struggle to detach my head from her neck. I imagine her smiling to give her a rare and intense contact from me.

- "Rest, " she whispers in my ear. "It will be okay."

I nod and give her a lingering kiss on the cheek. She smiles softly as we wish each other goodnight. I put my hood over my head to hide the aftermath of my evening. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Lucy, who immediately comments as I pass by her. I simply keep my head down so she doesn’t see my face as we walk.

- "I thought you weren’t coming..." she murmurs. "Sorry for barging in."

- "Trust reigns," I snap. "But it’s no problem."

- "How was your day?" she tries to continue the conversation.

- "Great. Yours?"

- "Good... And your new class?"

- "I’ve had better."

- "With Alexia, I assume."

- "Not just that."

My short, undeveloped responses make her sigh. I would have loved to tell her about my day, but I promised myself to keep my distance from now on. It’s always her who gets my debrief normally, but today it’s not the case. I’ve done it with Alexia and Amba for once. We talked a lot about that pest Korbin. I learned a few things about her, but nothing crazy. All I learned is that she’s not a person worth hanging out with. We finish the walk to her room in silence. I directly look for my pajamas and clothes for tomorrow before locking myself in the bathroom. I stay there for a good half hour for a shower. When I come out, Lucy is already ready for bed but absorbed in her laptop on her lap. I ignore her and lie down on my small bed. I still wish her goodnight before turning my back to avoid the small light she left on her side. She seems determined to leave me alone, as she responds with a simple goodnight in return.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #leah williamson #alessia russo #alexia putellas #fiction #fic

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06sunnybunny06 · 4 months

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Love for three. [18+]

(Diluc, Kaeya)

Tales of happiness have always been represented by bright colors in the picture of life. Happy couples, families and even friends met their end under the sunny sky. This is how the end of almost any work is described. Previously, the world was reflected in your eyes exactly the same, fabulously happy, and only now the awareness of real life is repainting the palette in dark tones.

The Dawn distillery has been gripped by bad weather in recent days. It rained almost every day. The only thing left for you was to sit on a chair near the window, looking at the cloudy landscape. How did it happen that the distillery became your home? Just yesterday, you and your brother listened to your father's stories about his military exploits on a quiet summer evening. The work of a knight is a dangerous business. Not everyone is lucky enough to return safe and sound. And so it happened. Only recently you were holding a death note in your hands. I still remember the funeral well in my head. Now it's just the two of you in this world.

Despite the fact that there was an accident in your family, you tried to maintain a good atmosphere in the house. Unexpectedly for you, your brother decided to follow the path of a knight. He obsessively claimed that his father had been murdered. Every day you tried to get him out of the training ground until late at night, but it was all in vain. It was as if a vengeful spirit had possessed him, driving his body to exhaustion and his mind to madness. It seemed like a black streak covered all areas of your life. The only consolation was the support of the cavalry captain. The young man tried to make friends with you and protect his brother from unnecessary actions. Thanks to him, hope was born in you. Your new friend can help free your brother from his thirst for revenge.

Over time, you and Kaye have become good friends. His company turned your dark days into vivid memories. At first it seemed that he was trying to seduce you, but later his intentions became more sincere. Admittedly, you didn't have enough to lean on a strong, masculine hand, to be in someone else's arms, to feel protected. Perhaps such a person has appeared. But no matter how hard you tried to find happiness, it still did not want to be present in your life.

One evening, brother did not return home. After a long search, you found no trace of his presence. Two, three days have passed, or maybe a week of waiting for at least some news. It was raining just as hard. There was a tall man in black robes on your doorstep. Who but a Diluс, the owner of the Share of Angels tavern, could have such scarlet, flaming hair? Ruby eyes, having studied your restless face, softened.

- You're in danger. Get ready. I'll take you to a safe place. - the only words that came out of his mouth. Then you really got scared.

That's how you ended up at the distillery. The maids have received you as an honored guest. They even allocated a separate room. More than one day has passed since then. The staff went about their business, and the owner was often not at home at all. Your presence was perceived as the norm, although not much time had passed. A lot of questions were eating away at the inside, but no one could answer them. Adelaide calmed you down by serving you a cup of tea when she noticed your nervousness. But she didn't say anything either. Only once did you witness the revelation of the truth.

Sleep did not come at night. I wanted to quench my thirst. You didn't want to disturb the servants, who were probably asleep. It was only through getting used to the darkness that the eyes were able to make out the corridor. Candles flickered around the bend. Someone was having dinner. They say Diluс returned home very late, most likely it was him...

"And what brings you here?" Diluc put the empty plate aside. "You probably didn't just come here to have dinner."

- You know, sometimes you just want to be in the warm company of your brother, but you're right. Two people have recently gone missing. Have you seen anyone like that? - There was someone else there. The voice is similar to the Kaeya.

- Yes, I kind of saw the flyers. Unfortunately, I have not met anyone with a similar appearance.

- Really? But for some reason I'm sure that at least the girl was here.

Dilyuk sighed heavily. "I can't hide anything from you. It may seem difficult, but she is alive and unharmed."

- Where is she?

- Better take care of the second missing person. He's probably looking for help.

- Once their now deceased father was my comrade. I have to solve this case and bring back his children. This young man was one of my soldiers. He kept saying that he would avenge his dead father. His sister often visited to find out how he was feeling. Circled over him like a mommy. And that led me to a conclusion. If he left, she most likely followed him.

Dilyuk shuddered at that moment. He was feeling the bridge of his nose. This whole situation was one continuous headache for him. -

"Okay. The girl is really safe, but the boy is.... he's dead. I killed him."

At that moment, you pressed your hands to your lips so as not to make an unnecessary sound. Tears rolled down cheeks.

"So you admit you killed him?"

- The case is much darker than it might seem. He was recruited by Fatoui. He was their spy. According to my contacts, he tried to sneak into the headquarters more than once. Maybe he even managed to get something out of there.

- And the girl?

- She has nothing to do with it. If they don't know about his death or think he's escaped. Perhaps they will come to their house to find out where he is or get rid of witnesses. That's why I decided to take her away.

- That's how it is.

It may have been a little while, but it's slowed down a lot for you. The legs moved towards the room on their own. Tried to stifle your sobs. Soul ached badly, as if she had been betrayed. Meanwhile, the brothers continued to talk among themselves as if nothing had happened.

- So you can put her under my care. I am ready to take responsibility for her protection.

In less than a moment, a frown appeared on Diluc's face. Kaeya knows that look well. Diluc doesn't trust knights. He looks more like a dog that is ready to protect the innocent until death. Whether it's one girl or a whole Mondstadt. It was bad. They could cross clenches if he decided to take her away like that.

- I think it's worth asking her opinion on this matter. She could have just heard everything.

Diluc, dissatisfied with his position, got up from the table and headed towards your room. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Should have known it differently, but there's nothing can do.

The door to the room slowly opened, letting in a dim light. You were lying on the bed, covered with a blanket. Fear overcame all thoughts, devouring your heart. You felt a heavy hand on your head. A small voice whispered almost soundlessly. - "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to happen like this."

- Why didn't you say anything? Why did you drag me into your house and leave me alone with my thoughts? I didn't know what to think. Why is my brother dead?

- I didn't want to kill him. It just happened. He fought too fiercely against me. I had no choice.

Your sobs are getting louder. A muffled sob filled the small room. Diluc wanted to take you in his arms, but shame and bitterness did not allow him to do so. Meanwhile, Kaeya had already entered the room. The door slammed behind him.

- Well, then. There will still be time for mourning. I wonder what you're going to do now?

- Nothing. She's staying here. Fatuis may be waiting for her in the city. - Diluc answered him without hesitation.

- You can't hide it forever. There are a lot of people at the Distillery to generate rumors.

- My people are quite competent, unlike the soldiers. They'll just leave her unattended. The enemy never sleeps.

- I. I'll stay here. - Your quiet voice involuntarily interfered in their conversation. It's scary to imagine what might happen if you left the distillery. "I'm scared. If you promise to protect me, I will stay. And the people here have made me very welcome."

For a moment, it seemed as if Kaeya's eyes reflected emptiness before assuming a painfully familiar friendly expression. - " OK. If the lady wants to stay, so be it, but at this rate I'm becoming your accomplice. You are considered missing in the city. Only I can hide the information of your arrival. In return, I wish to visit you sometimes. I'm worried about staying in the dark." You nodded hesitantly.

During your stay at the Dawn distillery, it seemed that your shock had passed, but thinking about dead brother gave you reason to be a little afraid of Diluk. Otherwise, almost nothing has changed. In addition, the owner has become more likely to be at home, and Kaeya visits you almost every day. The meetings were more like small dates than regular get-togethers. The guy tried to get your attention as sweetly as possible, starting with gifts and ending with awkward gestures.

In fact, Keia made you his target a long time ago. From the day you first met, he couldn't take his eyes off you. At first it looked like a harmless flirtation, but over time his mania began to grow at an incredible rate. Few people manage to turn the head of a young, handsome, charismatic cavalry captain. In society, he may seem like a ladies' man, because only such a melodious voice is able to convey all the charm of the beauty of femininity itself. It was as if an incubus had come from hell to please the most closed girlish hearts.

On the contrary, you either studiously did not show a reaction, or did not notice at all. The guy was ready to swear that he saw the unsuccessful cupid diligently trying to hit you with an arrow, but fate forced them to fly in different directions. Kaeya mistook your closeness for a challenge. He has to win you over.

For Diluc, your presence has become commonplace. The situation you got into through brother's stupidity made his blood boil. This scene was directly imprinted in head with fragments of the past. He seriously did not understand those who are ready to betray their loved ones. You can't deserve to be treated like this.

Once he managed to capture your figure at an open window with a book in his hands. Just noticing him, your face lit up. A question popped up in the young winemaker's head - "What is it like to meet this smile every day?". Soon, the eternally closed and stingy guy began to exude tenderness in your direction.

Kaeya easily recognized his brother's infatuation. Of course, he wasn't particularly happy about this outcome, because you were supposed to be his alone. If you look at it from the other side, Diluc is a paranoid, focused on protecting his loved ones and just the innocent. Who better to entrust such a fragile flower to than him? Even if you decide to run away, the Distillery itself is a vast territory. There are people everywhere. You can't go anywhere unnoticed.

Diluc is also not a fool not to see brother's love interest. Unfortunately, there is no place to put it and there is no getting away from it. The three of you are connected by the same situation. It remains only to silently agree to the division of your attention between them. If only you could be in his field of vision.

It all started with small signs of attention until you yourself began to notice how suffocated you were by their presence. Personal boundaries were being destroyed right before our eyes. Even if they weren't around, the servants were always watching you. Over time, you began to suffer from panic attacks. Paranoia about other people's views even in a closed room haunted you. The feeling of loss turned into stress, and stress gave rise to a personality disorder.

One day, passing by the mirror, you stopped at a frozen figure. The reflection no longer had that calm smile on the familiar face. Fear appeared in his dull eyes, and his lips trembled. All this did not go well with a beautiful dress, expensive jewelry and delicate makeup. Previously, you might have been happy with such an update, but now. It wasn't a girl in the reflection, but rather a soulless doll.

- Isn't she beautiful? - Kaeya always had a habit of sneaking up behind jokingly. He hugged you lovingly, allowing himself to touch your neck with his lips. The man became more insistent every day. It seemed that his patience could come to naught at any moment, until one day you found yourself on his lap, impaled on his penis. No matter how hard you tried to resist, euphoria was playing in your mind. Strong male hands let go and lifted you up. He was strong enough to grab unexpectedly in any available place. Your desperate eyes excited him. Something dark and unknown was awakening inside. He was always looking for his little fawn. Even if you didn't belong only to him, he desperately tried to fill all your time with his presence while Diluc was away on important business.

When Diluc returned home, you could already be fast asleep. The man tried to visit you as often as his time allowed. Here is your sleeping figure. Diluc felt his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. He loves you, and even if he can't show it that often, he has money at his disposal. Your lace nightgown shows it. Last time, my hands couldn't help but touch your soft skin. Maybe even lips kissed yours. He's ashamed, very ashamed, but how can you stop when you're so obedient and sweet? He didn't want you to see him like this at all. Because of her nervousness, Adelaide often gave you a sedative and Diluc knew it. So now he could have done anything and you wouldn't know about it. In the morning, you could expect a small surprise in the form of a white sticky mass that forgot to remove.

Even if you make a scene, a pile of gift boxes will be delivered to the estate the next day just for you. Many people may start whispering that a spoiled child has appeared in the house. Maybe you don't even know about it. They were afraid of the master, who might even kill for you, and the head maid is not averse to handing out serious punishments if such rumors reach her ears.

Kaeya didn't lag behind either. Fresh flowers often appeared in your room. The captain knows how to take care of girls, unlike his embarrassed brother. He could give his love with affection and attention without fear of being rejected. Although you have nowhere to go.

Endless days in a long-familiar room turned into weeks, and weeks into months. You managed to remember who will be at home when and why. Only once, on the occasion of the holiday, no one bothered to check on you. Everyone was busy. You've rehearsed it many times and you were ready to leave your cage with confidence. Everything went according to plan, everything was fine, you were almost at the border with Li Yue when you suddenly lost consciousness. The eyes opened in the same damn place. This time, the movements were severely constrained. Golden chains were found on the wrist and legs. Your breath caught in your throat when suddenly a red-haired man entered the room. There was anger in his eyes.

- How could you? How dare you leave without saying a word? I almost lost my mind. Do you understand how many monsters are outside and it's not her to count all kinds of scumbags?!

He came too close, but softened when he saw your eyes wet with fear. Nevertheless, your words almost broke out into a scream.

- I don't want to be here anymore. This place is driving me crazy. It's all you and your brother! You've made a doll out of me. I want to live quietly somewhere far away alone. And now you've turned me into a puppet by putting me in these chains. How else can I understand this?!

- I'm doing this for you. Fatuis may be close...

-I'm sure they don't even remember me anymore. These are all your pathetic excuses! I'd rather die than be here and submit to your perverted fantasies!

Diluc measured his anger with a heavy sigh. - "Someday you'll understand why I'm doing all this. We try to take care of you. Wouldn't asking for a little love be a good price to pay for a life of comfort and security?"

- You're already delusional about this idea. I'm sorry, but I don't feel safe around you anymore.

Diluc left the room without hesitation, leaving you all alone. The chains rattled uncomfortably as you tried to get out of bed. There was a box with another gift on the bedside table. You unpacked it automatically, it used to be fun. Now it is not clear what can be dug up. Inside was a leather collar with a leash and a note. "I've heard you've been behaving badly lately. I hope you'll be wearing it when we meet. Do not forget. You have to behave yourself to get what you want. I'll be happy to give you this. With love, Kaeya"

The gift was immediately in the far corner. You huddled into the wall, hiding your face. Tears streamed from eyes. You used to be their toy, but now you've become a pet. After all, this is not the end you were waiting for.

The glasses of the pink glasses flew in different directions, leaving scars in the cornea for the rest of days. The world has changed its palette to dark tones, emptying you and your mind..

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lingering-42-long · 7 months

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The Last Goodbye

When they are Kia

Cod characters x f! reader

Inspired by MW3 and the tragic events that occurred this will be a three-part series if I do not get writers block lol.

So sorry for the not posting as much! It’s been a really crazy month and a lot of things had happened and caused me to have a bit of a depressive episode so thank you all for being super patient!

Warnings: mentions of death

John Price

You saw it on the news first before you got the visit. Your breath hitched when you saw the news of the air strike that had hit the base where your husband of 12 years was stationed at everything was decimated. And you couldn’t call or check to make sure that he was all right as he would not have his personal cell phone with him. It wasn’t until two days after the attack did two uniformed military officers showed up at your door holding prices old hat and SAS badge and dog tags. How they got them so quickly, you weren’t sure, but the news came like a sudden wave of cold water. “ we are so sorry for your loss.” One of the officers told you. The body would be arriving shortly within a week or so for proper burial you two had purchased side-by-side grave plots. And the will was already drawn up well before all of this had happened. John was a very precise man and always make sure to think 12 steps ahead. He knew his job was rough and he knew that at any moment he could drop dead. He made sure that his life insurance would be going to you, which was some relief sense the army didn’t pay much.

How to tell your daughter, that her father was not going to be coming back. What is the worst thing you could ever do to her young heart. She was only eight years old. She adored her father practically worship the ground. He walked on. She was always his little girl, and now the war stripped her of him. Stripped you of him..

When she came home from school, you had to sit her down. You held her hands, and with tears, you told the heartbreaking news. The young girl did not understand at first on why her father wasn’t coming back, and once again, you explained that he had died in action, and he would never be able to come home you’re a little girl started to cry, and when he tried to comfort her, she bolted from your arms and ran to her room, slamming the door, and she could hear her wails. You yourself cried yourself to sleep for the first few weeks all the way up until the funeral your friends and family members gathered around you doing everything that they could to comfort you and your daughter people were calling in every single day talking with you for hours on end, while other people stopped by to bring you food.

Every day it felt like a horrifying nightmare. The one that reoccurs every single time slightly more horrifying than the last. As you were going through your stuff and trying to decide what if his you wanted to keep and what of his you wanted to donate you noticed on your phone you had gotten an email from Kate Lasswell. She had sent a video to you actually several saying in the email that he wanted you to have this and gave her explicit instructions in case if he was to ever die.

Pressing the play button, you watched as his face appeared in the camera as he sat down and smiled at you. The way, his eyes twinkled and the crows feet around them creased. “ hello dove” he started at first and you had to pause the video because you were overwhelmed with the emotions. When you stabilized yourself again, you continued. “ I know it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to you and I know that if you’re seeing this, it means that I have passed….. mission was going to be botched no matter what I just didn’t want to tell you the statistics at first…” he paused himself, as he seem to be collecting his words in his own voice was shaking “ I really wish I could come back home to you. I told you that this would be the last mission that I would do before retiring… I promise to take you out on that date that you wanted to go to that fancy restaurant.” he paused again, closing his eyes, and releasing out a large sigh.

“ I’m sorry I never got to take you…. I had so many plans to do with you and Alice… it doesn’t seem fair that I didn’t get a chance to do that” once again, you had a pause the video so that you could take a minute to cry. The plans that you had with each other right now by the wayside. You unpause did it again, and continued on listening. “ I know right now you’re depressed.” he stated, folding folding his hands, and leaning on the desk in a slightly business fashion way. “ in the email that Kate sent you there is several groups that you can join that are for the spouses of the deceased militant partner. Please join one as well as make sure our daughter also goes to one for kids. She’s going to need that support… you both are.” he smiled again, but it was a Sad smile. “ I also made sure to have a college fund started for her. You don’t have to worry about it until she’s ready. There should be plenty of money for her to attend all the way up until graduate year as long as she goes to a decent university. Make sure it’s only used for that if she chooses not to go to university or to go to a less expensive one, you can use the money to buy her a car or whatever she needs to get her life started…. I’m sorry this had all come to this…. As you know I have set aside a life insurance, and the beneficiary goes to you. I also saved up a lot of my savings as well. Feel free to use it as necessary.” he knew that you were going to be smart with the money. “ He paused and looked at you “you are my beloved…. I’m so sorry my dove that you have to face this alone. Please take care of yourself. Find a husband that loves you like I did and a good father figure for our daughter.” This made him tear up. “I will wait for you in heaven and I will watch over you both. You mean so much love. No one or nothing can separate this love. The email that is sent to you also has several videos for Alice. For her birthdays, graduation, moving out to university, marriage and their child. I made sure to make a video for all of that… I also left many for you. Please don’t hesitate to just let me listen to you… I love you.”

The video ended and you sat in the chair, Thinking things though. He set life up for you and your daughter. He was still looking after both of you. You cried for a bit before getting up and knocking on your daughters door. Your little girl opened up with tears on her face. “Hey baby… daddy sent you something.” She sniffed as you picked her up and took her to your old husband’s office. After sitting down with her in his old chair, you turned on the next video. “Hey Angel!” John’s face lit up when the camera started you could see he had been crying. “Angel, im not coming home, it’s not that I don’t want to but it’s because I got called up to heaven. I want you to do something for me my sweet, I want you to watch over momma ok? She is going to need you and you are going to need her. He glanced up as if looking at you then looked back down at his daughter. “You are such a special little girl. I love you so much. Momma has the other videos for you to watch when you grow up. I’m so so sorry to leave you like this. I did not

I did not want to go. I know you were looking forward to see me and so was I… you are my sunshine. My only sunshine.” He stated singing the song he sang when she was down or sad. “You make me happy, when sky’s are grey. You never know dear, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away…. I love you my angel.” The video ended. Your daughter looked at you. “What now?” She asked. “Well… now we do what daddy said… we do our best to move on, but not to forget him. We will be OK.” You held her as you too watched the sunset fade beneath the horizon, a beautiful white dove landed on he window, cooed and looked at you before flying off into the golden rays of the pink sky.

Simon Riley

You were cleaning in the kitchen when you heard a knock at the door. Putting the sponge back in the soapy hot water. You wiped your hands and made your way to the door. Two military officers took at the door, Solum faces as they greeted you. “Hello can I help you?” You asked

“Mrs (y/n) Riley?” One of them asked.

“Yes that is me.” You looked at them worried.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Simon Riley was killed in action.” The officer said gravely as he handed you a box of his things.

You took the box with tears in your eyes. The men told you that his body was found and would be returning soon. You thanked them and closed the door as you held the box tightly in your arms and sunk to the floor sobbing. Your sweet Simon. He was gone, never to come home to you and your son. You knew it was a dangerous job, but it never really hit you till now. Your husband, the man that always let you take off his mask, the man that would cuddle with you at night and rub your back after a long day, the father of your 3 month old son who he would stay up late to let you sleep. He was gone, ripped apart from you. How were you going to tell your son about his father, the man who loved his son from the moment he was born. You cried on the cold floor till you fell asleep, still holding onto the box. You woke up to the sound of your son crying in his room. Getting up, you walked and a dead sonter to his room. Tomas your son named after your husbands brother, was crying in his cradle. Carfully you picked him up and held him close. He looked so much like his daddy, blonde hair, dark blue eyes, fair skin. “Shhhhh my love” you rocked your son with tears in your eyes. “Daddy isn’t coming back.” You stated as a hiccup got you. “He loved you so much…. He loved me.” You knew your son wouldn’t remember this but it was still so sad to hold your little boy and know he would never have a father and son bonding.

You sobbed as you held onto him. Tomas sensing his mothers destress, he quieted down and cooed. After a while you fed him and put him down to bed once more. You opened the box after sitting down with a hot cup of tea, ready to take on what you needed to. With a sniffle, you opened the lid to reveal his skull mask, the dog tags that he wore, his SAS badge, and a few other things. “Oh Simon” new murmured as you carefully picked up the mask and set the box down as he traced over the lines to his skeletal features on his balaclava. It smelled like him. That rich, earthy smell, that he always seems to have with a hint of gunpowder and bourbon. It was a lingering sent, but it was a good one at that. You held the mass close as you leaned back on the couch and close your eyes. You already missed him more than you did before maybe it was because you knew that you would never see him again, to have him be in the house and be present with you and your son. You would go on with your life fine you are a tough woman, one of the many reasons to why Simon married you, but it was your son that you were worried about. You wanted your son to have a father figure. A dad that he would learn to grow up and love. Simon never had that sort of dad, and had always wanted to be that way for his own children.

Now Simon was never going to live out his dream, and Thomas, your son, was never going to have that sort of special bond. I thought made you incredibly sad once more but no tears fell, your eyes were all dried from the previous crying. The weeks came and the funeral happened, your husband looked peaceful in his casket. You wanted some alone time with him first and held his stiff, cold hand. “ Thomas will miss you… I will miss you. You were my rock and shield. It’s going to be hard without you Si… I will always love you and miss you.” The funeral took place and it was a sad time. The team of 141, your family and friends helped with whatever you needed. Now, you were cleaning out things from your late husband. As you were cleaning out his bedside table drawer, you saw a note, folded up neatly. Curious, you unfolded the lined paper and read the words on the paper.

“My dear (y/n), Birdie if you are digging in my drawer then that means I have passed, the mission was botched… I’m sorry… I know Thomas is in good hands with you. Please don’t worry about money. My account will be given to you. As I am writing this, it’s late, you’re sleeping next to me. It’s the night before we leave… I am looking at you for the last time, taking in all your beautiful details. Your face is so soft in sleep, you look so angelic. I am going to miss you… I know you will miss me too… I’m sorry I haven’t said ‘I love you’ that much. I hope you know I cherished and deeply loved you. I still do. I know you are a strong woman, that is what drew me to you. I know you will move on. If you wish, find someone who can love you and our son just as much as I loved you. I will be waiting for you when you come. I will always be watching out for you. Please don’t let our son forget me. I want him to know how much I loved him and you. I love you my Birdie, my beautiful wife. ~Simon.”

You held onto the paper and cried. This was going to be ruff. You were going to be ok. A sense of comfort filled your mind and warmth flooded your body. “I love you my Simon” you smiled and the familiar sent of him wafted and you felt his warmth envelop you.

Gaz

when the news reached you, it hurt like 1000 tiny little daggers. You had just gotten married to Gaz, your Relationship was just beginning. The two of you had been high school sweethearts. Times had gotten tough for both of you and you broke off your relationship before time being until you rekindled it once again, realizing that he was the only person for you. You had only gotten married a few months prior and just had your honeymoon before he was shipped off. Four months he was gone. And he was supposed to come back in two, however, the letter that you received told a different story. He would never be coming home. His body was blown up so badly that they couldn’t find all the pieces to him. We would do everything that they could to get the majority of him back home so that there could be some proper burial. This broke your heart. He would never get to share the life with you that you too so desperately dreamed about, a small home, somewhere on the suburbs of London with a dog, and maybe a child somewhere down the line. That was your plan at least but now things have changed, and now your beloved was gone.

It had been a few weeks since the death, and the burial of what was left at him. You had moved back in with your parents for the time being. As you were cleaning up your room, doing the best to get over your grieving you noticed a note on your bed they have been delivered by your mother earlier. Carefully you walked up to the letter and looked at it. It was addressed to you by Gaz. A sense of panic swelled in your chest. Did he really survive? Or was this some cool trick that somebody was playing? Quickly opened the envelope, and you looked at the letter the date showing that it was a month ago that he had sent this; before his death. With shaky hands, you begin to read the chicken, scratch lettering, tracing over every word, and taking to heart as if it was the gospel.

“Hey Love!

Things are crazy right now! We’re going to be going into a city not too far from here. I’ll make sure to pick up some stuff for you. I know you’ve been wanting to decorate the house for a while and I’m so excited to see what sort of projects you’ve been working on? How’s the art piece coming? I remember you telling me that you wanted to start up painting again. We always had such a pretty drawings. I have no doubt that they’re not going to be beautiful. I hope you hang them on the wall for us to see. I miss you. A part of me wishes that you were here at least the part that isn’t the most violent. Unfortunately, we’re not in the best area we are being attacked left and right. Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll be home soon! I promise I’ll fix the leaky faucet. I know it’s been driving you crazy. I I sent a letter to my folks, but could you tell them that I miss them as well? I want them to know how much I miss them, but I think I miss you the most. When I get back can we get a dog? Also, can we have like a full day of playing video games just with you and me? I know I sound like I’m rambling, but it’s just what’s on my mind recently. Late night cuddles with you while playing Mario kart. It just sounds so relaxing right now. I’m really tired. Well sweetheart, I better get to bed. I love you and I hope that you have an amazing day tomorrow and the next and the next after that.

Your Husband,

Gaz”

Hugging the letter, you cried your eyes out. Tears streaming down your face as you laid on the bed, holding onto the last remnant of what your husband left you. It sounded as if he was somewhere in a safer, better place. You hoped that he died quickly that he didn’t suffer and his last thoughts were good thoughts. A breeze drifted into the room from your open window and a warm bit of sunshine hit your cheek as the breeze drifted passed it felt like a stroke on your soft face. He was there sitting beside you, even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel his presence. He was safe and he was watching over you.

Johnny McTavish

The news has gotten to you quickly. It was actually delivered by Price himself. You couldn’t believe it. Your Scottish highland your man was no longer going to come home to you. He was shot through the head. Taking a bullet to save a life. Your young son, John, named after his father, was going to be home from school soon the devastating news hurt you more than anything else out there. How are you going to tell your six-year-old son that he was not gonna have his daddy near anymore? Who was going to play football with him in the yard? Who is going to read bedtime stories? Who is going to play in the rain with him? Your son needed his father that boy looked up to his dad, like he was the sun, its self. The news hurt you hard calling his parents and his family was going to be hard as well if they had an already heard the news. He was close with everybody and his family and he had quite a large family.

The upcoming days to the Memorial as you wish to have been cremated, were hard and brutal. Everybody that you knew, and your friends and his family all gave their condolences to you and to each other he was loved and well liked by everyone your son took it hard he didn’t understand why his dad wasn’t coming home and cried and cried and cried it was like that for almost a whole week, he was doing so bad that you had to pull him out of school for the time being because he was unable to function properly. You did everything you could you hold him tight in your arms until he cried himself to sleep at night in which you also cried your own silent tears. You would go walk on the open, Highlands that overlooked the beautiful scenery where your husband, his father’s ashes, cast out upon the open landscape. A small memorial was placed there in memory. You would have picnics out there are frequently, simply listening to the birds call from high above and feel the warm sun cast It’s beautiful rays. They felt cold and dull to you, but you did your best to hold out for your son.

Cleaning out the closet with all of his stuff. What is your next task as you were taking some of his old stuff down you noticed a hard drive they had fallen out of one of his pockets with your name on it. Curious, you took the hard drive and you plugged it into your laptop. It open the file which had a video and it. You clicked play.

The video with your husband sitting on the couch in your living room, smiling at you “Hello my bonne Lass. if yer seeing this then ye know what happened and I don’t think I need ta say anymore abou tha’. I am so sorry that I cannot be with Yer. I love ye so much. I love our son John so much. Please remind hem’ every day how much I love him. Please play football with hem as much as ye can. Please read to hem every night fer me. I know it’s a lot ta ask with what’s going on but I think it might be good fer both of ya ta share tha’ quality time. I’m gonna miss ye both, but I’m always going te be with yer. I’m always going to be watching over mo little family. Don’t worry Lass, life insurance should cover a huge portion of everything. Hopefully it can help provide some security fer you and fer John. I also have tha’ university fund ye wanted me ta set up fer him. Let the money grow and add te it. If ye want by the time he turns 18 he can open that account. The files are actually in my cabinet on the right side of the desk. It has all the important paperwork and documentaries yer gonna need. I really wish I was there with ya Lass. I’m going to miss holding you at night and whispering I love yous.” His beautiful eyes stared right back at you with his stupid little mohawk and broad shoulders facing the camera. “ I know you got this, please don’t ferget about me, but I do want you moving on. Find a man that makes yer heart is happy to be with as it was with meh. I know it’s a lot ta ask for, and I’m not expecting ye ta get married right this instant… I want ta see ye happy I want to see you taken care of. I love ye, my princess.” he reached over to turn off the device that he was using, and the video ended abruptly. A new wave of tears hit your face as you laid your head on the desk and cried for the fifth or sixth time in the past few days. Your son came in the room and gently touched your shoulder. “It’s OK mama! Daddy’s going to be with us. He’s just going to be invisible.” he was quoting some thing that you had told him. When you had to break the news to John, you had told him that the angels up in heaven needed his daddy to help fight the battle up there because he was so good at his job. One day he would be able to meet his daddy up there as well. Now John had taken this to heart and there’s now quoting this in hopes to make you feel better. You carefully picked up your son and held him close to you. “ you know you’re the best against your father had ever giving me? When you were born, he had tears in his eyes and he was hugging you and kissing all over your face and just absolutely doting on you 24 seven. He told me how proud he was of you. He told me how proud he was of me. Those were good times.” Your son gently hold you tight in his own little arms. “ it’s OK mama will make it out together.” You could almost feel a kiss on your forehead as if…. As if your husband was leaning over to comfort you.

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septembriseur · 1 month

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‘The second reigning sentiment – or rather lack of sentiment – is the flipside of the first. It is the utter inability of Israeli society today to feel any empathy for the population of Gaza. The majority, it seems, do not even want to know what is happening in Gaza, and this desire is reflected in TV coverage. Israeli television news these days usually begins with reports on the funerals of soldiers, invariably described as heroes, fallen in the fighting in Gaza, followed by estimates of how many Hamas fighters were “liquidated”. References to Palestinian civilian deaths are rare and normally presented as part of enemy propaganda or as a cause for unwelcome international pressure. In the face of so much death, this deafening silence now seems like its own form of vengefulness.

‘Of course, the Israeli public long ago became inured to the brutal occupation that has characterised the country for 57 out of the 76 years of its existence. But the scale of what is being perpetrated in Gaza right now by the IDF is as unprecedented as the complete indifference of most Israelis to what is being done in their name. In 1982, hundreds of thousands of Israelis protested against the massacre of the Palestinian population in the refugee camps Sabra and Shatila in western Beirut by Maronite Christian militias, facilitated by the IDF. Today, this kind of response is inconceivable. The way people’s eyes glaze over whenever one mentions the suffering of Palestinian civilians, and the deaths of thousands of children and women and elderly people, is deeply unsettling.

‘…Unlike the majority of Israelis, these young people had seen the destruction of Gaza with their own eyes. It seemed to me that they had not only internalised a particular view that has become commonplace in Israel – namely, that the destruction of Gaza as such was a legitimate response to 7 October – but had also developed a way of thinking that I had observed many years ago when studying the conduct, worldview and self-perception of German army soldiers in the second world war. Having internalised certain views of the enemy – the Bolsheviks as Untermenschen; Hamas as human animals – and of the wider population as less than human and undeserving of rights, soldiers observing or perpetrating atrocities tend to ascribe them not to their own military, or to themselves, but to the enemy.

‘…By the time I travelled to Israel, I had become convinced that at least since the attack by the IDF on Rafah on 6 May 2024, it was no longer possible to deny that Israel was engaged in systematic war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocidal actions. It was not just that this attack against the last concentration of Gazans – most of them displaced already several times by the IDF, which now once again pushed them to a so-called safe zone – demonstrated a total disregard of any humanitarian standards. It also clearly indicated that the ultimate goal of this entire undertaking from the very beginning had been to make the entire Gaza Strip uninhabitable, and to debilitate its population to such a degree that it would either die out or seek all possible options to flee the territory. In other words, the rhetoric spouted by Israeli leaders since 7 October was now being translated into reality – namely, as the 1948 UN Genocide Convention puts it, that Israel was acting “with intent to destroy, in whole or in part”, the Palestinian population in Gaza, “as such, by killing, causing serious harm, or inflicting conditions of life meant to bring about the group’s destruction”.’

#long post #some of you might knee-jerk reject this article #but it is very interesting and valuable

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jpmarvel90 · 1 year

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Coming Home - Part 2

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Part 1

Relationship: Scarlett x ex Reader

Summary: Part two to Coming home

Word Count: 3414

Scarlett’s POV:

A month after we received news about Y/n, a funeral was held for her. I buried an empty coffin in the military graveyard and heard people talk about her heroic actions which ultimately led to her death. Her body wasn’t found. When they returned to a few days later they just found a pool of dried blood. It was believed that the Taliban had taken her body. As no ransom or demands had come through, the Military had declared her as killed in action.

The months following were difficult. I returned to work, but it felt like I was just working through the motions. It was like I had lost ever desire to live my life to the fullest. Y/n was always on my mind, and I was constantly reminded that I lost her long before she died and that I had no one to blame but myself.

We had recently started filming Age of Ultron and we had new cast members and I found it so hard to build any relationship with them. I was isolating myself and I didn’t need anyone. After a long day of filming, I was in my trailer, looking at photos of Y/n and I from when we were growing up. A knock at my door pulled me out of my thoughts and I shuffled towards the door to find Lizzie Olsen stood smiling at me.

Her smile suddenly drops as she looks at me. “Oh God, Scarlett, are you crying? Is everything ok?” She asked concerned. I hadn’t even realised that tears had been falling. I was so used to that feeling now. I quickly wiped them away and assured her that I was ok. “Look Scarlett, I know that we’re not exactly close, but I’m here if you ever need to talk. I know that you’ve gone through a loss, and I want to be there to help you.” She said with such warmth.

I smiled and moved to the side so she could join me. I spent the evening telling her all about Y/n and how I had left her like I did and then seeing her again before she died. It felt really good to talk through everything. I hadn’t realised that it had all been bottled up and talking about it had actually helped. Lizzie was really understanding and caring. She sat and let me bore her with photos and stories of Y/n. I actually felt bad for not making more of an effort when she first joined.

Over the next few weeks, I found myself healing gradually as I learnt to talk through my feelings. I still felt this unbearable pain, but I was able to carry on with my life. Lizzie had become a really close friend and I was extremely grateful for all her support. If she hadn’t come to my door that night, I know I would have fallen even further into my depression.

Since the funeral, I had avoided going back to New York as much as I could. But I knew I should go back and see both my parent’s as well as Y/n’s. Lizzie had decided to come with me for support. But I had to make the trip to Y/n’s parents on my own. I was stood on their doorstep and was hesitant to knock. I eventually found the courage to do so and was greeted by Henry.

He looked older and tired. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose a daughter. When he saw me, he smiled and pulled me into a big hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” I said ashamed. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Please come in.” He said, guiding me into the living room. I greeted Mary and we spent some time catching up over a cup of coffee.

“I’m glad you came. We actually have something to give you.” Henry explained as he got up and left the room. I looked at Mary with a confused look. Once Henry rejoined us, he sat in front of me. “After the funeral, we were given Y/n’s belongings by the Army. At first, we weren’t able to bring ourselves to go through it. The pain was too much. But we finally had the courage to do so this weekend and within the belongings was this. We were going to send it on to you, but I’m glad you’re here to we can give it to you in person.” He explained as he passed me an envelope.

It was addressed to me. I ran my fingers over the familiar handwriting writing on the front. Tears prickling in my eyes. “She was due to send it the day she was killed.” He explained and I nodded as the tears dropped onto my lap. I placed it into my bag, wanting to read it when I got home.

I spent a bit more time with the Y/l/ns and made the short journey back to my house. I was greeted by Lizzie who was cooking dinner. “Oh, you’re back. How did it go?” She asked. I showed her the unopened letter. “This was in her belongings. She was going to send it the day she died.” I said, trying to stifle a cry. Lizzie pulled me into a hug and rubbed her hand up and down my back. “I’ll give you some space.” She said, returning to the kitchen.

I made my way into my bedroom and pulled the blanket up over me as I just stared at the letter. I had no idea what would be in here. What if it was her telling me to stop writing to her or saying that she didn’t want me in her life. The few letters she had sent to me whilst she was away, were very short. I had the fight in my head over whether to open it or not, but eventually decided I had to read it for my own closure. My hands were shaking as I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

My dear Scarlett,

I have re-written this letter so many times. I’ve never been very good at putting my feelings out there. But I feel compelled to do so. So, this is me trying to share the thoughts in my head. When I first started to receive your letters, I’ll admit that I didn’t read them at first. I felt like there was nothing you could say that I would want to hear. But over time, you were starting to take up more and more of my thoughts.

When I finally started to read them, I felt my heart break all over again. It reminded me of the woman I had fallen in love with as a teenager. The kind hearted and caring person I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. I relieved the pain of slowly losing you when you moved to LA. That’s why I didn’t respond for a while and the letters you did get were lacking.

I found that I started to look forward to your letters. Hearing you talking about our memories and the reasons that we fell in love, reminded me of the happy times and I was finally starting to feel the pain be replaced with the love I had once felt for you. And let’s be honest. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. I just buried it deep down to protect myself.

With each letter I believe more and more that you do still love and care for me and that you truthfully want to give this another try. When I come home, I think we need to talk properly. Because if there is any chance that I can get back the relationship we once had, before it all went to shit, I want to grab it with both hands and never let go.

So, if you’ll have me, I want us to try again. I want to get to know you again and go on dates and feel the effect of falling in love with you all over again. Because the feelings of love that I have for you are like a drug and I can’t live without it.

I love you Scarlett. Always have, always will.

Yours always,

Y/n

As I read the letter, I couldn’t help the cries that left my mouth. It was pure agony to see her feelings written in front of me. She wanted to try again, she still loved me. But life cruelly took away the opportunity for us to be reunited to start again. It was like reliving her death all over again and I couldn’t stand the pain. I felt a pair of arms around me as Lizzie held me and quietly hushed me, rocking me gently.

When I finally started to calm down, I handed her the letter and watched as her own eyes filled with tears as she read Y/n’s admission. “Scar, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. I know that right now nothing probably will make you feel better. But you have spent the last few months believe that she had died angry and hurt with you. Instead, she died loving you, knowing that you loved her. Please try and take some solace in that.” She spoke so softly but she was right.

I can live my life knowing that I had her. She was mine and I was hers, even if we didn’t get the chance to reunite in person. We both knew our feelings and that’s what mattered. Lizzie just held me that evening whilst I would go through my phases of crying and re-reading the letter.

We stayed in New York for a few more days and I spent more time with Y/n’s parents which was nice. I felt close to her. I was currently packing up ready for our flight back to LA this evening. My phone had been ringing but I had ignored it as I wanted to focus on getting everything ready to leave. I didn’t want any distractions right now. Just as I had closed up my bag and was carrying down the stairs, there was loud banging on the front door.

Lizzie came out of the living room to see what the noise was. I quickly went to the door and opened it to see my mom stood there out of breath. “Don’t you answer you damn phone now?” She asked frustrated. “I was packing, what’s wrong?” I asked confused. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. But they found Y/n. Alive.” I was frozen to the spot at her words. My mom just stood there staring at me. She’s alive!

Lizzie’s hand on my shoulder pulled me from my trance. “How? Is she ok?!” I asked frantically, needing to know more. “They found her when they attacked an enemy compound. They had found her injured and taken her hostage. She’s in pretty bad shape but she’s back here in the US. She’s in a hospital in Georgia.” She explained and I could feel my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

“Maybe we should change our flights to Georgia.” Lizzie said with a smile. I nodded and was quickly on my phone with my manager to arrange flights. We managed to get on a flight 3 hours later and the whole journey from New York my mind wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what was waiting for us when we got there. Y/n’s parents were already in Georgia and had text me with the hospital and room number.

I was glad to have Lizzie with me again. I don’t think I could have done this on my own. This must be pretty weird for her, rushing across the country to the side of a woman she’s never met. When we finally arrived at the hospital, I found myself frozen in the car we had hired. “I don’t think I can go in.” I whispered. Lizzie leant over and took my hand in hers. “But Y/n is in there. Don’t you want to see her?” She asked confused.

I did more than anything want to see her but I was terrified. “What if she’s so badly hurt that she’s going to die again. I can’t lose her again.” I said, starting to cry. God I was sick of crying! Lizzie hugged me and let me calm down. “The woman that you love is in that hospital. The woman you thought was dead. You’ve been given a second chance to at least see her. Don’t miss out on this opportunity or you’re going to regret it more than leaving her 6 years ago.” Lizzie spoke wisely and I nodded in agreement.

I grabbed a hold of Lizzie’s hand as we made our way through the hospital. We eventually made it to the ward Y/n was on and we were stood outside of her hospital room. I turned to Lizzie and smiled, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

I couldn’t believe the sight that greeted me. Y/n was awake in bed, with her parents either side. I was completely speechless. Y/n turned to look at me with the biggest smile on her face and it made my heart soar. He eyes flicked down to my hand which was holding Lizzie’s and he face instantly dropped and she turned to look back to her mom. I quickly dropped Lizzie’s hand and tentatively made my way towards her bed.

“Y-You’re alive.” I breathed out, tears falling whilst I had a huge smile on my face. Y/n just nodded. Her expression felt cold, she couldn’t even hold eye contact with me. “I think I’ll go and grab some drinks. Can I get you any Mr and Mrs Y/l/n?” Lizzie asked, breaking the awkward silence. “You know what, I think we’ll come with you Lizzie.” Mary responded. “Do you want anything sweetheart?” She asked Y/n who just shook her head. Mary placed a kiss on her forehead, and it was soon just the two of us.

I reached out and took her hand in mine and placed a kiss on it. “I can’t believe you’re here. This last 6 months has been horrible without you. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through.” I said but she didn’t respond. “Can you say something?” I almost pleaded. She cleared her throat, and I could tell she was trying to not cry. “She’s very pretty. I’m happy for you.” She forced out. “Do you mean Lizzie?” I asked confused. “Ah so that’s her name.” She replied. “Scar and Lizzie, has a nice ring to it.” She muttered.

It then hit me. “Wait, no we’re not together. She’s just my friend, she’s been supporting me through all of this. You’re the only person I want to be with.” I rushed out, not wanting her to think we were together any longer than she already had. “Really?” She asked and her voice broke as she said it. I stood up and leaned over cupping her bruised face in my hands. “I am so madly in love with you. I couldn’t even think of anyone else the same way. The moment I found out you were dead, a part of me died too. When I read your letter last week, my heart ached knowing that we had missed our chance to be together again. But now you’re here in front of me.” I cried and she placed her hands over my own.

“I never stopped loving you Y/n. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, showing how much I love and adore you. I will do anything for you. I’ll even follow you around the world whilst you’re in the Army. I just want to be with you.” I spoke honestly and Y/n let out a chuckle through a sob. “God, I love you too. You are the reason I’m still alive. I knew I had to fight to stay alive so I could see you again. To hold you to kiss you.” At those words, I quickly crashed my lips into hers.

The kiss was passionate and full of every feeling I wanted to convey to her. As I pulled away, her eyes were still shut, and she whispered. “Wow.” I chuckled and rested my forehead against her. “I’m never leaving you again. I will follow you where you are.” I promised and she smiled. “Well, you won’t have to follow me far.” She said and I looked at her confused. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m being medically discharged from the army. My leg is busted, and I had to have a kidney removed. I’ll make a full recovery, but not one to be medically fit for the army.” She clarified. I could tell there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

She had managed to achieve so much in her career and from speaking with her parents she loved her job. There was a selfish part of me that was happy she would be safe. But I hated the thought that she was losing something she loved. “I’m so sorry Y/n. But I’ll still be by your side. Wherever you are.” I placed another soft kiss on her lips and took the seat next to her. “I just don’t know what I’ll do next.” She said and I just smiled that she was thinking about that whilst still in a hospital bed. “Come to LA with me?” I said as more of a question, but I meant it. Her head snapped to look at me. “What?” She asked.

“Come with me. We’re near the end of filming, you can come and live with me, and I can help you with your recovery. But most importantly we can be together, and you’ll have time to work out what you want to do next.” I explained, sure of what I wanted. “To be clear, are you asking me to move in with you?” She said with a smile, and I nodded enthusiastically. “I told you. I’m not letting you go again.” She smirked and replied. “Then yes, I would love to move in with you.” She said and I squealed at her response.

I jumped up and locked our lips once again. I would never get tired of that feeling. She moved over in the bed and tapped next to her to indicate for me to join her. I carefully sat on the bed and held her close to me. We started into each other’s eyes as I rubbed my thumb along her cheek. We gave each other kisses every now and then as we just enjoyed being in each other’s company again. I could believe she was alive and with me again.

“So, you guys have made up then.” I turned around and saw Lizzie and Y/n’s parents stood on the doorway, all with smiles on their faces. “She’s giving me a second chance.” I replied, turning back to Y/n and giving her a peck on her lips. I adjusted so I was still laid with her but able to see the others. “Hi, I’m Lizzie by the way.” She introduced herself to Y/n who held out her hand to shake. “Hi. Y/n. Thank you for look after Scar.” Y/n responded, and Lizzie blushed a little. “She’s my best friend, I’d do anything for her. This feels really weird. I feel like I know you even though I’ve never met you. I’ve heard so many stories.” Lizzie shared and Y/n laughed. “Oh God. That’s not good.” And we all laughed

That evening was amazing, we all just chatted, and I got to lie in Y/n’s arms again. I was home and I couldn’t be happier. I spent the weekend in Georgia, before heading back to LA to prepare for Y/n’s arrival. Lizzie had offered to move in temporarily to help with Y/n and the two of them quickly became great friends.

Once I had finished filming, we spent time traveling whilst I had no commitments until the reshoots and press tour. We got to know each other again and I loved the woman Y/n had become more than I ever had. Even though she still didn’t know what she wanted to do, it didn’t matter right now as we were together and that was all that matter. I had my girl back.

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson fanfiction #celebrity fanfiction

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paarthurnax59 · 1 year

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"Happy Memorial Day, bro."

Summary: It’s Memorial Day and you pay a visit to Steve Roger’s grave, your twin brother, with your husband and your kids. When facing his headstone, you are confronted with grief and guilt. Logan then decided to help you bring the closure that you needed.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x sister!Reader, Logan Howlett x Rogers!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, abandonment, reader is depicted as being Caucasian, grief, talks of suicide.

Important note: Regardless of how you feel about American politics today, please keep the comments respectful and do not dishonor those that paid the ultimate price for sustaining peace in the world. All who leave disrespectful comments will be blocked.

Also, if you have served or have family members that served, whether be American or any other countries military that have passed on, please share!

As Logan pulled the classic car up to Arlington Cemetery, you grabbed the flowers and photos, along with an American flag that Bucky helped you fold up. Both he and Sam were going to meet you after you had visited the cemetery with your kids, Charlotte and Joey, both nestled in the back sound asleep from the long car ride. Unbuckling your seat belt, you looked to the crowd of people. Mourning families and couples standing in front of the headstones of their deceased loved ones who paid the ultimate price. You saw as many people lay solemnly on the ground of the graves. There was this one older woman that you saw brushed her fingers on the headstone in front of her, as the tears began to fall from her wrinkled cheeks.

“Baby?” You heard Logan’s voice, snapping you out of your trance, making you look into those beautiful hazel eyes you had grown to adore. “You alright?” He asked as he touched your face, gently stroking your smooth skin.

“I’m okay…just feels weird being back here again. Almost three months since the funeral.”

“Yeah, I know.” Logan replied as he got closer to you and kissed your forehead with a comforting hand on the back of your head.

It had been three months since your twin brother, Steve, had passed away. After he returned the stones, he went back to the 1940’s and had the life with Peggy. The life that you had with Logan, a home and a family. He never truly got over her. The woman that was the very first, possibly the only woman, to show him interest while he was still your scrawny, older brother. When Steve went through the platform and disappear, he didn’t come back. Instead, you all looked to the lake and saw an old man sitting on a bench. That old man was your big brother.

He told you about when you all had defeated Thanos and how he wanted to leave this time and go back. You objected at first and even got angry at him for even abandoning you once more. The first time in the ice, and now to go back to the 40’s. Leaving behind his niece and nephew, his family to chase some dream that died the moment he crashed that plane in the 40’s. You refused to talk to him after a few days after that. Bucky had to literally drag you to the site where Steve had to return the stones. Logan was at your side the entire time as Steve gave you one last look before leaving through the time machine, never to return. Looking back, you began to think differently, and it was eating away at you.

“Come on, let’s get the kids up.” Your husband interjected, making you nod your head in agreement and got out of the car and to the back seat. “Munchkins? Wake up. We’re here!” Logan gently shook your daughter while you unstrapped your son from his car seat. The little two-year-old boy began to stir from his sleep as you picked him up and into your arms. You thanked your lucky stars that he didn’t start crying.

“Daddy…” Your four-year-old girl awoke from her sleep and hugged Logan as he got her up from her own car seat. “Where are we?”

“We are at Arlington Cemetery, little munchkin. It’s where many of the brave soldiers are buried.” Logan explained to his child. Both you and Logan decided long ago that you would be honest with them when it came to grim topics, like death. Seeing the line of work, you are both in and all of the things you had seen, it made sense to let them know of the nature of the world.

“Like uncle Stevie?” She asked sadly, making the both of you look at each other with gloom.

“Yes, Like uncle Stevie, angel.” You replied.

Steve and Lottie, Steve’s nickname for her, were as close as an uncle and niece could get. As soon as she was born, like Logan, Steve was wrapped around her finger. Whenever Steve would come over, it was the best day of the week for Lottie. Playing tea parties, having sleepovers at his place, baking in the kitchen, trips all around the city. the Zoo, Coney Island and Central Park, you name it. Lottie adored Steve and he loved her just as much. It was one of the main reasons that you got so angry at Steve for leaving.

Lottie was devastated when she found out her uncle Steve wasn’t coming back. At least, not how she remembered him anyway. You tried you best to explain to her that he wanted to go back to the 40’s, so he can have his own life. She still didn’t understand, which you were sympathetic. She was only a child and trying to explain quantum time travel were complicated to her already. All she thought was that her Uncle Steve had abandoned her. She didn’t eat or sleep for days after she was told Steve wasn’t going to return. You took her to the hospital when Steve was struck ill. She eventually was able to warm up to him again and Steve had shown her all the pictures of his own family. Of her aunt Peggy, and his son and daughter. Tony and (Name), naming both after the most important people in his life. You were happy for him, but at the same time had wished he would have found his happiness here in this time.

After the funeral, Lottie had stayed in her room. Barely speaking a word to anyone, even her own parents. It took a long time for her to cope with her beloved uncle’s death. You even had Morgan visit her, seeing as they were also very close one another. Time was the only thing that was going to heal her, just like you.

“Let’s go, you got everything? You need me to grab anything?” Your husband asked and you shook your head.

“No, just take Joey. I got everything.” You answered and handed him your son, who was very happy to in his father’s arms. Grabbing all the stuff, your family strolled into the crowded cemetery.

As you walked into the cemetery with your family, you watched all the many people swarming the place, paying their respects to the honored dead. A few crying widows, children standing with their parents in front of headstones and parents mourning for their deceased child. Even fellow veterans kneeling in front of their fallen comrades’ final resting place, the lucky ones that made it back. It would make one wonder how many times you had come here before Steve was found in the ice. Kneeling in front of the graves of both Steve and Bucky, talking to them both like they could hear you. How you considered yourself lucky that you were the one Rogers that made it home. You were a nurse, like your mom, serving for the US Army, but still fought with your fellow commandos. There was never a guarantee of coming home from war. Once you had met some cooks that had to take up arms in the heart of battle. Back in the day, it didn’t matter what your station was or rank. You fight in the most dire situations. It what it meant to be a part of the military. Everyone is counting on you for something.

“More crowded than I thought.” Logan interjected as he carried to two tired children across the hallow grounds, staring at all the people as they come by.

“Yeah, it is.” You agreed as you continued to walk the historic cemetery. A few people recognized you and walked up to both you and Logan and thanked your for saving the world. As you continued your forlorn march through the grounds, you reached yours and Logan’s destination. Steve’s grave, lying next to your father’s grave, who died back in the first World War.

“Here we are.” Logan said as he placed down both his children. “Let me get those, sweetie. You can place the flowers down.” He turned to you and grabbed the flag and pictures. Logan stood back a little with your kids, allowing you to place the flowers by his grave. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward and placed the flowers on your beloved brother’s grave. Red poppies, that symbolized remembrance and hope for a peaceful future. A flower used commonly for occasions such as days like today. Memorial Day. Logan then placed the flag which was encased in glass and some of the pictures of Steve form both the forties and the modern era. You all stepped away and as you did, your little girl stood by you, clinging onto your leg, sniffling as she looked at her uncle’s gravestone. Your son soon joined in with you as he stood by his older sister, despite no knowing what was going on. Logan walked toward you, placed his arm around and sighed.

“I feel guilty, you know.” Your voice cracked as you look at Logan with the saddest expression that he had ever seen you make. Tears started to seep from your eyes.

“Why? You have done nothing wrong.” He asked truly growing confused as to why you, his wife, felt like you had to say such a thing. Logan and Steve may not have always gotten along, but one thing he knew for certain was that your brother knew Logan loved you.

You two had met back when you were serving as an Army nurse in the 40’s. He was serving with your brother as part of the Hollowing Commandos. Your eyes met and the both of you could not look away when you were both in the same area. You had dated for a time, but when you lost Steve in the ice, you broke up after due to not getting over your supposed brother’s death. You traveled around the world when you found yourself meeting the Ancient One, sorceress supreme. She had revealed to you of the great potential to become a powerful sorceress. You accepted her training and through the decades severed her and the Masters of the Mystic Arts. Never aging or growing ill. Throughout the years, you grew close with the ancient one. Sharing with her about your grief and loss, of both Logan and Steve.

“All things that are meant to be… will come to pass in its own time.”

She told you at one point about the pain you had endured. That whatever is meant to be, will happen. You trusted her words, believing and hoping things will work out like they are meant to. When word broke out that Captain America had been freed from the ice, and was alive, you left for the States as quickly as possible. You arrived by portal at SHIELD headquarters, ready to welcome your brother back home.

When he first saw you, he was in shock of how you remained young and spry as you were. You told him that you had become a sorceress of the mystic arts. Over the years, you fought together, against Loki, aliens, genocidal robots, dark warlocks, and the Brotherhood of Mutants. He stayed with you through the good and the bad times you had in this time, just like when you were kids fighting off bullies in Brooklyn.

After finding your ex, Steve helped you through Logan had no memory of who you were. After you helped Logan gain back his memories, you started relationship from square one. Overtime, your love for each other had restored and blossomed. The two of you wedded within a year, with Steve as Logan’s best man and Natasha as your maid of honor, with Charles conducting the ceremony. Thus, your married life with Logan began. Soon, after you both had two children together, Charlotte Stephanie Howlett and Joseph Logan Howlett. Named after the most important people in your life.

Even though Steve had said he was happy for you, you could help but noticed the Longing gaze he had when he watched you and your family. Looking as though he was missing out on something, or someone. While in this era, his entire life was dedicated to duty and keeping the world safe. Barely even had time to rest or even start a life of his own. You finally were starting to realize, he needed to leave in order to live the lie he wanted. He needed to go back to a time where everyone believed him to be dead. To be with the one whom he never stopped loving, like you with Logan. Suppose that runs in the family.

“I should have been more supportive of him, you know. Of him wanting to go back to the forties.” You admitted sadly as the guilt started to take hold of you while you looked deep into Logan’s eyes and then the tears started to fall. Logan held onto your hands tightly as you started to sob. “Ever since he was rescued from the ice, Steve always felt like he was out of place. He was like a ghost, trapped in a world where he no longer belonged.” You continued as you cried, leaning into Logan all the while he rubbed your shoulders tenderly. “He wanted it, the life you and I got. Marriage, family, a much quieter existence and not be forced to go off and fight all the time. He was never going to have peace unless he left. I feel so selfish for trying to make him stay.” You cried harder as Logan wrapped his arms around you and held you as close as humanly possible. “All because I didn’t want to lose my brother again. I have lived for nearly seventy years without him. I lost my father, my mother and now I lost Steve. My twin brother.” Your two children looked up at you, knowing that you were in serious distress. They both surround you with tiny arms trying to engulf you in a hug to calm you down.

“Don’t cry, mama. We wuv you.” Your daughter mumbled as she too sounded like she was about to cry.

“Ma!” babbled your young son as he reached up and pulled at the hem of your dress, who was feeling exactly what his sister was feeling. You looked down and smiled as your son’s brown eyes widened with some tears in his eyes. The sorrow from your being so strong that it was affecting your own children.

“Joey, my sweet boy.” You said as you picked him up and kissed his sweet face fiercely and he cuddled close to your head. Logan had his little girl right in front of him and placed a warm comforting hand on her beautiful, blonde covered head.

“Sweetheart, if there’s anything in this world you are not, it’s selfish.” He calmed you down as you snuggled closer to your boy. “When I first met you, all those years ago, I couldn’t believe on how a beautiful woman like you could be so compassionate, caring and brave all in one.” He continued. “I saw on how much you cared for the injured and the wounded during the war. Even the enemies that had surrendered, you still gave them medical treatment even when others refused to help them. Not once, did you stop until every person had gotten aid. Steve and Bucky basically had to pull you away from the infirmary tent because you nearly burnt out from treating people.” A small smile creeped on your lips while the tars still fell down your pale cheek. “I wanted to ask you out so badly that I felt like the stars aligned perfectly when you said yes. I was so in love with you then that I wanted to ask you to marry me after the war had ended.” You chuckled at the memory of the short courtship that you and Logan had during the war. “Then…Steve went into the ice, and you were devasted. You were a shell of your once bubbly and loving self. I yelled and screamed at you to get over him. That he was dead and never coming back.” He sighed with a remorseful huff making him think back to the day of when you two breaking up. “Then you left. I regret it every day of my life for letting you walk away after that fight. However my stubborn ass-“

“Language, James. We have the kids here with us.” You interrupted him.

“God, you really are his sister.” He joked and you giggled despite the serious and heartbreaking conversation you both were having. “Anyway, I was just too stubborn to go back and help you through your loss. So, I went back into the army and fought like hell until I met Stryker. I got these,” He held out his fist and the adamantium claws came out. You weren’t sacred of them and reached out your free hand and touched them carefully so that you would not get cut. Logan then retracted them and went on with his story. “Then I lost my memory. For over twenty-five years, I had no idea of who I was or where I was going. I had no purpose or self-worth even. I was just going through the motions as I fought cage match after cage match, trying to make petty cash so I could eat. I was miserable and was alone with no one by my side. Every time…I looked at my claws…I wanted to just…end it.” He admitted making you cry again. You knew of Logan’s attempt at taking his own life, but you only heard it from Charles and Rouge. Never had you heard it through his own lips, like he was confessing an unpardonable sin. It truly made you hate yourself for ever leaving him in the first place.

“Logan, I’m sorry. I should have been there. I never should have-“

“Let me finish, honey. Please.” Logan softly interrupted you, making to you listen to his story. “However, I odiously couldn’t. I would heal after every attempt. Every cut and wound, I would just heal. Leaving no scare, scrape, or mark on my skin. There was nothing, like the void that I was so desperate to fill.” He looked down and saw that Charlotte was now the one hugging him, obviously feeling her father’s suffering. How you got so lucky with wonderful children like these two munchkins was beyond you. “Then I met Rouge, Charles and the X-men. They helped me to find answers of who I was. I helped protect and train the kids at the school. They gave me a purpose, one that I was satisfied with.” He alleged as he stroked his daughter’s hair. “But…every night…along with the nightmares…someone was there…calling out to me…telling me to hold onto her hand…saying that everything was going to be okay.” He whispered intensely, like it was deep, dark secret kept hidden deep, buried underneath all of the malice and hardship. “That voice…reaching out for me…was you.” He said in your ear, making your gasp and your heart race like a comet. “Somewhere out there, even though I had no idea of who or where you were, I knew you held the missing piece of me. I asked Professor Xavier once, but he said that he was not abled to see your face. Only able to hear the sweet sound of your voice.” Logan whispered in your ear, which made you blush. It’s amazing that after all these years, Logan still had this effect on you that made you so weak in the knees. “So, I ignored them, no matter how many times my dream image of you came back to me in my mind. Then the day came that the Avengers came…then… I heard you. Yelling at something your brother did as you came walking down that jet, cute as a button and fierce as a mountain lion.” You felt the smile form on his lips as he confessed his thoughts from the past. “I felt like I strayed into a daydream. Like my mind was playing tricks on me. Then I had the professor tell me in my head saying that he heard your voice as well and it wasn’t a mind games. When you saw me…you stopped in your tracks and tears began to well in your eyes. At that moment, I knew you knew me from somewhere. You came running to me, trying to embrace me like your life depended on it.” He picked up his pace in his tone, he sounded almost excited with the prospect of meeting you again like it was the first time he met you. “However, something deep inside of me, a much darker part of me, wanted to reject you. Shove you aside and stay as far away from you as humanly possible. So, I pushed you away, distrusting you in an instant and denied any interaction with you.” He said as you think back to you’re your experience meeting him again after all this time. You believed that because you broke up with him that he didn’t want anything to do with you and even hated you after that. When you talked with Charles about it, he said it was because his mind was at war with him. Fighting for who gets to be in control, Logan or the demons that were plaguing his mind. You wanted to help, you wanted Logan to end his suffering and bring his memories back. “Looking back, I hated myself for it, even then, I believed that you didn’t deserve it. I was too damaged and broken, so pushed you away so you didn’t get drag into my mess. A few days later I overheard you and Steve talking to Charles. About the possibility of getting my memories back.” That information surprised you. You didn’t think Logan was listening to your conversation with Charles.

“Charles told me that it might be too dangerous, but I refused to give up. I didn’t want to give up on you again, Logan. Walking away from you in the forties was the biggest mistake of my life.” You confessed to him, feeling like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

“I know, and I couldn’t be more grateful that you did.” He replied. “I told Charles that I agreed and would do my part as well to get back my memories. When you came to me with the spell, I was apprehensive, but I was more than willing to trust you, despite the battle that was going on in my head.” He acknowledged, thinking how risky it was to help him. “I was told of the risks…the risks of you being braindead.”

“It was worth the risk, Logan. You were worth the risk. Always were.” You sweetly talked to the love of your life. Logan truly didn’t know what else to say to that. You were willing to risk being a vegetable for the rest of your life it meant getting him back.

“And you succeeded.” He remarked with a kiss to your head. “What I’m trying to say, (Name), is that you are not selfish. Not even close to such accusations. Steve was your brother and you wanted him to stay. Nothing more.” Logan held you close as your entire family looked at Steve’s name that was scribed into the marble stone. “You were the best sister and the best wife and mother that anyone could ask for.”

“Best mama eva!” Lottie shouted and hugged you by your legs. You chuckled and bent down to kiss your daughter’s head.

“And you are the best daughter ever.” You claimed as she looked up at you. You looked to both family as you stood there looking at Steve’s grave for a little while longer. Soon, Buck and Sam came along to pay their respects to their best friend ns see you, Logan and the kids. You all stayed there for a while longer before heading to Sam’s place for a Barbeque. You packed up all the pictures and flag before heading out, leaving the flowers behind. One last time, you look back at the headstone and smiled before leaving with your family.

“Happy Memorial Day, Bro.”

#steve x reader #marvel #the avengers #angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #captain america fluff #x men comics #x men movies #xmen rp #xmen x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #sister reader #wife reader #rogers reader

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justalonelyslytherin · 1 year

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Legacies | Eleven

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: The time for the mission has come. While the team risks their life, coming too close to death, Jake is left to deal with the guilt his reaction left him with.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, mentions of dying, mentions of parental death/parental loss, mentions of killing someone in combat, air combat, dealing with the aftermath of it

Wordcount: 3.1k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. I ALSO DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THE USE OF AI IN ANY OF MY WORKS! Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: I already mentioned it in another chapter, but I think now the time has come to permanently implement and switch to a bi-weekly update schedule. One week is just too little for me to adequately write the chapters (to my standards) without stressing myself out. I'm going to try to stick with the update times but if needed I'll postpone it for the sake of good quality content.

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

True to his words Ana didn’t return to the base following the funeral. But contrary to them, Hangman wasn’t happy with the situation.

It bothered him.

His anger toward her had long vanished, leaving behind dread and a new annoyance focused solely on himself and his stupid actions.

Mixing with it was the feeling of irritation he felt now that she was missing. It felt different without her there. They were missing one person in their group and everyone was well aware of it. Hangman perhaps most of them all.

Never before in his life had he been so affected by the lack of one's presence. The moment she’d been officially taken out of the lineup for the mission he’d nearly stormed out of the room. Guilt and shame fought to overtake him. To no little part he’d been at fault for her absence, he was well aware of it.

Even though his rational thinking wanted to tell him that the loss of her father was reason alone to sit out a mission with such dire stakes, where even one millisecond of distraction could cost one’s life, the other parts of his brain screamed at him.

Your fault.

It bothered Hangman. More than he’d ever admit and more than he could ever possibly hide. Her absence left a gaping hole unable to be otherwise filled. It felt different without her there. Empty.

In the days to follow he’d been an emotional wreck. Constantly irritable, tense, and snippy. A fuse so short anyone breathing in his direction was bound to set him off. He dangled on a dangerous path toward exploding at any moment.

Not even his otherwise impermeable cocky attitude, the mask he had built up so meticulously, could hide his true emotions. For the first time since he became Hangman, his walls weren’t enough.

None of the others could be blamed for his irritability. Once more it was his own fucking fault. He, all alone, was to blame for it. And perhaps that was what made it this bad. Well aware of his role in the dilemma, Hangman couldn’t help but still be upset about it.

If he was honest with himself he had never been angry at her, not directly. He’d been angry with the situation. Not understanding it and on top of it misinterpreting it. On any other occasion he would have forgotten it, let it be, and moved on. But he couldn’t.

He could not move on from this.

Not with Ana.

He couldn’t do that to her and he couldn’t do it to himself. But there also wasn’t any way for him to fix it. Not right now.

Not when he was in the middle of the ocean, stuck on an aircraft carrier, bound for the most dangerous mission of his life.

Yet all he could think about was the woman he’d wronged so horribly.

“It's been an honor flying with you.”

It was an entirely new experience for him. Being distracted. Unable to focus solely on the mission. Never once in his entire career had that happened to him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. It had happened once, early on, and nearly cost him the career that had been just in the wings.

That’s when he’d been still Jake Seresin in the navy, not yet Hangman, which had soon after changed. He’d made up his mind. Nothing and more importantly no one would ever distract him from his dreams, from the career that had almost ended before it had even started.

“Each one of you represents the best of the best.”

For nearly ten years, he’d lived after this principle, becoming Hangman but also becoming perhaps the best naval aviator of his generation and the only one on active duty to have a confirmed kill.

“Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

As new and unusual the sensation was, he’d tried to keep on track. Stubbornly he’d commanded his thoughts back to the mission, punished himself for any stray thought by reading the mission briefings, the F-18 manual.

“Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

It didn’t work. Not as good as he’d liked for it. He was distracted enough for it to be noticeable.

“And your wingman.”

Green eyes focused forward as he braced himself for the pick. He’d been sure to have the spot in the pocket the moment he’d set foot in San Diego. The moment he’d seen them, first Rooster waltzing into the Hard Deck in civilian clothes and then shortly after Ghost at the bar, he’d known they were his competitors. The three of them.

They’d been the frontrunners for the position of mission leader. And had it been him from that night in the Hard Deck two-ish weeks ago standing here in the hangar now, he’d been just as sure of having the spot of wingman too. Present-time Hangman wasn’t so sure of it.

Maverick stared straight ahead, jaw tense and eyes full of a sadness and misery he’d never seen in their instructor's eyes. Not even on the day of the funeral. Maverick had been filled with sadness, grief, and loss. There had been an acceptance in his eyes that day, now he looked torn, refusing to acknowledge the present, the reality of what lay before them but more importantly the difficult decision that lay immediately before him.

“Rooster.” Mavericks' voice was dismal as if he’d predestined an awful fate over them.

To his great surprise, Hangman wasn’t surprised not to have been chosen. In a way, he’d already known it. He wasn’t ready, wasn't good enough for it.

Not in the technical sense. Ana’d been right. He wasn’t enough of a team player for the mission. It was where Rooster excelled, surpassing him miles ahead.

The Hangman – the Jake – at the beginning of the training, not even three weeks ago, would have reacted differently. Disappointment still filled him, but the Jake then would have not been able to accept it. He wouldn't have been able to see the fault in his ways, to admit his fault.

A small and twisted part of his mind hollered that he’d deserved it for wronging Ana.

He knew that Maverick hadn’t chosen him for apparent reasons. His inability to be a team player and the lack of attention in the last days more than clear to see for everyone had cost him the spot, had he ever had it at one point. Maverick had said it himself: My choice reflects that and nothing more.

Outside on the deck the blonde waited for Rooster. They weren’t friends, yet Hangman didn’t want to let him leave for the mission without having spoken to him first.

He hoped that the brunette was ready. That he and Maverick could work together, jump over their shadow to fly the mission. Both had been limited, held back by their shared past – whatever it entailed – too caught up with their demons to realize what was needed for the mission.

Rooster was surprised, coming face to face with him. Stopping in his stride the two men stood across another. The brunette looked at him questioningly. Under the observant, guarded look all words Hangman had carefully laid out in the last couple of minutes left him all at once.

His tongue was tied, clued to the bottom of his mouth. Suddenly his lips felt dry and his throat had closed down entirely.

“You give ‘em hell!” He managed to utter, voice strained and close to cracking. Hangman wasn’t even sure if Rooster had heard him over the noise of the jets. Rooster’s eyes followed him, burning into his side until he was past the brunette.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit!

Maverick is down.”

Phoenix’s crackly words coming over the radio comms sent a shockwave similarly big to the blast of the SAM hitting, through Hangman’s body. A shot of pure electricity raced up his spine, culminating in a deafening, mind-numbing sensation as the shock settled over him.

Over the comms followed Rooster’s stricken and panicked calls, requesting for their team leader to respond, to show any sign of life.

There was no response.

This couldn’t be happening. Maverick was the most qualified out of them all, the one with the least chance of crashing or getting hit, yet out of all of them it had been him.

No, actually it was him who was most likely to be hit. Maverick made it clear from the beginning that he’d protect his wingman, that he’d protect Rooster just as much as he would every other aviator under him.

For it to actually happen was entirely different from the possibility of the scenario.

“Comanche. Bandits inbound. Single group, hot. Recommend dagger flow south. One minute to intercept.”

Still no sign of Maverick, not even a parachute. Jake's teeth were grinding on another, back ramrod straight, hands balled into fists. Here he sat, strapped into his jet, on short standby to aid them. Why wasn’t he in the air with them?

His breath came in uneven, short bursts. Entirely contrary to how he was taught to stay calm and unaffected. Entirely opposite to how Hangman should act. How everyone expected him to act. Damn them, damn everyone. Damn the stupid fate.

Jake refused to believe that they could lose Maverick this easily. If his legendary exploits were anything they showed that to get rid of this man, death himself would have to step up and lead him to the gates of the afterlife. He refused to believe that they wouldn’t come back with everyone on their team from this mission. He refused to accept Maverick being gone.

They hadn’t lost him.

She couldn’t have lost him. Not another one. Ghost had just lost her father. If she now lost Maverick too, how would that wreck her?

She’d already suffered too much, much of it at the hands of him and Jake wouldn’t let her suffer even more, wouldn’t let her have to grieve another person. Even if that meant he had to go get Maverick on his own.

Jake scrambled, reaching for his mask.

“Dagger Spare requests permission to launch and fly air cover.”

With bated breath and furrowed brows, hands ready to clasp his mask on entirely and get ready for take-off he waited for a response from the control room.

“Negative, spare.”

Disappointment and anger flushed him. Jake scrunched his face in annoyance, mask dropping to dangle down his side.

“Damn it.”

His balled fist hit the top of his thigh in anger. Sinking down back in his seat, the straps strained against his chest. It hurt, the space tight as his heart clenched in pain. Pain for Maverick and Ana.

Touching down with the jet back onto the deck felt great. But not even the euphoria and the adrenalin kick after the successful albeit close-cut mission could keep his thoughts of Ana away.

The high that had swept over him after shooting down the fifth-gen fighter and thus saving Maverick and Rooster came to a plummet the moment Hangman climbed down his jet.

His feet hit the deck, flight crew rushed all around him to aid Maverick and Rooster for their return. Eyes scanning the moving crowds where the duo seaters had gathered after coming back with the rest of the team, he stopped abruptly, a deep frown forming on his face.

Too late did he realize the person he was looking for wasn’t even on the ship. He was looking for her – subconsciously – to share the excitement, the high of the win, the success they had worked so hard for.

She wasn’t there and it may well have been his fault entirely.

All at once the euphoria of the mission, the relief that Maverick had survived the crash and both him and Rooster the following chase back to the carrier, his second shot down, it all seemed hollow and meaningless. None of it brought joy anymore.

Hangman felt guilty, he felt angry, and sad. And on top of that the realization, just as it had happened the first time, that he had taken the life of another person – another human – perhaps a guiltless one and for certain a life the same as those of his colleagues, like his, swept over him. The weight of it crashed into him full front, nearly taking him off his feet.

His breath grew heavy and labored, each intake harder than the last as a mechanical vice wrapped around his torso and squeezed him tighter and tighter. He couldn’t breathe and it made him dizzy.

Smoke from the wrecked F-14 drifted over the deck, the flight crew littered the space around the jet. Maverick and Rooster. He had to make sure they were actually alright. With shaky, unsteady legs Jake started to march, quickly transitioning into a jog toward the crowd, weaving his way through the cheering figures until he stepped up to Rooster.

With every step from his jet he’d gradually forced himself to appear calm and collected, even though the sweat trailed down his skin in heaps, it stung in his eyes and left a salty taste on his lips. By the time he stood in front of the brunette nothing but the slight flaring of his nostril indicated his troubled mind.

Jake was genuinely glad Maverick and Rooster appeared to be alright. The brunette, even with what had happened shortly before the mission with Ana, grinned at him. It was a grin that – for the short moment of it – made him forget the horrible guilt running through every cell of his body.

A relieved grin brightened atop his face as they looked at each other, Jake ultimately holding his hand out to him to shake. In congratulations. Rooster took the hand, shaking it.

“You shot yourself another kill.”

Although well-meaning, the words left an aching pang in his chest, his grin momentarily dimming.

Remember who you are.

And so, with another grin, even brighter now and entirely Hangman, he answered “That makes two.”

While everyone else was still swapped up in the celebration of the successful mission, Jake had withdrawn inside. Somewhere quieter, somewhere he could be alone.

In his hand lay his phone now. All his thoughts had centered on Ana once more after he quelled the rising panic in him. Her contact opened on the dim screen in front of him, he had his thumb hovering over the call button.

For the last ten minutes, he’d been stuck in this position. Going between hovering over the icon and changing his mind. To call her or not to call her. What would he say if he did?

Before he could pull through or back down Jake was startled. Rooster appeared along the hallway, coming towards him. He quickly put his phone down, locking the device, its screen turning black. Not fast enough.

“If you think she’d even answer you are mighty stupid.”

The words were clipped and strained. Nothing of the friendliness, the truce between them, was left. Rooster now eyed him with open animosity, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“The only reason I haven’t killed you for what you did to her was the mission. Regulations may keep me from doing anything right now but don’t think I won’t take the chance once we are off this damn ship.”

Gradually Rooster’s voice had become more furious and resentful. Not that Hangman could blame him for it.

“You had no right to say this to her. Who the hell do you think you are, to accuse her of something that doesn’t even concern you–”

The realization came over him like a wave. Of course, how didn’t he realize that Rooster must have known from the beginning? As close as the two of them were.

“–Not like you are going to have anything to do with her after this mission. You like shooting people down, don’t you?”

Seething jealousy filled him at the thought that Rooster had known all along. “You done now? I get it. I was an asshole and I made a huge mistake. I was already regretting it before you had to rub it in.”

Jealousy was an ugly thing, almost as rotting as his hurt had been at the funeral, he added as if it was entirely blasé “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because she is family. The Kazansky’s have been there for nearly my entire life. I’ll be damned if I let you hurt her even more.”

With every word, Rooster came closer to him. Dangerously close. Now they stood nose to nose, with the slightly taller brunette staring down at him murderously.

For a moment Jake wasn’t sure if Rooster would do something more, go against regulation, and beat him up here and there. Instead, Rooster walked past him, shoulder bumping harshly into his.

That night, long after the mission when they were already on their way back to home port, Jake was lying in his bunk.

The dim, blueish glow of his phone lit up the confined space. Opened was a chat window. An empty one.

A lengthy message was already typed out in the little box, the obnoxious arrow taunting him to send it off. Just as with the call button, his thumb hovered over the arrow.

It would take little effort for him to send the message off. His eyes jumped up to the name on top of the window.

Ghost.

In the end he deleted the message.

#legacies #hangman x oc #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x oc #hangman x reader #jake seresin x kazansky!oc #jake seresin x kazansky!reader #hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #top gun maverick fanfic

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thisbuildinghasfeelings · 1 year

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I had kind of an epiphany about why the Lone Star timeline is so terrible…at least in part. I’ve come to the conclusion that they seem to be trying to have two separate timelines going at the same time.

We have the in-universe timeline, which would be bad enough, as it is itself incredibly inconsistent and provides us with such gems as "the entirety of season 4 happens within 8 weeks." But to make matters worse, they're also trying to have the episodes occur roughly around the same date that they're airing in real life. And they add in references to the real-world airing date without any regard as to how this fits in with the in-universe timeline.

Season 4 provides some really good examples of this. In 4x05, Asha says that the mobile home rescue from 4x02 that led to Marjan getting in trouble happened on January 9, which would mean 4x02 was happening in January, the same month the episode aired. In 4x18, when Owen walks in on TK with a bunch of papers stressing about postponing the wedding, Owen jokes, "tax season was last month." In the US, tax season is in April, so this was a clear indication that 4x18 was supposed to be happening in May, which, of course, was the same month the episode aired. If you go by this, then the season took place over about 4 months, just as it did while airing. But these references to the real-world airing dates of the episode are included side-by-side with references to the supposed fact that the entire season is happening within the span of 8 weeks. For some reason that I can't even begin to comprehend, they are trying to have two separate and distinct timelines going at once.

This whole idea really hit me while I was re-watching season 2. Early in that season, they make some comments about the state of the pandemic that would make the most sense placing the episode in early 2021--which, of course, is when season 2 began airing. For example, Marjan says in 2x01 that it's been a year since there's been a decent military funeral, which was the state of things in the real world in early 2021. HOWEVER, the pandemic hadn’t happened yet at the end of season 1, so it must have started sometime between seasons 1 and 2. For Marjan's comment to make sense, a year would have had to pass between the seasons. Judging by the show's in-universe timeline, there's just no way. From things Gwyn and Owen say in the same episode about how long Gwyn has been in Austin, it seems more likely that the time between seasons was about 4 months. Clearly, they wanted to have season 2 be happening around the same time it was airing without any regard to the fact that it just wouldn't work with the in-universe timeline.

There is no way to reconcile these separate timelines. Of course, even if you take out all references to the real-world airing date and go by the in-universe timeline alone, you still can't reconcile it (8 WEEKS 🤯). But this whole two timelines thing makes it far worse!

#911 lone star #lone star timeline discourse #I’ll tag my timeline discourse because I know some people get annoyed when I talk about this #alas I will never stop #the timeline is so terrible that it fascinates me #i'm just trying to understand how they can be so bad at this #if i could ask tim minear anything it would be to explain himself!#is this on purpose?#is he just really bad at timelines?#is he messing with us??

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pedroscurls · 1 year

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Third Time’s A Charm (Part 9).

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales and Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: You and the rest of the guys attend Tom’s funeral and someone makes an unexpected appearance, making things more complicated between you and Frankie. Word Count: 3,683 Author's Note: Just wanted to extend my gratitude for each and every one of you that is still reading this story. It is by far one of my favorites to write. With that being said, all good things must come to an end... I think we got a few more chapters left, but trust me... It’s gonna be a good one😉 Warning: Language (cursing)

It was the day of Tom’s funeral and Frankie had been staying with you for almost a week now.

You both managed to ease back into the routine of things when you two were still together; he would cook breakfast and you would cook dinner. Mostly every night, you both spent it watching a movie on the couch with his arm draped around your shoulders and you leaning against him. Every night, you both lingered when saying goodnight, not sure of what was allowed and what wasn’t. He hadn’t been in your bed since last week, both deciding that he needed to speak with Victoria before you both could even think about each other.

But now, you were both getting ready for Tom’s funeral. You were dreading this day, knowing that Tess and Molly were having a difficult time. It still felt surreal that Tom was no longer here; the man always seemed so invincible. You kept thinking back to the last conversation you two shared, how he made you promise to look after Tess while he was in Colombia, how he was still trying his best after everything that happened in his marriage. At first glance, Tom looked intimidating, never smiling and always complaining that there was something wrong, but as time passed, he opened up and allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

Deep down, Tom was just a man who was struggling to make something out of his life after the military. You knew the story all too well, seeing it firsthand with the rest of the guys. You just hoped that Tom died knowing he did the best he could and that his best was all that mattered.

Interrupting your thoughts, you saw Frankie lean against your bedroom door frame as you stood in front of the mirror. He was dressed in his dress blues from the special forces as you took note of all his awards that were pinned to his jacket. His hair was brushed and put together (unlike the usual disheveled look that he liked to hide under a hat) and his facial hair was still patchy, but still clean cut. You, on the other hand, were wearing a black dress and black heels with your hair neatly in a bun and a few strands falling in front of your face. You grabbed your coat and slipped it on, your eyes never leaving Frankie’s as you two stared at each other from the mirror.

“You look–” he said.

“Look at you.” you said simultaneously.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you turned on your heel and walked over to him, moving your hands up and down the lapels of his jacket as you looked into his eyes.

“You gonna be okay?” You asked.

Frankie nodded, moving a hand to rest on your hip. “It’s going to be a tough day.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But we’ve got each other. Santi, Benny, Will… We all be there for Tom and his family.”

He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath. “Thank you, hermosa.”

You pulled away, though, not wanting to linger too long. There had been too many close calls since he was staying with you; the lingering looks, the innocent touches, the almost kisses. The longer he stayed with you, the more difficult it was for you to maintain boundaries.

“You ready?” you asked quietly, seeing him step back and nod. He reached out for your hand, which you took almost instantly.

“Let’s go.”

The drive to the funeral was quiet and the closer you got to the cemetery, the more anxious Frankie was feeling. You noticed it immediately; his hands tightening around the steering wheel with the pads of his thumbs tapping against it incessantly. You reached out for him, resting a hand on his forearm in hopes that it would help calm him down.

“Hey,” you whispered. “We’re okay.”

He glanced at you and sighed, nodding in your direction. Once at the cemetery, you noticed that Santiago, Benny, and Will were already there (who were also dressed in their dress blues). Frankie pulled into the spot next to Santiago’s car and you both stepped out, immediately walking over to the rest of the guys. You hugged each and every one of them, taking note of the tension in the air. Each of their expressions were solemn with a hint of regret.

“Look at you guys,” you said with a sad smile. “Who knew you could all clean up this good?” You tried to lighten the mood and when you saw a small smile lining all of their lips, you knew that it was the most you could get out of them on this day.

“Is Molly and Tess here?” you asked.

Santiago nodded, pointing over his shoulder. “Right over there.”

“Thanks, Santi. I’m gonna go say hi and see if they need anything. You guys gonna be okay?”

Frankie’s hand moved to rest on your lower back; you were his anchor and while he didn’t want you to leave his side, he nodded anyway.

“We’ll be okay,” Will replied.

You nodded and turned slightly to look at Frankie. “And you?”

Frankie let out a quiet chuckle. “Yes, hermosa.”

Nodding, you left the group of guys and walked towards Tess and Molly.

Once you were away, Santiago, Benny, and Will all gave Frankie a knowing look.

“So, what’s going on there?” Benny asked with a chuckle.

“Nothing,” Frankie replied.

“Uh huh,” Benny said. “Sure looks like something.”

“Did anything happen between you two?” Will asked.

“No,” Frankie answered with a sigh.

“Really?” Santiago asked with a shocked expression.

“She doesn’t–” Frankie shrugged. “She wants to keep boundaries until I talk to Vic, but damn, it’s really hard.”

“What is? You?” Benny laughed, gently nudging Frankie’s shoulder.

Frankie rolled his eyes, laughing quietly to himself. “Very funny.”

He would be lying, though, if he said that being around you was easy. In fact, while he loved to be near you, it was becoming increasingly difficult to not get too excited whenever you both snuggled at night to watch a movie, or whenever you both said goodnight or good morning. In fact, anytime he was around you he found himself fantasizing (or rather, remembering) the times you two spent with each other in the bedroom. It also didn’t help that whenever you went to bed, you were wearing only an oversized shirt with very small shorts.

Though, it was Santiago’s voice that pulled Frankie out of his trance.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Will asked.

Frankie arched his brow in confusion. The guys noticed how Santiago’s eyes were slightly wide, looking in the direction of a car pulling up into a parking spot. When the person stepped out of their car, Frankie felt his heart drop instantly.

“Shit,” he said under his breath. “How did Vic know of the funeral?”

“Molly must have invited her,” Will replied. “It’s okay, Fish. You gotta talk to her anyway.”

“Yeah, but at Tom’s funeral? I’d rather not.”

Benny sighed, grasping Frankie’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, maybe this is Tom’s doing. Kicking your ass into gear into making a decision on what you want, Fish.”

Santiago and Will chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“You know, that is something he’d do,” Will chimed in.

“Seems like Redfly,” Santiago smiled. “You can’t keep playing both sides, Fish. It’s obvious who you want.”

“Yeah,” Frankie sighed, looking over at you and watching as you were consoling both Tess and Molly. He felt his heart swell at the sight of you, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and his anxiousness slowly disappeared when you made eye contact with him. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“We’re gonna make our rounds before the funeral begins,” Santiago said. “And Vic is heading your way.”

Frankie let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

Once the guys left, Frankie turned around to see Victoria walking towards him. She was dressed in a black dress with her hair curled, framing her face. She was good looking, Frankie wasn’t blind to that, but she definitely was not you.

“Vic,” Frankie said quietly.

She wrapped her arms around him instantly, holding him tight. Frankie stiffened, but moved to rest his hands on her hips. “I missed you and I’m so sorry.”

Frankie sighed, nodding as he pulled away from her. “Listen, we need to talk.”

“Can we do it after the funeral? There’s some things I want to talk to you about too.” Victoria said.

“Of course,” he nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “I gotta go with the guys, but we’ll meet up later, okay?”

“Wait.” Victoria said. Before allowing Frankie to respond, she leaned up and pressed her lips against his. Once again, Frankie froze and pulled away a second later when he felt her begin to move her lips against his. She looked up at him with a confused look, but decided not to address it.

“Vic,” Frankie sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay. We can’t just slip back into old ways when we’ve got a lot of stuff to talk about.”

You were watching their interaction unfold before you and when she leaned up to kiss him, you felt your heart break a little. You noticed that Frankie pulled away as quickly as it began, but it just served as a reminder that Frankie was still married and the past few days were just a dream, a hope that this would be your chance with him. It was a naive way of thinking; Frankie wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t sure if he ever would be again.

Victoria looked around and then noticed you. Immediately, she tightened her jaw and pulled Frankie close to her, whispering into his ear as she kept her eyes focused on you. While Frankie didn’t say where he was staying, there was a part of her that had to wonder if he was staying with you and it angered her.

You cleared your throat and looked away, hearing Tess’s voice.

“You okay?” she asked.

You looked down at the younger girl and smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Me? I’m fine.”

“You know, my dad always thought you and Frankie would end up together again. Even mom,” she said with a small smile. “I mean, he’s married, but he still looks at you like–”

“Tess,” you sighed quietly. “Sometimes things don’t always work out, you know?”

Tess nodded. “I know… Like my dad. I wish he was here.” Tears stung the young girl’s eyes and you immediately pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her break down against you. You looked at Molly, giving her a reassuring nod as you ran your hands along the young girl’s back to help calm her down.

“Tess, your dad loved you so much,” you told her. “In his eyes, you were always still his little girl. And,” you sighed quietly. “He made me promise…”

She looked up at you with teary eyes. “Made you promise what?”

“To look after you,” you said with a nod. “So whatever you need, you can talk to me, okay? You don’t have to deal with this alone, neither does your mom. We got you both, I promise.”

Tess nodded and pulled away to wipe her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly. “And just so you know, I think you and Frankie are meant to be.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe, but maybe not, Tess.”

“If you still love him, you should fight for him.”

“It isn’t that easy,” you replied. “I wish it was, but–”

“Life’s too short,” Tess interrupted. “It’s too short to live with regrets.”

You nodded in agreement, looking down at the young girl and immediately noticing the features that resembled so much of Tom. It made you tear up, actually, looking at the young girl and seeing so much of Tom and realizing that the man was no longer here.

“Your dad would be so proud,” you said with a sad smile.

—

After the funeral, there was a small gathering at Molly and Tess’s house, which you and the rest of the guys attended. You had let Santiago know that it would be best if Frankie rode with him, especially since Victoria kept looking at you with daggers for eyes. You could feel the tension, the frustration she felt, and the fact that she probably had an idea that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal.

The drive to Molly’s house, though, a sudden calmness washed over you. This entire time you were worried about losing your dream job, deciding to choose the job over Frankie, when you realized that you would never be happy without Frankie in your life. Despite Victoria’s threats from last year, you had decided (especially with the help of Tess’s encouragement) that you were going to fight for what you wanted.

When you pulled up to the curb, you saw Victoria climbing out of her car. Your eyes met with hers and the moment you parked, you watched as she walked over in your direction. The garage was open and there were quite a few people lingering inside and outside, celebrating Tom’s life. Your eyes, though, caught Frankie’s who was surrounded by the rest of the guys.

Once out of your car, Victoria approached you. She was always taller than you, making you feel like you were inferior to her, but right now, you felt powerful. You felt like you could do anything and maybe that was because you finally decided to throw out any and all morals about what was right or what was wrong, but it also helped to know that Tess, Molly, Tom, and the rest of the guys would support you no matter what.

Tom. Today was supposed to be his day, but Victoria still managed to make it about her.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria asked.

“It’s Tom’s funeral, where else should I be?”

“Not here. We had an agreement.”

“Yeah?” You sighed. “Well, consider the agreement broken.”

“I can get you fired,” she spat.

“Go ahead,” you replied, stepping up to her. “My life isn’t the same without Frankie, without the rest of the guys. I’m done letting you walk over me, Vic. So, if you want to play this fucking game, let’s do it.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes down at you, her jaw clenching as she noticed the sudden sense of courage. “You’re gonna be sorry.”

“You know what, that’s fine with me.” You stepped back, looking at her from top to bottom in disgust. “Today’s Tom’s funeral, Victoria. Show some respect. This isn’t about you, about Frankie… It certainly isn’t about me. So if you’re going to stay here for a bit, in Molly’s home, pull yourself together because right now? This is pathetic.”

Victoria was fuming. You could see it. The guys could see it. Anyone with eyes could see it.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

You let out a chuckle and shook your head. “Someone might be,” you winked, walking away from her and towards the guys who were watching everything unfold. Tess and Molly were also with them and when you finally reached them, Molly was the first one to speak.

“She looks like she’s going to explode. What happened?” Molly asked.

Tess gave you a knowing look.

The guys looked at you with a shocked expression.

And Frankie… Well, Frankie was looking at you with soft and loving eyes.

You shrugged and replied, “Something that Tom would have encouraged.”

Molly arched her brow, watching Victoria storm back into her car. “Remind me never to get you upset,” she teased.

“It takes a lot for me to reach my limit. I guess–” You looked over at Tess and smiled. “I guess I just got some wise advice earlier today and it made me realize a lot of things.”

“Well, whatever happened,” Molly continued. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s like I told Tess,” you said, pulling the other woman into a hug. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

“I’m just–” She let out a quiet sniffle, tears slowly falling from her eyes. “I’m gonna miss Tom.”

“I know,” you said reassuringly, looking at the guys and motioning for them to give you and Molly some space. “You know, he loved you so much.”

“And I’m the one who divorced him.”

You pulled back, looking at her with an understanding gaze. “Doesn’t mean that that wasn’t a difficult decision on your end, Molly. Tom wanted you happy, both you and Tess, and if that meant giving you what you wanted, then so be it. Some things don’t always work out, but you both created such an amazing person,” you smiled, motioning over to Tess who was talking amongst the rest of the guys. “She’s got the best parts of you and the best parts of Tom.”

“Thank you,” Molly said with a smile. “It means a lot to us that you’re here, that you’re all here.”

“You’re family,” you nodded. “No matter what, we’re here for you both.”

—

After a couple of hours, you and the rest of the guys were getting ready to leave. You all said goodbye to Molly and Tess, once more extending the invitation that they could reach out to any of you at any time and you all would be there. At your car, though, Frankie and the guys were looking at you with arched brows and a questioning gaze.

“What?” You asked, removing your coat. “Just ask me what you want to ask me.”

“What the hell happened between you and Vic? What did you say to her that made her leave?” Benny blurted. “I mean, she looked pissed.”

You glanced over at Frankie and bit your lower lip, shrugging your shoulders. “Nothing that wasn’t already said, Benny.”

Will chuckled, looking over at you. “You’re trouble,” he teased.

“No, I’m not,” you replied. “I made a choice that I’m going to go after what I want, no matter the consequence.”

Frankie cleared his throat, staring at you with a knowing look. The past few days had shown you that having a dream job wasn’t going to make you happy. How could you, when the one person you wanted by your side wasn’t there? So, you called Victoria’s bluff. If she got you fired, it wouldn’t be the end of the world as long as you still had Frankie.

Santiago let out a chuckle, looking over at you and Frankie. “I think we all know what that is.”

Frankie gently shoved Santiago. “Pope,” he warned.

“Okay, okay,” Santiago said with a smile. “What happens behind closed doors is your business,” he winked.

“Anyway,” Benny chuckled. “I have a fight next weekend. You all gonna be there? Gonna win for Redfly.”

You all smiled sadly, nodding in unison. “We’ll be there, Ben.”

“Great, well, I guess we better get going.”

Will nodded in agreement. He and Benny said their goodbyes and walked to their car. Santiago was looking over at you as Frankie was walking with Benny and Will.

“What did happen?” Santiago asked.

“A year ago,” you sighed. “Vic threatened me to stay away from Frankie, from you and the guys. It’s why I haven’t been around, or talked to, Frankie in over a year until last week. She could get me fired from my job and today,” you shrugged. “Today I decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore. My job means nothing if I don’t have Frankie, if I don’t have you and the guys.”

“She did what?” Santiago replied, eyes slightly wide and jaw clenched. “How dare she…”

“She felt threatened by my friendship with you, with Frankie, with the rest of the guys.”

“That doesn’t excuse her behavior. We’re all adults.”

“I know, Santi.”

“Does Fish know?”

“No,” you sighed. “No one knows but you.”

“Not even Tom?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want your guys’ image of her to be tainted by what she said. I didn’t–”

Santiago interrupted, “You’re such a good person.”

“What?”

“Even after the shit she said to you, you still put everyone else before you,” Santiago replied. “Frankie’s lucky to have you. We are lucky to have you.”

Biting your lower lip, you wrapped your arms around the other man and hugged him so tight that it brought reassurance to know that you had done the right thing. It hurt to distance yourself from Frankie and the rest of the guys, but like you always told yourself, things would always work themselves out.

Once you said your goodbyes to Santiago, you and Frankie were on the way back to your apartment. The entire car ride was quiet, almost as if you both were too afraid to address the elephant in the room. You knew Frankie was curious, but he kept his focus on the road as he drove. As he parked the car in your spot, he turned to face you as he remained in his seat.

“What happened between you and Vic?” He finally asked.

“Nothing, Frankie.”

“I need to know.”

You sighed, climbing out of the car without answering him. You walked up the stairs and heard him follow you closely behind. You could feel him trail behind you, hovering closely as you unlocked the door. Once inside, you removed your coat and kicked off your heels. Frankie had removed his jacket and undone several buttons to his shirt.

“You’re ignoring me,” he said, grabbing your wrist to prevent you from walking towards your bedroom. “What happened?”

“I just told her what I wanted,” you replied, choosing not to give him too many details.

“And what’s that?” Frankie asked quietly, stepping closer to you. His eyes darkened and his hands moved to rest on your hips, gripping tightly and pulling you flush against him. You gasped in surprise, letting out a quiet whimper when you felt him lower his head to brush his lips against yours.

“You,” you answered, finally pressing your lips against his.

—-

Part 10.

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