#oc. grape juice (he/him) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evans23 · 10 months ago

Text

I Shall Live On

Pairing : David Friedman x OC

Summary : It's twenty-three minutes before seven and the fate of David and his wife is at stake. It's twenty-three minutes before midnight and the fate of David and his wife was decided.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Angst. Mention of death.

A/N : Hello dear 😁 So, apparently people like to suffer in this fandom, so here it is. I tried something different, it's why my female character has a name, anyway I hope you still like it.

Also read on AO3

It was twenty-three minutes before seven in the night when the heart of Rose Benson Friedman stopped beating in her chest. She was twenty-eight, walking in the street of New Orleans after a day of work in a bookshop, ready to return to the house she shared with her husband, the detective David Friedman.

She had met David when she was twenty-eight, by a happy coincidence. He entered in the bookshop where she worked during her shift. He was looking for a book except that he didn't know the title. Only a part of the plot and the colour of the cover. It happened that it was the book she had been reading for two weeks at the time.

"And what do you think of the book ? Does it live up to the good reviews we can read everywhere ?" he asked her.

Actually, David hadn't read any reviews. If he had, he would have known that the press had destroyed the book and his author. He just needed an excuse to talk with Rose. For the first time in a long time, he had felt something strange, warmth, and alive inside him.

He hadn't felt like that since his divorce. To be true, he hadn't felt like that far before his divorce. He had married too young, his childhood lover, but after fifteen years of matrimonial union, they fell apart. David was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice the distance that was settling in between his wife and him until he came back after long weeks chasing leads and pouring over shreds of evidence to find his wife in his bed with his best friend and colleague.

If he hadn't killed the man that day, it's only thanks to the alcohol which had numbed his senses. He still remembered how he had stood frozen on the threshold of the door, trying his best to not let the tears fall from his eyes. After all, he was a man, and never before had he cried in front of anyone. It was because of the alcohol. And the betrayal of his wife, of course.

He had run away, ignoring her wife shooting his name. He didn't remember where he spent the night, probably in his car, on the precinct parking since it was where he had woken up. In the morning, he came back to his home to gather all his things and he left while his wife was at work.

Six months later, the divorce was granted and one year later she married that little shit of Matty.

After that, David dived deeply into alcohol and work. He could have died if it hadn't been for Rose. The day he entered her bookshop was a holy day. It had saved his life. Rose was his redeeming love.

There was a ten-year gap between the two of them, but when they were together, sharing their thought, talking about their day or simply being domestic during a lazy Sunday, he felt more himself than he had ever been before.

However, the beginning of their relationship hadn't been easy. Indeed, she couldn't put up with his bad habits to dig his sorrow into a bottle of alcohol. Not that David was violent when he was drunk, but it is not what she strived for in a relationship. Therefore, one day, she gave him an ultimatum : the alcohol or her.

This ultimatum led to an animated quarrel, but eventually, David admitted he had a problem and he sought help. He was afraid to lose Rose, but seeing how hard he was trying to get rid of this addiction, she supported him as best as she could, and after a long fight, he became totally sober.

Now, he only drank grape juice, and never had he touched a drop of alcohol again. All thanks to Rose, who had saved his life in every sense of the word.

Because he had already got married once, without success, he wasn't up to commit himself again into marriage. After all, he didn't see the point of signing a sheet of paper to prove his love to Rose and she thought the same. However, when he got almost killed during an investigation, owing his life to Sadie, the FBI agent who became his colleague after their first investigation together and her retirement from the secret agency, he decided on a whim to propose to her.

Actually, not totally on a whim. More out of pragmatism. If he came to die, you would get nothing. Neither his money nor the house you were sharing. Maybe not even his ashes. Truth to himself, his proposal hadn't been romantic at all. She came to the hospital, sick with worry, but when she heard David complaining to a nurse before having the time to enter his room, she knew Sadie was right : David was more than fine.

"You scream quite loudly for someone who had almost got run over by a car," she said with a smirk.

"Rose," said David with a little smile.

His whole face had brightened with her entrance. Only she had this effect on him.

"Tell him he must rest !" almost ordered the nurse to Rose before leaving the room, slamming forcefully the door behind her.

"David, please, stop torturing the poor nurses," she joked, striding towards the bed where she sat down.

"I told them I was fine enough to go home but they want to keep me under observation for the night," he complained with a pout.

Rose kissed him softly, her fingers running through his blond hair with delicacy.

"And you should listen to them. You almost got killed today David !" she chided him gently.

"Talking about that, while I was in the ambulance, I thought seriously about something..."

He started explaining to her all the advantages of being married to a policeman. More interesting, a detective of his caliber. In fact, there were none if it wasn't for the sharing of love they had.

"David, what if you just told me what's on your mind rather than beating around the bush ?"

He stiffened, his hazel eyes fixing the wall in front of him.

"David ?" she asked, squeezing slightly his hand.

"I had a great deal of thought about something. Not only today. I've been thinking about it for some time now. But today, I realised I shouldn't delay it for any longer."

He felt silent, his eyes edging towards her suspiciously.

"Okay..."

"You do not have to answer me today. Or any other day. Feel free to say no. Besides, I expect you to say no. What an idea to say yes to such a stupid idea. I would never fathom what you can see in me, but hey, I'm not complaining, I'm lucky that you are smart but not enough to understand you could find someone far better than me..." he said with anguish, his hooked nose casting a shadow on his left cheek.

"Ok, David, I don't know if you're scarring me or if it's just the drugs the doctors gave you," she cut him off.

David sighed heavily. She wasn't able to understand what he was trying to tell her. To be honest, even he couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Maybe she was right, his mind was dizzy with the morphine he had received earlier to alleviate the pain.

Nevertheless, he hadn't felt more conscious, wishing for her to say the word he really wanted to hear and not the one he was expecting her to say.

"If something happened to me, it would be better if you were my wife."

Her eyes widened so widely that she looked like a fish, that one people could admire in a Japanese garden. If he hadn't been afraid to hear her say no, David would have laughed at her funny face.

"Are you proposing ? To me ?" asked Rose with incredulity.

"Of course to you. Who do you expect me to marry ? The Queen of Saba ?"

Rose ignored his sarcastic comment, too flabbergasted by what was happening.

"David, why does it sound like a business arrangement ?" she eventually managed to say.

"I didn't know you wanted me to pull out all the stops. You told me you didn't believe in marriage," he groaned.

She rolled her eyes, reminding him that he had said the same thing to her many times.

"Yes, yes... Only a fool doesn't change his mind. Don't tell me you want a ring," he moodily said.

"Of course, I want a ring ! A pretty one ! And Elvis," answered Rose with a smirk.

"Elvis ?" asked David, confused.

"Elvis Presley," she clarified.

"Isn't he a little bit dead ?" asked David, arching one of his brows.

"Oh, come on David, everybody knows he's living his best life on a private island. But I was talking about the one living in Vegas."

David had laughed so hard that he had almost popped his stitches.

"So, will you ?" he said after having calmed down from his hilarity.

"What ?" she asked, biting your lips.

"Little minx, you know what I'm talking about," groaned David.

"Yes, but I want you to propose to me correctly. Not as if you were trading an important business. We are not living in the Regency David !"

"Oh woman !" he grumbled.

Yet he obliged you by asking properly for her hand. And as a matter of course, Rose had said yes.

They got married six months later, in Las Vegas, with Elvis acting as a priest and Sally as their witness. Rose had invited her parents, but they were living in London, her birth town, and her mother was too sick to travel so far away and her dad didn't want to leave her alone, something Rose had perfectly understood. She had been saddened by the lack of support of her friends, but since she had moved into New Orleans, she had fallen apart with almost all of her English friends, some of them having been in the green-eyed monster's grip when she had won the green card thanks to a contest, and she didn't have built any strong friendship in America. But none of that mattered anymore since she had David in her life.

The wedding was everything both of them had dreamt about. Elvis for a bishop was obviously the greatest and misunderstood desire of Rose. David couldn't understand that fantasy of her, but as she didn't ask for much most of the time, he had graciously accepted, more than happy to get married in Sin City. Indeed, he had always wanted to try his poker skills at the great table of a casino. He didn't win that night, but he didn't lose too much either. After that, they ate some cheeseburgers and drank too much chocolate milkshake, then, David drove from Las Vegas to Los Angeles where they had spent their honeymoon.

Rose, who was a well of science in the field of cinema had led him all around the city, talking about all the anecdotes she knew about almost the beginning of the talking cinema. David always preferred books over movies, but seeing her so happy and in her element made him beamed with love and happiness. She had confessed to him once that she had tried three times to be accepted into one of the best dramatic schools in London, without success. She had finally given up, choosing to become a librarian. He never dared tell her that she was far too shy to be an actress, but she was skilled enough in writing to dabble with it and play aptly with words.

"David, you're far better than me in writing. You should write some thriller. You had seen so many things, you could compete with the best criminal authors," she had said once.

David had always written, but never before someone had acknowledged his talent for it. Not that he had thought of having any aptitude for that craft, but hearing her telling him how she loved his short story, something he had started to do when he went to therapy to cure his addiction, had made his ego thrive with pride. For the first time, someone was able to see more than his grumpy exterior and his being a detective. For Rose, he wasn't Detective Friedman. He was David, a man of many talents. A good cook, a writer, an affectionate lover, a support, her husband.

After their wedding, David had been afraid to see her moving away from him as his wife had done. But it never happened. On the contrary, it had strengthened their bond. Rose was always there for him after a hard day of workwhen the horrors his work forced him to see took a toll on him and she never blamed him for his hectic schedule. She understood his job was demanding, but also the importance it had for him. And for that, he cherished her even more.

For the first time, Rose and David were happy to be alive. Both of them had gone through difficult times, they had tried their best to get their life on track, their love had made him grow stronger, making them appreciate the little things in life, and able to see the hidden beauty of existence.

Unfortunately, life had a strange sense of humour. Five years after their wedding, Rose, thirty-three, collapsed on the ground of a little-used street in the Bayou. Superstitious, Rose consulted a medium twice a year. David always laughed at her, telling her it was all rubbish and she shouldn't spend her money on such a trivial thing, but she couldn't prevent the need to know, or at least having the delusion to know. She was a regular of Soraya, one of the most respected mediums in the vicinity. Rose would never forget what she told her the last time she consulted her.

"There's a vampire lurking in the shadow. It'll steal what you love the most. It'll fill your soul with murderous torments. It'll take a toll on your fragile heart. It'll make your heart burn with a rancid venom. You'll wish to be dead, but be careful because sometimes, we get what we wish. Yes, this vampire will try to bring you down, but two angels will look after you. One won't be alive, the other one will be your salvation. Both of them will save you from the darkness you will be surrounded by. Yes, Rose, a vampire will encircle your soul with its cold arms, it'll feed your sorrow, but your ghost will help you to see the light and an angel will give back to your mind the peace and love that will save your life."

Soraya often spoke in riddles, and if Rose was utterly honest with herself, she would admit that the medium had never predicted anything true. Until that day. When she had left the little shop with the heady smell of incense, a vampire had touched her heart. A vampire called heart failure. That day, in a dark alley in the middle of nowhere, in the Bayou of the New Orleans, the heart of Rose Frances Benson Friedman had stopped beating. She had collapsed on the ground, with no one to notice her motionless body and the rain started to drench.

At the same time, on the other side of the town, the detective David Friedman was in the middle of a shootout. A madman with a Kalashnikov was shooting in all directions, shooting that he was Rambo. When he saw a little girl, who probably was five or six, totally unaware of what was happening, David, listening only to his courage, ran towards her, grabbed her by the waist, and threw her to the ground. At the same time, his partner, Sadie, had shot the man in the head. The little girl screamed and cried, protected under the tall frame of David.

When the S.W.A.T. arrived to help the detective, the first thing they saw was a pool of blood. One of them, who had medical training, turned him with precaution. Another one took the little girl up in his arms, leading towards an ambulance while an emergency team was running towards David. It was twenty-three minutes before seven in the afternoon when a bullet reached the heart of David Friedman.

He was rushed to hospital, when, somewhere in the Bayou, another medical team was choking Rose Benson Friedman with a defibrillator with little hope to bring her to life. Her body was cold, the rain having been of no help to keep her warm. The team didn't know when her heart had stopped.

She had been discovered by a homeless man who had phoned 911, explaining in bad English that a young woman was lying, probably dead, in the street of the worst part of the town. She didn't seem to have been assaulted. She didn't seem to be from those living below the breadline. She was probably one of those crazy people who had her fortune told by a so-called local witch. Maybe the bitchy witch had given her some brew to get pregnant, poisoning her involuntarily.

Except that the homeless man was wrong. She hadn't been poisoned. It was just her heart that had broken. Little did he know that her life, if they were able to bring her back, would never be the same anymore.

It was twenty-three minutes after seven in the night when both, David Friedman and Rose Benson Friedman arrived in hospital to undergo surgery. Sadie was in the hospital waiting room, trying to reach Rose, phoning her again, again and again, swearing under her breath against the woman who didn't answer her call. For God's sake ! Her husband was severely injured. Her place was here, in the hospital, waiting and praying for him.

In another hospital, a medical secretary tried again, again and again, to get an answer from David Friedman, the emergency person of Rose Benson Friedman. After the tenth attempt, the young secretary swore that if it was there how a husband cared for his wife, she would never marry. Rose was dying, she would probably not last the night, she needed someone who loved her by her side. But no one was there for her. No parents, no friends, no husband.

It was twenty-three after twenty-two in the night when David and Rose had been brought back to life twice and had died thrice. The medical team in both hospitals was doing their best, as did David and Rose. Both of them, even though unconscious, were fighting for their life in the abyss of death.

Alone, in the little chapel of the hospital, Sadie who had finally been called by the hospital where Rose was losing the battle between the Angel's death, was praying for his colleague and his wife. She wasn't really a believer, but that night, she didn't know what else she could have done. She regretted having cursed David's wife for her lack of answer. But how could have she known the poor woman was in hospital ?

Thankfully, the medical secretary, well decided to find someone who cared for poor Rose, had looked up David's name on the internet and found out his name in a small article talking of a corrupted Senator. She had given an educated guess and called the local precinct to ask to be put in relation with the detective who was working in another part of the town, for another precinct. It was Matty, David's nemesis, who had answered the call, explaining to the secretary that David was fighting for his own life but that he would tell his partner about his wife, and what he did, letting Sadie decide if she should tell David about it or no when he would come back from surgery.

Sadie wouldn't have to tell anything to David. Instead, she would drive across town to check on Rose who was in a coma. She would have to call her father, a man who had just lost his wife, and she would tell him that he might lose his daughter too in the same years, four months after the loss of his loved one. And if Rose ever woke up, what she hoped from the bottom of her heart, then she would have the heavy task of telling her.

It was twenty-three before midnight when the heart of Detective David Friedman stopped forever. It was twenty-three before midnight when the heart of Rose Benson Friedman had started again.

#alan rickman x reader #david friedman x reader #alan rickman #david friedman x oc #judas kiss #evans23

36 notes · View notes

mania-sama · 11 months ago

Text

orange juice

Orange Juice - Noah Kahan

➼ information ❧ Haikyuu ❧ Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru ❧ Additional Characters: Hanamaki Takahiro, Hinata Shouyou, Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou ❧ Tags: past alcohol abuse/alcoholism, soft! iwaizumi, athletic trainer! iwaizumi, sobriety, character study, relationship study, past oc character death, minor akaashi keiji/bokuto koutarou, drinking, don't worry about the tags this is mainly soft vibes i promise ❧ Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime hosts a party to celebrate his promotion to working for Team Japan's Men's Volleyball Team. When the party dims and most people have left, he invites Oikawa Tooru over. ❧ Word Count: 2,408 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 15 July 2024

When the rowdy people have left and the house gets quiet and gentle, Iwaizumi gives Oikawa a call.

“Do you want to come over?” He asks softly, one arm wrapping loosely around his middle. “Most people have gone home. There’s…” He pauses. “We have some orange juice left. The kids couldn’t drink the rest. It’s yours if you want.”

Oikawa takes a moment to respond. “I’ll be over in twenty minutes. Want me to bring anything?”

“We’d be happy if it’s just yourself,” he says, and he wishes he could blame the tenderness in his voice on intoxication.

The orange juice in the main refrigerator is situated with some of his other liquids: almond milk, sweetened tea, and a few bottles of water. There are vegetables in one compartment, and a packet of grapes is haphazardly squished in with his egg carton that’s turned over on its side. It’s been more organized, but parties tend to throw things into disarray. Not only that, but Matsukawa’s kids had clearly been rooting around for his cheese sticks again.

All of the other liquids are in two accessible coolers on the back porch. He didn’t want any of the condensation or melted ice getting on his living room rugs, and besides, most of the guests enjoyed the light decorations and cool air his backyard provided. Thus, where the people were, the drinks followed.

Only four people remain in his house, not including himself. It’s hardly a party anymore, but he knows that doesn’t necessarily matter to Oikawa. Iwaizumi honestly hadn’t fully expected him to accept the invitation. Their conversation about the party beforehand had led to a tentative maybe, and only then if it was nearing the end and everyone was relaxing on the alcohol. Iwaizumi promised him at every invitation and every outing that he would be there in case he felt that the pressure was getting too much, but Oikawa refused each time. And each time, Iwaizumi let him do so without a single complaint.

It wasn’t Iwaizumi’s choice to make. He could only be there for him if Oikawa decided he was ready to try going out again.

He joined the four other men in the living room. Hanamaki is sipping from a beer, but it’s the same one he had an hour ago and still isn’t close to finishing. Bokuto and Akaashi lean on each other on the big coach, with Bokuto spread-limbed to take up as much space as possible. Though Bokuto drank quite a bit, he handles his liquor well and finished his last drink a while back. He keeps animated conversation, but surprisingly, the edges of intoxication seem to be dulling his boisterous tendencies rather than enhancing them. The last of them is Hinata Shouyou, who drinks from his third glass of water and makes the most noise in the room in his conversation with Bokuto.

“Is he coming?” Hanamaki asks, his voice hopeful as he sets his beer to the side. Iwaizumi confirms, and Hanamaki adds: “Good. That’s good.”

And it is good. While Iwaizumi would never judge Oikawa for staying home, that didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t have felt a shimmer of disappointment. This is his celebration party for getting the job for the men’s national volleyball team, after all, and he wants to share part of it with the person who made him fall in love with sports medicine in the first place. He wouldn’t be here without Oikawa, and he doesn’t want to celebrate without him.

Oikawa was the first person he told when he got the good news, obviously. And, obviously, Oikawa immediately sobbed his eyes out. It’s been a long, long journey for them. Even if Iwaizumi teased him relentlessly for his reaction, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel the same torrent of emotions coursing through him that threatened to make his eyes water, too.

Despite all the pride he feels for himself and what he knows Oikawa feels for him, too, they are haunted by the bitter current running under them. Even though they both have worked so hard their entire lives, only one of them has reached his dreams. The other had to quit before he crossed the finish line.

Iwaizumi’s enjoying the company and contributing to the ever-present conversation when Oikawa steps into the living room twenty-five minutes after their call. He’s dressed smartly in a blue blazer, black pants, and the brown-rimmed glasses he hates but Iwaizumi loves. Before he has a chance to greet his new guest, Hinata jumps up to slap Oikawa’s back.

“It’s been forever! Glad you could make it!” He exclaims. It has been forever for Hinata. Their last in-person conversation had been back in Brazil; their correspondence since has been made completely of text messages and Twitter reposts. From the stories he’s heard, he knows that Oikawa was a huge help to Hinata when he was feeling homesick and trodden in South America. Hinata has been trying to meet up again, but their lives were too conflicting until today.

Oikawa laughs lightly. “Congrats on the national team, shrimp,” he says. “Never doubted you for a second.” Hanamaki coughs to mask his scoff, and Oikawa sends him a glare.

He moves to settle on the ground beside Iwaizumi’s feet, resting his back on the arm of the chair. One leg splays out while the other curls into his chest, the metal knee brace making a small, audible click with the movement. Iwaizumi doesn’t pretend to not notice it; he runs his fingertips soothingly over the back of Oikawa’s neck, and Oikawa relaxes marginally.

The conversation is a little stilted and awkward at first, but that’s to be expected. He acclimates quickly to the natural ebb and flow of the conversation once he grasps their dynamics. And though Iwaizumi and Hanamaki make an active effort to steer the conversation, Hinata ends up asking the burning question. His smaller stature makes it harder for him to sober up, regardless of the fact that he’s now on his fourth glass of water.

“How long have you been sober?”

Iwaizumi is the one who tenses, his fingers stopping where he was absently playing with Oikawa’s collar. Oikawa doesn’t show much of a reaction. He smiles and answers: “A year, as of last month.”

Hinata grins brightly at him. “I’m really proud of you, man.”

“Thank you. It… hasn’t been easy. But, you know,” Oikawa inhales, “I’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge.”

The faint tension breaks under the joke, and their laughs turn back into easy conversation. A few minutes pass. Oikawa slowly pries himself off the ground. “I’m going to get something to drink. My mouth feels like the Gobi desert and my skin will break out if I get dehydrated,” he declares before sauntering to the hallway.

When you have known someone for as long as Iwaizumi and Oikawa have, you develop a kind of sixth sense. They are tuned into each other in a manner that no one else is, as if their nerves are wired to feel the other’s physical and mental receptions rather than their own. There is nothing that outwardly indicates any kind of distress at all. Hanamaki doesn’t even notice anything off until Iwaizumi gets up to follow Oikawa several seconds later. Their eyes meet. Hanamaki raises his eyebrows curiously.

“I’m also thirsty,” Iwaizumi says lamely, not really trying to hide his true intentions. Akaashi kindly asks for a glass of water, and Hanamaki lets him leave without a word.

He finds Oikawa leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything; just opens the refrigerator, pulls out the plastic jug of orange juice, and pours it out into a glass cup. He had set them all out for easy access to the guests. Only five remain.

Oikawa takes the cup when Iwaizumi hands it to him, staring at the orange liquid with a carefully neutral expression before taking a sip. “Thanks,” he says, and it’s nothing like the polite gratitude he gave Hinata when the spiker congratulated his sobriety. It’s two decades’ worth of pain and struggles for an attainable dream, only for it to lead to more pain and shattered goals. It’s the four years he couldn’t go a day without alcohol; it’s the year and one month he hasn’t let a drop grace his lips.

Then Oikawa sets the orange juice on the counter — an open invitation. Iwaizumi steps forward, wrapping his arms around Oikawa’s back and bringing him in close. Oikawa buries his nose into Iwaizumi’s neck, and his heart beats a little too fast; Iwaizumi can feel it against his own chest.

“What is it?” Iwaizumi prods gently, pressing a kiss to the crook between Oikawa’s neck and shoulder.

He doesn’t get an immediate answer, though he doesn’t need one.

Last month wasn’t just the anniversary of Oikawa’s sobriety. It was also the one-year death anniversary of Matsukawa’s wife, killed by a drunk driver.

Matsukawa had been at the party for a little while but had to take his kids home before they missed their bedtimes. He’d wished Iwaizumi well, and Oikawa, too, if he decided to come.

There was no bad blood between them. Oikawa didn’t kill his wife, and Matsukawa doesn’t blame him for struggling with addiction.

Oikawa’s hands tighten on his shirt.

A year and a month ago, Iwaizumi had called Oikawa to deliver the news. He’d been drunk at a bar, which hadn’t surprised Iwaizumi. He had just hoped he had a safe way home. Then Oikawa started cursing out all of the bartenders who’d served him in the past four years. His speech was slurred, and he’d stumbled on his way out of the bar. Into the phone, he swore off alcohol through choked-back tears.

I’m done. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!

A week later, he’d shown up to the funeral with Iwaizumi, completely sober, his hands stuffed into his pockets to hide the tremors.

“You smell like your awful shampoo,” Oikawa says. Iwaizumi knows what he’s really saying.

You don’t smell like alcohol.

“Insult my shampoo again and I’m breaking up with you,” he replies with no bite. Oikawa starts to sway them to the slow song playing from Iwaizumi’s speakers.

They are missing a lively conversation. Hinata and Bokuto’s voices rise again, and Hanamaki laughs loudly. “It’s so hard,” Oikawa whispers underneath the laughter and late-night joy.

“When have you ever let that stop you?” Iwaizumi whispers back.

This is the first party Oikawa has been to in a year and one month. He hasn’t allowed himself to be this close to alcohol. He named a certain phenomenon as personal pressure, an intense desire to fit in even when nobody is actually telling him he has to. It’d be worse if someone did try to give him something.

I don’t trust myself to say no, he’d admitted. And I trust you, but. You know.

Iwaizumi hadn’t needed anything more than that. He’d seen the ways Oikawa had skirted authorities while knee-deep in his reliance, the places he’d hidden his bottles, and the lies that had flown from his tongue to keep himself afloat.

Life has a funny way of taking everything good and tearing it to shreds. Oikawa had his career going great for him. In Argentina, he played for a professional team and was working on his citizenship. Iwaizumi was proud and happy for him, even if that meant their friendship would be permanently altered to fit long distance.

They would likely drift apart and make new friends that they could be physically close with all the time. They would find comfort in it, eventually, and no longer be pained by the love they almost had.

Then Oikawa’s knee slid out of place and dashed his career in the blink of an eye. He moved back to Japan before he could complete naturalizing as an Argentinian citizen, and Iwaizumi returned from the United States with his master’s, intent on continuing his grad school education to work as an athletic trainer.

What he found in Japan wasn’t an Oikawa adapting to life as he had during his first knee injury in high school. He found an Oikawa who couldn’t adapt.

He bounced between one job and the next, unable to keep up his work ethic, and gradually moved into worse and worse apartments when rent became too expensive to accommodate his liquid expenses. His liver was failing. His skin was tinting yellow at his extremities and around his eyes. By official standards, he was a functioning alcoholic, but he was not a functioning human being.

Iwaizumi didn’t leave him in that whole time. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were there, too, filling in the gaps where Iwaizumi couldn’t. But nothing changed because Oikawa didn’t register that he and his relationships were being hurt by his actions. If Oikawa was in pain, then nothing mattered. He was used to that one way or another.

Seeing himself behind the wheel, that wheel, was different. It wasn’t himself and those closest to him anymore. It was his best friend’s wife.

Oikawa hadn’t been driving that day, but he could’ve been. He easily could’ve been the one who killed Matsukawa’s wife — a mother of two, a daughter, a friend, a human being. He’d driven drunk before. His plan could’ve been to drive to the park an hour earlier instead of hanging around the bar. He could’ve been the one drifting across the lanes, failing to see or think clearly in the overwhelming daylight. He could’ve been.

A year and a month is a long time. But, Iwaizumi thinks, it’s easier when he has people he can lean on. People he associates with positive experiences and times when all he had to worry about were the concerning amount of confessions he was receiving every week, the English test he couldn’t afford to fail, and whether or not he could beat the next high school volleyball team.

Oikawa shifts to lean his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Iwaizumi affirms, tilting his head up to kiss him on the lips. Oikawa’s wearing Iwaizumi’s favorite chapstick, the kind that tastes like Coca-Cola. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Oikawa exhales, his warm breath tickling Iwaizumi’s face. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

28 notes · View notes

buckysgrace · 2 months ago

Text

Seven

Hungry Eyes Masterlist

Steve Harrington x fem!oc (Kim Mayfield)

CW: slightly suggestive!!

Kim makes a move while hanging out with Steve.

“No, I’m being serious,” Steve continued on, popping another grape into his mouth as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, “this little old lady cussed me out because she said the ice cream was too cold.” The sound of him crunching on the grape slightly overpowered some of his words, leaving her to lean closer to hear him clearer.

“But it’s supposed to be cold.” She replied slowly as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wincing at the way the cuts on her skin moved. She gently pressed her palms over the bandages again, trying to keep it from throbbing.

“Yeah, well, she didn’t like that answer,” he said with a laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, “probably the reason she started to yell at me.” He stated a second later, sounding thoughtful as she turned towards him in interest.

“That’s kind of terrifying.” She admitted, crinkling her nose at the thought of someone yelling at her over ice cream. That didn’t sound fun at all.

“I guess you get used to it,” he added a second later, waving her worries away, “I mean, we’re teenagers and we’re scooping ice cream. I don’t see how it’s that serious.” He looked displeased for a second before he pressed another grape up to his lips. She was momentarily distracted as she watched him bite into it, heart hammering at the spurt of juice that bursted free.

“I don’t think I want anyone to yell at me.” She admitted as she found her train of thought once again, biting her inner cheek as she tried to keep her smile hidden away. Something about the way he looked at her made her want to fall over into a fit of giggles.

“I don’t think anyone is going to want to yell at your cute face.” He added to her horror, making the sensation even more intense as butterflies pulsed inside of her chest.

“Stop,” she mumbled as she pressed her hands up to her burning cheeks, unable to stop the giggle that slipped free, “that’s not funny.” She told him a second later, wondering if he was trying to get her worked up.

“Good, I wasn’t trying to be.” He added as he gave her shoulder a little nudge. He gripped a few more grapes but this time he dropped them into her open palm. She wasn’t super hungry, mainly because she found it hard to function around him.

“You’re making my face burn.” She mumbled as she pressed one into her mouth, savoring the sweet taste on her tongue. His eyebrows slightly raised as he continued to observe her, a warm look glowing in his hazel eyes.

“Good,” he replied with a little smirk, “do you like movies?” He questioned her suddenly, taking her by surprise. She nodded her head in agreement, feeling like she had really come to enjoy them. Nothing was playing on his TV now, but he did have some mixtape on in the background.

“I love them,” she said quickly, feeling excited at the thought, “Indiana Jones is my favorite.” She brought up suddenly, trying to recall how many times she had seen it. It was hard to tell.

“I don’t think I’ve seen that one.” He replied thoughtfully, momentarily distracted as his eyebrows furrowed together. She felt her lips part, unsure of how he hadn’t seen it.

“It’s so good,” she told him honestly, leaving out how dreamy she believed Harrison Ford to be, “you should watch it sometime.” She added, wondering if he’d want to do it together. She quickly turned away, not able to meet his eyes once again. Her gaze landed upon a globe that was set on a desk table, with various colors sticking out of it.

“Sounds like it would be fun,” he smiled as he faced her, “where are you going?” He sounded confused again as she stood, slowly making her way over. She was curious now as she gently touched it, spinning it around and looking at all of the different colors that popped out from it.

“Looking at this over here,” she told him seriously, “why are there thumb tacks in the globe?” She asked out loud, wondering if this was some new decoration that her mother would eventually get obsessed with.

“My mom likes to mark our vacations,” he said with a snort, “and it’s color coded. Red is really good, blue is not.” He stated, leaving her to decide where green and yellow fit in. She twisted the globe back and forth, surprised at how many thumb stacks were sticking out of it.

“You’ve been to all of these places?” She turned towards him in shock, wondering how anyone could afford to travel that much. Not to mention that so many of them were outside of the country as well, she was baffled.

“Uh, well my parents have,” he corrected as he stepped next to her, placing his hands on his hips, “but I’ve been to most of them.” He added softer, making her wonder what it was like.

“Outside of the United States?” She confirmed as she twisted the globe again, stopping at Thailand. The only states she had been to were the ones they had crossed when they had moved to Indiana. They hadn’t stopped very often either.

“Yep.” He said with a nod of his head, still speaking casually as he glanced over to her. She briefly wondered what he was thinking, though she didn’t linger too much on that thought.

“That’s cool,” she told him truthfully, “where’s your favorite place to go?” She asked with interest. There weren’t very many framed photos on the walls, though she had seen a cabinet stacked with picture books. She assumed those had to be of him.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, still resting his hands on his hips as a thoughtful look crossed over his features. She was briefly reminded of how badly she had messed up earlier, how she had let her perfect first kiss just slip out of her fingers.

“Well, my parents really like Mexico,” he started, “it’s fun there. Most of my family is from Italy though, and it’s really beautiful there.” He told her as she hung onto every word, trying not to show how impressed she was.

“You have family in Italy?” She raised her eyebrows as she asked the question, slightly in disbelief. Her father had came here from Greece, but he never spoke about relatives still living there.

“I do,” he said with a laugh, “I don’t really see them a lot though. It’s just been a few times. I always get a birthday card from my grandma though.” He waved a hand from side to side in the air as he spoke, making her laugh.

“That’s nice,” she smiled as she looked back at the globe, “it’s really cool.” She told him seriously, trying to think if she would ever get that chance. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she could travel. She hadn’t been on an airplane before and that seemed terrifying enough.

“Where’s your favorite place to go?” He asked as he stepped closer, dropping his hands down so his shoulder bumped against hers. Electricity sparked down the length of her arm as she quickly looked towards him, then shyly turned her head down again.

“I don’t know,” she admitted slowly, “I’ve never gone anywhere.” She thought about how different they were for a moment, knowing that he didn’t even know the worst of it. She wondered what he would’ve thought of the tiny apartment that she grew up in, how it was probably smaller than his entire living room. Not to mention the way she had shared a room with Max too, their beds barely two feet apart. She had grown so fast too that her feet had often dangled off the edge. That was long before Susan had been swept away by Neil.

“Nowhere?” He looked at her for clarity, looking surprised at her answer. Her lips parted for a moment as she thought about her answer again, only to confirm what she had said before.

“I guess there were a few places on the way when we were moving, but we weren’t there very long. I’ve never been on a vacation before.” She replied with a little laugh. She used to feel jealous at her previous school, but that mainly had to do with her not fitting in. Everyone there had been much richer than them.

“They can be pretty boring,” he replied as he nodded his head along. She looked at him for a moment, observing the way he poked his tongue out as he thought about what he said, “that was kind of a lie. They’re really fun.” He added sheepishly as she pressed her lips into a little smile.

“I thought so.” She teased back, unable to help herself as she gently brushed her shoulder against his own. He nodded his head in agreement, falling back against her as a light flashed in his eyes.

“Hey, I leave for Mexico in like a month. If you want to tag along just let me know.” He suggested so casually, so easily that it left her stunned for a moment. She blinked quickly, trying to figure out if it was serious or not.

“What?” She squeaked out, feeling her face burning at the thought. She could barely work around him, and still over thought every little second that they were alone together. She couldn’t imagine being on a vacation with him. Not that Susan would let that happen anyway.

“I’ve brought friends before,” he said with a laugh, “my parents wouldn’t mind.” He added, making her feel bad suddenly. She hadn’t been trying to guilt him into anything.

“No, no, I couldn’t intrude,” she told him quickly as she waved her hands back and forth, “thank you though. That’s very kind of you.” She added as she held her hands out, heart thumping as he pressed his palms up against hers. She trembled for a second as she admired the way his fingers towered over hers. He linked them together a second later, making her stomach twist tightly.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind,” he grinned as he squeezed their fingers together, keeping her from waving her hands around, “and it’s not intruding if I want someone to go with me. You can see how much of a douchebag my dad really is.” He added on, though she was still having a hard time concentrating.

“I believe you,” she added, sure that he was telling the truth, “but it sounds like a family vacation.” She continued to squeak out, face still burning as she tried not to stare at their linked fingers. She was suddenly sure that he was doing this on purpose.

“Mhm,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I guess you could say that.” He looked a little too charmed as he watched her, eyes twinkling as she felt a pressure growing inside of her chest.

A little giggle fell from her lips, full of nerves as she drifted her eyes away once again. He slowly began to pull his hand away, stopping to rest them flat against her own again. She wiggled her fingers against his, noting how much longer his fingers were than hers. It was cute.

“You have big hands,” she blurted out, grinning as she continued to compare the size of their hands. Hers definitely looked twice as small compared to his, “I like it.” She told him honestly, enjoying how she felt smaller for once. Not so gigantic.

“I don’t have big hands,” he protested, eyebrows furrowing together, “they’re normal.” He nodded his head firmly as a blush spread over her cheeks. She didn’t want to offend him.

“It’s not a bad thing.” She told him quickly, dropping her hands in worry that she had hurt his feelings. He tilted his head, observing her with a boyish grin.

“Why’s it a good thing?” He challenged as he raised his eyebrows slowly. She faltered for a moment, realizing that he wasn’t demanding a real answer. He was flirting with her. She swallowed hard, skin burning as if she had been out in the sun for far too long.

A little chuckle left his lips, amusement spreading across his features as she continued to flounder. Her fingertips felt numb with electricity as he took a step closer. She quickly moved her hair off of the back of her neck, feeling like it was suddenly too hot.

“I thought about making a pizza,” he stated as he looked at her again, “you can join when you’re done snooping.” He pointed a finger playfully at her as he took a step back, then gestured towards where she had been messing with the globe.

“I’m not snooping!” She protested in defense of herself, knowing that she had just been curious. She just hadn’t seen anything like that before. It wasn’t her fault that it was interesting.

“Right,” he said with a laugh, leaving her to trail after him towards the kitchen, “I’m pretty sure you tore apart my whole room.” She listened as he continued to talk, although her eyes began to drift across the kitchen. She tried to take it all in at once, the large wooden table and the expensive sculptures that were decorated throughout it. The curtains were pulled back, leaving the sun to bring in a golden glow. Expensive. That’s what she thought of it.

“You told me to make myself comfortable.” She replied sheepishly as she met his eyes again, noting that she’d been caught looking around again. She just couldn’t help herself.

“I did,” he nodded along, “I just didn’t think you’d open up my underwear drawer.” He spoke a little louder as he reached into the freezer, leaving her to flush on her own as she straddled one of the high chairs. She looked down, gently pushing an expensive looking swan figurine out of the way.

“There was nothing surprising in there,” she said with a laugh, watching as he opened a frozen pizza, “do you cook?” She wondered if he thought she was digging for information, which she was, she just didn’t want him to know that.

“From scratch?” he asked, waiting until she nodded her head yes, “not unless I want to burn the house down. I don’t think my dad would appreciate that.” he replied, squinting his eyes as he turned the oven on to the correct temperature.

“You don’t make anything?” She shifted, wincing briefly as she sat on one leg. She looked down, ensuring that her bandages were still stuck to her skin before she looked up at him again.

“Frozen meals,” he stated as he waved the frozen pizza around, “uh, sandwiches I can do. If my mom sets things up for me I can do that. Usually I don’t risk it though. Too many accidents.” He showed his teeth as he cringed for a moment, like he had experienced too many bad events.

“I could show you sometime.” She offered, watching as he pulled the oven door open and slid it inside. She chewed on her bottom lip, watching the way his shirt slid over his back. She admired his tanned skin for a second before he fixed it.

“I’d like that,” he stated as he turned back towards her, lips curled into a gentle smile, “did your mom teach you?” She nearly laughed at the question, knowing that she would be even worse than what he was.

“God no,” she shook her head as she spoke, “she can’t cook to save her life.” She added, feeling the butterflies pulsing in her stomach again as he leaned across the other side of the table.

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows again, looking amused and interested at what she said. She shrugged her shoulders, unsure if she ever wanted him to find out how shitty of a cook Susan really was.

“I sort of taught myself I guess,” she said softly, “I don’t know. It’s fun. I like to bake when I’m thinking too much.” She admitted, feeling like it took her mind off of things. And it gave her something sweet to bunch on.

“You’ll have to bake me something then,” he nodded in agreement, “you sound like a natural.” He teased, gently tapping his fingertips against hers.

“Not really like that,” she added softly, “I just had to learn how to do it, I think.” She furrowed her eyebrows together, speaking more out of nerves than anything else. She was sure she didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So I know you said you don’t drink but-,” he paused for a second, walking back towards the fridge, “I think it would be fun to try.” He proclaimed, grinning as he held up two beer cans in her direction. She thought about it for a second.

“Does it taste good?” She furrowed her eyebrows together as she thought of the way Sam used to stumble into their apartment, reeking of alcohol and God knows what else. She wasn’t too fond of those memories.

“You get used to it,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders, “my mom has wine if you’d rather have that. Does your mom drink?” He set both of the cans down before he pulled free a glass from the cabinet, then moved back towards the dining room.

“Oh God no,” she shook her head quickly, “it’s not allowed.” She spit out a little quicker than she meant to, playing with her hair as he twisted the cap off of a large bottle. She looked at the liquid that sploshed inside of the glass, a slight yellow tint to it.

“Alright, here’s the beer and the glass of wine,” he stated as he passed both towards her, his fingers easily wrapping around them, “cheers!” He smiled as he opened his own can, bringing it up to his lips with ease.

She continued to inspect the wine as she brought it up to her lips, taking a little sniff of it to start with. A feeling of relief filled her as no bitter or strong smells hit her. It actually smelt sweet, fairly sugary. Just what she liked.

The wine slowly trickled into her mouth as she brought the glass up to her lips, taking a cautious sip of it to start with. She still wasn’t sure what it would taste like, and she did not want to end up spitting it out everywhere. A second later she realized that she wouldn’t need to, it tasted really good too.

“S’good,” she added as she set her cup back down, wiping her wet lips with the back of her palm as Steve continued to watch her, “I like that a lot.” She added a second later, licking the corner of her lip as she began to fumble with the beer can this time.

“You wanna shotgun this?” He teased as he gently took the can from her, leaving her to wrinkle her eyebrows in confusion. She’d never heard of that before.

“Is it easier to drink?” She asked, feeling clueless at the way he laughed. He quickly pushed it open, still looking amused as he passed it back to her.

“Not really,” he smiled as he tapped his can against hers lightly, “I’ll show you some other time.” He promised, leaving her a little relieved that she wasn’t left in the dark.

She immediately crinkled her nose as she took a sniff of the can, not enjoying the stale smell that rolled off of it. She pushed through though, bringing it up to her lips and taking a bigger gulp this time. Though she instantly regretted it.

It was bitter, slightly sour too. She thought it might as well be dirty creek water, because the aftertaste it left behind made a shiver crawl up her spine. Her mouth instantly watered as she sat the can down quickly, shaking her head quickly.

“The wine tastes a lot better than that,” she told him, lips still curled down in disgust as she wiped her mouth with her hand again, “that is not good.” She told him seriously, unable to comprehend how he continued to drink it. She grabbed her glass of wine, drowning away the bitter taste.

“It grows on you,” he replied as he brought his can back up to his lips, hiding his smirk, “you can have more wine if you want.” He suggested as he moved her neglected beer can towards him.

“I better not,” she said softly, “it’s your moms and I don’t want my mom to find out.” She told him seriously, unsure if she even wanted to drink that much anyways. She didn’t want to act like a fool.

“She won’t find out,” he said with a scoff, “do you have a curfew?” He questioned as he finished his first beer, leaving her a little surprised. She brought the wine back up to her mouth, wanting to keep up with him.

“11:30 during the summer.” She said proudly, taking another large sip. She swallowed harder this time, feeling a burning sensation spreading through her chest. She winced as it went down, settling rougher in her stomach.

“I bet you’ve never broken it.” He teased her slowly, twisting the top of the wine bottle off. She sheepishly pushed her glass towards him, figuring that it wouldn’t be a crime to have a little bit more.

“Funny,” she chewed on her bottom lip, watching the way he filled her glass up again, “do you have one?” She questioned, trying not to feel too faint as he took a large drink from the beer she had discarded.

Her veins pulsed with electricity as she thought about how his lips were touching where hers just had. Part of her felt distraught, wishing that she had been the one to drink after him. She shook her head, sure that she sounded insane.

“When my dad is on my case, then yeah,” he linked his fingers together as he watched her, “but not usually. Hard to have a curfew when my parents are gone.” He gestured towards the empty room, making her press her lips together as she thought about it.

“Do your parents work out of town?” She asked as she shifted in her chair again, feeling like her legs were beginning to get tired. But she didn’t want to move away from him.

“No, my dad owns a business so he just takes a lot of trips,” he explained as he rubbed his finger across his chin, “my mom’s a doctor, but she doesn’t trust my dad.” He added with an amused grin, though she didn’t understand.

“Why not?” She questioned him as she took another drink, trying not to think of the way Susan didn’t trust Sam. She would kill Kim if she knew she was drinking right now.

“He can’t keep it in his pants.” He said with a snort, making her eyes widen and her cheeks burn. She figured it must be fairly obvious if even Steve knew about his father’s affairs.

“Oh,” she said softly, a little horrified, “I’m sorry.” She told him quickly, her voice a little lower. She blinked, unsure of why she had been whispering.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” he said with a little laugh, “I don’t think anything has actually happened since she’s been tagging around with him.” He waved off her worries again, suggesting that things were alright.

“That’s one way to do it.” She wasn’t sure why she thought it was funny but it was. She covered her mouth to try and stifle her laughter, suddenly feeling less nervous than she had before.

“Mhm,” he replied as he nodded his head, “you wanna step outside with me?” He asked as he slid out of his chair, his long legs brushing against hers in the process.

“Sure.” She nodded as she followed along behind him, straightening up her shoulders as she looked at their slight height difference. It wasn’t a lot, but she liked that she didn’t tower over him.

“Don’t forget your drink.” He told her quickly, gesturing towards it before she could follow behind him too quickly. She gasped as she did what he said, carefully walking through the house until they reached the back doors. He pulled the sliding door open easily, leaving her to grin as she stepped outside first.

She breathed in deeply as the sunlight hit her, dancing against her pale skin as she closed her eyes. It was still hot outside, but the breeze was nice. Summer in Hawkins seemed more intense than San Diego thus far.

“You smoke?” She turned in surprise as the smell hit her, confirming her suspicions as she looked at the cigarette snuggled between his lips.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh, “is that a crime?” He asked playfully as she swayed back and forth. She was more than used to the smell of smoke, though she didn’t like it enough to do it herself.

“No, Billy loves drugs,” she replied a second later, “oh, but not like that. Maurijauna! He gets that from Eddie Munson.” She explained quickly, surprised at how quickly she rattled off his name. Though it was fair to say that she knew him well enough, mostly through Billy. But it counted.

“You know the freak?” He looked at her in surprise as another cloud of smoke left his lips. She blinked, feeling just as stunned as he looked.

“Freak?” She repeated as she swayed back and forth, feeling light on the tips of her toes. She tumbled for a second as the wind caught her, taking a second to balance herself again.

“Never mind,” he shook his head, “just surprised me that you knew him.” His hair continued to grow messier and messier as the wind rushed against him. She liked the look at him, though it made him look more relaxed.

“I don’t know him, I know of him,” she said with a little grin, “there’s a slight difference.” She teased as she pointed her finger towards him, thinking of how he had done that earlier. She took another drink from her glass, raising her eyebrows as he took a step forward.

“What about you, do you smoke?” He asked as he offered her his cigarette. She shook her head quickly, not wanting to get that habit started.

“No,” she replied as she felt her eyes widening, “I haven’t before. My mom said it’s bad.” She found herself whispering again before she laughed, trying to remember why she was doing that.

“It’s not that bad,” he said as he waved his hand in the air, “you wanna try sometime?” He asked her, making her squint her eyes until she realized he was talking about weed again.

“Now?” She asked in surprise, unsure if she was really ready for that. She hadn’t prepared, though she didn’t know what she would need either.

“Uh, I’m short on supplies,” he grinned as he looked at her again, “but I can plan for the future.” His fingers were slightly cool against her skin as he brushed her hair behind her ear, trying to keep it in place as another sharp breeze hit them.

“Maybe,” she said sweetly, “it’s really not that bad?” She asked, trusting him for some reason. She thought that it would be a lot of fun to do that with him.

“Not scary at all.” He promised, making her nod along as she finished her second glass of wine. He crushed the end of his cigarette at the same time, taking another drink of his beer as she glanced around again.

A buzz began to grow through her bones, growing deeper as she began to bounce on the tips of her toes. She wanted to do something, she just wasn’t sure what. But she had a desire to move, her sore knees long forgotten.

“What do you usually do when your parents are gone?” She asked as she held her hand up over her eyes, blocking the sun from hitting her directly.

“Uh,” he paused for a moment, “I don’t really know anymore.” He shrugged her shoulders, leaving her a little confused. She honestly wouldn’t have expected that answer. She had thought he was always doing fun things, with lots of different people.

“No?” She tilted her head, noting the way he continued to pause. He straightened his shoulders a second later, still looking a little lost. She understood that feeling far too well.

“Sometimes I go see friends,” he shrugged his shoulders, “working helps give me something to do I guess. I like sports, but you know that.” He added, glancing away as she pondered for a moment.

“Do you swim?” She questioned as she looked back towards the pool, feeling an idea forming in her mind. He had offered.

“Really well, actually.” He stated, sounding proud as she faced him abain. It took everything in her to keep from sighing, to keep from gazing into his dreamy eyes.

“Oh?” She tilted her head, lips curling into a smile at his tone. He sounded smug, just a bit egotistical but in a good way. He seemed happy of his accomplishments.

“I was captain of the swim team, co-captain.” He added as he tapped his chest lightly, making her eyebrows raise on her forehead.

“I didn’t know that.” She spoke slowly, in shock as she tried to register what he was saying. Had she known that, she definitely would’ve found a way to make it to swimming competitions. She’d been lucky enough to see him playing basketball a handful of times, though he was never on the skins team. That was slightly disappointing.

“It was fun.” He carried on as he brushed his fingers through his hair, making the strands stand up a little higher this time.

“Can we get in the pool?” She asked quickly, desperately wanting to jump into the water. She felt like it had been a long time since she’d been able to swim properly.

“You wanna?” He leaned against the door as he spoke, eyebrows raised as he turned back towards the pool. She followed his motions, feeling a sense of urgency rising inside of her.

“Please?” She begged as she linked her fingers together, pouting her lips out so she could show just how badly she wanted to swim.

“Do you want something to wear?” He asked with a little laugh, making her jaw fall suddenly. She hoped he hadn’t thought she was suggesting to swim nude. She would never say such a thing.

“Is there a swimsuit I can borrow?” She asked as she took a step closer, still feeling like she was bouncing and weightless.

“No,” he said with a laugh, “but I have extra clothes if you want them.” He offered as he held his hand out, her hand meeting his almost instantly. She smiled brightly.

“I’d like that.” She told him as he opened the sliding door with one hand, gently being tugged along by him. She didn’t want to focus too much on wearing his clothes, though it was making her heart thump obnoxiously hard in her chest.

“Anything in particular that you want?” He asked as he wiggled their way back through the house, leaving her no time to admire the details on the walls.

“Not really,” she told him as she followed right behind him, staring down at the ground so she wouldn’t step on the back of his feet, “I forgot to shut the door.” She said suddenly, accidentally yanking him backwards as she halted in his room. He released their fingers a second later, much to her dismay.

“S’fine, we’ll be back in just a second,” he laughed as he quickly pulled free a pair of green shorts, tossing them in her direction. He walked towards his closet next, tugging free a white wife beater, “anything else you need?”

“Where’s the bathroom again?” She questioned him, not too far gone to know that she shouldn’t change in front of him. She was still far too bashful for that.

“Just over there,” he replied as he pointed in that direction, “I’ll meet you outside.” He gave her a thumbs up, one that she quickly returned before she searched for the bathroom.

She was surprised with how easily his clothes fit on her, neither too snug nor too loose. Almost like his items were perfectly made for her. Though it made sense, they were both tall and lanky. She tugged the drawstrings of the shorts tightly together before she carried her other clothes down with her, heading out the open door and tossing them aside.

“Took you long enough.” He was already inside of the pool, his elbows resting against the edge as he looked up at her with a boyish grin. Water dripped from his dark hair, across his freckled shoulders and glistened in the sun.

“Big house, it’s easy to get lost,” she teased as she shut the door behind her this time, before walking in his direction. She sat down, slowly beginning to put her feet into the water, “it feels nice.” She told him a moment later, enjoying the feeling of the water tickling against her skin.

She savored the feeling for just a second longer before she slid inside, a little disoriented at how it wasn’t cold. It didn’t take her breath away or anything, though she really wished she had a chance to get a better look at him. It was unfair that this was the first time she was fully seeing him shirtless and the water disrupted most of that. Though she could still see moles across his skin, along with a thick tuft of hair that seemed to go all the way down.

She pressed two fingers against her nose before she ducked her head in the water, wetting her hair and letting it all wash over her. She enjoyed the silence, and how no one else was around.

When she came back up she pushed her hair out of her face, sure that she would be decorated in many more freckles as water fell from her skin this time. His clothes clung to her skin, wrapping around her like a damp blanket. Still, it was better than being in her underwear.

“What?” She asked out loud, realizing that he was the one that was staring at her. His eyes snapped back up to hers, just as she dropped her gaze to look at the water in front of her. She didn’t notice anything unusual.

“Nothing,” he replied, cheeks still a little pink, “I hope this is better than the public pool.” He added before he dropped his gaze for another quick second, then turned away completely.

“Much better,” she grinned as she swam around, “I don’t feel like I’m being crushed, that’s a plus.” She spoke a little louder as she moved further away, ensuring that he could still hear her.

“That would be a shame.” He added as he slowly followed along behind her, taking her by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to move so quickly, but then again, that probably came with being swim captain.

She covered her mouth with both hands, ribs aching as she broke out into a fit of giggles. She couldn’t help herself as she brought her knees up to her chest, body trembling as the laughter continued to flow through her.

“What’s funny?” He looked concerned as he straightened up in the water, looking down at himself this time. When in reality it wasn’t anything he had said or done, she just felt like laughing.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, cheeks burning from how long she’d been smiling. It felt new to her.

“Who knew that you’d be such a lightweight, Mayfield?” He pressed as he splashed some water at her, making her scoff at his accusation. She was acting perfectly normal.

“I’ve never had any before,” she defended herself between fits of giggles, “is that a bad thing?” She demanded playfully as she splashed water back at him. He grabbed her hand when she did that, tugging her much closer to him.

“No, you’re just laughing a lot.” He nodded his head as his eyes drifted across her features, making her heart swell several sizes inside of her chest. She suddenly wanted to demand that he stopped looking at her, for she had no idea how to act around him.

“You’re funny,” she told him seriously, unable to help herself as she brushed her fingers through his hair, “is that a crime?” She mocked playfully, heart fluttering at the way he observed her.

“Not when you’re saying that to me.” He responded as moved his hands to her waist, sending shivers through her body. Her hands moved instantly, pressing against his warm shoulders as they continued to bob up and down in the water.

She peered into his eyes, gazing through the mix of green and brown. There was a golden hue there as well, likely from the way the sun was dancing against the side of his face. A burst of confidence pulsed through her as she leaned forward, the tip of her nose awkwardly touching his as she gave him a brief peck on the lips. Her heart thumped harshly in her chest as her nerves resourced as she pulled back, giving him no time to react.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, snapping out of it a second later, “I didn’t mean to-,” she was quickly silenced by him leaning forward, capturing her lips against his own. His hands moved from her waist to her neck instead, leaving water to drip down her skin.

This time she didn’t overthink as much as she thought she would, unable to fully focus on how well she was doing with the way he was holding onto her. His skin dug into hers, his lips gliding even softer against her own. She was sure she was flying this time, everything else forgotten as she lost herself in his touch.

She could still taste the cigarette and beer on his lips, though she didn’t mind it was much as she thought it would. It tasted good coming from him. She wanted more of it, wanted to push herself even closer against him.

A rush of desperation filled her as he kept her head steady in his hands, tilting her softly to better angle their lips together. She craved every little touch, every drag of their skin as she felt her clit beginning to throb.

She mirrored his motions, moving her hands to his neck as he placed one of his against her hip again. It kept them locked together, balanced on the water as the gap between their bodies became smaller and smaller.

His hand against her waist slowly moved up, creating a barrier between her and the shirt she had on. His fingertips were warm against her skin, leaving a little moan to slip out of her lips to her horror.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he continued to kiss the corner of her mouth, allowing her to fill her lungs with fresh air, “you like that?” He mumbled as he slid his hand up further underneath her shirt, making her mind short circuit as he connected his lips against the crook of her neck at the same time.

She couldn’t feel embarrassed as the electricity grew in her body, humming loudly as she savored the way he flicked his tongue across her skin at the same time he kissed the area. She was suddenly glad they were in the water, for it was certainly keeping her from collapsing. She felt like she was in heaven, like nothing could -

“Steve!” She shouted, eyes snapping open as she quickly pulled herself away in horror at the sudden memory that popped forward.

“What?” He looked just as horrified at her outburst, like he had done something wrong. But it was nothing like that.

“The pizza!” She shrieked as a laugh tumbled free from her lips. It had to be destroyed by now, turned to ash from how long they’d been out here.

“Shit,” he replied as he stumbled to get up, tripping over her discarded clothes and falling onto his knees, “shit, shit. I’m okay.” He said quickly as he pulled himself back onto his feet, rushing towards the kitchen.

She waded out of the pool as quickly as she could, wincing at the way his clothes stuck to her. She pulled it off of her skin, squeezing it so the excess water could fall away. She picked up her discarded outfit as she walked, noting how it was coated from where he had tripped over it.

“Is it alright?” She tilted her head into the room, careful to keep from actually stepping inside so she didn’t drag water all around. He wrinkled his nose as he walked closer to her.

“Burnt to a crisp,” he replied as he walked around her, holding the pan out far in front of him before he dropped it onto the discarded table. She winced at how charred it looked, the smell hitting her instantly, “I should’ve set a timer.”

“I’m sorry.” She told him softly as she stared at it, feeling like she should’ve remembered too. The pizza sounded delicious right now.

“You should be,” he replied, making her look at him in surprise, “you’re totally distracting. I can’t believe you ruined a perfectly good frozen pizza.” He teased, making her feel giddy all over again.

“You’re a mess.” She played right back, eyes falling across his thick chest hair. She greedily drank in as much of him as she could, hoping that she remembered exactly how he looked.

“You’re dripping everywhere.” He told her, eyes flickering towards her chest in a similar manner. She laughed lightly, thinking he was teasing her for how she’d been staring at him. It took a moment for her to realize that he was actually looking, that her shirt must be a little more revealing than she had thought.

“Can I have a towel?” She asked sheepishly, suddenly far too aware of how her nipples had hardened in the air. No one had ever looked at her boobs like that, or in general, and she wasn’t sure how to handle the pleasure that was growing in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeah,” he nodded as he drifted his eyes away, opening a nearby closet and tossing her one, “you wanna change?” He asked as he grabbed one for himself, dragging it across his wet hair.

“My clothes are all wet.” She replied as she held her pile of clothes up, squinting her eyes as she laughed about it. They might dry if she left them outside, but she wasn’t sure how much time she’d have as the sun continued to set.

“Sorry,” he grinned, “I didn’t see them.” He told her as he held onto the door, shutting it once she stepped inside. She shivered as the AC hit her fully, spreading shivers through her body.

“Can I have another pair of pants?” She questioned as she looked down at her outfit. It didn’t look too terrible, her shorts seemed to take the worst of it.

“Yeah, is your shirt okay?” He asked as she wrapped the towel tightly around herself, looking down to ensure that she wasn’t dripping everywhere. She didn’t want to leave behind a trail.

“I think so.” She told him honestly as she held it up, noticing that the back of it seemed to be the worst part. That wasn’t too terrible. She could live with it at least.

“I’ll get you another one too.” He smiled, his towel now resting against his shoulders as she followed behind him. She gave him a little smile, though she didn’t think that was completely necessary.

“I don’t want to take your whole closet.” She told him, feeling like she had already used enough of his things. She didn’t want to add more to his laundry. He turned towards her as he laughed, eyebrows crinkling together.

“I have more clothes than just that.” He stated easily, gripping onto the railing as he jogged back upstairs. She walked up a little slower, memorizing the moles that decorated his back and his legs. He truly was covered in them.

“I really liked your pool,” she spoke up, still feeling the dire need to speak. She wanted to be closer to him suddenly, even though she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to, “it was really nice.” She nodded her head along, cheeks burning as he faced her again.

Good to hear,” he smiled brightly, eyes twinkling as he held out a new outfit to her. She took them gently, savoring the feeling of his fingertips brushing against her own, “I really enjoyed it too.” She gulped hard, doing her best to keep from staring at his chest. He was a lot closer now, it made her knees feel like they were about to buckle.

“Thanks.” She told him softly, careful as she held onto the clothing. She didn’t want to pull them too close to her chest, just in case they got wet too. Though it was hard to keep from hugging herself when he was looking at her like that.

“You’re welcome,” he replied as he bit on his bottom lip, “you can change in here, if you promise you won’t go snooping again.” He teased, making her lips part as a little gasp left her lips. She shook her head as he walked by her, shoulder brushing against her own as she was left alone with her fluttering heart.

She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x fem!oc #Steve Harrington x female!oc #Steve Harrington x female original character #Steve Harrington x female!original character #Steve Harrington x oc #Steve Harrington series #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington fanfiction series #Steve Harrington x Kim Mayfield #steve harrington imagine #Hungry Eyes #Steve Harrington x fem!original character #Steve Harrington x fem original character

12 notes · View notes

juicezone · 8 months ago

Note

Juice!!!!! Juice!!!! Here to give you something to do after course work

Tell me about your oc’s tell me what their favorite movie is and tell me what their comfort food is and tell me what stuffed animals they would have or what toys they would have. Tell me all the stuffs and things >:3

I HIT MY GOAL IM ALLOWED TO ANSWER THIS NOW (BITES YOU AFFECTIONATELY)

WARD goes nuts for weather documentaries over a movie or a cartoon, though he's also entirely willing to watch a cartoon episode if it's based around that! When regressed, he really is a one-track mind, even more so than when he's not. When they're on shore leave, he will genuinely sit and watch the weather channel as if he was watching like a sport game.

Comfort food isss more of a snacker but honestly if it's something that Bones actually MAKES not just from the replicator, he'll go crazy for that most of the time because Bones makes really good comfort food I think. Probably would like garlic bread with meatballs no pasta!!

and OFC Ward has Gale! she out ranks him and was kina like his CG before Bones and now she's his buddy and. "babysitter" if bones is busy!

he's not super interested in other stuffed animals, but he DOES have a teddy bear that has a raincoat, hat, and boots! Ward does have some of those weather measuring kits and a "weather rock" Kirk got as a joke

COOPER has a hard time picking favourites, but if he's put in charge of the movie or cartoon, he'll probably pick something with an animal focus! Think Fox and The Hound or Dalmation-type animal movies over like Robin Hood (disney's one) or Zootopia, where they're more people than animal. Cartoon-wise, he likes to hear the intro song a bunch of times (only partially bc it drives Ward NUTS)

Comfort food I think would be chocolate chips pancakes. with peanut butter and bananas, made like a sandwich (the PB + banana inside, the pancake like the bread) cut into bite-sized bits to dip in syrup. but he thinks its a lot of work so if asked, he usually just says something about Banana Milk (i think cooper would like most of like. sweet milks. they have a sweet tooth)

Cooper has some toys, he likes hands on ones, soft blocks, those ones where you roll the beads along a wire, ect! he doesn't have a Plushie or Blankie even tho he does REALLY want one but like he wants to be GIVEN it but he won't ask for it PUPPY-Coop has chewies!! he loves them he has dino ones and green ones and chomp chomp

RORY will take any movie because 10 minutes in, he WILL be asleep. it almost never fails. if it's a farm movie, however, he will probably stay awake a bit longer, but then he wants to go cuddle his farm animals

he likes a fresh baked loaf of bread for snacking on! with butter or peanutbutter or jam because then it gets all melty on the fresh hot bread! He also likes fruit salad a lot but No Grapes because grapes in fruit salad are almost always mushy,,,, ick

he has a purple sheep he loves to snuggle with AND an old blue shark that Capri bought him ages ago, and he loves to just lay on the couch or a bed or the steps and just sit and hug them

#character: cooper #character: rory #character: ward #TY MAYLIZ UR AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

12 notes · View notes

circusclowne · 9 months ago

Text

oc art !!

#osc #object show community #osc art #object show art #object show oc #object oc #objectsona #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #wc oc #warrior cat oc #clowne oc art!#clowne art!#oc . em (any prns)#oc . flip phone (he/him)#oc . grape juice (he/him)#oc . powder (she/her)#oc . swamppaw (he/she)

20 notes · View notes

sena-seastar · 1 year ago

Text

The Dragon's Gold

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said that it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys reign. When the princes Aemon and Baelon were still children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

a/n: This chapter begins with a small flashback that occurs before the events of episode six and chapter one. (Also, in case anyone is interested, Cody Fern, in his role as Michael Langdon, is what I envision Aerys to look like. I had someone ask me this recently, so I thought I would just share it with everyone else.) No beta, so I apologize for any or all grammar and spelling mistakes. Also, if anyone wishes to be tagged in future updates, just let me know!

Aerys

The smell of flowers and wet dirt filled the air. Aerys arched his back and raised his arms, stretching his stiff limbs. Ser Criston had been more intense with their training today. But the freshly cut grass helped soften the ground beneath his back.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Aegon jests, bouncing the leg that Aerys was using as a headrest.

Aerys peeked open his eyes to glare at the Targaryen prince. He readjusted his head, closing his eyes to listen to the world around them. Birds chirped as they flew overhead. The leaves of the giant weirwood tree that shielded them from the sun rustled gently. The sun sat high up in the sky, but a cool breeze in the air made the heat bearable.

“Open,” Aegon ordered, pressing something cold against Aerys’ lips.

Aerys pulled his head back, observing the cold purple object.

“It’s just a grape, no need to panic.” Aegon snickered.

Aerys parted his lips, allowing Aegon to drop the purple grape in his mouth. There was a quiet squelch as his teeth bit into the fruit. The sweetness of the grape juice overwhelmed his taste buds. Aerys let out a soft hum as Aegon ran his fingers through his hair.

“You’re going to put me back to sleep,” Aerys mumbled.

A playful smile tugs at the prince’s lips. “Well, it was not I who insisted you stay up all night reading.”

“It was not intentional,” Aerys glared. “The time just slipped away from me.”

“Honestly, Aerys, how irresponsible.” Aegon tsked, shaking his head like a disapproving mother.

Aerys raised his hand, pinching the prince on his side.

“You twat!” Aegon yelped, rubbing his side.

Aegon raised his hand, winding it up to deliver a sharp slap of retaliation. Aerys giggled, quickly sitting up to avoid the prince’s oncoming attack. Aegon missed, slapping his leg. The prince lunged at him, sending them both to the ground. Aerys fell to the ground with a loud grunt as Aegon landed on his stomach, but he quickly recovered. He reached out to pinch the prince’s side again. Aegon hissed and pulled back slightly. Aerys used this time to roll the two of them over. A smug smile tugged at his lips as he pinned Aegon to the grass. Aegon laughed, wriggling beneath him.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The prince yelled. A playful pout stretched across his lips.

Aerys released his grip on Aegon, rolling over. He landed on the ground beside him. The two boys lay there momentarily, staring up at the tree leaves as they caught their breath. They turned their heads to face each other, glaring at each other before laughing. Aegon intertwined their fingers.

“I won,” Aerys teased.

“You cheated,” Aegon huffed.

Aerys smiled, squeezing the prince’s hand.

—

Aerys flinched when he felt the hand fall on his shoulder. He turned his head to find Ser Darklyn standing by his side.

“The petitions are being heard now, my lord.”

Aerys nodded, moving to follow the knight to the throne room. He turned his head to look back at the garden. The two boys under the tree had faded away in his mind. That was an old memory. One that he had seemingly been able to forget until now. It was long before everything had fallen apart. Before Nyra left for Dragonstone, before Ser Laenor died, before the brothel, he hung his head as he walked through the castle. He followed behind a few lords and ladies, though he did not bother to see who they were. Aerys' eyes landed on the queen's children first. He quickly turned his gaze, trying to ignore the feeling of Aegon's eyes burning into him the second he entered the room. His face burned with shame as the memory of last night came to mind.

Aerys decided to stand behind Luke. He placed a comforting hand on the young Velaryon boy's shoulder, showing his support. Luke turned his head, flashing him a small smile, though it did not match the troubled look in his eyes.

“As hand of the king, I speak with the king’s voice. On this and all other matters.” Ser Otto called as he planted his rump on the iron throne.

Aerys had to stop himself from snickering. The iron throne once sat Aegon the Conqueror himself. Now, it was holding this serpent. He hoped it would cut him, reject the unworthy fool for daring to sit upon it.

Aerys stood quietly as the hand called upon Ser Vaemond to speak. He rolled his eyes as the man began to drone on about the history of House Velaryon. He had not realized he had come all this way for a history lesson. It didn’t take long before Nyra interrupted the man’s speech, her temper getting the better of her.

“As does it in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself- and for your own ambition.”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.” Queen Alicent replied, silencing the princess.

Aerys shifted uncomfortably. He could feel the tension between the two sides rising. It reminded him too much of the night of Lady Laena’s funeral. A night he did not look back on fondly.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the survival of my house, not yours.”

The Targaryen princess had no response to the Velaryon man’s insults. It was a complicated situation. Aerys found himself a bit conflicted. With the only son of Lord Corlys being gone, Driftmark will pass on to Luke when the sea snake dies. The enmity between Vaemond Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra had grown over the years, especially after the unexpected passing of Ser Laenor. The man held no love for the princess or her sons. A part of Aerys understood where the man was coming from. He loved Luke; truly, he did. But the boy was only a Velaryon by name.

It is not Luke’s fault. He did not get to choose who had fathered him. Aerys felt sorry for the boy for being forced into this position. Even if Ser Vaemond did not get the Driftwood throne, coming to court to question the boy’s legitimacy would be humiliating enough for Luke. People still whispered about the boy’s parentage all over the realm. They were a bit more hush-hush about it, but even on Dragonstone, the people liked to whisper.

On the other hand, he disagreed with the man. Lord Corlys had no issue with the boys. He accepted them. Aerys knew Lord Corlys and his brother hardly ever saw eye to eye. The sea snake wasn’t even dead, yet here was Ser Vaemond trying to claim the driftwood throne. Was it concern for his house’s future that drove him? Or was it the man’s own ambition, as Nyra had said? Vaemond was only a second son who stood to inherit almost nothing—constantly standing in the shadow of his elder brother and his many accomplishments. Who knows how long he’s been coveting for his brother's seat?

Besides, Luke’s children and future heir will be of Velaryon descent, as Nyra and Daemon intended for him to marry Rhaena, Lord Corlys’ granddaughter. So, the Velaryon bloodline would continue.

A loud scoff had passed Aerys lips before he realized it, as Ser Vaemond humbly put himself forth as Lord Corlys successor. He heard the whispers all around as people began to stare at him. The hand shot a glare his way before moving on. Aerys’ eyes flickered to the prince, who stared at him with a slight smirk. Aerys quickly turned his eyes forward.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.” Ser Otto announced.

Rhaenyra stepped forward with an exasperated sigh. “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very-”

The loud groaning of the throne room doors opening caught everyone's attention. As the king huddled into the throne room, Aerys watched, just as shocked as everyone else. He seemed so small, so weak.

It had been a long time since Aerys had seen his grandsire. He had been informed that the king had been bedridden for some time, but he had never imagined it was this bad. The young man looked to the ground as the king passed, unable to bring himself to look at him.

“I will sit the throne today,” The king announced, dismissing his hand.

Aerys watched almost anxiously as the man struggled up the stairs, refusing the help of one of the Cargyll twins who had run to his aid. His heart leaped in his chest as the man stumbled on the steps, his golden crown falling from his head, hitting the stone steps with an echoing clatter. Prince Daemon immediately moved to aid his king. Despite all their differences, they were still brothers. Prince Daemon helped the king to his throne before gently placing the golden crown on his head.

“I must admit my confusion,” the king proclaimed. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes, is the princess Rhaenys.”

All eyes fell on the queen who never was, “Indeed, your grace.”

The woman stepped forward to speak her piece.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through taser Laenor, to his true born son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.”

A smile came to Aerys’ face as the woman spoke in support of Lucerys. However, he believed the woman was only doing so due to the king’s unexpected appearance. He and Rhaena shared a brief smile as the princess announced the twins' betrothal to Rhaenyra’s sons. It was no secret to him that Rhaena was fond of Luke. He was happy for his cousins. A sense of relief filled Aerys’ chest as the king reaffirmed Lucerys as the heir of Driftmark, though it was short-lived.

Small gasps filled the great hall as Ser Vaemond confronted the king. Aerys himself was stunned. Surely, he was not so foolish as to question the king in his own court? The man had gone mad. Aerys could feel his anger rise as the Velaryon man yelled, cruelly singling out Luke.

“You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine!” Vaemond sneered. “My house survived the doom and a thousand tribulations besides! And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this-”

“Say it,” Prince Daemon challenged.

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Everyone remained silent, watching with anticipation. The man needed to be quiet. He had said enough.

“Her children,” the man paused, “are bastards! And she... is... a whore.”

Aerys clenched his jaw, his hands balled into fists as he struggled to keep his composure. The fool had already sealed his fate. He would not leave this room with his tongue. If he even got to keep his head. The king stood to his feet and unsheathed his blade to defend his daughter’s honor. Prince Daemon beat him to it. Aerys felt Rhaena cling to his arm as Ser Vaemond’s body fell to the ground. The top half of his head rolled on the floor.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“Disarm him!”

The white cloaks quickly unsheathed their blades at the hand's command.

“No need,” Daemon smirked as he wiped the blood off his sword, returning to his wife’s side.

The king collapsed on his throne with a painful groan.

“Call the maesters!” Queen Alicent called, rushing to his side.

Aerys attempted to block Ser Vaemond’s body from Rhaena as he escorted her from the throne room. He took one last look at the man’s body. It was not the first time he had watched a man die. He did not find it in himself to feel any sympathy for the man. He had brought his death upon himself. But he did feel sorry for the man’s wife and children. They lost their father because he couldn't hold his tongue.

—

The smell of incense overwhelms the room, an attempt to mask the scent of the king’s wounds. Aerys can hear the king mumbling to himself in the dark. He had been brought back to his chambers to rest before joining them for supper. His eyes search around the room. It is covered with dust and cobwebs, like it has been abandoned for years. Aerys walks slowly as he nears the king's bed, not wanting to frighten him.

“Grandfather,” he called out, gently sitting at the foot of his bed.

“Who? Who is there?” He whispered, though his eye remained closed.

Aerys took his hand and moved closer to him.

“It’s me, Aerys.”

“Oh, my grandson... my first grandson.” He smiled. “Where is she?”

“Where is who, grandfather?”

“Your mother, my sweet little Naerys,” he smiled.

Aerys’ eyes burned with tears. Who knows how long his grandfather's mind had been fading from him? And all this time, he had left him alone, selfishly never returning to visit him.

“She’s gone, grandfather. My mother died years ago, remember?”

It broke his heart to watch the man’s smile fall.

“Oh yes, I had forgotten.”

The two sat in silence after that. Aerys did not know what to say to him. In truth, he did not understand why he had come here.

The king gasped, struggling to speak. “...erys.”

“Yes, my king?”

“Have you returned to me?”

A small smile came to the king's lips as he squeezed Aerys’ hand. Aerys frowned, his brows drawn together. He was a coward. He had spent the last five years hiding away on Dragonstone, too afraid to return to this place that he had once called home. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Aerys nodded his head, forcing a smile.

“I have my king,” he said softly. “And I will not abandon you again.”

The man groaned in pain, mumbling incoherent sentences. Aerys ran his fingers over the man’s face to calm him. A small smile graced his lips as he leaned into his touch.

“My sweet girl,” the king whispered as he drifted off to sleep.

Aerys tensed up, sadness clouding his face.

“It’s alright, my king,” he whispered. “Rest now.”

Aerys held onto the bedpost and cried quietly into his hand. He took a deep breath, wiping his face before leaving the room.

—

Aerys stood beside Rhaena as Jace began jesting about ‘joining’ their houses. Baela, ever so smitten by the young man, laughed along with him. Aerys and Rhaena shared a glance before rolling their eyes. Aerys’ eyes moved around the room. They stopped as they met Aegon’s gaze. Aerys could feel his heart beating faster. His lips parted slightly, and a flush crept up his face. Prince Aemond made a comment that caused his brother to laugh, dropping his head. Aerys swallowed, turning his focus back to his cousins.

Everyone stood as the king was carried into the room before taking their seats. Aerys took his seat between Rhaena and Prince Daemon.

“How good it is... to see you all tonight,” the king observed, looking over the faces of his family.

“Together.” He added, breathing heavily.

As he looked around the table, Aerys dropped his head, avoiding the king’s eye.

“Prayer before we begin?” Queen Alicent suggested.

The king agreed with a slight nod. Aerys shifted in his seat awkwardly. It had been so long since he had done this. He lowered his head but kept his hands on his lap. Thankfully, it was over soon enough.

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems,” the king began. “My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses.”

Aerys smiled, raising his glass to the newly betrothed couples.

“A toast to the young princes- and their betrothed.”

“Hear, hear!” Prince Daemon cheered as they raised their glasses.

“Let us toast as well, Prince Lucerys, future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear.” Aerys smiled, nodding at Luke.

The king struggled to stand to his feet. Aerys balled his hands, fighting the urge to rush to his aid. It pained him to see his king this way.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow, to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... Yet grown so distant from each other.”

Aerys nervously glanced across the table to find the prince staring back at him. He dropped his eyes to the table in shame and sorrow.

“In the years past.”

Aerys winced as the king pulled the mask from his face—the severity of his disease on display for his family to see.

“My own face... is no longer a handsome one. If indeed it ever was,” the king jested.

Aerys urged a small smile to his face.

“But tonight. . .I wish you to see me. . .as I am. Not just a king. . .but your father. Your brother. Your husband. . .and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems. . .walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the house of the dragon is divided. You must put aside your grievances.”

Aerys chewed at his bottom lip. If only it were that simple. Perhaps it could have been long ago. But now, the seeds of contempt planted within this family had begun to bear fruit. Aerys feared for his grandfather. As much as it pained him to admit it, his grandsire was right. He would not be among them for much longer. Aerys feared for what might happen once he passed. Not for himself, but for his family, for the realm. The sad tale of King Aenys came to mind, particularly the end of his reign and what came after. Would history repeat itself so soon? Aerys shook his head, clearing his mind.

“If not for the sake of the crown. . then for the sake of this old man. Who loves you all, so dearly.”

The sorrow and desperation in the king's voice rang loudly in his ears. Once more, memories Aerys had forgotten seemed to be making an appearance. Those blue summers and warm winters he spent in the castle as a child. Laughing and running amok, as he followed along with Aegon’s pranks. His heart squeezed in his chest as the prince’s name came to mind. Those memories that were so cheerful and warm brought nothing but pain to him now.

The foolish daydreams of his youth weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had naively believed that he and Aegon would be friends until they grew old and withered away. That their love and friendship would be carried on through their children. Oh, to be a child again, so oblivious to the ways of the world.

The queen and the princess made heartwarming toasts to one another. Aerys raised his glass as Queen Alicent finished her toast. He took a small sip, enjoying the slight burn as the wine slipped down his throat. It had been so long since he tasted wine on his tongue. Shamefully, he had to admit that he missed it. Aerys’ eye fell on the prince once more. He scrunched his face as he watched Aegon throw his head back, desperate for the last drop of wine in his glass. It seemed the whispers of his overindulgence of wine might have more truth to them than he thought.

Aerys sighed, continuing to take light sips. Aegon cleared his throat. Aerys looked up, thinking that he would make a toast as well. Instead, Aegon rose to his feet, moving between Baela and Jace to refill his glass. However, Aerys could see him lean down to whisper something in Baela’s ear. A deep scowl appeared on the young girl's face.

Aerys tensed when Jace slammed his fists down on the table, his hand subconsciously reaching out for Rhaena before he pulled it back.

“Jace,” Baela whispered.

Aerys put down his glass, observing the young man. Jace had a short temper, similar to his mother. The young man waved her off as he attempted to keep his composure.

Prince Aemond rose to his feet. Aerys' eyes shifted between the both of them. There was a stare-down between him and Jace, but the younger boy quickly backed down. Instead, Jace chose to raise a toast to his uncles.

“To prince Aegon and. . .Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth.”

Jace glanced quickly at Luke and Aerys before returning to his uncles.

“And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles.”

Jace placed a firm hand on his uncle’s shoulder. Aegon seemed almost discouraged by the boy’s actions.

“To you as well,” Aegon replied.

Prince Aemond glared one last time before returning to his seat. Aerys understood that the ‘fond memories’ part of Jace’s speech was merely a jest, but he feared the princes might take it as a slight.

“Well done, my boy.” The king praised.

Helaena was next to make a toast. A toast to Rhaena and Baela.

“They’ll be married soon,” the princess glanced around the table. “It isn’t so bad. Mostly, he just ignores you... except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Scattered laughter filled the room, but Aerys found no humor in the woman’s words. The prince looked his way, and Aerys could see the hurt that flashed in his eyes as he saw the look of repulsion on Aerys’ face. Aerys always knew Aegon was not fond of Helaena as children. He loved his sister, but they never saw eye to eye. Aerys had hoped that would change over time. That he would come to love her as a husband loved his wife. Though perhaps that was just him being naive once again.

“Let us have some music,” the king called, quickly trying to fill the tense silence.

Jace asked Helaena to dance, and she happily agreed. This made Aerys smile; if anyone here deserves some happiness, it is Helaena.

Queen Alicent called for the guards. It seemed the king was ready to retire for the night. His eyes followed Ser Erryk as he and his brother went to stand at the door to escort the king to his chambers. Aerys had also hoped this was his chance to leave, but Queen Alicent instructed everyone to sit. He finished his second cup of wine as a suckling pig was laid on the table. The sight of it almost made his stomach churn. Aerys had never been fond of pork. It was too greasy for his taste.

The sound of fist slamming on the table caused him to flinch. Why must everyone insist on beating this poor table, he questioned himself. Prince Aemond’s eye was focused solely on Luke as he raised his cup.

“Final tribute,” he paused. “To the health of my nephews. Jace. . .Luke. . .and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise. . .strong.”

Aerys lowered his cup to the table. While his uncles may have fun humiliating their nephews, he did not. Queen Alicent tried to get Aemond to stop, but he would not listen.

“Come. . .let us drain our cups to these three. . .strong boys.” He raised his cup.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace challenged.

“Why?” Aemond narrowed his eye on the boy. “‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?”

He moved to meet Jace as the boy stalked his way, throwing a punch. However, the hit did not have much impact as Aemond quickly shoved the boy to the ground. As Luke tried to rush to Jace’s defense, Aegon slammed him into the table. Baela came to Luke's defense, immediately grabbing onto Aegon. Aerys was on his feet instantly, quickly rushing to Baela’s aid. Aerys pulled the girl from the prince’s grasp, handing her to her sister. He pushed the prince back as he tried to move forward. Prince Aegon stumbled backward, his back hitting his chair. The prince’s eyes widened, and his lips turned downward. Tears shimmered in the corners of his eyes, and he quickly turned away. Aerys feels his heart drop to his stomach.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and he turned to find Prince Daemon standing behind him. The man nodded towards his daughter. Aerys understood, and he walked over to try to soothe an enraged Baela. Jace freed himself from the guard’s grasp, but before he could lunge back at Aemond, Prince Daemon stepped forward.

“Wait, wait!” He commanded.

Immediately, they all backed down. It was never a good idea to disobey the man’s commands. Aerys’ eyes follow Aegon, watching as the prince walks away, leaving the room without another word.

If only his grandfather were here to see his happy family now, Aerys thought.

“Go to your quarters. All of you go, now.” Rhaenyra ordered.

Rhaena held onto Baela as they followed Luke out of the room. Jace went after them, glaring at Prince Aemond as he walked. Aerys stayed behind to watch the situation unfold. Prince Daemon moved to stand in front of Aemond with a bored sigh, waiting to see if the young man was brave enough to challenge him.

The two princes stared each other down for a moment before Aemond walked away. Prince Daemon was not far behind.

“Rhaenyra.” Queen Alicent called, rushing towards the woman’s side.

Aerys took a step back, allowing the women's room to speak. He noticed Ser Otto watching the two women before the old man’s eyes turned to him. The two men glared at one another. The cut and bruise may have healed, but the memory of that man daring to lay a hand on him was still fresh in Aerys' mind.

Aerys turned his head as he saw the queen reaching out for Rhaenyra. He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the woman touching Nyra. The last time she did, it did not end well.

“Let me see the children home. I’ll, umm, return on dragonback.”

Queen Alicent smiled. “The king and I would both like that.”

Aerys moved forward, holding out an arm for Nyra to hold. She accepted, wrapping her arm around his as they left the room. He waited until the doors closed behind them to speak.

“You plan to come back here? Do you think that is wise?” He asked, nodding down to her stomach.

She placed her free hand over her bump, rubbing smooth circles around it.

She let out a weary sigh. “I do. My father was right. As much as it pains me to say it, he does not have much time left in this world. I wish to spend whatever time he has left by his side. I’ve been away from him long enough.”

“Then it seems you and I share the same affliction.”

She turned her head upward to look him in the eyes.

“You wish to stay?”

“I do. In truth, I had never intended to stay on Dragonstone as long as I did. I simply just never had the courage to return here on my own. And now I realize that I’ve wasted so much time I could have been here, caring for him.”

“Aerys,” she sighed. “He is the king. He has the best maester’s in the realm here to attend to him at all times.”

“I don’t mean tending to his wounds. You’ve been to his room. It’s so cold and dark. He deserves to spend the last of his days surrounded by those who love and care for him. Not maesters and-”

“Alright,” Nyra interrupts.

She stops, turning to take both his hands in hers.

“You may stay. I will return within a week, and we can try to make up for lost time.”

Aerys nodded in agreement. She smiled as she wrapped her arm around his, continuing on their way. Nyra leaned her head against his arm.

“Besides, it will be nice knowing I have you here at my side.” She squeezed his arm as he escorted her to her quarters.

—

“Surely you don’t plan to stay here?” Jace scoffed.

The young man stood beside the fireplace, staring at Aerys in incredulity. Baela moved to his side, entwining their fingers. Jace turned his head towards her, taking a deep breath to calm himself. His anger from tonight's dinner fiasco had yet to dissipate.

“Stay? Why would you stay?” Luke asked from his place on the bed.

Rhaena sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. However, they both looked as if they were about to cry. Aerys could feel his heart breaking as he watched them.

“You have all seen how much the king's condition has worsened in the last six years. It’s a wonder the man even managed to get out of bed.” Aerys pressed, slightly shaking his head.

The four looked down to the ground to the floor in sorrow. They knew just as well as he did that the king would not survive much longer.

“I need to be here for him.”

A thick blanket of silence covered the room. The four raised their heads to exchange glances. Jace sighed before walking forward to meet Aerys.

“You’re right, cousin, do what you have to.” Jace smiled, opening his arms.

Aerys smiled, moving forward to accept the embrace. They patted each other on the back as they pulled away. Aerys walked over to the bed, and Luke stood to his feet as he approached. The boy's eyes were welled with tears as he struggled to keep a slight smile on his lips. Aerys placed a warm hand on the boy's cheek.

“This is not goodbye, Luke,” he smiled. “We will meet again.”

Luke nodded, allowing Aerys to pull him in for a hug. He exchanged hugs with the twins, and both girls promised that they would keep their eyes on the boys. Ser Darklyn stepped into the room, holding his helmet in hand.

“Prince Daemon says it is time to depart.”

“Thank you, Ser Darklyn,” Jace replied, nodding.

Aerys spun the ring around his finger as he watched them walk down the hall, arm in arm. Even though he knew they would see each other again, watching them fade into the shadows still hurt.

Tags: @teamavatar13 , @willow-red , @saicherry

#aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x oc #fire and blood #hotd #hotd aegon #house of the dragon fanfic #king aegon #male!oc #targcest #aegon the elder #aegon the second #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf #house targaryen #house of the dragon

23 notes · View notes

autistook · 1 year ago

Text

DAISIES - pt 8

Merry Brandybuck x fem!hobbit!reader / soft oc

Words: 4.1k

Summary: You spend some quality time on a picnic with Merry, and the next day when you hang out with Pippin, he makes a point that forces you to start thinking about your own thoughts on Merry.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

----

You kept the brooch in a small jewelry box on your desk. The box was handcrafted by your father before he passed away, and your late mother had drawn a little sheep on top of it. The drawing was not the prettiest by the normal standard, but to you, in its all simplicity, it was art.

You took the brooch the Brandybuck's had gifted from the box, and pinned it delicately to the chest area of your puffy cotton dress. The daisy brooch was sparkling under the beams of sunlight that came through your window, and you couldn't help but admire it, as you stood in front of your mirror. You quickly fixed up your hair, and made your way to the front door. You grabbed the hand woven and full picnic basket from on top of the dresser in the hallway. Outside, Merry was already waiting for you, munching on a bright red strawberry. He smiled wide, his lips red.

"Hey!" you shouted, giving Merry a playful smack on his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" Merry cried, laughing a little.

"We are supposed to pick them together, and you're not supposed to eat them yet!" you exclaimed in a playfully angry tone.

"They looked too delicious," Merry smirked with no remorse for his actions. "You know me and food."

"I do," you chuckled, and got on your knees to start picking up the strawberries into the small bag in your picnic basket. Merry knelt beside you, picking up berries with you, and sneaking one into his mouth every now and then. You decided to taste one of the berries. They were juicy and sweet, the flavor of the strawberry overwhelmingly delicious and addictive. Samwise really did know how to take care of the garden, including the berries.

"I saw that," Merry snickered, as he caught you sneaking a bite.

"I couldn't help it," you responded, enjoying the juicy flavor on your tastebuds. "And I can blame you no more. This is amazing!"

"Save some for the picnic!" he teased. You gave him a playful nudge with your shoulder, and picked up a few more strawberries to take with you and Merry. You saw a particularly big strawberry, and reached for it. Merry saw it at the same time, and as he picked it up, your hands brushed against each other for a moment. Both of you pulled your hands back immediately, and Merry apologized profusely.

"I'm so sorry! You can take it!" he said, his cheeks turning slightly red.

"It's fine," you chuckled, and Merry picked up the strawberry you both reached for. You gave him a friendly smile. As you looked at his flushed face, your eyes fixated on the freckles on his nose and cheeks that you had not paid attention to before.

"I believe we are done," said Merry, clearing his throat. "What did you pack?"

Only after his question, you stopped staring at his cheeks.

"What?" you asked, not having paid any attention to what he said.

"I asked what you have packed for the picnic?" he repeated, getting back up on his feet.

"Well I packed us a blanket, some apple juice, grapes, bread, butter, scones and now strawberries. Is that enough?'

"For starters," Merry joked and helped you back up on your feet. "I, on the other hand, found us a good spot."

"Where might that be?" you asked curiously.

"There's a small hill in Tookland, that has a view looking over the village of Tuckborough as a whole," he responded. "It's a spot where Pip and I had quite a blast with ale once. And it's absolutely beautiful."

"Sounds perfect," you smiled. "Lead the way!"

Merry smiled, and started walking slightly in front of you. As he passed you by, you took a quick glance at his faint freckles once again.

About an hour of walking was behind you, and you two were still almost an hour away from your destination in Tookland. The sun was shining bright in the sky, warming your skin. Merry's curls were shiny under the sunlight, and the embroidery on his vest looked like gold - it even might have been gold thread.

"This is tiring for my feet," you stated, letting out a long sigh. Merry let out a teasing chuckle.

"I did not remember you being this weak," he smirked, making you roll your eyes. "Do you need to stop?"

"It is normally luncheon time. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Merry responded, and the two of you sat down on a large rock by the side of the road.

You handed him a few pieces of wheat bread you had baked the previous evening, and with a wood carved spoon, you spread some butter over them for him. Merry looked at you with an amused grin.

"What?" you asked, as you kept buttering the bread in his hands.

"I could have done this by myself you know," he responded, and you felt some redness rising to your cheeks.

"Oh!" you giggled, slightly embarrassed. You took your hands off his bread, and began to spread the butter on your own pieces. "I'm sorry. I guess it's sort of a reflex."

"It's fine," he laughed, and gave you a supportive smile, his eyes glowing with mischief. "It's quite a compliment, actually. I did not know you saw me as such royalty."

You laughed whole-heartedly and took a bite of your bread. The day was warm, and so was the melted butter on the bread. The bread was still soft and fresh, making your Hobbit belly half full in no time. Merry was enjoying his luncheon as well, still smirking at his own teasing.

"Should we continue?" you asked, wiping your hands on a napkin. "I do want to see this place you're talking about."

"Actually," he said, the last pieces of bread still in his mouth. "I was wondering if we could stay here. The sun is warming me perfectly, this field is gorgeous and flat, so we could practically set the picnic anywhere. And there's butterflies to admire!"

"Your feet got tired, didn't they?" you snickered.

"I have to walk all the way to Buckland, alright!" Merry admitted, with an exaggerated sigh.

"Too much walking for one day?"

"Exactly," he said. "You know me. And I know you. You'll like having the picnic here."

"Why?" you asked.

"Well," said Merry, bending over to his side of the rock. He picked up a small daisy, and handed it over to you, taking a glance at the brooch you had decorating your dress. His eyes lit up for a second. "It's filled with your favorite flowers."

"Ah, you do know me!" you responded playfully. But he was not wrong, and this small gesture made you feel appreciated and seen.

You two laid down the checkered picnic blanket on the grass, and soon it was filled with all the goods you had brought. And as a surprise, Merry had brought some wine and apple pie. The wine was some sort of an expensive wine he had brought from the wine cellar in Brandy Hall; or as you suspected, he had snuck out of there without permission.

"Do you think there's something going on?" you asked, lips red from eating some strawberries.

"I think it's obvious," Merry responded, taking a sip of the red wine he brought. "Sam always blushes when she is around."

"So does Rosie," you added. Merry nodded in agreement. "How about Pippin? Does he have anyone in his radar?"

"No," Merry responded, laughing. "Pippin is mostly focused on creating chaos right now. With good intentions, of course."

"Are you sure it's all good intention?" you asked.

"Most of it," Merry joked. "In all seriousness, I do miss our adventures with him."

"I do too," you responded, taking a sip of your apple juice. "Remember when we stole that apple pie from the kitchen windowsill of the Cotton family?"

"Oh! I had completely forgotten about that one," Merry laughed, crumbs of bread escaping from his mouth. "The angry yelling from Mr. Cotton as we ran was thrilling."

"And how good was the pie?" you reminisced, both of you letting out a moan as you remembered the taste of the warm, fresh apple pie. The memory of the pie started flooding your memory, the crispiness of the green apple slices, the vanilla custard that was laid on top of it, and the sweet smell, with a hint of cardamom and cinnamon.

"It was the best pie I've ever had," Merry said. "I brought some pie I baked with my mother, but I doubt it's even close to being as good."

"I'm sorry?" you said, almost choking on apple juice. "You, Meriadoc Brandybuck, baked a pie?"

"What about it?" Merry cried. "I can bake! My mom helped me. Shut up!"

You giggled at his defensive attitude and tossed a piece of bread for him, which he caught with no trouble. He had a playfully offended expression on his face, and it seemed like everything between you two was settling back to how it used to be, before Merry's confession.

"I'm just saying that I didn't know you bake," you added.

"Hey, the pie is good!" Merry exclaimed.

"Is it now?" you teased, and within five seconds, Merry pounced in your direction and tried to playfully force a piece of apple pie in your mouth. You both laughed as you fell on your back, with Merry trying to wrestle the pie between your lips.

"Try it already!" he shouted, his laughter coming from his belly. He was partially laying on top of you, when he finally got you to try a piece, even though it was done by a playful wrestling match. The pie was sweet with a hint of cinnamon, and the moistness boosted the crisp feel of the apple slices in it.

"I could've died!" you exclaimed, mouth full of delicious pie. "You could've choked me to death. Imagine how awkward it would be to have my tomb say I choked on a piece of apple pie."

"Well it's delicious, isn't it?" Merry smirked as he sat back up from on top of you. You found a more comfortable position, still laying down but your upper body propped up by your arms.

"It is quite delicious, I must admit."

Merry smiled softly, and he reached for your face. He wiped a few crumbs off your cheek and smiled. The crumbs fell partly to your chest, which you wiped them off of.

"You're incredibly messy," he stated, and wiped some more off near your ear.

"I think those crumbs are there just because you attacked me!" you exclaimed with a big smile on your face.

You sat back up, and the two of you helped yourselves to more pie, and you decided to finally have some wine too. It was a full bodied wine, with a strong berry aroma. It was not something you would normally enjoy, but for some reason it felt perfect in that moment.

The two of you enjoyed each other's company in silence, and watched the beautiful day progress, as the sun rose higher in the sky, and a few clouds slowly moved across. You brushed some loose hair off your face, and were putting them behind your ear, when you felt something. You touched around a bit and then pulled a daisy from behind your ear.

"How?" you asked Merry, presenting him the flower he had somehow managed to sneak behind your ear again. Merry turned his gaze to your direction, and his smile turned wide as he saw the daisy in your hand.

"What can I say," he started, a smug and proud look on his face. "I'm somewhat of a wizard when it comes to surprising you."

You felt your heart swell a little by his playful comment, and even if it was meant as a joke, you knew it was still true. He always found a way to make you laugh or smile, no matter what the situation was, and he had never failed to surprise you in the most heartwarming ways. You felt the tips of your pointy ears warm a little bit, and that's when Merry looked at the side of your face, and smiled adoringly.

"What?" you asked, turning to see if there was something behind you. Merry laughed.

"Nothing," he responded, and took a sip of his wine. You gave him a playfully angry pout, and took another sip of wine yourself. Merry seemed like he remembered something suddenly, and his face lit up. "I completely forgot!"

"Forgot what?" you asked, still wondering what Merry was smiling at.

"Pippin was wondering if you wanted to do something with him tomorrow," Merry said. "I have plans with Fatty, and Pippin found me before you, and asked me to ask you."

"Of course," you replied. "Should I just wait for him in the pastry shop as I always do?"

"I assume that's alright," Merry nodded. "I mean, you are also one of his best friends, and just because we usually spend time all three of us, or just you and me, it doesn't mean you two shouldn't spend time just the two of you as well."

"I feel like Pip and I don't spend enough time alone," you said. You had not really thought about it before, but now that it had come up, you realized just how true it was. "I do miss bantering with him as well. And I miss the chaos he brings with him. More than anything, I miss the chaos he brings out in me, especially when you're not there!"

"I have not seen you do anything relatively stupid in a while," Merry noted with a smirk. "So I think hanging out alone with Pippin is exactly what you need."

You laughed loudly and nodded. He was right, even if he was joking. You were sometimes so consumed by stress, anxiety and trying to be more like an adult, that you tended to forget to let go every once in a while. Merry looked around a little bit, seeming like he was looking for something.

"What are you doing?" you asked, raising your eyebrow at him curiously.

"I'm just trying to see if there's enough daisies," he said, still turning his head around.

"For what?"

"I thought we could make you a flower crown," he said, looking at you for a reaction.

"A flower crown?" you chuckled, your voice raised by confusion.

"Yes!" cried Merry confidently. "We are in a field surrounded by your favorite flowers, and a flower crown never crossed your mind?'"

"You're such a girl," you snickered, already starting to pick up some of the taller daisies you saw, as you sat up.

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," Merry responded as he stood up to pick flowers. You nodded in agreement.

"You're right," you responded to his observation. "Besides, I do like this side of you. I always have."

Merry turned his face away with a shy smile, and even though he was turned around, you could see the tips of his ears turn into a deep shade of red. You smiled to yourself. You found his new flustered side endearing. The way he reacted to your compliments in a different way than he used to, made your heart feel a little more whole - even though you didn't really realize it yet.

You stood up to join Merry, and the two of you picked up several, beautiful daisies. Their petals were long and bright, and the bright yellow center reminded you of sunshine; one of the reasons it was your favorite flower.

"Do you think we have enough?" you asked Merry, who took a look at the handful of daisies in your hands.

"I think so," he smiled, and the two of you made your way back on the picnic blanket.

You sat down, facing each other. Merry crossed his legs comfortably, and you laid your legs to your side, your weight mostly on the left side of your body. Both of you placed the flowers between you two, laying them down in a pile, picking the prettiest ones. Merry took two of them in his hands, and twisted the stems around each other. You observed him for a moment, before he stopped and looked at you.

"To be perfectly honest," said Merry quietly, a small laugh escaping his throat. "I have no idea how to do this."

You giggled, and took the messy flowers off his hands.

"I'll show you," you said, and handed him three daisies, taking the same amount of flowers in your hands. You began braiding the flowers. "Now, first you do a standard braid with the stems, and keep going until you have reached about an inch."

"Alright," Merry said, sitting still. "How do you braid?"

You chuckled and put your flowers down. You crawled next to him, your shoulders softly touching, and you gripped his hands delicately to guide them. And you showed him how to braid. Over and middle, for about an inch. You showed him how to add the next flowers, and you didn't even notice how Merry's breath hitched as you laid your chin on his shoulder while showing him the art of making flower crowns. You two had always been close and touchy as friends, but this was the first time even you felt a little tension - though, it was not the bad kind.

"Do you think you know what to do now?" you asked.

"Mmhm," Merry responded, smiling to you softly.

As you lifted your chin off his shoulder, you felt the tip of his nose brush up against your cheek very faintly.

"Show me," you said, giving him a reassuring look. And like a professional, Merry braided the flowers, and kept doing it for some time. As he focused on the task, the tip of his tongue peeked through his lips, a warm smile forcing its way on your face. Eventually, he had finished making the crown and never had you seen him look so proud. He got up on his feet, and bowed to you, presenting the crown.

"Your highness," he said playfully.

"Why thank you, kind sir!" you responded in an overexaggerated accent you imagined the royal Big Folk had. You took the crown and placed it on your head, giving Merry a thankful bow. The both of you laughed from the depths of your stomachs, as this silly exchange filled you both with much joy. It was the kind of stuff that you two had always done, and you wondered for a split second, if there had always been something else hiding in those moments. But the thought left as quickly as it came, as a large crow flew right past your faces, making a loud screech, making you both jump.

"At least it didn't steal your crown," Merry said, wiping his hands on the front of his pants, as they had gotten sticky from braiding the daisies together.

"You did a really good job," you smiled. Merry turned to look at you, and as he saw you with the daisies decorating your hair, he smiled adoringly.

"Can I say something?" he said awkwardly. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, considering..."

"You cannot make me uncomfortable, Merry. You're my best friend."

Merry took a deep breath, and he switched his position nervously a couple of times before opening his mouth.

"I just thought you would like the crown," he said, clearing his throat, trying to act as casual as possible. "But now that it's actually on your head... Well, first of all, I did a wonderful job. And second of all... It suits you. It... well... it makes you look beautiful."

You felt your lips curl upwards and with a small and shy giggle, you thanked him.

"Well, thank you. You really did do well."

Once again you noticed that Merry's eyes lit up at the sight of you, but you could not understand what it was that made him look at you that way.

You and Pippin were having an eating competition in the pastry shop. You both were shoving chocolate and vanilla muffins in your mouths, trying to outdo the other.

"You have no chance!" Pippin mumbled, his mouth full. As you kept quiet and observed Pippin's enthusiastic competitiveness, you couldn't help but wonder; how on earth was he not choking? And as you were on your way to fill your mouth with yet another muffin, Pippin threw his hands in the air victoriously. "I win!"

You threw the half eaten muffin on your plate, which still had quite a few of them left, and crossed your arms.

"I was so close!" you grunted, which Pippin found hilarious.

"Excuse me, but you still have five muffins left on your plate," Pippin stated with a smug smirk on his face. "It was an easy win."

"Fine. I concede."

The two of you stayed in the coffee shop for hours after that, talking about changes in the Shire, remembering the trouble you used to get into, and laughing so hard your stomach was hurting. Pippin had water in his eyes and his face was bright red from laughter, as you reminded him of the time he arrived into your home, his hands full of eggs, and his feet and hair covered in feathers and hay.

"It was a stupid bet!" Pippin laughed, wiping the tears away from his eyes. "I got pecked so many times, it was practically a fight between me and the chickens!"

"And you lost to a chicken!" you teased. You both had clearly missed the friendly banter between just the two of you, and it was a huge stress relief, as it took your mind off of Frodo selling your home. After a little bit of more laughter, you both started to calm down.

"So, have you talked to Merry?" Pippin asked suddenly.

"Of course I have," you responded in confusion. "We were hanging out just yesterday."

"I meant if you've talked to Merry."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately understood what Pippin meant. You were not aware Merry had talked about his feelings to Pippin. But it made sense to you, considering they were incredibly close. You just hadn't taken the fact into consideration.

"Kind of," you responded. Your fingers started to tap the edge of the table, drumming quietly. You felt awkward and uncomfortable, not sure how to respond to his inquiries.

"How do you feel about it?" Pippin asked. You knew he didn't hesitate to pry, as he was a very inquisitive Hobbit, and still quite young and curious.

"I don't know," you answered, nervously fidgeting. "I guess I don't really understand."

"What do you mean? I think all of this is kind of obvious."

"Well not to me!" you cried, slightly defensive. You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs and now playing with your fingers. "I just don't understand. I don't know when it started. I don't know if it's temporary. And I... I just don't understand what he sees in me. We have been best friends for so long. Why now?"

"If you were to ask for my opinion-" Pippin started.

"I'm not," you interrupted.

"Alright. Well, as you probably guessed, I don't care. If you were to ask my opinion, I think it was always there."

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, yet not getting what Pippin meant.

"All I'm saying is," Pippin said, wiping the muffin crumbs off his lips. "I think you should think about why neither of you have ever had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months, or why being close to anyone else left you feeling sad."

"It's not like that," you said, denying his observations. "Merry and I have always been just friends. We have always been comfortable around each other, and it's a different kind of closeness."

"Is it?" asked Pippin, leaving you at a loss of words. His thoughts about your heart feeling hollow whenever you were with anyone else made sense, and anything Merry had ever done to you, made your heart sing with joy. His embrace had always felt more comforting than anyone else's, and talking to him came to you naturally, and even the silent moments between you two were cozy and filled you with glee.

"You're wrong, Pippin."

But somewhere deep inside, you began to think about his words, and a little part of your brain started to wonder; had there always been something there, but you just never realized it before? You thought back to the conversations with Merry, where the both of you had similar experiences with never feeling content with anyone. Had Merry realized something? Something that neither of you had even considered before, but now that he saw it, it was too obvious to ignore? Were you just overthinking it because of Pippin's words, or was there something that was just waiting to come to the surface all along?

And the clock started ticking.

-----

@chatteringfox @shiinata-library @ahobbitsjourney23 @mayo-advance @datglutengoblin @mournthewicked

#lotr #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #lotr fanfic #daisies #merry x reader #lotr merry #merry brandybuck #meriadoc x reader #meriadoc brandybuck #lotr fic #fanfic #fanfiction #tolkien

36 notes · View notes

mentelosse · 9 months ago

Text

2 little ficlets prompted on the Tolkien OC discord server. Write a description of your OC from the perspective of another character or narrator as if they're just being introduced.

The first ficlet is Glorfindel meeting Mentelossë for the first time and the second one takes place in the third age several millenias after meeting each other.

Glorfindel had just left the Lords’ meeting and was walking with haste towards the barracks to supervise the end of the morning training session. As he rounded the wall of the palace gardens, he caught sight of a young woman jumping down from it. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she quickly turned to him, fixing him with her royal blue eyes.

She had long black lashes and cheeks flushed from exertion. Her thick, dark brown hair, completely untied, fell in wild curls over her shoulders. Her slender silhouette was outlined through her fine dress, as blue as her eyes, which still looked at him, uncertain and almost shy. Glorfindel’s heart skipped a beat, and he realized he had been staring at her intently for several seconds. That’s what reminded him of his gallantry and he approached her with his usual radiant smile, which he couldn’t suppress:

“Good day, my Lady, may I help you?”

She had to lift her head to keep looking at him in the eyes and clasped her hands in front of her. “I thank you, Lord Glorfindel, but I was merely on my way into the city.”

Her fingers seemed soft and delicate, her movements graceful, and her bearing dignified. Moving in this way, rather than jumping over a wall, she suddenly seemed strangely familiar to Glorfindel.

“You know my name, but I do not know yours,” he said with curiosity.

The young woman appeared to ponder for a moment. Glorfindel found himself admiring her deep gaze and her slightly parted red lips.

“Mellossiel,” she said. After a brief glance, she added with an enthusiastic smile, “I’ve just arrived in Gondolin. Would you be so kind as to show me around?”

Glorfindel answered faster than his mind could think, “It would be my pleasure, Lady Mellossiel!”

The rays of the setting summer sun filtered through the delicate curtains, bathing the entire room in golden light. They laid together on a sofa, Mentelossë’s head resting lightly on his chest as she read.

Their quarters were filled with memories of their long life and reflected who they were. A tapestry with floral patterns adorned one wall, the opposite side of the room was entirely covered by a bookshelf filled with Mentelossë’s favorite books. Novels, poems and many treatises on architecture that he would never read. Many trinkets garnished the shelves.

Behind them, an ancient sword and portraits hung on the wall. Beneath, their desk was covered with numerous papers—documents concerning Imladris, some of Mentelossë’s sketches, as well as letters from their friends (and likely one or two very overdue reports he was supposed to write for Erestor).

On a low table were the remnants of their afternoon snack. A blueberry tart, some grapes, and a half-carafe of juice. A few cushions were scattered on the carpet that covered much of the room’s floor.

Glorfindel gently stroked Mentelossë’s hair, which shimmered in the sunlight. Her honey-colored skin gleamed, clothed only in a simple white muslin dress, but the golden light adorned her better than a thousand jewels.

After centuries, millennia, spent by her side, he had seen her draped in majestic gowns, covered with glittering jewels and gold woven into her hair. But it was always in these quiet, intimate moments that he found her the most beautiful.

From this angle, he could only see her lashes moving as she read, but he could perfectly picture the brightness of her eyes, which he knew by heart.

She turned the page, and Glorfindel’s gaze was drawn to the light reflecting off the floral patterns and small diamonds decorating her wedding ring. He admired Mentelossë’s hands, knowing they fit perfectly with his own. From memory, he could feel the scar on one of her palms against his.

Her dress fell in soft folds around her curves, which he could have traced in the dark, and he let his hand caress the fabric, feeling its softness. He was surrounded by the warmth of the sun and of Mentelossë.

She turned to him and smiled. They were happy.

#mentelossë #oc #original character #silmarillion #tolkien #glorfindel #glorfindel x oc #lotr #gondolin #imladris

8 notes · View notes

thegigilwriter · 1 year ago

Text

08 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Implied religious themes (OC is Catholic), slight angst, Drama

08 | Crab Dinners and Star Gazers 🌌

Sunday PM June 25, 2023

Lucy sighed shaking her soft waves as she ran them through the hairdryer. She stared at herself in the mirror, her head cocked to one side. She put the hairdryer down, pulled the plug, and stowed it away in her dresser drawer. As she began powdering her face, she wondered if the crab meat was thawed enough and hoped that Bradleyʼs special dessert was baking as desired. The ice tea was prepped and resting in the fridge, the table was set, and the brioche toast was buttered and flavored, ready for the oven. After Lucy applied her final layer of mascara, she gazed into her own visage. Something had changed — something deep within her and it showed in the gleam of her eyes, the stretch of her smile, the glow of her round cheek, and the way she stood in front of her own reflection.

Her face wasnʼt so wide anymore, the mole on the corner of her lip and the one near her eye didnʼt look so bothersome, and she held a new fascination with her eyes. How odd, she thought. She straightened her dress, checked her lip gloss, and proceeded to walk into the kitchen.

She drained the water from the half-pound of backfin crab meat and put a pan on high flame. When the surface was hot enough, Lucy heated a tablespoon of butter and the juice of a half lemon. She then added the crab meat and seasoned it with salt and pepper to taste. She stirred it around the pan a little before popping the lid on and putting the toast in the oven. Just then, a knock resounded on her apartment door and Lucy excitedly rushed towards it.

“Hey Angel,ˮ Bradley breathed. He swears, he was getting so spoiled from seeing Lucy like this twice a day. Tonight she opted for another dress with a shorter skirt. It was auburn-colored with a halter strap neckline. She had also paired her outfit with little open-toed black heels.

“Hi,ˮ Lucy smiled as she opened her door for his entry. As Bradley stepped in, he couldnʼt help but quickly notice how full and vibrant her space was compared to his barren house.

“Make yourself at home,ˮ she told him, returning to the stove as Bradley wandered into her living room. “Dinnerʼs almost done.ˮ

He saw the green tendrils that hung by her window as well as her lush plant box. He noticed the tall bookshelf with weathered spines as well as Harry Potter memorabilia. He was fascinated by the tortoises, Tip and Toe, in their makeshift enclosure acting as her TV console. He peered into Walstead fish bowl on her living room table, and admired the cherry red shrimp among the pearl grass as well as the slow-moving golden snail. Bradley sat on her grape-colored couch, and a handsome, classical, rosewood guitar caught his eye. He walked towards the instrument and lifted it in his arms. It was old, but well maintained. By the light of the street and of the moon streaming from her window, his fingers grazed an inscription on its curved side.

To Ford, play with a tender heart.

“Bradley?ˮ

Bradley instantly put the guitar down as carefully as he could before stepping into the kitchen. Lucy had just set down a lidded cast iron pan beside the pitcher of ice tea and a serving bowl of brioche toast. Bradley smiled, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the side of her head. He banished all thoughts of the guitar in his head as he pulled a seat for Lucy as well for himself.

“This smells so good Angel,ˮ Bradley sighed, inhaling the aromas of the table. Lucy lifted the lid and Bradleyʼs eyes widened.

“Is that—?ˮ

“Norfolk-style crab!ˮ Lucy announced. “You told me that you grew up there and I wanted to create something close to home. Do you like it?ˮ

“I love it,ˮ Bradley replied. “But Angel you didnʼt have to—“

“I wanted to,ˮ Lucy interjected. “If youʼre set on spoiling me, then why couldnʼt I do the same for you?ˮ

Bradley chuckled

“Whatever you want, Angel.ˮ

Dinner conversations were alight with banter, flirty remarks, and laughter, but at the back of his mind Bradley thought about the guitar. Who was this Ford? What did he mean to Lucy and why was she still holding on to something that belonged to him? It bothered him just a little, knowing that before him perhaps another man sat in her dining room or that she was in the front seat of his car. But what was most bothersome is that perhaps in some way, Lucy was hurt by this man so severely that it warranted Tita Ramonaʼs concern.

“Be careful with her, please. There are things that can only be broken so much.ˮ

As their discussion waned and their plates became empty, Lucy went to the kitchen. As Bradley quietly conducted his train of thoughts, all rails came to a halt as soon as the lights in her apartment dimmed slightly and Lucyʼs voice resounded fluidly across the space.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you...ˮ

Bradley gaped at her as she carried a cheerful, yellow ceramic plate on which she served a chocolate mound with a dollop of cream and a white candle on top. For a while, Bradley was stuck in a daze. Lucyʼs lovely visage and her auburn-colored dress. Her soft voice. The dancing flame. The rich smell of chocolate and vanilla and sugar.

“Happy birthday to you!ˮ Lucy ended.

“Angel—“ Bradley gasped, slowly coming out of his daydream. “H-How—?ˮ

“Phoenix told me,ˮ she replied as she set the plate down. “I have to say... Iʼm a little disappointed that you didnʼt tell me that your birthday was two days away and it happened to be on your deployment date.ˮ

“I didnʼt want you to make a big thing about it,ˮ Bradley told her.

“This isnʼt a big thing,ˮ Lucy assured Bradley, as she reached for the small spoon. “Itʼs just a little something special.ˮ

Bradley took the spoon from her outstretched fingers.

“Now dig into it,ˮ she smiled. “I wanna see if I got it right this time.ˮ

As Bradley dug his spoon all the way down the mound, a rich chocolate ooze appeared from its depths and ran across the remaining space on the plate. Lucy clapped her hands and did a little celebratory dance.

“Chocolate lava cake,ˮ Bradley remarked. “Impressive, Angel.ˮ

He took a bite, the balance of the cream and chocolate cake and ooze— their respective textures harmoniously melting together on his palette. Bradley moaned, taking another spoonful. He urged Lucy to sit on his lap before feeding her a bite, to which she relished with a satisfied hum.

“Chocolate soufflé, chocolate mousse, and chocolate lava cake...ˮ Bradley recited. “What should we have next, Angel?ˮ

“A nice cup of tea?ˮ She suggested, feeding him a spoonful with his arms wrapped her waist.

Bradley hummed thoughtfully.

“Under this beautiful night?ˮ He suggested. Lucy smiled.

“Iʼll get a thermos and a sweater.ˮ

Bradley parked the Bronco in an isolated area by the beach. They moved to the backseat of the car and Lucy draped their close bodies with a big fluffy blanket she grabbed from the pillow basket near her couch. She poured the passionfruit blend into two small portable cups, steam billowing from the rim. Lucy leaned her head against his hard chest and Bradley put an arm around her, frequently turning to relish the scent of her fragrant hair. They sat there for a while... among the silence of the stars and the rhythm of their breaths, savoring something hot and delicious.

“This is nice,ˮ Lucy sighed. “I havenʼt stargazed in a while. Theyʼre all so bright tonight. Thereʼs Perseus, Cassiopeia, and Andromeda...ˮ

“You sure know your constellations...ˮ Bradley remarked.

“When I was younger, there was this small balcony near our room in our house at Oregon where my brother and I used to go to when we couldnʼt sleep...ˮ Lucy remembered with a nostalgic look in her eye. “He loved the stars. He memorized their names and the constellations, and whenever he saw a shooting star, he would wish for a telescope. I would stay up with him all night, just fascinated by how much he knew...ˮ

“You have a brother?ˮ Bradley breathed.

“I had one,ˮ Lucy smiled sadly. Bradley turned to her, and noticed the gleam in her melancholy gaze.

“Angel—“ he sighed. “You know that Iʼll still choose to be with you, right? Whatever brokenness you have... Iʼm not leaving you — no matter what you say.ˮ

Lucy choked on a gasp, and Bradley was quick to wipe a tear sliding down her cheek and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Iʼm not ready...ˮ she breathed deeply. “To talk about Ford yet...ˮ

To Ford, play with a tender heart.

The guitar flashed across his mind.

“Please be patient with me Bradley,ˮ she whispered.

“For you, Angel?ˮ Bradley smiled. “Anything.ˮ

“But there is... just one thing though...ˮ Bradley hummed after a moment of stillness.

Lucy shifted in his arms and averted herself to him swiftly, concerned. “I really, really, really...ˮ

She nervously waited for his reply.

“... want you to be my girlfriend.ˮ

Lucy smacked him across the chest with a flushed face, her eyes gleaming but her smile wide.

“Why do you have to say it like that?!ˮ She half-growled and half-laughed, shaking her head. Bradley cupped her face into his hands, chuckling.

“Iʼm sorry,ˮ he crooned softly.

“You know what?ˮ Lucy breathed, composing herself. “I really, really, really...ˮ

Bradley held his breath.

“Donʼt think—“

His heart fell suddenly.

“That thatʼs a bad idea.ˮ

And then it soared.

“So yes?ˮ Bradley blinked, his heart thundering in his chest like a drum announcing the commencement of a celebration.

“Yes!ˮ Lucy exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes as Bradley bent down to kiss her. Her hands wandered through his locks greedily as she moaned into the kiss. Bradley lifted her on to him, letting Lucy straddle his thighs. His fingers gripped the flesh of her hip, and the other set remained cradling her soft cheek. Bradley began to press kisses against the side of her neck.

“Do you mind if I leave something here?ˮ He whispered to the shell of her ear.

“Make it last as long as your deployment or else Iʼll be even more disappointed,ˮ Lucy replied as Bradley began to bite down on her soft, fragrant skin. He loved the small noises she emitted with every breath and the way she would grip his hair and shoulders.

“Youʼve got quite an edge Angel,ˮ Bradley smirked as he kissed the newly-formed hickey just below the shell of her ear and far into her neck. “I like it.ˮ

“You have no idea,ˮ Lucy smiled impishly. “At least not yet.ˮ

Bradley chuckled kissing the mole on the corner of her eye and the one near her lips. Lucy rested her forehead at the juncture of his neck and shoulder — inhaling his essence.

“I donʼt wanna go,ˮ Bradley said to her softly as he stroked her hair. “I just wanna stay here, kissing you and eating your food and spoiling the hell out of you.ˮ

“And Iʼm afraid,ˮ he admitted as she turned to face him. “Iʼm afraid that Iʼve just gotten something so wonderful, and that itʼll be gone the moment I go away.ˮ

“Oh Bradley,ˮ Lucy stroked his face and let her fingertips graze his scars. “Thatʼs not going to happen. Do you know why?ˮ

Bradley looked intently at her.

“Because on the day of our first date, I went to church, and I asked God — ‘if this man was the one you meant to send for me, show me a sign and let him sit with me in front of You’ ... and this morning you did just that.ˮ

Bradley stilled, swallowing deeply.

“Iʼve had much taken from me Bradley,ˮ Lucy whispered. “And for the last two years Iʼve always wondered why, and now I know — every hurt and every path Iʼve taken since... has lead me to you.ˮ

Bradley kissed her forehead, holding her closer.

“In time, Iʼll tell you everything — everything, I promise. But for now, I hope that youʼll have me for what I am in your eyes.ˮ

“Angel,ˮ Bradley sighed. “However broken you may see yourself, in my eyes you are whole, and now — wholly mine.ˮ

Lucy knew it was naive of her — to think that there are good things in this life that can never be taken away no matter what promise or assurance was given. So as they held each other closely in the cold of the night, she offered up another prayer — one that asked to bring him home and to let this one good thing stay for good.

Bradley and Lucy are official! I have played out how this scene would happen in my mind so many times, but I’m glad how it finally turned out on paper :)) Thank you for reading! Now on to the next chapter 09 | First of Many.

#rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun 1986 #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #top gun fic #top gun movie #bradley bradshaw imagine

18 notes · View notes